Sometimes the Universe Laughs. . .

and you have no choice but to sit back and grin.  Even when your first reaction was the F-word.  Yep.  That was me.  You see, I'm a planner and when things don't go according to MY plan, then I say the F-word.  A lot.

Well, about a month ago when the pregnancy test showed two lines and then again when the second and third test showed the same, I was saying that word a lot.  A third child was NOT in our family plan.  This is where that 'universe laughing' thing comes in.

I've stopped saying the F-word.  Sure, I'm worried.  Having 3 kids under three and a half is quite a daunting thought, but at this point, I know we'll survive.  What's one more in the chaos, right?

Which Category? Blessed or Cursed?

"At 17, I was determined to do 2 things: get a college education and get that education at the small private college of my choosing, TCU. I did both. I went on and got a Master's degree--all paid for with grants and loans. I knew I would be paying back forever, but the concept of interest made no sense to me. Looking at this statement, it is startling to see the interest exceed the actual principle of the loan. And this isnt my only loan! I am proud that the balance is under $3000, but let this be a lesson to those making careful decisions about where to spend their college years."


I posted this on my Facebook wall this week after getting this student loan statement:

At 35, I am damn proud of myself.   I still feel like I might never get it paid off, but it doesn't make me sick to my stomach to think about anymore.  Let me be clear, it wouldn't matter where I chose to go to school--I would have needed loans.  


In response to my post, a girl I know posted this comment:

We are still paying off my husbands school loans but we have been determined to pay cash for my schooling. I love UNT cuz it is possible(not easy) to pay cash. We have been so blessed that God has helped provide so we dont go into further debt

 Um.  This is bothers me on so many levels.  Suggesting that God has made it possible for this person to attend school without debt because she is "blessed" is downright insulting.  Does this mean God didn't choose to "bless" me by being able to pay cash for school?  This person is lovely.  A giving, warm-hearted person, but so incredibly naive to believe at 22ish that her ardent belief in evangelistic Christianity has made it possible for her to go to school debt-free.  It is perhaps isolated to the upper-middle class evalgelistic soul who believes that those who don't believe as they do end up suffering.  I mean, there's a reason these Mega-Churches preaching the prosperity doctrine are filled with upper-middle class white people.

Okay, I don't normally take my Musings in this direction, but life in surubia forces it from time-to-time.  Especially when I live deep in the Bible Belt and one of the few places that the recession hasn't completely devastated.

End Rant.

Mental Health in a Vibrating Chair

Today my Heather came over for a visit.  It had been a ridiculously long time since I had seen her, but no worry, my 2 year old immediately recalled that she's the number one person willing to play hide-and-hide with him (no editing mistake--he only wants to hide and be chased).  Eventually poor Heather got to sit and even got to take off her impervious-to-cold soccer shoes.  That's when Ell busted out with this, upon seeing her feet and pointing,

My Mommy don't have those anymore.  

 Yep.  I still have feet.  Toes even.  What did I not have any longer?  Painted toenails.  This wasn't because I took the polish off--oh no.  This was because it had been so long since my piggies were painted that it had all grown off.  Even off the big toe. Sad.  That's what happens when you have two kids and a full-time job during a recession.

That moment is when Heather and I looked at each other and we knew. . . we KNEW our destiny.  Pedicures.  Sometimes that vibrating, massaging chair and some girlfriend-time is all you need to make you forget about re-arranging the garage.  Trust me.  Totally rationalized worth it.

Adventures in Poop, Vol. III

Today's adventure is brought to you by the concept of wiping.  Yes, wiping someone's arse, other than your own.  It's not my favorite job, but after 3 years of day in-day out wiping, I'm kind of used to it.  Enter in the Standing Wipe.  The Standing Wipe makes things challenging, but it can  be done.

After 3 years of the wiping, you would think the arse of the person being wiped would understand the concept. The answer to that assumption is no, a resounding NO.  How did we learn this, you may ask?  As my husband was on poop-patrol, it was by accident that I found out this horrific lesson.  It was as I heard,

No, Elliott!  We don't wipe our face after we've wiped our hineys.  

