parenting — Page 3

Confessions of a Mommy & Her Tramp Stamp

May 2, 2013 by amushro

Confession time: I LOVE celebrity gossip magazines and websites. It’s a dirty habit that I’ve come by honestly from snuggling on the couch with my grandmother and reading Star Magazine cover to cover. Some grandmothers bake cookies and knit, my awesome Gram made sure I was in touch with all the celeb happenings

One of my favorite parts of gossip magazines is the “Stars are Just Like Us” section because I really do feel better about myself seeing Reese Witherspoon carry her own groceries or Bradley Copper pump his own gas. So imagine my excitement when I realized that Nicole Richie and I are more alike than I could ever imagine. All from this little tweet:

You probably guessed my second confession. I am the shameful owner of tramp stamp. What seemed edgy, cool, and “deep” when I was 19, now just seems misguided, uninspired, and lame at 33.

Tattoos can be really beautiful and an outlet for self-expression and identity; however, my lame-o tattoo is neither of those things. Everyone else had one in college and I wanted one too. Oh, I thought it was so “deep” and meaningful, but years later, I would give anything to have the space above my coin slot not covered in ink.

What is this uninspired ink you may ask? Well, what happens when your birthday falls on the cusps? One of two things: You can read both horoscopes for the day and pick the better of the two, or you can permanently mar your skin with a mixture of an Aquarius and a Pieces sign. So deep…

I hid the tattoo from my parents for months, but when bathing suit season came along, there was no hiding my new artwork. If looks could kill, I would have been dead from my Dad’s death stare (shudders). It only worsened when he and I were watching Wedding Crashers and Vince Vaughn totally threw me under the bus with this line:

“Tattoo on the lower back… might as well be a bullseye.”

Awesome. Just what every dad wants to hear.

My mom took it even worse. She was horrified by the tattoo and screamed “Someday you will have kids and they will want a tattoo. And what are you going to say? Huh? You won’t be able to say anything because you have a trashy tattoo.”

Dam her! She was right.

The idea of my babies permanently marking their perfect skin with anything makes me die a little. I made those kids and their skin. Surely there should be a law that you need your mother’s permission before you are allowed to ruin the skin she crafted, no matter how old you are! I can only hope there is something less permanent in the future that kids think is cool like a sticker or non-permanent hair dye. Wishful thinking, I know.

Our new house is across the street from the neighborhood pool and since my kids are part fish, I expect to be splashing around in that pool all summer and many summers to come. I can only hope that there are a few other moms and dads in my new hood that carry shameful tats. Maybe a few tribal bands, an ancient Chinese symbol for patience that really means fried rice, or even a few Greek letters from their glory days. We can nod our heads in solidarity of our bad choices. We were wild and crazy once and we have the ink to prove it! Now we are dragging our kids kicking and screaming to the kiddie pool during adult swim.

Lean on Me, Actually Don’t. Get Off Me…

April 29, 2013 by amushro

Having kids has caused me a serious case of momnesia. This kid induced disease often has me searching endlessly for keys, failed attempts of looking for my lost cell phone while I am talking on that lost cell phone, and the dreaded walking into a room and thinking “What the hell did I come in here for?”

While momnesia and its nasty side effects has me walking around like a half wit, I never have to worry that I will lose my kids because one or both are always leaning on me, touching me, or sitting on me…always. Now I love a snugglefest with my babies, probably more than the average Mamma, but dang kids, give the lady some room!

This morning I was doing the normal multi-tasking: attempting to write a blog, drink coffee, pretend to watch Doc McStuffins and snuggle with two bed-headed kids. But I couldn’t even raise an elbow to click around on the computer because I was trapped between both leaners.

I moved to the floor, they followed me.
I scooted to the left, the scooted along with me.
I scooched to the right, the got even closer.

I can’t escape them!

During a break in the leaning, I ran off into the kitchen, but the little one followed me. Since this kid could stand, I haven’t cooked a meal without her standing on my feet or swinging between my legs chanting “Mamma, Mamma, Mamma” on repeat. This is enough to make the most patient of women insane, and I will only cook things that can be heated up in the microwave in 30 seconds so that I can be around long enough to see my kids graduate from high school.

I instituted a new rule in this house, a moratorium on leaning on Mommy for one hour a day. The no leaning policy happens from 1:30-2:30. This time also coincides with Mimi’s nap mostly because she is irrational and cannot be bargained with. Also, I am a little afraid of her wrath if I told her she has to move. However, the new rule has already failed and I have a mutiny on my hands. See!

