Fact or Fiction? . . . With Kids, Hard to Tell!

FACT: My oldest started preschool last week. So far she loves it, and has shown no signs of separation anxiety. No tears! (From me or her.)

FACT: I'm not surprised by her ability to jump right in and have no issues during drop off. (Although, I'm very aware that this could change at any time.) I am surprised that I didn't lose my cool on her first day and cry her entire class a river to play in. I purposely wore no eye makeup that morning because I was 99.9% sure this would happen. I must have looked like real crap considering I was up at 4:30 AM just thinking about leaving her. FACT: I had far more anxiety than she did.

After dropping her off I had a brief orientation, then a full hour to myself. My mother in law was watching my youngest and I was at a complete loss . . . I was kid free?! What should I do? . . . I ran a quick errand and got coffee. It was the best coffee I've had in a long time. It was hot, unlike the coffee that sits on my counter every morning waiting for me to chug down in between making breakfast, cleaning up and getting my kids dressed. I enjoyed it, but at the same time I watched my car clock like a hawk. I was counting down the minutes until it was time to head back to school and hear all about Lanie's day. I arrived early, and was welcomed back by the center director. She told me the kids were outside and encouraged me to take a peek out the window. I watched her play. FACT: This brought a huge smile to my face.

She was happy to see me waiting when she walked in, and was excited to tell me about all the fun stuff she did on the car ride home.

This is where fact and fiction get hard to decipher. She told me she played with boys called twins. This is a fact. I met them when I dropped her off, and she was quick to head over and play blocks with them. She told me she loved using scissors. (Something I have not done with her.) She showed me the motions of using a scissors, and said she needed some of her own for at home. "I need my own scissors, golden ones. I need to cut Charlotte's hair." This is a FACT: she did not learn how to use scissors from me. It's also a fact that we'll stick to using scissors at school, at least for now. We don't need her younger sister getting any unwanted haircuts. She told me that her whole class went to Marshall's to buy new shoes. I'm 100% sure that this is FICTION, but it gave me a good laugh.

On her second day she was not as quick to offer up info about her morning. That's when I drilled her for it. (Bad idea.) "Did you have fun?" "What did you do?" "What are your new friends names?" This is what I got: "YES, I HAD FUN." "I got green marker on my shirt and it made me angry." "My new best friend is Polka Dot, okay?!" I'm pretty sure the had fun part was a FACT, and that she was just angry that I was asking her so many questions all at once. The green marker on her shirt was a FACT, and she was beyond pissed about it. I explained to her that its okay to get dirty, dirty means fun! Plus your mom is a master with a stain stick . . . relax! (She's a little prissy when it comes to getting dirty sometimes . . . we're working on that.) As far as "Polka Dot" goes, I'm pretty sure that's FICTION. Although, I should ask her teachers for a class list. You never know with all the   unique names people come up with these days. My sincere apologies if your reading this and have a "Polka Dot" of your very own.

All and all preschool has been a big hit for all of us . . . except for my youngest who is upset that she isn't old enough to go to preschool yet! (Nothing that some munchkins from Dunkin Donuts can't take care of.)

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Kids: You Better Not Pout, You Better Not Cry

Okay, so it's September and perhaps it's a little too early to be tossing out the whole Santa is watching you card . . .
Forget it, it's NEVER too early. If the stores can throw Christmas out there before Thanksgiving, or in some cases before Halloween, so can I. Honestly, my kids gave me the idea.

For the past two weeks my three year old has been fixated on Santa. (I find this amusing since this is our Santa picture from last year). For the record: I DID NOT want to be included in this picture, it was the only way I could get my girls within a ten foot radius of the big guy. Trust me, despite my efforts of trying to run away, the photographer convinced me that it would be great for me to just "join in, take the picture with them!" Ugh. To this day I consider it a miracle that I was able to pry them from my legs, and cough up the $25 bucks for this gem of a pic. However, I was firm when declining the $50 jumbo pack "deal". Anyway, my oldest has been talking about presents, Christmas trees and is even making up her own little jingles about Santa and Elves. My youngest is quick to follow her big sister's lead, so it's been just like living in the North Pole around here, although I'm starting to wonder if Hell is around the corner.

