Tales From A Three Year Old

My three year old is a story teller, a fibber and a tad bit of a white liar . . . minus the tad bit and white.

I've never really cared what people have thought of me, either you like me, or you don't . . . then, my oldest daughter turned three (now almost four) and suddenly I have become a little self conscious. I'm certainly not perfect, I've never claimed to be perfect and I never will, however, her story telling has me 100% convinced that I will win the weirdo mom of the year award.

Story Number 1 . . . I don't feed my kids food.

It goes back to about six months ago when she came home from school with a backpack filled with paintings. She immediately grabbed two easel sized drawings that were smothered in brown paint and handed one to her sister and kept one for herself. I told her that her paintings were beautiful, and praised her for sharing. As I walked away I heard her say, "Here Charlotte, I painted you this nice big piece of steak." I turned around and told her that it was very creative that she painted some steak and this is what she said next , "Yes, I told my teachers that you don't feed us, so I needed to make some food for me and my sister to eat." What?! I feed you! On top of feeding you, I bribe you with ice cream cones and jello snack packs if you actually eat a decent meal! To set the record straight, I can assure you I give my kids food.

Story Number 2 . . . I have a baby in my belly.

One day I was dropping my oldest off at preschool when I realized she had stuffed a figurine of Peppa Pig's little brother George in her Pocket. As we got out of the car I reminded her that bringing toys from home was not a good idea, so I stuffed George in the front pocket of my hooded sweatshirt. Now this was when she was going through a really big Peppa Pig phase, she actually spoke with a British accent introduced herself to strangers as Peppa. Thankfully, that has stopped, but not before she told me that she said to her teachers that I was "keeping her little brother safe and warm in my belly." I mean I guess that wasn't entirely a lie because I did walk around with a pig figurine that she referred to as her little brother in my pocket for one day, but I can assure you that there a no real live babies in there. It was one day, and we're talking about a plastic pig.

Story Number 3 . . . I sleep in the parking lot of her preschool while she's inside.

Just the other day I picked her up from school, and as always I was eager to hear about her day. Before I could even ask about it she said to me, "Mommy, do you miss me while I'm in school, or do you have fun sleeping in your car while you wait for me to come out?" I responded, "Of course I miss you Lanie, but I don't sleep in my car!" Her reply, "Oh, well I told my teachers you do. We all had fun looking out the window for you." Awesome.

AND THE WEIRDO MOM OF THE
YEAR GOES TO . . .

(It's only by default, I swear.)

The Quirky Confessions: Days in the Life of a Stay at Home Mom

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Mother's Little Helper

No, I'm not referring to The Rolling Stones hit from the 60's, I'm referring to my kids. Some of you may have them . . . the kids who always want to "help" out. Nine out of ten times if you're not paying close attention to their help tactics, this can lead to disaster.

First off, let me state that I'm very grateful to have kids that are so willing to "help" me out. It's a nice alternative to kids that plop themselves on the couch all day and demand watching that bald, little brat Caillou on Nick Jr. (Although, sometimes I secretly wish that they were more of the TV watching type.) This leads me to:

Disaster Number 1 - Cooking

A few weeks back my kids "helped" me make meatballs and sauce to put in the crock-pot for dinner that night. Their help during this fun filled, cooking activity lead to everyone needing immediate baths, and a kitchen ceiling coated with red sauce. Don't ask. After cleaning everyone up, and attempting to clean spaghetti sauce off our ceiling, I clearly needed a shower myself. I thought that I could put a movie on to keep them occupied during my three minute shower sprint. As I left the room I heard my oldest whisper to my youngest "As soon as Mommy gets in the shower we can make something that we want to eat for dinner instead."  Obviously this prompted me to hold off on my shower sprint and see what they were up to. I left the room and stood by the door. I witnessed them gather their magnetic letters off of my dishwasher and attempt to put them in the crock pot to make "alphabet soup". Thankfully, I was able to stop them in their tracks. I did not fit a shower in, and that's okay. I didn't need anymore disasters . . . the kitchen ceiling was enough for one day.