The leaning doesn’t stop even when the kids go to bed. As if on cue, I get the kids to sleep and the dog, who has ignored us all day, comes racing down the stairs just to lean on me. It’s like she has an internal clock that goes off after bedtime alarming her to the fact no one is demanding anything from me and no one is touching me. The perfect time for her to lean that hot and hairy body on me.

After a full day of kids and a dog leaning on me, Hubby has the audacity to try his own version of leaning. No thanks, Dude. Keep on moving. After 12 straight hours of kid and canine leaning, ain’t no one got time for that.

So if you need me, find one of my kids. I will just be a lean away.

Two Under Two Reminder

April 26, 2013 by amushro

Today, Mimi has hit the ripe ol’ age of 22 months. According to some random baby website she should be able to:

Say at least 20 words

Sleep at least 12 hours uninterrupted

Has the ability to wrap her Daddy around her little finger

Can clear the room with her ear-piercing screams and tantrums

While we still have two months before this little lady is two, this particular month has really struck a chord with me because Monkey was 22 months when I had Mimi.

In preparation for her birth and when trying to wrap my brain around having “two under two,” I remember thinking “He is so big now and so independent.”

Ummmm aca-scue me? What the hell was I thinking?

I look at my sweet Mimi and even though she is not a baby-baby anymore, she is a baby and sure as hell not independent. Unless, of course, you count going down the slide by herself or when she screams “Beat it!” to our dog when Suggie has gotten too close to her Goldfish crackers.

Here is Monkey at the hospital meeting his sister for the first time. He is wearing a “Big Brother” shirt. Big Brother? He isn’t a big anything! He was just a tiny toddler that is freaked out about seeing his mom in some random hospital bed and can’t understand why his Nene is handing him some baby. Thanks, but no thanks, lady. Just give me a snack instead, OK.

I love when people ask me how he adjusted to having a sister. He was so little that he has no memory without her around to cry, mess up his toys, or to share my lap. So the transition for him was no biggie. Me on the other hand, well let’s just say it wasn’t as smooth.

When I was pregnant and exhausted from chasing a toddler that was full of energy, I would fret over how difficult it would be to have kids so close in age. How would I handle their sleep when they are on such different schedules? How would I get two kids in and out of car seats without losing one in traffic? Is it even possible to get them both dressed and out the door before nine AM?

Here is the part where you expect me to say that all of that worrying was pointless, right? WRONG!

All of the difficult scenarios that I could imagine happened and they were usually worse than I expected. I spent most of that first year sleep deprived and crying. Many mornings were spent kicking a soccer ball to the boy while I nursed the baby. Now THAT is multi-tasking!

I couldn’t understand why I thought it was so hard to shower with just one kid. With two it would be goodbye soap and water, hello perpetual ponytails

When the fog started to lift and we made it to her first birthday, her invitations said this:

Happy First Birthday, Mimi!

but it should have said

Thank God We Survived!

Now that time has passed, I have adopted that strange ailment that affects all mothers at some point. You start to forget how bad something sucked and your memories get all bury and wishy-washy, just enough for you to look back on a particularly hard time fondly. Try it on yourself.

Morning sickness? Eh, all that vomiting wasn’t so bad? I actually look very nice in green.

Labor and delivery? Tis’ but a scratch.

The first year with two under two? It was lovely. I cherished every moment.

Could this be a hallucinogenic side effect from pregnancy hormones?

Here’s the thing I know for sure, everything happens for a reason and our life is exactly where is should be. I wouldn’t trade my two under two for anything. Because if I even thought for a minute that life would be better or easier if we had waited a little longer before we had our second, I would be a fool because I wouldn’t have my Mimi and she is perfection and life is perfection with this little hurricane!

Crime and Punishment: Please Don’t Take the iPad Away

April 22, 2013 by amushro

If the bags under my eyes weren’t a clear indicator of my need for more sleep, the kitchen full of empty Diet Coke cans and coffee that has been reheated in the microwave one too many times should tell you that this Mamma is TIRED!

Because Hubby works late and usually misses out on the torture joy that is bath and bedtime, I devised an evil plan that allows me to get a few more zzzzzzzs, him some quality time with the kids, and a little payback for “oh, the metro broke down again” —he has to get up in the morning with the kids. (Insert evil laugh here).

