Sew Frustrating

It was decided. Back in April or May, I can't remember which. Peri knew what she was going to be for Halloween. I thought for sure she'd want to revert to her Alice in Wonderland costume for the second year in a row, but to my surprise (and likely due to the movie being watched daily) she announced, "I'm going to be Veruca for Halloween!" We're talking about the original Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory from the 70's. (Pssst, she's the bratty, I want it now, child, in case it's been a while).

Ever since we started watching the movie, Peri has been acting out all of Verucas' lines and even singing and dancing to her song, then pretending to fall down the garbage chute. Yup, Veruca's her favorite and she just had to be her for Halloween. I wasn't worried about her changing her mind, that is one thing I can always count on with Peri. Stubborn girl. :oP Knowing this much in advance, I took to Ebay to see what I could find. While I could have spent $60 on a custom made costume, that was a bit out of my price range, and instead, I made an offer on a red velour Christmas dress for $5 and called it good. I knew some modifications would need to be made, but hey, there's a first time for everything.

Anyone that knows me, knows that my sewing machine and I are not on a first name basis. We have a mutual respect for each other, but we don't tend to work well together. So I was resigned to the fact that any modifications would need to be done by hand. I'm happy to say, that after a few hours, I finished Peri's costume and it turned out pretty cute.

Since I try to have my kids sorta match, I originally thought of making Ryah into a giant blueberry so she could go as Violet but thought it would be a little awkward for a 3 year old to walk around in. Now if you ask her what she's going to be for Halloween, she says," I'm gonna be a Oompa Loompa." You should hear her say it, it's so cute. It was such a great idea, in theory, until I realized that costume would need to be made from scratch. :oP

After many many many hours of sewing by hand (and a little help from my friend Mandi and her sewing machine - seriously, she cut about 5 hours of my time in just 15 minutes) the Oompa Loompa costume is done. Woo hoo!

I love Halloween, and all the traditions; pumpkin carving, decorations, candy corn cookies... but I won't be adding "making costumes" to the list. I can say I've done it, conquered it, but won't be going there again. Well, not unless my sewing machine and I can come to some sort of agreement, like, sew for me and I won't melt you down into scrap metal to be used in some hideous yard art project. Now there's a thought...


Happy Halloween!!!!

Originally written for The Mama Dramalogues

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Ooooo Scary... Read it Again!

Since the first hint of pumpkins, goulies and witches hit the stores weeks ago, my girls have been begging me to break out the Halloween goodness. I have a hard time doing anything before October 1st, so now that we're officially past that, I could no longer procrastinate and Jim and I were forced to venture under the house and dust off the Halloween bin.

After a fun filled evening of spooky inspirational music and candy corn treats, we've put everything out and the girls are super excited. I dug out all the Halloween/scary movies (Nightmare Before Christmas, Coraline, Corpse Bride, It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown) and pulled all the Halloween books from the shelf so we have a month of spooky reads. Yup, we're all set!

Alyssa's book post got me thinking about all the Halloween books we like to read around here. They've become even more special since we only read them this time of year. So I thought I'd share our faves and hopefully, you'll share yours because we're always looking for more! Plus, it's early enough in the month, that there's still time to check them out!


Big Pumpkin by Erica Silverman

This is probably my favorite one. The girls and I just read it tonight. It's about a witch who grows a pumpkin so large, she can't manage to pull it off the vine and she's got quite the hankering for pumpkin pie!
Lots of fun to read and cute repetition for the kiddos.

I give it 5 out of 5 pumpkins



Room on the Broom by Julia Donaldson

The story of a witch out for a nice leisurely flight. She meets some friends along the way, each one hoping that there's "room on the broom" so they can come too. Super fun rhyming tale (I love cute rhyming stories) and there's definitely room on the broom so don't miss out!

I give it 4.5 out of 5 pumpkins



In the Haunted House by Eve Bunting

Not a whole lot of story to this one, but the girls love it, so I have to include it in the list. Cute story about a little girl and her dad who venture into a haunted house, but who's the one who's really scared? Like I said, not the most fun to read, but the kids enjoy it.

I give it 3 out of 5 pumpkins

Spooky Hour by Tony Mitton

Another fun rhyming tale as the "midnight spooks" countdown to their Halloween party. Cute story with lots of different ghoulies and fun to say sound words like "clickety clack."

I give it 4 out of 5 pumpkins

Pirates Don't Change Diapers by Melinda Long

Technically not a Halloween book, but with the pirates, I'm sneaking it in here. I was reluctant to read this originally, but found out that it's a really cute story and it's made even better if you use your best piratey voice when you read it. Argh, matey, don't pass this one up!

I give it 5 out of 5 pumpkins



Happy spooktacular reading! :o)








Originally written for The Mama Dramalogues.

