Alone Time

I have found that this blog is really the best place for me to vent my frustrations about the trials of motherhood. It is a comfy virtual couch upon which I may give words to my thoughts and feel as though someone has heard me. So for today's therapy session I'd like to discuss the importance of "alone time." As the dental entrance exam date fast approaches, we see less an less of James. Which means that this chubby little lady who throws up a lot is left to manage two fiery little boys by herself.

This is a task that I'd normally meet with nothing but enthusiasm and joy, of course. However, I found that pregnancy has temporarily impaired my super-mommy skills, and I have found myself stumbling both physically and metaphorically as I try to parent alone.

For instance... last week I was searching Daniel's closet for the perfect shirt in which to send him off to school, when I heard him say, "He's gonna pour it. He's gonna pour it." Momentarily clueless to the words that I had just heard, I proceeded to make the appropriate wardrobe selection. Suddenly the words registered in my brain, and I rushed out of the closet just in time to see the entire box of cereal dumped onto the carpet in the boys room by my youngest son, Dallin.

Now the question here is, "Who is at fault?" Is it Dallin for dumping out the cereal? Is it Daniel for watching him do it? Or, is it Mommy for being slow to react to the warning that was given. After expressing my displeasure to both children, I realize that I am most likely the responsible party. A very sad realization indeed.

The day continued with the usual stresses of mommydom. Napping 3 year-olds and chubby mommies are much less agreeable when awakened repeatedly by tele-marketers, media surveys, and automated calls from Blockbuster reminding you that you have just purchased Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium because it wasn't returned in time.

At the end of this very long day, I found myself on the floor in the bathroom giving the little one a bath and coaching Danny with his homework. I had made a dinner that no one, but myself, felt like eating and I was exhausted. As I tried my best not to get the "no more tears shampoo" into the eyes of my little one, Daniel pleaded with me to tell him how to spell please.
"P-L-E-A-S-E" I said. To which Danny replied, "P what?" You can guess where this was going. We proceeded to shout back and forth until Danny had finally written the word "please." Then he said, "Mom, where's the O?" I said, "What O? There is no O in please!" Daniel insisted that there was. He just knew there was. "What is wrong with you? Of course there's an O. I just know there's an O." This continued for sometime. I had to bring in reinforcements. I got Grandma on the phone to explain to Danny that there was no letter O in the word please. After tears were shed, I finally went to the table and saw that Danny had drawn a picture of himself dressed as a Policeman.

I couldn't have felt any smaller. I had stumbled again in a very fantastic manner. My son just suffered quite the breakdown because I didn't understand that he was asking me how to spell "police." We finished the homework and the bath and I sought out a moment of time in which to collect myself.

Earlier in the day I made a very unhealthy trip to the grocery store in which my kids knocked 7 too many things off the shelves, and I bought too many bags of Potato chips, too many packages of Oreos and not nearly enough produce. I also picked up a box of Dark Chocolate Mint Hagen Dazs Ice Cream Bars. Before placing this precious box in my freezer at home I took out a large permanent marker and wrote, "I have to share my uterus, please don't ask me to share these!" Yep. I wrote it right on the box. So that evening when I needed a quiet moment, I knew that I could find relief inside that dark chocolate coating. I quickly fetched an ice cream bar out of the freezer and looked for a place to escape to where I wouldn't be noticed. It was no good. I've raised them to well -- the kids have Hagen Dazs radar. When I explained that this treat was just for mommies, tantrums ensued and they began to chase me around the house.

What happens next, I'm not proud of.

I went downstairs and locked myself in my own private bathroom, where I sat on the edge of the tub enjoying my Dark Chocolate Mint Hagen Dazs Ice Cream Bar. The boys were of course banging on the door and there wasn't a moment of silence to be had. But, that beautiful ice cream creation made the day fade away and it brought me great joy.

So, the next time you see a mom with screaming kids at the grocery store, just hand her a box of these and tell her that they're sure to come in handy.

Another Boy!!!

The Chinese gender prediction calendar was right again Amy. We're having another boy, and thank goodness. I know that James was really looking forward to a little brunette with bouncy curls to wrap her little hand around his finger, but I couldn't be more thrilled. Since I'm not sure that I will ever be entering into this "blissful" state of pregnancy again, it is a bit sad to know that James won't have a little Mustang Sally in his future. I am so happy to know that I will never have to see a room filled 20 shades of pink and purple, Disney Princess anything, and a million tiny Polly Pocket pieces -- at least not in my house. There's nothing wrong with these things, they're just not my style.

I love Tonka trucks, Legos, and movies like "Cars." I think transformers are really cool toys, as are anything Nerf. I think Ghostbuster themed birthday parties are awesome and I love the boys' retro airplane style room. I may be the only mom who thinks the clothes in the boys section are the cutest and the most fun to buy. This most likely stems from my desire to shop in the men's section. Cargo khakis and really comfy ringer tees should be acceptable attire for all of us. While I don't mind the way my legs look in a killer pair of heels, I do mind how my toes feel by the time I take them off.

While we're on the topic of heels... am I the only woman who feels moments away from a face plant when 5 months pregnant and wearing a 3 inch heel? I am naturally clumsy to begin with. Add this to an unequal distribution of weight and the fact that a little person has found my uterus to be the perfect environment for cartwheels and Taebo, and you will discover the fear that my face will very soon meet the carpet.

I am also relieved to know that James and I now have half as many names to argue about. And yes, there will be arguing. I will not submit to the idea that this little acrobat should be named Zerubabel. I don't care what temple he built in what kingdom -- that day will never come. I have my own favorites, all of which I think are adorable. Ethan, Aidan, Alec, and Dalton top the list currently. There is quite a bit of pressure to find another "D" name. I never thought that I'd be so cutesie as to name all my kids with the same first letter. But I love the idea of sending out 3-D glasses with our baby announcements. You'll have to stay tuned. I'd like to have something that is not too common. Something that is either really meaningful or really fun. I love Scottish names. I think Kelly for a boy is so cool! So I will ask of you, my friends, to please submit your suggestions in the comment box for this post. I'd like to see what you all come up with. You may NOT feel rejected if we don't use your name. But, you are welcome to publicly take credit for naming our child if you do come up with the perfect fit. Feel free to submit more than one. It will give James and I more to argue about. Please email me your ideas if you don't wish to register at google for posting your comment.

I leave you now with the most recent baby pic. If you want to see the P-G portrait that shows his gender -- too bad. We're not sharing that one until he's a teenager and we're looking to really embarrass him.