The other morning I couldn’t be sure if I was dreaming, no, no, no having a nightmare, or if Hubby was actually trying to ruin my life. Monkey must have been throwing a temper tantrum over who knows what (again, I wasn’t on duty and don’t really care about the specifics), but I distinctly heard Hubby say “That’s enough, you have lost the iPad for the rest of the day.” Why would he say such a thing? My sweet slumber was immediately ruined! I jumped out of bed and raced down the stairs trying to stop him from making a terrible mistake.

I get that parents need to be on the same page with discipline and you can’t undermine the other parent when they are laying down the law, but I had to stop this nonsense because if Monkey was banned from the iPad for the day, it was ME that was being punished.

I am not ashamed to say that I use the iPad and iPhones in this house to entertain, bribe, and calm wild beasts. Without them my Mommy Bag ‘O Tricks would be pretty shallow.

Now that he doesn’t nap and I need to get work done in this house, Monkey happily skips off with the iPad while Mommy gets the first shower of the week without an audience, maybe I tackle the laundry pile that has engulfed half of the house, or maybe I just sit on my arse drink a Diet Coke and watch Dr. Phil. Either way, he is happy, maybe learning something, maybe not, and I am happy. The iPad even forces the kids to share. It’s a magical little unicorn and I REFUSE to give it up!

If we need to run to the grocery store and someone is tempted the throw themselves into the shelves of cereal, don’t fear! Quickly toss them the phone and let them play the Bubble Guppies game.

At the doctor’s office for more than five minutes with a toddler that is ready to make it “rain up in there” with tongue depressors? No worries, we’ve got an app for that. Actually we have dozens of apps for that, and right now the Disney Junior app is on and she can watch Little Einsteins. Boom! She is happy and the tongue depressors are safe.

Trying to cook dinner but have two kids pushing you, standing on your feet, and requesting the 100th cheesestick of the day? Take the iPad and beat it, kids. Now they are blissfully happy while you chop, saute, and bake a yummy dinner they probably won’t eat, but hey, you tried.

It’s like Steve Jobs saw the frazzled Mom and worked feverishly with the Apple geniuses to create something so wonderful, so mind consuming, and so addictive that he should have been given a Nobel Peace Prize.

When I see an articles written about kids too connected to technology and we are creating mini zombies when they have too much iPad/iPhone time, I just have to say shut up, seriously. While pregnant I never drank, smoke, or did Crystal Meth (well to be honest, I never did Crystal Meth). I nursed both kids long enough to watch the slow demise of my perky breasts, and I engage them with all sorts of educational and meaningful activities every day. I will not apologize for their overuse of the iPad and I if you need an excuse, I am sure we have an app for that.

My Questionable Attachment to My Kids Clothes

April 17, 2013 by amushro

I had one job. One little job, and I couldn’t do it. Given the task by Hubby, all I needed to do was take the bins full of the clothes the kids have outgrown and move them to Space Bags. I left Hubby in charge of the kids and headed upstairs to start packing; however, a few minutes into digging in those bins and this is how he found me……

No I am not napping, although I had my perfect excuse to sneak away and nap. No, friends, no resting over here. This is me weeping into their baby clothes.

My entire life I’ve been looking two steps ahead for the next big thing to plan and get ready for. Take the slave-driver that put me in this awful clothes-induced mess. Once I knew he was “the one,” I was sending him engagement rings pictures signed from the dog (hilarious). Once I got the ring, it was non-stop wedding planning. You have no idea how happy I am that the time sucking vortex Pinterest did not exist back then. I may not have made it out of wedding planning with a husband to wed. No time for the honeymoon phase here, once the wedding was over, I was in full on baby making mode. But when those sweet babes arrived and introduced me to sleepless nights and stretch marks, I wanted to slam on the brakes, stop time, and enjoy their little lives without rushing through.

Am I being a bit over dramatic, perhaps. Am I too emotional, yup. Have I become an emotions tramp just giving out my affections to everyone? Just give me a “hello my name is…” sticker.

Hubby was being completely unrealistic and tried to pry the clothes out of my hands. After he suggested we just get rid of everything for the tenth time, I decided to let go of the vice gripe I had on his man parts when he saw the error of his ways and simply walked away from the crazy lady. He forced me to finish the job, but not before I pulled out a few of my favs to stash them away.

I love this coat. I love everything about this orange, puffy jacket that Monkey wore when he was one. I rescued it from the piles of clothes because I can’t bear to put it back in the attic. I have plans for this little coat, you see. When he leaves me for college, I will wrap this coat around a pillow and cry myself to sleep in this coat. You may think this is a bit much, but I think it is a sign of a good mom when you can admit this sort of ~~obsession~~ ~~unhealthy attachment~~ love.