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The Kindergarten 15

It's hard to say "no" to a face like that.

This is the year I finally have a kindergartner. She's almost as excited about it as I am. Almost. I'm pretty darned exited about it. Especially since her younger sister started preschool and I have 4 whole hours to myself each week! I know the mind boggles with what to do with all that "free time."

There have been a few hiccups with the new routines; the bus drops Peri off at 11:25 and Ryah's preschool is over at 11:30, so I've had to find work arounds for being in two places at once. Fortunately, I have great friends that help me out. But for the most part, things have been running smoothly and we've all adjusted. Imagine my surprise when I got a phone message the other day, from Peri's kindergarten teacher...

"Hi Holly, this is Amber X, Peri's teacher, and I just wanted you to know that Peri has been eating breakfast in the cafeteria in the mornings. I only just found out today and when I talked to her about it, she said it was her second breakfast and she was able to tell me what she'd already eaten at home. I thought "Oh no" and I'd better check with you about that. Sorry I didn't catch it sooner, but she's been charging her breakfasts. I'll send her account balance home with her next week."

I didn't know whether to laugh or groan. I mean, it's pretty funny that a 5-year-old can just walk in there, get breakfast and have it added to her non existent account. But I was also a little annoyed that I was footing the bill for such an obvious oversight on the school's part. After I called her teacher back, to let her know that Peri should not be eating at school and that I would pay the balance next week, I was baffled as to how that could even happen. I remember as a kid that you either had to pay cash for your school food or have a prepaid card from your parents, there was no "tab."

So, for the last two weeks, Peri has been running up a cafeteria bill, unbeknownst to me and her teachers. I know she did it because it was there and she saw other kids eating and thought it was okay. But I wonder how long it would have gone on? Maybe until her next well check up visit, when the nurse would inform me that Peri had managed to gain 15 lbs since her last visit and that it's a little excessive. Or those brand new school clothes start fitting a lot snugger than they should.

In any case, there is now such a thing as the Kindergarten 15 and you heard it here first. This will be one of those things I tease her about in the future and we'll just laugh it off, but for now, I have to go pay the bill. Then again, today is her birthday (Happy 6th Birthday Periwinkle!); perhaps we'll just write it off as a gift and not add it to her tab. :oP








Originally written for The Mama Dramalogues

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Date Night

Ah, the perfect setting, sometimes you wait weeks for this night, but in the end, it's all worth it to spend some quality one on one time with your sweetheart. No, not that sweetheart. I'm talking about date night with your kids. Wait, what? Isn't the point to spend time with your hubby without the kids? Well, yes, you should go on dates with the hubs, he kinda likes spending time with you too, but if you have kids (especially more than one), it's nice to go out on dates with them individually as well.

We've started a new tradition in our house and every other Friday, Jim and I each go out on a date with one of our girls. Then the next time, we switch. Now that the girls are old enough, we thought it would be a fun way for them to get to spend some one on one time with us.

Our first night out, Jim took Peri and I had Ryah. We went to different restaurants for dinner then different stores so that each of the girls could pick out a gift for her sister. Peri chose some new jammies for Ryah and Ryah picked out a princess frog shirt for Peri. The girls had a blast and it was nice getting to spend some alone time together.

This past weekend was round two. I had Peri this time around. We had a lovely dinner at Panera Bread then off to Barnes and Noble where she picked out a new book about the Tooth Fairy. Food and books, two of Peri's favorite things. I could have spent more time at the bookstore, but when your child starts complaining to wandering sales people that it's time to go, it's time to go. She had fun though and loves her new book.

The kids are so different in what interests them, so it's going to be fun coming up with different things to do. Peris' dates will likely be creative with crafts, books, movies and going to the theatre while Ryah is more active and will enjoy things like skating, parks and sports. It'll be nice to change things up for myself too and I know Jim's having fun as well. Having it regularly scheduled is great too because we all know it's coming and we look forward to it.

We're redefining date night in our house and having fun with the possibilities. Not to mention, we don't even need to find a sitter. :o)










Originally written for The Mama Dramalogues

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Do You Have an Adrenaline Junkie?

I could say that my 3-year-old is a daredevil, but that doesn't seem to tap into her need for a thrill. In fact, I think it's fair to say that my daughter is an adrenaline junkie.

I never had to childproof the house for Peri, but Ryah on the other hand has been curious from the start. If it can be opened, climbed on, jumped off of, she'll do it. Lately, she's taken to climbing halfway up the stairs and jumping down to the landing with a really loud thump. I don't always catch her doing it and I swear I'm just waiting for her to sprain her ankle or something.

