The Firemen

Some where, in this town, there are a group of heroes. In the fog of panic, I cannot remember their names.

On September 2, a completely hysterical Mama called 911. She yelped "My son is dying! Send SOMEONE! ANYONE!!"

A band of men later burst through the door and made a gray baby pink again.

Thank you, Big Burly Men.

I loved you then, I love you now, I'll love you always.

Mornings? We don't do mornings.

The laws of Slothville:

1. Bed Time is BED TIME. Once Mama puts on your overnight diaper and jammies, brushes your teeth, puts you in bed, and sings you those ridiculous personalized Night Night songs, Mama is done. Capital D. Done.

2. No one old enough to call "Mama!! Moo Milk!" is young enough to have the request/demand answered during Sleepy Time. If I can go 8 hours without wine, you can go that long with no dairy products.

3. Any time before noon is an unholy hour, and Waffles won't be served. With or without peanut butter.

4. If it seems that the sun is high in the sky, but I come in your room and say "Not time for waking, time for more sleeping" it's in your best interests not to question me.

Isn't this boat big enough for all of us?

Noah's ark and the Stay at home Mom

What's the same? Noah had a BIG boat. It was full of tons of different animals. It was alone in a big old ocean.
There are LOTS of Mamas. There are lots of different types of Mamas. We are all trying to stay afloat.

So, why, why? can't we all just see that we are all in this big old ocean together and make the best of it? Why must some Mamas make other Mamas feel like crud?

Yeah, I get it. Your kids eat nothing but organic food and my kids survive on Hot Pockets. At least they all eat, right? (Well, sometimes.)

On the flip side, since we don't have a maid, my kids know how to clean up after themselves. Booyah.

I know that each Mama is different. Each Mama has the way they think is the way to be the best Mama. But just because another Mama co-sleeps and your kid does Cry It Out, does NOT make you, or her, better. It just makes you different.

So let's make a deal. Since we are in the same neighborhood/playgroup/wine club I won't let my kids draw on your kids with permanent marker if you won't let your kids make mine feel like dumbasses because they aren't bi-lingual. And I won't tease you about the fact that your roots are showing if you won't tease me about the fact that my butt is bigger than yours. Bless your heart.

Things I've Learned This Week

1. Catahoula Hog Dogs (state dog of Louisiana, y'all) have a mad taste for dirty diapers, and can extract them from a locked Rubbermaid trash box on the porch like I just threw it out the flipping door.

2. When a Halloween party in the fancy pants neighborhood is "by invitation only" it won't make a crap bit of difference if you don't have your invitation because you locked your house key and your phone in the house. Even if your husband is playing bartender, you have 3 screaming kids under 2 years old on your hip, and you beg the minion of Satan at the door just to let you in so you can get the last remaining key from Hubsters and go home. Butt munches.

3. A 5 star welded-to-the-dang-door gate won't keep a 26 month old and a 13 month old in an 800 square foot playroom full of 30,000 bucks worth of toys if they know Mama is trying to pee in private in the bathroom down the hall.

4. 15 pounds of spit up on newborn clothes will immediately mold in the wash if you don't take them out before the buzzer stops alarming.

5. Trying to take 3 kids under 26 months trick or treating would drive anyone insane. Even if that anyone has 5 (!) other adults along to help.

6. There aren't enough wine boxes on the planet to make up for a night consisting of 7 minutes of sleep.

7. If someone could make up a Diet Coke IV, they'd be a fricking millionaire.

Doesn't everyone know paint has fiber?

I took all 3 babies to a paint your own pottery place today. It's become tradition to take each baby to make a birthday plate on their first birthday. It's also tradition to have a hand print and foot print plate made when each baby is a couple weeks old.

Since Moose was still in the NICU on his 2 week birthday he didn't get plate made until I took Smudge for his birthday one today.

Smudge got his prints done first and then we did Moose's. As the employee was finishing up helping paint Moose's hands and stamp them, Smudge made a bee line for a very precarious looking stack of sushi platters. I dumped Moose in his bucket and rescued my wallet from at least 200 bucks of "they break it, you buy it" dish ware.

I returned to find a now sleeping Moose with tan paint covering his lips and a tiny tan colored thumb stuck in the corner of his mouth.

Horrified, I yelped "Moose Goose! Paint is not for eating!" The pottery employee looked over and calmly said "At least paint has fiber! I mean, it's gritty like fiber. Well, at least the bottle says it's non toxic!"

This new information helped to greatly ease my mind as I spent the next 10 minutes trying to gently pick what is probably Chinese manufactured, lead based paint from Moose's little lips.

Bouncing is what Tiggers do best!

Earlier tonight I was writing a post to a Mama's Group I am fortunate (and unfortunately) a part of. We are all mothers who were to have babies in May of 2008. We didn't have those babies, but now we have one another.

In the aftermath of writing a "woe is me" post in our group forum, about Moose still being hospitalized and Critter and Smudge being without me most of every day, I realized just how lucky I really am.

Though I struggled, and still do, with my initial loss, I gained so much. If it weren't for Oscar, I wouldn't have the support group I do now. I wouldn't have Critter, Smudge, or Moose. If everything in my life hadn't played out exactly how it did, I wouldn't have the life that I have right this moment. And my life at this moment is pretty flipping awesome.

I have babies born 13 months and 10 months apart. How many Mamas can say that?

I have a group of friends who know where I'm coming from. They validate me and challenge me and chat with me when my country is asleep.

As stressful as these last few weeks have been, I know me, and I know that one day I'm going to look back and wish I were here again.

I want to hold on to each second of every day. There is a chance that I'll never again be this burdened or this blessed.

Your kid may be smarter than mine...

...but what can a 7 month old do with quantum physics anyway?

I went on a playdate with a new mom acquaintance the other day.

I was expecting it to be like this:



It felt a lot more like this:



Type A Mom: "Can your baby crawl? Mine can!!! My Charles Havensbottom VII crawled at 3 months. Your baby looks like he just started crawling a few days ago. You should have done more tummy time."

Type A Mom: "Darling Charles Havensbottom the Articulate can say Mama, bottle, and Harvard. It sounds like your baby has a speech impediment. He should really be making more consonant sounds."

Type A Mom: "See how well Charles Havensbottom the Connoisseur feeds himself his caviar? Your baby just smushed bananas into his ear. If you sang Head, Shoulders Knees and Toes to him in the womb, he'd know where his mouth is by now."

Me: "Wow! Where did Charlie learn to roll his eyes like that?"