Disaster number 2 - Laundry

What's better than laundry helpers? They can gather clothes, load and attempt to fold. They can even match your socks for you! They can also let a disposable diaper get past you and into the washing machine in the blink of an eye. I really thought my mom skills were right on track that day. . . I was able to feed my kids, dress them and had even timed my "helping hand" laundry cycle perfectly so that I could switch the clothes over to the dryer before we left to go to an animal adventure show at my oldest daughter's preschool. Well, not the case. I told my kids, "as soon as the washing machine beeps, we'll switch the stuff over to the dryer and we can go." I even had enough time to grab a coffee on the way. No, no I didn't. I had enough time to deal with the reality that I had a shredded wet diaper all over our clean clothes. I did not have time to clean that up, despite having my very ready and will helping hands, and still get to the school on time. (Even though I tried.) I left the big mess, skipped out on my coffee, but arrived just in time for the big boa constrictors to be released from their crates. Fun! Note to self: Don't wear a black sweater when attempting to clean a wet shredded diaper out of your washer and off of your clothes. Otherwise, you may end up at animal day with sticky, white diaper particles all over yourself resembling jumbo sized dandruff flakes. Fail.

Update: I'm happy to report that my kids have recently shown a sudden interest in the kid's TV show, Blues Clues. This has been my savior when it comes to taking showers. This also took a turn for the worst today while I was doing a load of laundry without my little helpers. (This was immediately following my shower and they were engaged in the show, so I did not interrupt them for help. . . I should have.) While I was in the bathroom gathering clothes, they took the laundry baskets and used them as make shift stools to get on the counter and get their hands on some cherry flavored Chapstick. During the 45 seconds that I was out of the room, they coated their hands with it and slapped chap-sticky hand prints all over our stainless steel fridge while yelling "PAW PRINT CLUES!" Sigh. At least they helped me clean it off.

The Quirky Confessions: Days in the Life of a Stay at Home Mom

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Happy St. Patrick's Day!

My Picky Eaters

Let me start by saying I didn't always have picky eaters. My first born would pretty much eat everything that was given to her from a young age on. Both baby food and mealtimes were quick favorites. From the moment I noticed her first tooth, I couldn't shovel enough food into her. It started with Cheerios, and we quickly moved onto fruits, veggies and meats. You name it, she ate it.

My second born was a little more challenging. The mush on the spoon, pretend airplane approach never really worked with her. I don't ever recall getting a drop of baby food in her mouth, but things took a turn when we moved onto solid foods. She was more apt to try stuff, and not like it. I never worried too much though, just like her big sister she has always been labeled as "healthy", and has ranged in the 90th percentiles for both height and weight.

I'd say age two has been the turning point for both of my girls. While my youngest (age 2) has attempted to try and like more foods, my oldest (3 1/2) has pretty much given up on trying anything. For the past year and a half she has been living off of grilled cheese sandwiches, milk, fruit and everything that makes up the chocolate food group. My youngest lives off all of those as well, but with her you can add some meats and a few other things into the mix. Just the other morning she really disgusted her big sister by saying she wanted "more chickens" for breakfast. She was referring to scrambled eggs. (The reason she knows that scrambled eggs come from chickens is because my oldest said this to her a few weeks back, "Yuck. I can't believe you are eating baby chicks." Thankfully, the true reality did not phase my two year old.) This is exactly why my oldest is a picky eater. . .

The very day that she associated some of the foods she ate as being animals, was the day she stopped eating them.

Example: 

If you tell this kid we are having chicken for dinner, you will get this response, "You cannot make me eat birds!" The same goes for Turkey. It got really bad when she learned that chickens lay eggs, and figured out that those scrambled or fried eggs on her plate are "baby chicks". She will NOT eat baby chicks. She will not eat steak, because she knows it's a cow, I'm not sure who told her, but it wasn't me. However, she will eat cheeseburgers. As a matter of fact,  she ate one the other day when I gave myself a break from cooking and took my kids to Burger King. (My husband had been gone for all of two hours into a four day business trip, and I caved and brought them to a fast food joint for lunch.) She happily sat and ate her burger (which I'm not even 100% sure if it's real cow) with a huge smile. The real kicker was when we were leaving and I informed my kids that this was a special treat, and that I would indeed be cooking for the rest of the week . . . My oldest said this to my youngest, "Charlotte, put these into your pocket. We'll just have them for dinner."  These = ketchup packets.

So a tip for all the parents out there with picky eaters . . . you can always smother the crap out of everything ketchup packets.

Bon appétit!