When I made my way over to the bins that were overflowing with pink, ruffles and tutus, I knew there was one gem I needed to find. One of the first things I bought when I found out I washaving a girl was this itsy, bitsy bikini. Mimi wore it on her first few trips to the beach. Here she is at only three weeks old napping and rocking that bikini.

I just want to squeeze that tiny newborn and sniff her sweet head. Her second birthday is coming up fast (sniff…sniff), and I want to slow down this little lady from getting too big too fast. I love this bikini and I love this picture. When she is a teenager and says awful, terrible things to me and rolls her eyes 937 times a day, I will snuggle this bikini and remember the sweet babe that adored me and refused to be held by anyone else….then I will drink…heavily because I don’t think I can handle a teenage daughter. A revealing bikini on a newborn is adorable and makes me teary to see. However, a too revealing bikini on a teenage Mimi will send me into a fit and I will be forced to drag her sweet ass off the beach by her ponytail.

Now it’s your turn! Tell me what you have kept of your kids that makes you an emotions tramp.

Don’t forget to enter in my giveaways! I have two going on right now!

The first is a Family Photography Session from Rosic Photography

a Rafflecopter giveaway and the second is for a signed copy of Scary Mommy, Jill Smokler’s new book!

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Guest Blogger and a Scary Mommy Giveaway!

April 13, 2013 by amushro

Oh, hello! I should probably have a huge “Under Construction” sign hanging on this site because it is a bit of a mess. But no need to worry, friends! In a few weeks the whole blog will have a new and fabulous look! Until then, don’t judge the mess and I won’t judge those dirty dishes in your sink, deal?

Since we are moving in a few weeks, I have broken down and started the dreaded task of packing. We still haven’t found a new house (anyone got room in their basement…no really, anyone?), but I am already up to my eyeballs with packing boxes, bubble wrap, and lots of great memories of this home. Let’s just say, Mamma likes her wine this week. When I hit a bit of a rough patch, I knew my BBB (Best Blogger Buddy) Stephanie from When Crazy Meets Exhaustion would understand and talk me off my ledge. Today she is sharing a bit of her crazy and joining me for a great giveaway!

When Crazy Meets Exhaustion

When I received a text message pic of Amanda sobbing into a bin of her kids’ baby clothes, I didn’t judge. I wasn’t all, “Damn, girl, get a hold of yourself.” Instead I was all, “WAAAAAA!” right along with her. Why? Because we crazy. And chances are, if you have little ones of your own, you are, too. And when Amanda asked me to share my nutjob insanity emotional attachment to some kid-related thangs, I actually had a hard time choosing just one. Below is a list of the things my kids do that leave me with tear stained cheeks, and with them frightened to come near me for a half hour or so:

Channeling Elmo: My daughter is turning two in less than a month (I know, right?!) and I fear that she will soon forgo referring to herself in the third person. I friggin’ love hearing “Ella help;” “Ella do,” “Ella like” coming from her sweet mouth.

Speech impediments: Piggybacking off of the grammatically incorrect ways of Elmo, I can’t get enough of my kids’ mispronunciations of words and phrases. Oh, the joy! My 3.5 year-old son says “un-cumfit-bul” when he’s trying to say “uncomfortable” and it makes my heart so happy. My nosy gal is always saying, “Mommy doo-nin?” (Mommy, what are you doing?) or “Pick up me!” when she wants to be held. The day they lose these impediments, I will die a little inside.

Mastery: Mastery of feeding themselves, coloring in the lines, opening the refrigerator to get me a cold beer their milk cups—it’s just too much! Full disclosure for parents who are currently potty training their kiddos: in theory, we want them to tinkle and poo in the toilet. However, the day they are self-reliant enough to do so, you will feel a twinge of sadness because that is one more way they don’t need you. (It’ll be okay, I promise. I’m hugging you now, do you feel it?)

Affection: It won’t be long. No, friends, the day is drawing ever closer. The day when the boy won’t hug me in public; the day the girl stops throwing herself into my arms either forgetting or despite the fact that she’s mad at me for saying No. Hugs and kisses on the lips will be replaced with ruffles of the hair and macho fist-bumps. My tears will be replaced with vodka, but that’s a post for another day.

I can’t be the only one, right? I mean, if Amanda is boo-hooing into clothes, and I’m all kinds of crazy over speech impediments, there must be more of us, yes? So, tell me, Mamas and Papas, what bit of adorableness makes you cuckoo for your kiddos?