Please excuse my bitterness . . . I've been living on caffeine and DayQuil for two days straight. I haven't been sick in a long time, and these are the only things that are keeping me going. On a side note, there should be some sort of rule that states - IF YOU'RE A MOM, YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO GET SICK.  BAH-HUMBUG. 

So, I feel like I got hit by a bus, and with my kids constantly bickering about who Santa's favorite little helper is, the days have seemed pretty tiring. Things took a turn for the worse this morning when my husband left for work and I no longer had my weekend long, tag team partner to help out. Sick mom against the sassy Santa loving sisters who are going through a what's mine is mine phase.

It's funny, people always said to me when I had my girls close together that they would be the "bestest of friends . . . just wait and see." I'm still waiting. Good things come in time I guess, and like any siblings, there's rivalry.

Today my kids fought about whose mini muffins were bigger. They fought over who was going to wear a blue winter hat and who was going to wear a red winter hat. (I'm well aware that it's not winter hat weather, but my kids dug them out and apparently wearing the red hat means you're Santa.) The final draw was when they got into a full fledged, royal rumble over who was going to be the singer and who was going to be the drummer while singing a song they made up called "Santa, Santa All The Way". Drum sticks were flying and winter hats were being stomped on while I'm sitting there wishing I was stuck in an office cubicle with a box of tissues. (I hardly ever wish my stay at home mom days away for a job in an office, but feeling under the weather has clearly gotten the best of me.) So, out it came, 

"You know what? I'll bet if you guys keep acting like this Santa will skip our house. No presents, no stockings, just reindeer poop! He watches EVERYTHING, and only visits kids that behave!" 

Their mouths dropped to the floor and from that point on the fighting stopped. "I don't like reindeer poop!" What's the over under on me being able to put an Elf on the Shelf to watch over them while I curl up on the couch for a nap this afternoon? I'll probably have to settle for another cup of coffee and some cold meds. On the plus side, I've totally got Santa on my side.

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The Limit Testing Button Pushers a.k.a. KIDS

I said it before and I'll say it again, when it comes to your kids it's always best to pick your battles wisely. I had far more battles than I'd like to fight this week starting with a trip to the mall for new fall clothes.

The car ride over consisted of my oldest not liking any song that came on the radio. "Who sings this song?" Well, since she's not a fan of your typical kids jams and Barney sing-alongs, or whatever the kids listen to these days, it was Katy Perry's new hit playing about about some eye of the tiger roaring or something. "This is NOT Katy Perry, and I DO NOT like this song." Ok fine, it is Katy Perry, but let's find something else. Three radio stations later and now my youngest chiming in that she doesn't like any of the songs, the radio was turned off. Now they are both yelling and screaming for songs. (I am the sucker that gave them one more chance, because frankly I could not handle the screaming in my ears while I was driving.) Dumb move, should have stuck to my guns . . . no radio.

BATTLE 1: MY Car, MY radio . . . I would sacrifice my song preferences if you actually liked the damn Wiggles, but you don't. So, therefore, no songs.

We got to our destination and it was a fresh start. They were both excited to get out of the car and start our adventure. This adventure consisted of my oldest having a meltdown about me not buying her a black sequined, woman's size 10 ball gown for her first day of school outfit. Oh, and my youngest stole a pair of purple glitter pants off a clothing rack and stuffed them in her stroller. She made it all the way to the car with them before me noticing. Prying those horrid glitter pants from her grip and returning them to the store was definitely not a puppies and rainbows kind of moment.

BATTLE 2: I am not spending $95 dollars on a Michael Kors ballgown for your first day of preschool outfit. (Even if it was on the clearance rack.) Also, I don't condone stealing. (Even if you're too young to know better.)