Last weekend, Jim and I took our first big trip without the kids and my in-laws were kind enough to watch the chicklets. They took the girls to the local aquatic center for swimming and good times. Ryah likes to jump off the side of the pool in the deep end and my MIL had to constantly keep tabs on her because she'd just jump in when no one was around. When Pat would pull Ryah up she'd be all smiles and wanted to go again. She even tries to step to the side and jump in next to you so you won't catch her. She loves the thrill of it!

Then this weekend my neighbor was showing Ryah her garden. About 20 minutes later, they both came strolling down to my house and Ryah was carrying something. "Ryah has something to show you." A freakin' garden snake! She just picked it up and started playing with it by whipping it against the ground. By the time I saw it, it was dead. Not sure if she found it that way, but it looked recently dead. I couldn't believe it. After tossing it in the debris bin we asked Ryah if she was scared of spiders and she said, "yes." When asked if she was scared of snakes, she said, "no." Ack!

So, apparently I need to keep a closer eye on my adrenaline junkie or enroll her in a 12 step program. Yup, AA, Adrenaline Anonymous.

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Project Runway

My oldest daughter is 5 and having her own opinions is an understatement. That girl knows what she wants when she wants it and if she doesn't, she'll let you know that too and stick with it. Oh yeah, she'll stick to her guns even when she doesn't know what she wants. And when it comes to clothes, I no longer have a say.

Oh sure, I buy the clothes, all cute and coordinated, but does she necessarily wear them that way, um, no. Once it's in the closet, anything goes. I've found that if I don't interfere with her getting dressed, she'll just do it. Granted, sometimes modifications need to be made according to weather, but generally, she's wearing clothes and that works for me. We all know what the alternative is when she doesn't pick out her clothing. :oP

When I take Peri to preschool, we're usually met with giggles from parents and odd looks from her peers, but everyone pretty much expects that Peri dresses to the beat of her own drum. They're usually tickled pink by her choices. And speaking of pink, no outfit is complete without it. Also, her idea of color coordination is usually, "Look, my shirt is pink and my skirt has pink." Never mind that they're completely different colors and shades of pink; if it's classified as pink, they match.

Lately, I've been documenting my future Project Runway contestant. Now you can all say you knew her when. I'm just waiting for the day when she becomes a trendsetter and what she wears today ends up on every girl next week. Until then, I shall continue to document and smile.

Yes, she's wearing two headbands.

Did you notice this is her favorite dress? Keep in mind, she wore this outfit when it was sunny and warm outside.

Over the weekend, Jim and I were working in the yard and asked Peri to go put some pants on to play in. She put on the outfit above and started to head out. "Peri, you need to wear pants." To which she responded by pulling up her skirt and revealing a pair of shorts. "I did!"

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Becoming Aware of ASD

Today I had my first ever parent/teacher conference with Peri's preschool teacher. Is it just me, or does the thought of going to these feel like you're being pulled into the principals office?

As I sat outside and waited for my name to be called, it seemed oddly reminiscent of school office visits past. Not that I was a bad kid (I was too terrified to ever act out) but it was that same feeling when you are called to the office for any number of reasons. The first thing that goes through your head is, "What did I do?" Except this time, not only was I thinking "What did I do" but also "What did Peri do?"

I realize these meetings are purely informative but no one wants to hear bad news and so you sit there and wait for it. I was pretty sure she couldn't tell me anything I didn't already know. We made small talk and honestly, I wish we could have just done that the entire time. Because I knew it was coming. The inevitable was confirmed when she said she kept holding off filling out Peri's evaluation because she wanted to be able to put excellent on everything, but she and I both agreed that I would have questioned whether she knew which child was mine and did she even evaluate her. :oP

Peri is currently in an early intervention program to help with her delayed speech/comprehension. Over the last couple of years, she's made a lot of progress, but she still isn't grasping communication and relationships with peers as well as she should be. And a couple of weeks ago, her teacher there called me and mentioned that we may want to start evaluations for ASD (Autistic Spectrum Disorder). I signed all the paperwork and hopefully those evaluations will start soon. I know she'll test positive and I'll be relieved when she does, because as a parent, I can learn how to better meet her needs.

So hearing notes from both teachers only confirms that they're both seeing the same struggles with Peri. And that as a parent, I'll need to do things a little differently when it comes to how to best help Peri.

When the early intervention teacher told me about testing, she was walking on eggshells. Apparently, a lot of parents don't want to hear that there's something wrong with their child, especially if the word Autism is used. But what parents need to understand is that it has nothing to do with them and their ability to parent, and that understanding your child and their special needs can only make yours and your child's life that much easier. When you're all on the same page, the book makes so much more sense.

Is this a downer? Not at all. It's just a hurdle that my family and I will train together to jump. We're going to be Olympians by the end of this. I'll keep you posted on the progress. :o)

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Oh the Humiliation!

