Lift that Load!!

My eldest son was taking a bath and I heard him grunting and groaning, so I peaked in the doorway. He was standing up very slowing, holding onto his nuts, and groaning. I thought he was hurt! I said, "what are you doing, buddy?" And he replied, (still holding his stuff) "Grrrrrr, I'm lifting my heavy rocks!"

Closet of Shame

Before I had children, death was pretty much a non-issue to me. That was before I wore my heart on my sleeve. And now, I see everything as having the potential to orphan my kids or worse, to harm them. I'm absolutely paranoid! What further accentuates the situation is the fact that I've been watching the history channel a lot lately. I love the history channel, but their topics lately have been quite grim: Doomsday 2012, Oil Apocalypse, Mega Disasters, Global Warming, etc. All of these shows are meant to make us feel completely screwed, of course. That's how they keep us watching. And it's been working! I've since started to wonder what I could do to prepare my family, in the event that we get nuked, a volcano erupts and dust covers the sky for ten years, or that spy sattelite decides to land right in my neighborhood. :) (hey, you never know!) I did some research on these various topics and then decided it was time to go shopping! I bought rubbing alcohol, bandages, masks, medicines, t.p., garbage bags, and much, much more! I put all of these items in our walk-in entryway closet (knowing this would be the best place to hide later), along with a list of things to do after we've been nuked. Jer came home from work and opened the closet to put his jacket away, and found the items, with the list hanging from a nail on the wall. He thought it was hysterical and vowed that he'd NEVER let any of his friends hang their coats in that closet, for fear that they'd see the list and be convinced that I'm a complete nutcase. Then I said, "Oh, I forgot one more thing! I need to put some of my old narcotics in the box too...in case we're all so bad off that I need to do us in!" (I smile) "Yep," Jer says, "You're nuts!" He's since deemed that closet "The Closet of Shame". Maybe so, but I'll never be caught with my pants down. And you know you'll all be knocking on my door when the shit comes down!! :) (lol)

That Bites!

My eldest son and I were playing dinosaurs. I was apatosaurus, a kind, veggie-eater. Ian, as usual, was the large meat-eater, Gigantosaurus. He was snarling and bearing his teeth at me. I let out a big dino-scream as he pretended to sink his large teeth into my "tail". The baby, William, saw what we were doing and thought it looked like a ton of fun. So he too started growling and showing his teeth, as he approached me. Well, I don't trust him not to bite me because he doesn't yet know the difference between pretend and real biting. So I say, "no, no, William. Mommy doesn't trust you - don't bite!" He starts chasing me. "No, William!" "No biting!!" The chase speeds up as I run, screaming. I'm truly scared of this little 30 pound beast sinking his teeth into me! I run into the family room and trip on one of my husbands mammoth shoes. Damn, I'm down!! While I'm still on the floor, face down, William takes a flying leap onto my back and proceeds to take a massive bite into my butt. I yell at the top of my lungs, begging him for mercy. I wriggle and writhe in pain, trying to get him to unclench his teeth from my ass, but he won't let go! I can hear him giggling, because he thinks this is hysterical. I manage to compose myself enough to reach around to my rear and start tickling him under his chin. He finally starts laughing so much that he can't maintain his death grip. Free at last! I get up and survey the damage...it's not going to be pretty! And he says to me, with his innocent little smile, "Woo Woo dinosaur." :) How could I possibly be mad at him?