Yep.  You got it.  Post-hiney wipe on.the.face.

Boys are Gross.

Adventures in Poop. Vol. II

Ell-Monster had a make-up gymnastics class yesterday evening.  Chris and I did a quick hand-off, where as soon as I walked in the door to take care of Brook-Brook, he loaded Ell up in the car and off they went.  Around 15 minutes later, I received a text from my dear husband saying,

Your son just informed me that he removed his diaper and is now going commando.

Sneaky little toot!  I mean we've been working on the potty-thing at home, but out?  No way in hell. . . . I mean, unless the parentals are pre-occupied with kid hand-off.  So yeah. . . that's how the E-Monster got to experience his first public toilet.  After the morning I had, I was glad for Daddy to take a hit.  Vengeful?  Maybe.  Fair?  Absolutely.

A Side of Poop in the Morning

Lemme tell ya a little tale. This morning, I was changing Brook-Brook's clothes when I hear Ell banging around in the kids' bathroom. I call for him--several times--and get no response. Finally he comes into B's room and I ask what he's been doing and if he made a mess? Yes, he says with a twinkle in his eyes. Then I notice that he's removed his diaper--I asked if he went poopy. "Yes," he says proudly, "Humprhey ate it." Gross. I walk into the bathroom and find the pot of the potty chair in the sink. Ell puffs out his chest and says, "I cwean up. I wash it wif soap."



And that is how one becomes obsessed with Clorox and Lysol--even when skeptical of the chemicals in all mass-produced cleaners--AND justifies a morning stop at Starbucks.  Too much to handle by 7:20 in the morning.  The end.

Yep. They are Related.

Everyone wants to know who a baby most resembles.  At 8 months old, I still see so much of my husband in Brook-Brook, but there is definitely no denying she and the Ell-Monster are related.  Let's do a side-by-side and see what you think:

It's a lot of Dark

My almost-three-year-old makes me laugh.  Some of his phrases that may forever be in our vernacular:

"It's a wot of dark."  Yes, he does specify between 'a wittle dark' and a lot.

and

"It's bewwy gwass." (It's very glass)  Used to indicate that something is breakable.

We also had to ask him today what his sister's name is.  He said, "Brook-Brook."  Hrm.  Suppose we should call her by her full name more?

On Perfection.

Today was one of those rare, close your eyes and make a wish, hold your breath, perfect kind of days.  Rare.  Rarer still with an almost three-year-old consumed with a case of the whinies.  I can expound upon that another time.  Back to perfection.  I should add to my raving that it was a balmy 78 degrees.  In January.  Really.

We decided to embark upon the virgin journey for our chitlins to the Fort Worth Stock Show (no rodeo this year. . . I mean there is a rodeo, we just didn't attend).  I was excited.  Even after departing our home at least an hour and a half past our goal departure time.  So we off we went.  Brooklyn missed her morning nap.  She didn't cry.  Elliott didn't whine.  No really.  He didn't.  We saw horses. We saw pigs.  We saw chickens.  We saw lambs.  No whining.  We (Elliott) sat on tractors.  No whining.  We visited a petting zoo, where Ell declined to actually pet. . .anything.  We wrapped up our trip with a jaunt down the giant bumpy slide, complete with burlap seat, for Daddy and Ell.  Oh, and a trip on the motorcycle carousel.  NO whining.

This day then moved into another study in perfection by dining outside at Joe T. Garcia's.  No margaritas, but still perfection.  Oh, and did I mention that it was 2:00 and neither of my children was crying AND that they still hadn't napped?  Yep.  Stupendous.

We go home.  We napped.  We painted.  We played.  We laughed.  This is one for the record books.

Snack break. Yes, I did remember the hand sanitizer.  

I was impressed with the hard work and cheerful, friendly attitudes of the teens there to show their animals.  They didn't seem to mind stroller-pushing, camera-wielding families with toddlers wanting to pet their animals.  I never did the ag-thing, but it made me think I would be proud to see my kids work that hard at something. . . I mean, without considering the slaughtering-thing at the end.  I couldn't handle that. 