So my just-turned-three-year-old, to put it mildly (very mildly), is a stinker. I now fully understand the reason some people just stop at one, because there's never any bickering, sibling rivalry or contention until you add another. My house was so quiet before, and I didn't even know it. There's that hindsight again.

Ryah will relentlessly torture her older sister. At any given moment, you'll hear Peri sobbing and Ryah laughing at her. It's horrible. Ryah will take toys from Peri, while Peri chases after her yelling, "Give it back, Ryah! Give it back!" And there's Ryah, happily running away and just giggling. Peri hates loud sounds (which is Ryah in a nutshell) and at night, Ryah will scream at the top of her lungs, while Peri cries for her to stop, then Ryah will let out a hearty laugh and do it again. Seriously, she's a stinker. I have to roll my eyes when people say how cute she is. It's all for show. :oP

She's also a discipline problem, as I haven't yet figured out anything that works. She's the child that laughs while you punish her. She'll sit in timeout, but as soon as she's done her time, she's out and doing whatever it is again, that got her in there in the first place. I thought I would be doomed to wait until she's old enough to have things she cares about taken away.

And then she turned three.

So for Ryah's birthday (which was April 7th), we decided to take her to Red Robin for dinner then come home for cake and presents. We thought it would be fun to have the staff sing to her at dinner (plus we had to suffer it so many times, we thought everyone else should have to listen to the song again). They brought over the obligatory birthday balloon ears and she seemed kind of confused. Then they started singing.

Ryah put her head down and started shaking it. Then she looked up, slapped her hand to her face and continued shaking her head. She was embarrassed!! I had never seen that before! My three-year-old was being pubicly humiliated and I couldn't help but laugh. So that's it! All I have to do is take her to a public place and start singing Happy Birthday to her. When they were done, she was beat red. Of course, when we got home, we just had to sing again for her candles. And it happened again! Classic.

So there you have it, if you have a child, who doesn't respond to discipline, they may just need a loving dose of public humiliation. Apparently, it works! And it makes for great photos. Mwahahahahahaha. :o)


Written by Holly for The Mama Dramalogues

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No Girls Allowed

I don't know about you, but when my husband and I decided to have kids, I had it all planned out. We were going to have two boys and if we were nuts, have a third and she would be a girl. All I knew was that I did NOT want to have girls. I even bought only boy clothes after we started trying.

Growing up, I was a complete wallflower, but minding my own business in the background did not save me from the cattiness of girls. In junior high, there were girls that would call other classmates, pretend to be me, and say who knows what (curse the era before caller id). I know it was bad because one of the boys that asked me about it, wouldn't tell me what "I" had said. In any event, I had more boy friends than girl friends because I just didn't want to deal with the drama of it all.

Yup, I was going to have boys and avoid reliving my teenage years, even vicariously. I should have known. Statistically, I thought we had a shot, I mean there is a 51% to 49% ratio of male to female births. However, I married into a family where the odds aren't quite so even. Between my husband and his two brothers, there are nine, count 'em NINE, girls and no boys. How is this even possible? I suspect a government experiment using their tap water growing up, but we'll never know. :oP It would be an interesting study though.

While I still wonder what having boys would be like, I do love my girls and it's made me realize that you don't get what you want, you get what you need. And perhaps I will relive my teenage years through my girls, but having gone through it, maybe I'll able to make theirs better. Or at the very least, a little less traumatic. Time will tell. :o)

Written for The Mama Dramalogues.

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How I Love Thee...

Oh Mr. Airplane, you're my best friend! So many other toys have come and gone, but we played for three days solid! Playtime has never been the same.

I found you on the counter the other day and for some reason, Mommy called you a chip clip, but you and I know better, Mr. Airplane, don't we? Silly Mommy. All airplanes have teeth and can talk. We have the best conversations.

"Hewo Mr. Airpwane."
"Hewo Ryah Puddin' Piya."
"Wanna eat my finger?"
{munching sounds} "Mmmm, that's tasty."
{Laughs} "Aw, you so cute Mr. Airpwane."
"Yes, I am so cute."

Indeed, we have so much fun and like to do everything together. If I had my way, we'd even get to sleep in the same bed, but Mommy is no fun and won't let us. At least we get to watch our favorite movies together...

I always make sure you can see too...

We even like to spend time in the princess castle together...

I'm the princess and you're my airplane in shining plastic who likes to eat my fingers. So fun!

Yes, some may not understand the bond we share, but you and I know we have something special, Mr. Airplane. You're my favorite toy so you need to remember to be good, and not eat the walls and get sent to timeout. Mommy doesn't like it when you eat the walls, but I may have had something to do with that, so I'm sorry I got you put into timeout. But don't worry, once you get out, I have all kinds of fun things planned! And we'll make sure to keep you on a strict fingers only diet. Kisses! See you soon!