Later in the week my mother came over for a visit and we decided to take another venture out shopping to get my oldest new school clothes since my last trip was pretty unsuccessful. This was great, two sets of eyes are always better than one especially when taking my youngest, "Sticky Fingers", out for a trip to the mall. This trip was not much better. As my mother and I were searching the racks for a specific size,  my three year old decided to pull on a rack of jackets causing the whole display to come crashing down. Luckily, she was not hurt and it was just a big mess to clean up. She helped me pick up the coats, and attempted to assist me in putting the rack back in place. When I asked her to please step back with Nana and let me do it, she purposely pulled another jacket off the rack . . . and down they came, again. Is this fun? Do I look like I'm having fun? No, time to go.

We pushed our luck with one more stop on the way home. A children's clothing store in a nearby plaza. I would not have stopped, but she really needed clothes and there was a huge sign outside that read "Labor Day Sale". Those four letters, S A L E are a stay at home mom's dream. Desperate for some new clothes, we ventured in. A perfect, kid friendly atmosphere with a large Lego table and puzzles set up in the middle of the store. As my kids played, my mother and I found a few good buys. Our trip was successful, and it was time to go home. Pulling my kids away from the Lego table that they were so happily playing at was (insert sarcasm here) *just peachy*. I asked my mother to grab a hold of my youngest and I'd take the 40 pounder. Charlotte went to my mother fairly easy, while Lanie was beyond furious to leave. She started in with a little fuss about not wanting to leave, when a kind sales associate came over and offered her a Mickey Mouse sticker. The woman left to get the sticker, and I said to Lanie "As soon as she comes back, it's time to go." The fuss turned to a full fledged temper tantrum, and I scooped her up kicking and screaming. She was yelling as we left the store. "I don't like it when you scoop me, I'm not ice cream."

BATTLE 3: If the sticker attempt actually worked, I would have been thrilled. Props to the sales associate for trying, but I kind of had a hunch that this would be the outcome . . . you throw a fit like that, you don't get a sticker.

PS. Thanks for the scooping ice cream idea. That's just what I had for dinner after you kids went to bed.

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School Daze

'Tis the season for those dreaded back to school commercials on TV. I guess some things never change. I personally was never a huge fan of school, but sometimes I find myself missing certain things about going. I never passed classes with flying colors, I got by. I had fun. If you could slap a grade on the social aspect of it all, I would have gotten an A+. You see, school is where I made a good majority of my friends. Some that I still have today. Well here I am, and those so called back to school commercials are here to haunt me, again. Except now for my daughters sake. No, I take that back. . . for my sake.
 

In just 336 hours, I hand my first born over to be under the care of others. I may be a little shaky with my math skills, (remember, I was more of a socializer) but who's counting. Okay, I'm not that obsessed that I'm counting down hours, but I am counting down the days. In 2 weeks, my child will start a new chapter. . . PRESCHOOL! I wish more than anything that I could be the parent that is jumping for joy and making up back to school, or in my case off to school jingles and jigs about shipping my kid off, but I'm not. It's only preschool though, so we've got a ways to go. I refuse to give up hope yet.

I have been so fortunate to be able to stay at home with my girls. This has by far been the most rewarding, challenging, tiring job that I have ever had. Parenting in general is, but I love it. I smile a lot, laugh a lot, and some days I just want to cry. I worked in a daycare for a little over 16 years. I was the teacher that you would hand your child over to, and I'd tell you on their first day that everything was going to be okay. . . and it was. It was great. Now that I'm on the other side of the fence, handing my child over, it's a whole different ballpark. Although, my kid thinks it's pretty awesome. For months now she has been saying that she's going to "college". Woah! Slow down! You're only three and you're going to preschool for a whopping two mornings, and a total of six hours a week ('Cause that's all your mother can handle right now.)