Surviving Sickness with the Kids

The past week has been H -E - double hockey sticks. It all started when my youngest got the sniffles. Those sniffles led to a bad cough, which then led to a fever and three back to back sleepless nights for my husband and I. Alright, I may be exaggerating a tad bit... I think we got a half hour of sleep here and there, although, it's not always easy to catch Z's when you have a restless toddler who finds comfort by sprawling herself across your king sized bed and digging her feet into your ribs. Having a cat that decides to plop himself on your back while all of this is going on doesn't really help the the situation either. I wasn't moving an inch though. I was not going to risk disrupting a sick/unhappy child who was finally comfortable and asleep for the night. Luckily, her fever/cold was short-lived, and that following night I was excited to be back on the track of her getting a full night's sleep in her own room, and me hopefully getting a full night's sleep without her footy pajamas in my face. That thought quickly turned to panic when I heard my older daughter hacking like an 85 year old, male smoker the following morning at four AM. Those three nights of cramped up ribs and footy pajamas in my face was nothing compared to what was coming. It was merely just a trial run to get me back in the swing of life with a newborn, except without a newborn. Instead, with a three year old diagnosed with pneumonia.

Let me start by saying, my three year old is the happiest sick kid ever. I would have never known she was ill if it hadn't have been for that old man smoker's cough, which progressively got worse, and the temperature of 104 the following night made it a dead giveaway. As I'm sitting there at three AM on the couch with her, counting down the hours until her doctors office opens, she's happily singing songs, shooting Advil and indulging in sticky grape popsicles. She was in heaven, and I was exhausted and in panic mode. The only time she got upset was when I told her that she was going to have to stay home from preschool because she was sick. I take that back, she did get upset before I took her temperature and I said, "Oh my gosh, you're on fire!" (meaning she had a fever). Note to self: that was dumb, considering she is three, and understandably takes everything literally. She yelled really loud and exclaimed firmly to me that she was not on fire. She forgave me when I said that I meant she definitely had a fever, and we'd have to make an appointment with her doctor as soon as the sun came up.

A few hours later, after refusing to go back to bed, she was still dancing around in circles, thrilled that she had an appointment with her pediatrician. (She loves any and all appointments.) The Advil had done its job and brought her fever way down, and she and her sister were practically doing cartwheels in the doctor's office waiting room. I'm sure the receptionist thought I was crazy for insisting that I had a very sick child that needed to be seen as soon as possible. However, my instincts were dead on, and despite being as happy she was, she was indeed sick. Her pneumonia required a couple different prescriptions which resulted in a trip to two different pharmacies because they both weren't in stock at the pharmacy we usually go to. (Of course.) So picture it: two grouchy kids, one has been up since three AM, the other since five AM, and it's beyond lunchtime by this point. Now throw one very tired mother, who now feels like crap too, and has probably gotten a total of six hours of sleep in five nights. Bad scenario, real bad.

While my kids are sick, hungry and tired, I'm dragging them to two different drug stores to get the meds that are of course not ready for pick up. As I'm handing over my insurance card, my kids are getting their arms stuck in the blood pressure testing machine that they should not even be playing with in the first place. F@*K!  I know people are looking at me and probably thinking 'control your kids', but all I'm thinking about is getting these meds and getting my kids home where they belong. Just cut me some slack, please. We made it home where the lack of sleep caught up to everyone. Tantrums were being dropped like they were hot, and I just wanted to curl up on the living room floor right there with my kids and throw a fit too, but I didn't have time to do that. I needed to make them lunch. That night my oldest ate her first meal in two days, pizza! She had also drank tons of Gatorade which I was happy about, because she had not been eating or drinking much of anything over the past few days. I was thrilled about it, until she went to bed and had a major coughing fit and puked pizza and Gatorade everywhere. I remained 100% sympathetic and genuinely felt so bad for her, but at the same time I just wanted to curl up in my bed and cry. Tired was an understatement.

The following day was a turn around. The medications were finally kicking in for Lanie, and I had gotten a little more sleep. I was beyond thrilled to leave the house for a dentist appointment. Unlike my kids, I'm not a huge fan of appointments... but I'll be honest, having a cleaning and a couple of cavities filled felt like a mini vacation. Thanks for making my dentist appointment not so bad, kids. I owe ya one.