Re-posted from The Mama Dramalogues

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Timeout!!

Jim and I are hockey fans, and when we go to a game, we boo and hiss along with the rest of the crowd when the "three blind mice" take the ice. I suppose their official titles would be referees, but potato, pota-tow. We don't blame the players for doing something stupid, we naturally blame the refs... only because they caught it. "Psssht, he didn't touch him! He tripped over his own skate not our players outstretched stick. Seriously, are you watching the same game I am?!" I suppose referees get a bad rap, so thank goodness I'm not one of them... oh wait.

A stay-at-home-mom has so many titles: caregiver, chauffeur, dishwasher, laundress and of course, the all important referee. You can't have a game without a referee right? And what's the point in fighting if there's no one to appoint a winner? The referee is essential in determining the outcome and doling out the appropriate punishment. This is my least favorite title, not to mention the least rewarding. "Thanks for taking me to school, Mom." "Oh, you washed my favorite dress, thank you!" "Gee, I really was wrong for hitting my sister and I'm so thankful you've set me straight. Now I can avoid any future trips to juvie and years spent on therapy that will inevitably question my upbringing and aversion to ink blots. That one looks like a timeout."

The timeout is a refereeing staple and it's essential when sending players to their corners. Unfortunately, they are equivilent to the players age, so they don't last long; but on the bright side, over time, the players do get older.

A day spent with fewer than a half dozen timeouts, is a good day. Good days are few and far between. The regular battles consist of Peri hitting Ryah, Ryah stealing Peri's toy, Ryah mocking Peri while Peri's in timeout (really, at two she's already mastered this), Ryah screaming and both girls CONSTANTLY whining. This ref just doesn't tolerate whining and that's an instant "five for fighting" (gotta love those hockey references). With all of these regular infractions and timeouts, the lessons will surely be learned so these players can reform. I'm sure of it. Absolutely! Most definitely. Here's hoping.

I was told that children learn really well through repetition, however, they didn't mention that by reptition, they meant every day, three times a day for the next five years. Details details. The things they leave out of those "What to Expect" books. tsk.

While my girls may not understand the significance of their time spent in the penalty box, it at least gives me a few minutes of peace. Now if only I could reverse the roles and somehow get myself put into timeout. I promise to stay there, without a fight, for the next 30 minutes; not a minute less. And remember, there's no talking in timeout, "so shhhh, don't bother me, I'm learning my lesson."


Re-posted from The Mama Dramalogues

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Calling Cards and 20 Dollar Bills

I'm a pretty organized person, unfortunately, the rest of my family, not so much. Nothing irks me more than to see the newly folded laundry dumped out all over the floor or the playroom yet again in disarray after cleaning it less than an hour ago. With two kids, usually you don't know who the culprit is, except that my youngest leaves a calling card. Next to that big mess, like a beacon, is usually a used diaper. Fortunately, it's normally just wet, but still not that fun to find. Why can't she use 20 dollar bills as calling cards? Perhaps swiped from my husbands wallet or something. That would be super fun! I might even forget about the mess.

We're in the midst of potty training right now (oh joy) and we've found that the best way to train Ryah is to keep her bottomless. So the fact that she removes her diapers is a good sign she doesn't want to be in them. She's also one of those nekkid children who sheds clothes faster than you can put them on her. So at any given time, she's likely to be bare-assed and livin' free running through my living room. Those unexpected drop in visitors usually get more than they bargained for. See, you should have called first.

On the off chance I manage to get a dress on her, to at least cover her bottom, she's more likely than not going to do a somersault or lay on her back, feet flailing, in front of company. I think that's usually more shocking than had she been naked to begin with. At least there wouldn't be any Basic Instinct surprises. "Whoa, where's her diaper?" "Probably next to the toys she just dumped out all over the floor."

I have the whole scenario in my head. Ryah looks to the left, then the right, to make sure the coast is clear. Then she smiles "the big cheese," turns into Tornado Ryah, and checks again to make sure no one is looking while she removes her diaper to mark her territory. I guess it beats her actually peeing on it.

While this time around, potty training is a bit easier, it's certainly has it's calling card downfalls. Not to mention the inevitable naptime whine, "Mommmeeeee, Ryah's poopy!!!" And when I hear that, I already know it's too late, she's no longer wearing the diaper. Ugh.

Let's just hope for her sake, and mine, that we get this potty training thing nailed sooner rather than later. Unless she starts leaving 20 dollar bills lying around. I think I might be okay with that.

Re-posted from The Mama Dramalogues

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A Sign of Punishment

Lesley Breen Withrow Illustration

A few years ago, a local mom was both blasted and hailed at the same time, for her unique punishment technique. Her teenage son refused to do his homework, so she sent him out to stand on the street corner with a sign that said something along the lines of "I didn't do my homework so I'm being punished by holding this sign." The local media interviewed her and her son and laughed about the whole scenario. Other parents thought it was too humiliating. Personally, I think it was genius.

