Lady Lumps

My son is four and is becoming increasingly aware of the differences between girls and boys. It helps that he has a twin sister. I was sitting on the bed with my daughter and my son just came right up to me and pushed on my boobs and said "what are those bumps under your shirt?" I quickly and vaguely explained that women need them to feed their babies. He seemed satisfied with this explanation and went away. A little while later in the evening, I put on my pajamas and had my bra off. Ian walked up to me again and said "where did your bumps go?" You'd have to know me (and I mean REALLY know me to appreciate this story) This is such a sad story about a woman who should be well-endowed after having three children. But nay, it's just not so. And so I'll cry myself to sleep tonight, knowing that I not only have no breasts but that I shared this story with you!

The Gyne Visit

The other day I experienced a classic example of why being a SAHM can sometimes completely suck! While my husband was at work, eating lunch at a restaurant and enjoying the company of other adults, (you have to be a SAHM to truly appreciate that part of this sentence) I had to take all three of my children with me to get a PAP smear. The four of us crammed into the tiny room and I tried to occupy them all with snacks (that eventually just ended up all over the floor...pissing off the doctor, of course) and a magazine (despite the fact that they can't read and "Women's Health" didn't amuse them in the slightest bit). Then it was time for me to throw my feet up into the stirrups. Yeehaw. It was at that exact moment when they all decided to scramble around the room. Of course. I'm trying to be civilized but at the same time I'm screaming at my two boys to "stay by mommy's head...stay by mommy's head dammit!" I was just so worried that they would remember it someday and be scarred for life. We survived and celebrated with a round of happy meals. Later, my husband asked how everything went...I usually just laugh, to prevent myself from smacking him, but this time I said "next time you have to go to the doctor to 'turn to the left and cough' I'm sending the kids with you!!"

F off

So the baby now pronounces "sock" as "fock". I didn't teach him that - I swear! Yesterday Jer was taking off the baby's shoes. Then the baby held his foot up into the air, toward Jer, and said "fock off".

The Leprecauns took it

The other day, my son dropped one of his hotwheels cars into the toilet. I didn't know why he was just staring into the toilet, so I just walked up to it and flushed it. The interesting part is that the hotwheel went down the pipe. It blows my mind that my tiny, little four-year-old daughter can take a dump and it gets caught in the pipes and I have to plunge the hell out of it. But a hotwheel goes right down the tubes. And so while I was standing there, in amazement, uttering, over and over again that I "just can't believe it went down", my son took it as an ok to flush another one. But it too went down without hesitation. And since I don't fancy myself a plumber, I was speechless and completely stumped. My daughter then proceeded to explain to me that the leprecauns must be down there and they don't like poo-poo, but they'll take the cars. Well there you have it. Who knew?

So I'd like to start my first blog with a confession. I try really hard to keep up with fashion trends, but I truly have no idea what I'm doing. I guess it's just not a big enough priority, because I continuously screw it up. I brush up on what's popular and then trot on over to my favorite boutique: Target and attempt to make myself look somewhat presentable, on what feels like a welfare budget (it would make a crack whore laugh in pity). But then I find myself constantly leaning back on what's simply comfortable. (After all, I do spend most of my time wrestling three little kids. A cute skirt and some wedges just won't cut the mustard.) And then there are those mornings when I'm in a rush and have the misfortune of combining the two (fashion trend with comfy-mom clothes). And this morning was no exception. After losing a lot of the post-baby weight, I've thrown out all of my high-waisted mom jeans, vowing that I'd never go that route again. Unfortunately, I never threw out my mom underwear. So this morning I threw on my clothes and ran out the door, in quite a rush. As I was dropping the twins off at preschool, I saw an acquaintance of mine and proceeded to raise my arm in the air, to wave at her. It was then that I realized that my jeans were low-waisted but my underwear were hanging out about TWO INCHES above my jean line. Ugh. Instead of trying to cover it up, I quickly pretended that I was very ill. Afterall, who could make fun of me when I was practically on deaths door, right? I couldn't help but laugh myself to tears, once I got back into the van. (I do that a lot since becoming a SAHM...laugh hysterically, all by myself...not quite sure if that's normal or not...I'll look into it). I wanted to come home and take a picture of it, but the baby pooped all over me and I had to come straight home and change. Instead, I've posted this lovely example of mom jeans. Oh, you've gotta love the moms.