I'm happy to report that everyone is on the mend at our house. I'm also happy to report that I have gotten a full 16 hours of sleep over the past two nights. Up all night, up all day is no longer a trend in our house. Hallef'nlujah!  ;)

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The Day We Played Hooky

With the Northeast in the midst of its biggest snow storm of the season thus far, I had a decision to make . . . ship my kid off to preschool, or keep her home for the day? First off, pretty much every other town or city canceled school for the day except for ours. Actually, most schools were canceling for the next two days. Secondly, we pay good money to send her there for the two days a week that she attends so, the thought of her missing school when she doesn't have to kind of makes me cringe. Actually, we literally scrape through our pennies each month to be able to pay her tuition. I'll add in that it's worth every penny though! Thirdly, I don't like making decisions. I wish our town would have called it off and made that decision for me.

There is something about watching the news reports and seeing the school closing list scroll at the bottom of the screen that brings excitement to my eyes. It always has, and always will. Perhaps it's the teacher in me, or the thrill of snow days that I had as a kid that have never seemed to fade away. I started watching the news as those closings rolled by on my screen. My town was not listed. Bummer. I woke up the next morning early, real early and patiently waited to see my town pop up. It never did. To be honest, I was shocked. Some people dread the thought of a snow day for their kids, especially immediately following an almost two week long winter break . . . not me! Bring it. 

So there I was, six AM in the morning, faced with the decision of waking my kids (who are usually awake at that time) and doing the whole crazy morning routine during the beginning stages of a major storm. After talking to my husband, and calling my mother for moral support . . . you know, because of that nagging question, am I a bad parent for letting my three year old play hooky? Well, I opted not to take her. My kids slept until 7:30, we played dress up, jumped on the bed, (shh, don't tell daddy) baked peanut butter cookies, made loom bracelets, had a dance party and made a blanket fort. Best decision ever. I love snow days, even if I'm the one who declared it!

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All I Want For Christmas

I want the sore throat and cold I've been battling for the past few days to move onto its next victim. (As long as it's not my kids, or husband.) Actually, I don't wish it on anyone. Blah. Moms should not be allowed to get sick.

I  want a minimum of 7 hours of sleep a night. That means no loud singing, no creeping out of your room and turning on every light in the house at 3 AM, but most importantly, don't sneak into my room and stand beside my bed and stare at me. I can hear you breathing, and I know you're there, even though sometimes I pretend I don't. Seriously, I go to bed after Jeopardy is over . . . (When did I turn into my mother?) Anyway, 7 hours of sleep shouldn't be that hard, and now that I put bells on your door I have a jump start and I'll know when you're coming. No more creepin'.

Last, but not least - if you're going to have an "accident" on my kitchen floor, please don't pick up the poop and blame it on the cat.


Love, Mom 

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The Christmas Miracles

The past few days have been go go go. I'm actually surprised I'm finding the time to sit down and write about it, or the time to breathe for that matter. The hustle and bustle of the holidays always seems to stress me out. I feel as if Thanksgiving to Christmas is an entire month straight of pure craziness. If you asked me a week ago, that's exactly how I'd tell you I felt - crazy, stressed, anxious, how am I ever going to get all the stuff that needs to get done, done? Not today though. This past week has not only been productive, but fun!

It started when I broke my promise of never taking my kids shopping by myself again. My oldest was desperate for some new shoes for the holidays, so I ventured out on a rainy day, a day that I just didn't want to be cooped up indoors. This shopping trip was phenomenal. Not only did we get new shoes, but we left the store with zero temper tantrums, from either kid. Amazing! I was so impressed by their good behavior that I told them that if they each took a good rest during nap time that I'd take them to visit Santa that afternoon. That's just what we did. I picked up my mom and we went to visit the best mall Santa around. One that usually comes with a long line of hyped up kiddos. Not the case that late afternoon. We only had to wait behind four other families! Again, amazing! My girls were very excited to see the big guy in red, and happily smiled as they sat with him. We were able to get a great picture! (One that did not include me like last years Santa's pic.) Last year they were a few seconds away from nervous breakdowns and I had to jump in the photo at the last minute. Needless to say, I was beyond pleased that I missed out on this photo op.