Oh yes, I'm THAT type of mom. For us, timeouts and revoked toys generally do the trick around here, but this morning, Peri refused to get dressed for school. For a good half hour I repeatedly told her she needed to get ready and for the entire half hour she just stood around in her underwear and dawdled. Eventually I'd had enough and told her I was going to pick out her clothes if she wouldn't. She hates it when I do this and usually throws a stink when I make her wear clothing I picked out.

This is one of those moments where you can't use timeout unless you want to spend the morning with your child instead of sending them to school. And personally, I LOVE school and the couple hour break it provides. So timeout was not an option.

As usual, Peri threw a fit when I tried to dress her in the outfit I picked out. We had about five minutes before we had to leave so I ended up throwing up my hands and said, "Fine, you're wearing jammies today." So I put her pajamas back on and made her get shoes and socks. She was not happy wearing the jammies and sulked all the way to the car. And since I didn't want anyone to think her wardrobe was a personal choice, I made a sign. Oh yes, I did. Peri wore a sign to school today and when she walked in, both of her teachers just laughed. Fortunately, Peri was in better spirits by then and wanted to show everyone her new ladybug shoes, so no emotional damage done to her ego.

And hopefully, come Wednesday, we don't have to do the getting dressed tango because I could get used to these punishment signs. Don't mess with mom, she's full of "fun" ideas. :oP

Her sign says "I refused to get dressed, so I'm stuck wearing jammies."

Written by Winklepots for The Mama Dramalogues.

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Guilty!!

Today, I was summoned to Federal Court for jury duty. It was inevitable. Ever since registering to vote, they somehow snag me every two years. While I certainly wasn't looking forward to it, there's always a certain amount of intrigue involved, especially when it's a Federal case.

I was in it for the long haul; Jim had taken the day off to stay home with the kids, and run Peri to and from her preschool class, and I had packed a of couple snack bars and some magazines. Rather than attempting all of the numerous one-ways and parking downtown, I decided to take the light rail system, and after what seemed like forever (really only about an hour) I arrived downtown and walked the few blocks to the courthouse.

It was really impressive, clean and organized. Everything I wished I had at home. At least my tax dollars were paying for someone's "house" to look nice. I checked in and waited with the 50 or so other people until we were eventually called into the courtroom. We filed in and waited for the judge to enter. Once he did, he briefly went over the type of case we were dealing with and introduced the courtroom staff. Then sixteen names were called and those people went and sat down in the jury box.

It was a wrongful death case and the judge informed everyone that it would take about 2 weeks to complete and if anyone had a conflict, they needed to speak up now. Immediately, one woman raised her hand and said that she had a medical condition and she was being treated that week. The judge excused her and a replacement name was called. Me.

I walked over and took her empty seat and the judge asked me if I had any conflicts.

Me: Yes, I have two children that I tend to at home. And I don't think I can find childcare.
Judge: You need to give me more than that.
Me: My husband is home with them today, but he can't take off the next two weeks from work.
Judge: You're unable to make arrangements?
Me: I would have to find some kind of childcare and one of them needs to be taken to and from preschool.
Long pause.
Judge: *sigh* (very reluctantly) You're excused. And I find you guilty of breeding.

Okay, he didn't say that last part, but he might as well have. I felt like I was on trial, having to justify my need to be excused. I'm sorry, you want me to find childcare for my two kids, for the next two weeks, starting tomorrow and you're only willing to give me $40/day to cover all of my expenses? On what planet?! If I could afford childcare, do you think I'd be watching my kids? And forget about the fact that it's hard enough to find a sitter to watch my kids two weeks from now, let alone for the next two weeks starting tomorrow. At first I felt guilty, as I walked away from the courthouse, but then I was just annoyed. I stay home with my kids, I hardly have time for me, what makes you think I have extra time for you? Call me back in two years (because you know you will) and we'll talk then, but I shouldn't be made to feel guilty because I can't help you out now.

I admit that it would have been an interesting case to have sat in on, but seriously, how many stay at home parents are even able to do something like this? On the bright side, I did get out of sitting through the rest of the jury selection process, since I was the first alternate called, and I wonder how many other parents were sitting out there waiting for their turn. Next time, they should have a stay at home parent pre-screening process, where you're automatically exempt, as a courtesy, for dealing with the trials and tribulations of staying home with children. Then they should give you ear plugs and a chocolate bar before sending you back out into the world.