Getting the Grays

Since having my third child, I’ve gradually started getting gray hair (three actually). Instead of freaking out and viewing them as a negative sign of my age, I welcomed them and named them after my three kids. I felt it was a kind of rite of passage into true motherhood. No doubt about it, I was really an adult now! I showed them to my husband and he proceeded to ask me, “are you going to pull them out?” In his defense, I must add that he asked this not to be mean, but because one of the hairs had high aspirations and was reaching straight up for the sky. It refused to lie down, no matter what I did to it. You go girl! I replied to my husband, “Heck no, she’s just the first of many guests and I suspect it’s going to be a large party. I want to see where’s it’s going to lead!” I was excited about my new hairs. Afterall, my grandmother had beautiful white hair. Everyone always thought she looked majestic. Maybe I could go from looking like a sloppy housewife to a regal sophisticate. But what I didn’t expect was the congregation that would soon be forming on my chin! Where did that come from? Was this the beginning of menopause? I’m only 34 years old! Are my hormones off balance? Maybe I’m ill! Was I actually born a man and I’m just now realizing it? As all of these random thoughts buzzed through my brain, I started to panic. I plucked the lone hair, as it was really only one little hair, and tried not to think about it anymore. But it insisted on returning week after week. I sprinkled holy water on it, left over from my son’s baptism, and told it to “go into the light”. “It’s not welcome here!” At my next gynecological appointment I ask my doctor to have my hormones checked because I’m obviously excessively hairy. She asks me what I’m referring to exactly and I point to my one chin hair. After she’s done laughing, she informs me that I have no idea how hairy women can really be and that it’s completely normal. She then adds that I can probably expect it to get worse as I age, particularly after menopause. It gets worse?! Holy crap! I go home, feeling defeated, and vow that I’m going to spread this story around because apparently it’s just one more example of the secrets that women keep to themselves, in order to make all other women feel isolated and repulsive. I’m happy to report that the lone hair has not yet invited friends, but if they do come, I’m just going to braid them and wear them with pride. Apparently, women have body hair. Get used to it!

One less thing to worry about!

I worry the most for my daughter. Only a woman can truly understand this. It's still a very dangerous (not to mention sexist) world for women. I pray every night that I can raise her to be a strong woman, when she grows up. Well, today the twins were outside playing on their play "castle". Abby said to Ian, "I'm the princess stuck up in the castle. Will you save me?" Ian replied with a "no!" "Please?" asked Abby, nicely. "No!" said Ian. Then Abby slid down the slide, got right up in Ian's face and said "fine, I don't need you!" " I'm so moving on!!" Then she looks over at me, raises her tiny little fist into the air and says (quite seriously) "girl power!" We exchange winks.

Yes, I think my job is done.

Snow White or Rose Red?

The kids and I watched Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs today. The question all women have asked themselves at one time or another is "could I live with the seven dwarfs?" My immediate response is "7 men?" "Hell no!!" "I can't keep up with 3 kids, let alone 7!" But after giving it further thought, I ask you to take a good look at the real situation: They're gone, working, all day long. And at the end of the day they come home with diamonds. And am I the only one who thinks yodeling is totally cool?! Well, OK, maybe so. And just as I start leaning toward an answer of "yes", I remember one key element: All those diamonds and that yodeling can't possibly come for free! So no, definitely not. I could NOT live with the seven dwarfs. Snow White is a whole lot more woman than I could ever be! (To each his own.)

10 Year Old Sheltie for Sale!

I was trying to make a soup that required about 10 cans of vegetables to be opened. My can opener was completely rusted and completely worthless! I had to stab at each can with a knife. I looked like a complete lunatic and was probably scaring the crap out of the baby. It took me about a half-hour to open all of the cans. What was supposed to be an easy dinner turned into a huge event! And to make matters worse, after the soup was made, the kids whined incessantly about how the soup was "too hot". I sat there blowing on their bowls for about ten minutes, with them yelling "hurry up, I'm hungry!" It wasn't cooling off, so I decided we should all play a quick round of hide and seek to get their minds off of the soup. Five minutes later, we return to the table only to find that the dog has eaten all of our soup!! Damn it and @*$#@!!! I got tears in my eyes and was contemplating strangling the dog, when Ian patted me on the leg and said, "It's ok Mama, I didn't want that soup anyway. Let's get a pizza!"

All Women: Please Read!!