One of the rare acutual petting moments.

We loved the baby chicks and the ducks.  I am fairly certain Ell would have been happy to spend all day in the Children's Barn.  

Tractor-sitting is always a big hit.  

Creepy-eyed goat and Brooklyn.  She was far more willing to actually pet the animals.  

Takes me back.

Loving the "motorcycles."

Will Rogers Colosseum on a perfect day.

I love the Art Deco inspired art architecture.

Brooklyn checking out her feet at lunch.

He's like my own Jackson Pollock.

At the end of the day, Ell told me that his favorite animals were the piggies.  Can't you see why?

Perhaps my favorite picture of the day.  I mean, of the ones sans children.

And did I mention that when we returned home, our cleaning service had been to visit?  I know.  I'm a little spoiled.  We would live in squalor if not for the cleaning service with both of us working full-time.

And THAT is how you spell a perfect day.

We are THOSE Parents. Laughing at our Kid.

I've totally neglected my bloggy-blog. This new year has started at a run, to say the least.

My Monkey had surgery on Friday to put a new set of tubes in his ears and to remove his adenoids.  Since his tubes have fallen out, he's had several ear infections and Chris and I are serious about stopping the antibiotic trend now.  Before taking the wee one back for surgery (he really had no idea what was happening--we just told him that the doctor was going to fix his ears), they gave him some twilight medication to ease any anxiety he might have.  The parents around us had concerned looks, but we weren't there yet.  Nope.  No, we were the parents laughing uproariously, and those of you who have heard me laugh know this is LOUD, because our kid was Funny.  Funny with a capital 'F.'  Being the solicitous parents we are, we even caught the goods on video for your viewing pleasure.  Yes, that is my snort.

Take-that 2012.

For 2012, I have several resolutions.  Commitments.  Call them what you will, but I try not to get too crazy-extreme.  Because I have a need to share, I can list them for you and even detail you on the progress.  This will be easy.

1.  Resolution:  Park in my own frickety-frackin' garage.  (This one is a hold-over from 2011, not a good sign.)
     Progress:  Excess Amazon  cardboard boxes carted to the curb.  We're back to the garage looking exactly like it did circa May 2011.  Greatness.

2.  Resolution:  Eat healthier.
     Progress:  We had roasted Brussels Sprouts the other night AND a salad last night.  I totally believe this cancels out my on-the-go-can't-get-my-lazy-ass-out-of-bed-in-time-for-breakfast stops at Braum's twice this week. 

3.  Resolution:  Work-out more.
     Progress:  MET!  I completed (mostly) a yoga workout last night from the very appropriate "Yoga for Inflexible People" DVD.  Notice the carefully worded resolution.  I said, "workout more."  Well, the last time I really worked out was in August 2010, immediately prior to becoming preggers with Baby Brook-Brook, so technically I've already met this one.  I know.  You're impressed.  So am I.  Impressed and SORE.

4.  Resolution:  See my friends more.
     Progress:  Unless this counts my Work-Heather, I can offer you that I've sent out an email to corral my crazy girlfriends back into a dinner-routine on Mondays.  Some of them even answered the email, so I'm going to count this as movement.  Dinner set for Monday.  Hopefully I won't be the only one in attendance. 

5.  Resolution:  Go to bed earlier and then get up earlier.
     Progress:  See Progress section on Resolution #2.  I work better with a deadline, so I'm saying Monday is when this one starts.  That's the day my working a compressed work-week (9 days of 9 hours each day with every-other-Friday off) begins.  I am sure hoping that extra day off is motivation for me because the frickety-frackin' alarm is going to go off at 5:30am.  Painful.  I hate  frickety-frackin' alarms. 

So there you have it.  What were your resolutions?  Have you made progress?  Are you one of those buy-a-gym-membership-start-Weight Watchers for the New Year kind of people?