Written by Winklepots for The Mama Dramalogues

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The Adventures of Fat Baby; Vampire Baby

Both of my kids have been breastfed. Well, kind of. With Eleanore, I didn't have the assistance I needed in the beginning, and no matter how bad I wanted her to latch on, it just wasn't happening. So for her, I pumped. After 6 months of being hooked up to uncomfortable plastic suction cups, for 3 hours a day, we switched her to formula. With Charlie though, I was determined. I wasn't going to give up so easily. Within seconds of being put into my arms, he latched on. I mean, he really latched on. At 8 months old, he weighs 25 pounds, that's how hard he latched on, haha.


I don't nurse my fat baby in public, I go into a dressing room, or sit in the car and do it (any mother who has nursed a baby in the front seat of a car deserves an award, by the way, framed and bedazzled). Not because I can't, its perfectly legal- I could. I just don't want to. Those nursing cover cape things, yeah that's not going to work for me. I need my own personal tent set up. But when I'm at home, even outside in the driveway or on the porch, Beware of Boob. At this point, I can't keep track of who has or hasn't seen my chest. I give the neighbors the courtesy of turning my chair around so that we're not facing their front window, but if you've been to my house in the last couple of months, you know I'm not shy about it.

The other day I was out on the porch with the family, our next door neighbor and her daughter were over playing, we were all enjoying the break from the heat that we've recently had here in Texas, and then- hunger struck. I did the usual, looked both ways to make sure nobody was staring directly at me, and then popped myself out of my bra and hushed the whining. There I am, tra la la, the cool breeze is blowing through my desperately seeking a cut hair, I'm taking in nice deep breaths of autumn scented oxygen, la di la-

OUCH! I screamed.

No, I literally screamed it.

Typically, I can take pain. I'm the queen of pain (Alk3 anyone), dealing with both Endometriosis and IBS on a daily basis (sometimes you have to throw in a little tmi, we're all friends here, right?), I can usually fly through the day with a couple of ibuprofen at my side, no problem. A headache comes along, pffft, so what. I stub my toe... walk it off. But this?

I looked down at Charlie. He was smiling back up at me. Literally, smiling. The little Vampire bit me. He bit me, and he liked it!

I've always wondered what it would feel like to get bitten by a vampire. Haven't we all (I know at least half of you have, though it was probably an older, dark eyed, dull minded yet ridiculously good looking guy with a crazy vocabulary named Edward)? Well now I have been, and it sucked. Seriously, by far, the worst pain I've felt in months. I looked around again, this time hoping that somebody was looking at me, having seen the evil grin poking out from behind the nipple, so that I could safely get away with my claim of sanity.

Of course, nobody had seen it. I then launched into an explanation for my shouting "ow!" at the top of my lungs, which nobody cared about. The world was apparently, going on without me, despite my 60 second pause and close encounter with death.


I guess sometimes it gets to a point where milk just isn't enough, for a fat baby. Watch out Mama's, hes coming after you next.

Written by Tia for The Mama Dramalogues

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But Whyyyyyy?

I was well warned about the incessant questions stage of a preschooler's development. I also saw parents roll their eyes when talking about their own kids reaching that annoying little milestone. I knew about it, I expected it, but I always just shrugged it off and looked forward to answering my inquisitive little genius' questions.

I underestimated the stage greatly.

Gracie's questions have been going on for sometime now, but lately they have been fired fast and furiously. I was prepared for questions like, "Why is the sky blue," or "Why is the grass green?" But instead, Gracie leans more toward the ridiculous.

"Is that a girl? Is she a tink? Whats a tink? Is that boy a tink?"

-or-

"What time is is? Is it forty-thirty o'clock? Is it nuffernatter o'clock? Whats nuffernatter? Does that mean its bedtime? Is is bed time o'clock?

-or-

"Is that the color orange? Whats orange? Orange starts with G. Does orange start with G? Is orange a tink? Is it orange nuffernatter o'clock?"

And it goes on and on and on, all day and all night. So far, Gracie doesn't understand the rules to the "No Questions" game.

And of course, in perfect Gracie fashion, when my eyes are bugging out of my head and the veins are throbbing in my temple from the insanity of all the questions, she chooses to ask, "Do you love me, Mommy?"

Lucky for her, I do. Even with all the questions.

Written by Marisa for The Mama Dramalogues.

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You Know You're a Mom When...

• Your baby coos/walks/talks for the first time and you tell EVERYONE that will listen, and you don't really notice when the postman rolls his eyes at you.

• You no longer have to read the words to The Barnyard Dance; you have it memorized.

• You have a hard time finishing a

• You feel no shame by the fact that you know the words to the theme song from Clifford the Big Red Dog, you just don't freely offer up that information at cocktail parties.

• You realize that the butt-sniff-check is sometimes necessary to determine a mess and sometimes other people have to witness you do it.