Speaking of pictures, I declared one day this week to be holiday card photo shoot day. My kids were not thrilled but the candy canes I gave them first thing that morning definitely helped. The sugar high later was a bit of a different story, but all and all I had a few decent shots. My mother-in-law designed a great card for me, and I got those bad boys printed Friday and spent the night addressing lots and lots of Christmas Cards. That tedious task is done! Did I mention, I even found time to bake two dozen cookies with my kids and eat a whole dozen of them? (I shared the other dozen with my husband and girls.)

Over the weekend we spent a day with my dad and step mom. We got our Christmas tree, and my kids got spoiled. A nice lunch, a trip to a toy store, and $48 trip to the candy store. Pricey, I know, but that was only because my husband said that he really liked the look of some dark chocolate turtle candies that my father insisted on buying. We brought them home and I secretly had them for breakfast the next morning. We spent the rest of the day putting up our tree and decorating the outside of our house. The biggest miracle of all was when I dug out our Christmas lights and all of them worked! I didn't even have to spend the usual two hours trying to untangle them. The only thing that's left on my list is a few more presents to buy, and to lose the extra five pounds I've packed on from eating cookies, candies and chocolate Santa's.

I got this . . . bring it Santa!

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I'm Sorry I'm Late . . . I Have Kids!

For as long as I can remember I've been punctual . . . maybe a little too punctual. I was the person that you could count on to show up when l said I would, if not earlier. You wouldn't know that though, because I'd most likely be driving around the block a few times to waste a couple minutes. I was actually given an award in high school for always being on time. Pretty cool, huh? Actually, pretty dorky when I think about it now.

Back before my stay at home mom days, when I had a full time job, I had a bit of a commute and allowed myself plenty of extra time to pick up a coffee on my way in. I'd also calculate in the fear of bad traffic. Phhhhhttt, what a joke.  Most mornings I left before the birds were chirping, and I'd arrive to work a half hour early. I didn't get paid to be there early, so I'm not really sure why I continued to do this day after day. Probably because arriving early was far better than the sudden sense of "OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO BE LATE." That happened once, during a blizzard, when most normal people would have just banged in with a personal or sick day. I wish I had calculated all those wasted half hours of being early for work into some sort of extra sleep category, 'cause maybe then I'd be a little more rested for what was to come . . . KIDS! See ya later, punctuality.

Don't get me wrong, I really try my best to be on time for things, it doesn't always happen though. Here are a few reasons why:

• Breakfast time is more often than not similar to watching paint dry. Somehow my kids manage to sit there and pick at their plates for a very long time, but when they finally decide they're done most of the food is still there. It's like magic . . . but with food. One second you see it, an hour later it's still there! (I wish I could have pulled off that type of magic with my kids leftover Halloween candy.) They play it off like they're eating and I don't interfere, because I actually think they are eating, but they're not. They're pretty slick. I'll usually find some minuscule bites nibbled off of a cereal bar, or a half eaten grape. They usually do this during lunch and dinner too. Apparently, eating food that you're not really eating takes a long time. Sometimes I wonder why I even offer them meals, and often question if they are living off of the water and toothpaste they eat during teeth brushing time. Needless to say, I try to plan play dates around the meals that they take forever to eat, but don't really eat. "Sorry we're late, friends. It took a really long time to eat those two Cheerios and that blueberry this morning."
• One thing that causes the drill sergeant mom in me to come out is getting my kids up, fed, dressed and out the door in time for 8:30 AM preschool drop off. Thank God this only happens two days a week because these mornings make me feel like a crazy person. First off, my kids always decide to sleep in on school days . . . never on weekends, never on home days, only on school days. This forces me to wake them up, and let me tell you, it's not always pretty. Just this morning (home day) I received my payback. I was woken up at 5 AM by singing . . . very LOUD singing. It was as if I were at a Katy Perry concert, sitting right next to the speaker as she sang her latest hit, Roar. (Except it wasn't Katy Perry, it was my three year old, it was 5 AM, and it was indeed a home day.) This was not a pretty moment for me and I swear it would have been fine if it were a school day. But no, I have to drag them out of bed on school days, as they clench their blankets and beg me not to. (This has got to be some sort of Murphy's law.) After dragging my girls out of bed, I'll attempt to give the whole mealtime thing a whirl. Usually after a half hour of me watching the clock and them pretending to eat I'll tend to rush them along as they lick the syrup off of their uneaten waffles then, I'll usually praise them for eating a strawberry . . . or something. I'll rush to get them dressed, brush their teeth and do their hair. Remember I have girls, getting them dressed and doing their hair is often a project. The tooth brushing part is a piece of cake since they live off of, I mean live for toothpaste. After all of this is done, I'll bundle them up and get ready to head out.
  