This week our favorite blogger Jill Smokler, the hilarious lady behind ScaryMommy.com, published her second book Motherhood Comes Naturally (and Other Vicious Lies). Jill’s writing is so funny and so honest, we know you will laugh out loud just like we did. So we are teaming up to give four of our readers copies of the new book signed by Jill! Fancy, right? So click the link and enter for your chance to win!

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Motherhood Comes Naturally (and Other Vicious Lies)

Questionable Choices in Parenting Pictures

April 11, 2013 by amushro

Questionable Choices in Parenting day………………….ehhh, who the hell knows. My newest submission is this photograph. Here’s a quick game, let’s see how many things you can spot in this picture that are off just a tad and make you question my parenting skills.

Where oh where should we start? Well, for one, this is my kid playing outside in her pajamas. Yes, I let my kid walk around the neighborhood in her jammies. At least she has shoes on and the jammies match. I call this a success.

Did you notice that she is wearing Santa jammies? Yup, too small Santa jammies, I might add. They were snug a few weeks ago, but here we are, in April, still sporting our December jammies.

And the crème de la crème, the bees knees, the cat’s (or Santa in this case) pajamas, the cutest little carpenter crack I have ever seen. Those too small jammies and her super heavy diaper that needed changed before she strutted through the neighborhood are weighing her down and exposing her assets.

I know photographers like to share their secrets and equipment. Well I used my fancy iPhone camera and snapped this pic while I lie on my back and let Monkey chalk an outline of my exhausted body. It would seem my need to take a nap and camera phone would put me at the perfect angle to catch this chalking crack.

Hmmmm… Maybe this baby butt crack just inspired a new section for my blog. Pictures of my Questionable Choices in Parenting not pictures of coin slots. Gross

Listen, I don’t know the first thing about photography, but I know a talented gal that does!

For my readers in Uniontown, PA and Morgantown, WV! The super talent Melissa Rosic is generously giving one lucky reader a Family Portrait session!

Enter to win a Family Portrait Session from Rosic Photography! The session will include one 60 min session and 10 image file downloads with print release! Session must be held during the month of June in the Uniontown or Morgantown Area. Regular Family Portrait Sessions details apply and can be found on her website.www.mrosicphotography.wix.com/lifestyle

Click the link below to enter! Lots of chances to enter! Share this with your friends!

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Silent Nights? Singing My Kids to Sleep Make Me Ugly Cry

April 8, 2013 by amushro

When I’m driving in my car and singing along with the radio, I’m often shocked at how I am note for note and tune for tune with the singing ability of Adele. I mean really, my singing is amazing. Sometimes I wonder why someone hasn’t just thrown a Grammy at me.

OK, I just snorted from laughing so hard. That may be the biggest lie I have ever told; I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Apparently when they were handing out talented vocal cords, I was standing in the sarcasm line.

Never one to be deterred from a lack of talent, I belt out tunes all day long, much to the chagrin of my kids. Mimi usually tells me “Shhhhhh, no,” but the older and more verbal kid says “Mommy, stop. Your singing hurts my ears.” My bad singing isn’t what embarrasses me (although it should), it’s the fact that I am so crazy I can’t sing them to sleep without crying.

I am probably traumatizing the kids and will need to pay for their sleep therapy bills someday because I have special songs I sing to each kid, and I can’t get through the first verse without weeping. Even if the kids have been really bad, my nerves are shot, and I am moments away from selling them on Craigslist, the minute I start singing “their” songs—it’s a waterfall and I am weeping uncontrollably. Should I just pick different songs to sing to them? Probably, but, like I said, I am crazy.

I even create little scenarios in my head when I sing to them. Sometimes I imagine dancing with my grown children cheek to cheek at their weddings. Of course there are details like I am looking gorgeous in my dress, my kids have never been happier, and the crowd keeps remarking I look the same as on my wedding day and that having such an amazing waistline at my age should be a crime.

If you’re crazy and you know it, clap your hands!

For your listening pleasure, here are some slow jams—or the songs I sing to my kids. For Monkey, Bruno Mars’ Count on Me–please note, I burst into tears while searching for it on YouTube.

And for Mimi it’s my singing soul mate Adele’s Make You Feel My Love. It’s too much for me. I am going to start the ugly cry.

Great songs, right? Did you cry when you were listening to them? Don’t lie, you did.

Just when I was coming to terms with my nighttime crying spells, I caught someone else in this house getting emotional when signing a few tunes to the kids. It would seem that Hubby has my kind of crazy.