• The word "late" was never in your vocabulary until Aunt Flo was and you've never been on time for anything since.

• You can't count the number of times you've asked your child not to lick other people/things.

• You sometimes find yourself talking to another adult and ask that they excuse you because you need to go "potty."

• You don't remember what 8 hours of sleep feels like.

• You've trained your body to function on 4.

• You can pinpoint a meltdown five minutes before it happens and already have a time-out spot picked out.

• Time-outs are really just sanity savers in the form of discipline.

• You finally completed all of the items on your To-Do List; from last Thursday.

• During your last date night, the conversation kept returning to baby's diaper rash and next week's preschool orientation. You also stopped and picked up diapers on the way home. Romantic.

• You realize that the last R rated movie you saw is only viewable on your VCR.

• You just felt a little older after realizing that I was talking about VHS and you know what that is.

• Lounge pants are not just a fashion statement, they're a way of life, and they make you forget about your skinny jeans and the unholy need to fit into them again.

• You can't remember anything, but you have to remember everything, because no one else will.

• You smiled at least twice while reading this list and nodded your head in agreement.

• You know how incomplete this list is and understand that this is the ice cube perched on top of the ice berg. Perhaps even just an ice shaving on top of the iceberg. And while we could continue to add to this list, we may never leave our computers again, which only goes to show that you know you're a mom when you can no longer count the ways.

Don't even get me started on the Mom of a Teenager List. Oi vey!

Written by Winklepots for The Mama Dramalogues.

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Did Someone Say Park?

(photograph by NovemberDreams)

My husband has never taken me out on a date. That's right, never. We've gone out, yes, but hes never taken me anywhere. There's a big difference, right? There's probably at least one gal reading this, thinking "whats the big deal, why does he have to take you out?", and that's fine, really, some people probably don't see why it matters so much (I think I was one of them up until a week ago). But after being with somebody for five years, married to them for three of those, it matters. In a brief moment of selfishness, I decided I wanted to feel special, too. I voiced my opinion, in the form of an adult tantrum (we all have our moments), and then stomped off with my nose in a tissue. And you know what? It worked.

Last night while I was cleaning the counter, Cinderella style (that's what it felt like, at least), my husband asked me "what are your plans for tomorrow"? I thought nothing of it (the tantrum had been days ago, by the way), I just blabbed on and on, about "I have to work on binky leashes, put together a tutorial for the Dramalogues, I need to edit the kids 365's, other than that- oh wait, I wanted to bake some bagels too, but I guess I don't have to do that un-", he cut me off. "Because I was thinking we could go out". I didn't understand. I didn't say anything back. "I called Kristen, shes going to come over and watch the kids, and-", "REALLY?!" I shouted. My ridiculous childlike tantrum had worked?? My husband was going to take me out?!

We stood in the kitchen, leaning up against the counter, discussing where we'd go for our big night. His plans were, to take me to a movie, and then to this fancy martini bar downtown. Nice, right? As happy as I was that he had made plans for us (I was so excited that I was literally bouncing in place), I really just wanted to go get a pumpkin spice latte from Starbucks? Kind of silly, I know. Last year I was "allergic" to them, or so I thought (long story there), and all I've been able to think about for the past week, is how badly I want to hold a hot cardboard mug in my hands and inhale the flavored steam as deeply into my nostrils as my nose will allow. He gave me a funny look, probably thinking 'are you serious?'. I asked him if he was mad (he said no), and then went on to encourage that if he really wanted to go see the movie and go to the martini bar (I just didn't think we'd really have anything to talk about while we were there, and it would be loud, and... ) that we could. We talked about going to the drive in, but nothing good was scheduled. I'm afraid of scary movies, and a romantic comedy doesn't seem like something I'd want to waste my once-in-a-lifetime big date night on. When I stopped to think about it, I really just wanted to get a coffee and go sit on a bench at the park with him, like we used to do. Before kids, before the military, before Texas. We used to get coffee and go to the park in Portland all the time. And when I said this out loud...

"DID SOMEBODY SAY PARK?!", Eleanore screamed from the living room? "DID SOMEBODY SAY PARK?!", she screamed again, when there was no immediate response. She jumped up, ran across the floor, skidded to a stop on the hard woods in front of the kitchen, and one more time, yelled "DID SOMEBODY SAY PARK?!"

By now Christopher and I were bent over holding our stomachs, laughing. Of course, of course, the one serious, and honestly quite romantic, conversation that we were having (no arguing involved) in decades, would be interrupted by a three year old eavesdropping and exploding into a playground induced seizure of excitement.


Yes Eleanore, somebody said park. And for the first time in your 3 years of beautiful life, Mommy and Daddy are going without you. And we're taking pumpkin spice lattes, drenched in whip cream.


Re-posted with permission from The Mama Dramalogues.

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