• The other morning as we were about to head out the door my oldest informed me that she had to go to the bathroom. While I was assisting her, my youngest hid the car keys in one of her fathers shoes, she then informed me that she had to use the potty too. After that I got their coats back on and realized that my keys were missing. When I asked where they were, I got silence. I said something like, "Well, I guess we'll just have to take naps all day since we can't go out and do anything fun." The response from my two year old resembled a bunch of fake sneezes, "A SHOE - A SHOE". While I began questioning if those pretend sneezes were real sneezes, my oldest said that the keys must be in a shoe. Bingo, found them! Time to go! Strapping my puffy coated kids into their car seats is never fun and often time consuming, but it's got to be done. And we were finally off . . . only to get two minutes down the street and have to stop for what seems like 100 wild turkeys s-l-o-w-l-y crossing the road. We totally would have missed that giant flock of birds if someone didn't hide my car keys.

Therefore, I'm sorry I'm late . . . I have kids.

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Sharing is Caring

Sharing is caring! That's our motto around here, or at least the one I'm trying to enforce.

Over the weekend my youngest daughter Charlotte and I celebrated our birthdays. I now have a two year old, a three year old, and I'm just old. Actually, I take it back, I'm 37 going on 21. During my big mom's night out I got carded while ordering a glass (or two, okay maybe three) of wine. Im not typically a big drinker, but after the temper tantrums in Target last week I did indeed take advantage of my much needed night out. I wonder if bartender girl would have felt the same way about my age three days prior, before I got all of my white hairs colored? Anyway, I just had to throw in that slight ego booster, I'll get back to the point . . . 

Though I love the fact that I share my birthday with Charlotte, I always thought that eventually there may be some jealousy issues with my older daughter Lanie. Understandably, there were. Nothing too major, and I'm sure there may be more down the road. Luckily, this year Lanie was easily persuaded in a different direction when I reminded her that her birthday is in June . . . even though she insisted it was in November. I said that she could eat my share of cake at this party since I don't really like cake, and then she could have more cake on her birthday party day. She asked if she could have my share of cake in June as well, and I agreed.

That morning Lanie was pretty excited to take a special trip out with my husband to pick up some ice cream. She also came home with a giant balloon bouquet that she nicely handed over to Charlotte and I while yelling "Surprise! Happy Birthday!" It was very sweet, and I was very impressed that she didn't hold onto those balloons for dear life with her Kung Fu grip and insist that they were hers. Balloons are kind of a big deal around here, so we are clearly making progress!

As you know, along with any kids birthday party comes toys, a whole lot of toys. Some of our newest additions include a princess castle, a drawing board, legos, a toy phone, a school bus, a kid's tablet, puzzles, lots of books, stuffed animals, some Peppa pig figurines, a doctor kit, fridge magnets, a handcrafted stool, and lots of clothes (which they don't fight over now, but I know that someday they will.) All the toys we have here, old and new, are age appropriate for both girls, which in return causes a lot of arguments. In the past, we've never really had any problems deciphering what belongs to who, because they share and often times fight over them all. With the ages they are now, the whole sharing verses what's mine is mine concept has become a little more of a challenge. Not only for them, but for me as well. It's not in my nature to try to explain to a two year old that she can't play with the 150 piece Duplo Lego set that was actually given to her sister as a gift a year ago and vice versa.

When it came time for Charlotte to open her gifts, one of the first things in Lanie's sight was the Peppa Pig figurines. If you've read my past blogs, you may remember that my oldest daughter is slightly obsessed with Peppa pig. Her eyes lit up as she dove for the pigs that Charlotte had barely opened, and she quickly claimed them as her own. What potentially could have turned into an old school Andre the Giant vs. Hulk Hogan wrestling scene, surprisingly ended up just fine. Those pigs kept Lanie busy the entire time, allowing Charlotte the opportunity to open up more of *her* birthday gifts without the help of a potentially unwanted sidekick. Thankfully, no foam fingers were needed by me to direct my kids back to their respectable corners, and Charlotte really didn't seem to mind sharing them.