My story is important to share because it's not just about me, it could be about any woman. It's about judging myself according to unrealistic Hollywood standards and always falling short. You see, I have no breasts. Really. I'm 34 years old and without the aid of a padded bra, I look like a 12 year old girl. Ok, a 13 year old girl. When I was a teenager, my mom, who is quite well-off in this area, told me that she got her breasts after having kids, "so don't worry about it". I continued to be hopeful, thinking that they'd eventually show up and I'd finally feel like a "real woman". After giving birth to a set of twins and a third child, my breasts only got smaller and even began to droop. Yes, even "nearly A's" can droop! I went as far as asking my Gynecologist if there was anything I could do about the drooping, as if she herself invented some miracle drug that no one else knows about, to rejuvenate my breasts into perky size C's. She gave me the phone number of a plastic surgeon who could help with the droopiness, but followed with "I'm sure they'll try to convince you to put implants in too, so that you'll have some breast tissue." "Sometimes that’s the best thing to do...for your self-esteem." Just the way she said "some" breast tissue made me want to vomit. I went home and cried. As badly as I want breasts, I'm just not the type to interfere with what God did or did not give me. No, surgery was not an option for me. I had to face it, I was never going to have breasts.
That same afternoon, I watched Oprah's show on "The Secret". (Sounds corny, I know) Then it hit me like lightning! I've let myself down!! I'm sabotaging my own happiness. Because the truth is, when I look at my own reflection in the mirror, I never see a flat-chested woman with stretch marks and a horrendous c-section scar. I always see right past that and down to the core. I see a hardworking, loving mother, a dedicated wife, a passionate nurse, and a fun-loving, loyal friend. So why should I give a shit about what anyone else might see on the outside? I like myself - "Nearly A's" and all! And what the fuck is a "real woman" anyway? I am a real woman! I wanted to shout it out to the world. "America, like it or not, I am what a woman looks like!"
I've now taken Louise Hay’s (an author from the Oprah show) advice one step further. I look myself in the mirror, every morning, and not only say "Catherine, I love you" but I add "and damn you're beautiful!" I'm not thinking about it anymore. I'm just gonna be the happy Cat I've always been!! Screw it.

My yin and yang kiddos

If you know my twins, then you know that they don't get along at all! Today they were outside playing on their bikes, riding in circles. A fight broke out (as usual) because "Abby wasn't riding fast enough". I broke up the fight and came to Abby's defense. And instead of appreciating me for this effort, she preferred to bond with Ian. And what, you ask, could they possibly find that they have in common? Making fun of me, of course! Here's the conversation that followed:
Abby: "Hey Ian, at least I'm not as slow as Mama!"
Ian: "Yeah, she's so slow."
Abby: "That's because she has a fat butt!"
Ian: "ha,ha,ha,...yeah, she's fat!"
Abby: "he,he,he,he,he"
Ian: "I wonder what's inside of that fat butt?"
Abby: "probably another baby!"
Ian: "god, I hope not!"
Abby: "maybe it's jelly...mmmm, that's sounds good"
Ian: "Let's ask her for a snack, I'm hungry."
Abby: "Yeah."
Ian: "Hey mama, get off your fat butt and make us a snack!" "he,he,he,he"

And why, you ask, did I not reprimand them severely? Because for 5 minutes, and probably only 5 minutes, they were getting along and the house was quiet!! It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make!

Various Signs of Affection

This is an incomplete list of the pet names I've overheard my two angels calling me recently:

Fart breath
Diarrhea Face
a little piece of dirt
stupid
Pippi Longbutt
Bucket head
Dinosaur butt
refrigerator butt
Dump truck
Snack Shack
Ground beef
Granny Panties
Lumpy trunk
Junk in the brains
Rhinoface
cheap whore (just kidding, they haven't figured this one out...yet)
Dookie face
freckles
stretchy stretch marks
Lady
And sometimes Mama.

So Katie, are still looking forward to your baby reaching this age?
They're only FOUR. Where the heck are they getting this? It couldn't possibly be from me! ;)

Sassy Butt

My daughter had pooped and was trying to clean herself up, when I walked in on her. She had used just one square of the toilet paper and therefore had poop smeared all over her hand. So I said, "Honey, with as much poop as you've got back there, you're gonna practically need a whole roll of paper! Keep wiping!" And I walked away. Later, I went into the bathroom and found four entire rolls of toilet paper, still rolled up, on the floor. Each one had poop spread all over them. "Baby, what happened here?" I ask my daughter. And she replies with all of the sass of a teenage girl, "you said to use the whole roll!"

Beautiful Prayers

I have hemorrhoids. I'm not gonna lie. I've had this recurring problem since I blew my hole in college, one time. They've just become another wonderful part of being me! I guess my daughter overheard me talking about it because when I picked her up from her very-Catholic preschool, she said (in front of her teacher, of course), "I prayed for you and Daddy today." "Oh, that's nice!" I said. And she continued, "for Daddy because he's sick and for you because your butthole hurts." Oh lord.