Last week a "Welcome to Preschool" letter arrived in the mail for Lanie. Even though I wanted to cry I put on a damn good front, and I jumped up and down with excitement right beside her. The letter suggested some essential items to start the school year off with, one being a backpack for storing artwork. She did not hesitate when saying she wanted a butterfly backpack. You bet your butt I ordered her one that night. Not only with butterflies, but with her name sewn on.  When it came in the mail we opened it, the jumping up and down with excitement started all over again. Then, I excused myself to go to the bathroom where I cried for a minute, and came out jumping up and down with my excited face on. I can tell you this much, becoming a parent has brought out a whole other side of me that I never knew existed. I'm a sap.

On a good note, I'm very happy that she is so excited to go off to preschool. I know she will do great. The time away will be good for both of us, and maybe she'll stop drawing "friends" on my back door with sticky Popsicle sticks (her latest hobby). I give it a month, and I'll bet my three year old has a better social life than me, and that's okay. . . I'll probably be exhausted from driving her around to play dates anyway.

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Kids Haircuts and Lollipops: A Tale That Will Stick

I have a love/hate relationship with lollipops. I love that I can easily bribe my kids into doing pretty much anything with them. I hate the aftermath. Lesson of the day - Lollipops suck...Well, they should be sucked.

A few weeks ago I took my three year old to get a haircut. She was beyond thrilled to go. She loves any, and all kinds of appointments. Dentist, doctor, you name it... but nothing beats the overpriced haircut that results in a trip to what resembles a young child's paradise. Cartoons on TV's, (note: my kids refuse to watch TV at home) fun music, a complimentary butterfly hair clip, a plastic, piece of crap toy and you guessed it, a lollipop. Her younger sister gets all this fun crap too, just for tagging along. Anyway, I continue to bring my kids to this money pit place because A. They enjoy it, and B. Anyone who is brave enough to go at a small child's head with a sharp object, and can actually be successful at it, is considered a talented pro in my book. Props to anyone who can cut a kids hair without making it look like a hack job. I've seen my share of hack job haircuts out there. You'll never catch me with scissors.

As usual my kids walked away happily sucking on their pops, and I was happy with the great job they did with her hair. Lanie, my oldest, will often devour her pop in one bite, while Charlotte tends to nurse hers. One.lick.at.a.time. This can go on for hours... No joke. When we got home I brought the girls into their playroom when it soon dawned on me that Charlotte was no longer holding her pop. Her hand was spared from the usual kung-fu grip. (A defense tactic she uses in attempts to keep it away from her jealous sister who ate her pop about an hour ago.) I asked where she put it. She kept saying "I share". Share with who?  "I share".  I searched for about 20 minutes and could not find it anywhere. This drove my slightly OCD self into a panic. Where the hell is it?!? Two weeks later, after several unsuccessful searches, my oldest found the pop. It was stuck to a life size stuffed duck. Aaah, she "shared" with the duck. This was not only a sense of relief that the pop was found, but a sense of accomplishment due to the fact that we now have one less jumbo sized, stuffed creature in this house. That duck made his way right to the trash barrel. Don't worry, my kids didn't even notice since they have plenty of other life sized stuffed animals creeping around here.

This week I decided to take my youngest, Charlotte, for her first hair cut. She did great, and again, I was very pleased with the outcome... A great haircut. Despite my oldest getting all the usual junk that comes with tagging along, she was floored that she was not getting her hair cut too. I explained to her that she just had her hair cut a couple of weeks ago, and she'll get another one next time. She responded loudly with - "I am going to run away and be Ke$ha." Ummm okay, she's three. She only knows Ke$ha from the radio in the car. She loves music, and will often ask who sings every song that comes on. Yes, I am guilty of listening to the radio verses The Wiggles... But seriously, it could have been worse. She could have said Nicki Minaj or something. It was kind of embarrassing, but on a good note, she did not attempt to run away.