The following day was ideal. They were both very occupied with all the new choices to play with, and it left little time for them to argue over all the usual old stuff. I'm banking on a weeks worth of thrills 'til the excitement fades and things get old again. In the meantime, I've made note to both girls about how well Charlotte is doing with sharing all of the new toys, and how they have both been playing so nicely together. Lanie agreed, and also stated that she was very happy that Charlotte gave her a Peppa Pig for her birthday. I reminded Lanie that her birthday is seven months away and to remember this when Charlotte wants to play with her presents. So far, so good . . . Hopefully this sharing kick lasts for a while! (Who am I kidding? I've got two little people that are 16 months apart. They can be a tad bit stubborn and very strong willed at times. I'm not holding my breath, but I'm certainly enjoying it while it lasts!)

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The Punishment, Terrible Two's and Tantrums

Warning:
This blog contains jaw dropping material . . .
teeth grinding, hair pulling, it's 5 o'clock somewhere content.

Reader discretion is advised.

My goal by writing this is to, 
A. Attempt to relieve my own stress, and
B. Let other parents know that if you are dealing with hard times with your kids that you are not alone.

For the first time ever, both of my kids were faced with consequences that they did not like due to their actions.  Don't get me wrong, they've certainly dealt with consequences in the past due to misbehaving, they've just never dealt with so many all at once.

This morning's adventure out led to coming home early and the kids spending 45 minutes in their rooms. This was followed by no iPad, and no TV for the rest of the day. Just so we are all clear, I don't plop my kids in front of the TV, or let them play Candy Crush all day. They are allowed a little time each day to watch a favorite show, or play an educational game. That's why these times are a big deal. Some may think that a 45 minute time out in a room for an almost two and a three year old seems like a long time, but seriously, that's how long it took my husband and I to recover from this adventure out.

The morning started off fine. They slept well, (for them) and ate a good breakfast. My husband and I decided to run an errand at Target to get some things we needed for our upcoming birthday party for Charlotte. Oh yes, terrible two's! I remember them well since it seems like just yesterday that Lanie was two.

As we parked the car, the usual fuss about riding in the shopping cart started. This is not a huge deal for me. Both of them are typically good when it comes to holding your hand, and with my husband being there it usually makes shopping with them a little easier. It leaves me a free hand to work with. I mean how hard can it be to pick up a card and a stupid paper tablecloth for a birthday party? I said it before and I'll say it again . . . shopping with your kids is NEVER easy. As a matter of fact, I've decided I'm not doing it again until my kids are 12 and 13. I figure in about 10 years or so, it may be a little more manageable. Most likely by then I'll be dealing with a new set of challenges, and I'll have forgotten about all the tantrums they pull now.

When we got in the store my husband went off with my youngest, while Lanie and I searched for the perfect birthday card. That 25 second search turned into my oldest ripping cards off the shelf and throwing them on the floor. When I got down at her level and told her to pick up the cards she lost it saying, "NO, don't you tell me to pick them up. I'm not doing it." Really?! I sense a massive meltdown coming because that crap does not fly well with me. "Lanie, I'm going to ask you again nicely to pick up the cards. Someone worked really hard to put all these cards on the shelves. We need to put them back where they belong." Her response, "NO!" Really?! (a WTF moment). "Lanie, if you don't pick up the cards, I will bring you out to the car." Not only did I get a big fat "NO", I also got a slap in my leg. You bet that shit didn't fly well. My husband saw this and instantly scooped her up, kicking and screaming and brought her out to the car. One down.

Now I'm left with Charlotte and I'm thinking that I'll get my items and get out of there quick. Nope, not the case. Another meltdown, or more like five meltdowns. One in the toy isle that she ran to, one in the clothing department, one by the hair accessory shelf, one at the checkout, and the massive one as I struggled to carry her out of the store kicking and screaming all while attempting to maneuver the shopping cart that she refused to sit in. I could sense lots of onlookers staring, and I was so embarrassed that I could not make eye contact with anyone . . . until I had to. A woman in a caravan pulled up beside me and said "Hang in there. You're doing a good job." A big shout out to that woman. Thank you! At that point I desperately needed a kind vibe. 

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