From the minute Monkey was born, Hubby has sung John Denver’s Country Roads to him. Since we are both WVU grads, that song is a rite of passage and probably one of the few songs (besides some Pearl Jam crap) that he knows all of the words to. Sometimes I think Hubby is imagining taking Monkey to his first WVU football game, showing him around campus, wiping a tear when he passes the old frat house, and puffing up his chest when he points out the hot spots where he picked up chicks (gross). Every night when you ask Monkey what he wants to sing, it is always Country Roads, and I die a little when I hear that little boy sing “Almost Heaven…..”

When Hubby dances and sings with Mimi to The Lumineers “Ho Hey,” his eyes get all glassy as he sways his little lady back and forth. She squeals when he sings (why don’t I get that reaction?). I’m pretty sure the line “I don’t think you’re right for him” is his secret prayer that Mimi will always think he is the most wonderful man in the world and never, ever leave him.

Maybe he is just singing to his kids, but I like to think his delusions and crazy run deep like mine. After all, I shouldn’t be the only one to screw up these kids, right?

Share the songs you sing with your kids and we can cry together!

I also have a giveaway for my readers in Uniontown, PA and Morgantown, WV! The super talent Melissa Rosic is generously giving one lucky reader a Family Portrait session!

Click the link below to enter! Lots of chances to enter! Share this with your friends!

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Losing His Nap & Finding Inner Peace

March 19, 2013 by amushro

Namaste, friends

Please, come into the little Zen Garden that is my home.

Why the sudden nirvana (and I don’t mean the Kurt Cobain kind)? Well friends, this new enlightenment has come from my son’s nap. Actually it is the release of his nap that has me in perfect chi. This sounds absurd, right? But I am really thinking Oprah is just minutes from calling me to share my “A-ha!” moment on her network.

After months of fighting the inevitable, ignoring the words of wisdom from my friends, and driving myself freaking bananas, I have let the nap go. And just like that “poof” the naps are gone like they never existed, and life in this house is still going on. So why was I holding on for so long? I have a couple of theories.

One, I am a moron that likes to drive myself bat-shit-crazy. Because who doesn’t love to fight their kid for an hour to take a nap that will usually last 45 minutes? Oh and be sure to note this lame nap will ensure he won’t be able to sleep until 10:00 each night. No one and I mean no one should be with their own child for that many hours a day. To add insult to injury, I would FINALLY get Monkey to sleep for his nap and would start skipping down the hall for a few glorious moments of freedom only to hear Mimi waking up from her nap. More times than I can count, I would drop to the floor and sob because I was so tired and just needed a break. If I wasn’t so tired and so desperate to get both kids to sleep, their timing would be hilarious. Instead it was just painful.

My second theory is my inability to break our schedule. From the minute Monkey was born, I have been the queen of schedules, and this kid has been napping at 1:00 since he was one. How was I going to change our schedule all of a sudden? Aren’t kids supposed to nap every day? At what point is it OK to let them just stop? I think I was afraid of doing something wrong and messing him up for life. You know, like if I let him stop napping too early he would end up doing crystal meth as an adult and would be living on the streets with a sign that said “If my mom had only made me nap I wouldn’t be in this mess today.” Strangers that passed him would throw him change and judge me for my Questionable Choices. So in reality, I was making him nap to keep him from becoming a meth addict, right?

My final theory is that his daily naps were his last “baby” thing he had left. I know that at three and a half the kid is not going to pack his bags, fall in love with some terrible girl that I hate, and move across the country with this home wrecker girl, but he really isn’t a baby anymore. WAHHHHHHH!

Whatever my well-intentioned but misguided reasons for holding on to the nap for too long were, I am happy to say that life is a lot better around here. I take Mimi up for her nap and he heads to his room for “quiet time.” However, quiet time really doesn’t last too long because he comes downstairs to tell me that daddy penguins take care of the eggs while the mommy penguin hunts. Thanks, Captain Random.

Usually we do things that we can’t do while Hurricane Mimi is awake, like play Candy Land 584 times or color without her eating the crayons. So he and I actually have a little bonding time rather than me being so angry he isn’t sleeping. Cue the Oprah “A-ha!”

Even the nights are better because he is so exhausted and can’t keep his eyes open past 7. It is actually a joy to put him to bed now. He falls asleep quickly in my arms, but I hold on to him for a few extra minutes, kiss his sweet face, and whisper in his ear “I am only this crazy because I love you and I don’t want you to do Crystal Meth or marry some awful girl.”