As usual we got home and went into the playroom, and like always Lanie's pop was finished eons ago, and Charlotte had hers clenched in her fist for safe keeping. As I ran into the other room to answer the phone I suddenly heard "Oh no! What's that? What's that in my hair?" I ran back to the room, and sure enough Lanie was standing there with a sticky, orange lollipop dangling and knotted in the back of her hair. I'm not sure if Charlotte decided to "share" again, or if this was some sort of attempt by Lanie to get a haircut. Needless to say, she did not get a haircut. All she got was a bath. No more lollipops! Well, at least until the next haircut.

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Moving Forward . . . Time to Purge the Baby Gear

I always thought I wanted three kids. Being a parent for the past three years has led me, or maybe I should say my kids, to accumulate lots of "stuff". Stuff they outgrow in what sometimes seems like the blink of an eye. I've got high chairs, infant car seats, bouncy seats, an exersaucer, a swing and a floor gym. On top of the bags of clothes, baby toys and other random knick-knacks. I have kept this "stuff" in great condition, as I myself learned at an early age to take care of my belongings. Though these things aren't exactly mine, my husband and I would be the ones to replace them. As the saying goes, "Money doesn't grow on trees".

As my kids began to outgrow things, I'd clean them, bag them, and bring them downstairs to a spare bedroom where I'd nicely stack them. I've had everything stored for safe keeping. All ready for the next little bundle of joy. . . Well, I'm three years in now, and I look like a hoarder. If the TLC network caught a glimpse of this "spare bedroom", they may actually consider me for an episode of Hoarders Buried Alive. Then again, maybe not, since it's only one room, but still, it's just too much "stuff".

I made the decision this week that I am 100% (ok, maybe 99.9%) sure that I am very happy and content with the two girls that I have. I walked into the hoarding room, I mean spare bedroom, and glanced at everything. With a tad bit of hesitation I wrote up an ad and posted it. "For sale" blah blah blah "Everything must go." I got several responses... "What!? You're not going to go for a boy?" The answer is - No, we're not.  

To be completely honest, pregnancy and I don't agree. When I was pregnant, I felt great. . . physically. Most times I was able to fake that so called "pregnancy glow", but deep down I was far from great. I was a train wreck. Before having my girls, I had a handful of unsuccessful pregnancies resulting in miscarriage. Those were tough times, but we got through them. I believe everything happens for a reason. I also believe that being a parent is a privilege, and that my husband and I have been very lucky to have two wonderful, happy and healthy little girls. I feel complete. 

Part of me is sad to let go of all these belongings that hold such great memories. . . The car seat that both my kids rode home from the hospital in. . . the exersaucer that brought them both such joy. I could go on all day, so I'll stop there. Maybe you're a parent and catch my drift, or maybe you will be and you'll soon understand. I'm ready to let go now. I'm ready for new "stuff", and new memories, and maybe I can even get my spare bedroom back for a few months.

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My Top Mom Addictions

Here are my top mom addictions. What are yours?

1. Coffee

I need it, I want it, I have to have it . . . immediately. I get up 15 minutes before my kids, every day, to brew a pot and have a cup . . . okay, more like the pot. (minus the travel size mug my husband fills for work.) Some days if I feel like I'm running an insane asylum, I will pack my kids up and go to the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru. I always hope for that extra boost of energy, and go with the "If you can't beat em', join em'" attitude. It usually doesn't work, and I get roped into buying my kids munchkins. FAIL.

2. Taking pictures
    of my kids
"Oh look, you managed to climb onto the roof of your 5 foot high, outdoor play house. Not safe!" *Snap a pic* Do I think this is cute? No. It's proof of the craziness that can go on here at times . . . It kind of justifies all the coffee drinking. I need it to keep up with all these cute, and sometimes not so cute moments.

3. Candy Crush
Hi, my name is Laurel.  I am a 36 year old, mother of two who is addicted to crushing candy. Let's face it, sometimes you just need a break.
I promise, if my addiction ever leads to any of the sayings on these ecards, I'll stop . . . I think.

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