Terrible Three

   So work has been very busy and stressful recently and so I come home and it's nice to see the kids. They run up to me and give me these big hugs and I am happy for a few minutes to see their happy faces. It's nice.
   Then yesterday I get groceries on my way home and as the nanny prepares to leave, I bring in all the bags and set them up on the kitchen counter. Well, ever since Peewee fell off the counter, I don't put either kid up there to help unpack groceries due to the safety risk. Bubu and Peewee, of course, want to help me put away groceries so I put a couple bags on the ground so they can put items away.
   I guess I just wasn't paying attention because the bag I put down for them to unload has brownie bites in 100 calorie packets and pretzel goldfish. Big mistake. Bubu, with his four cavities, pulled out the brownie bites and asked to open the box immediately. Katie didn't say anything but instead just started tearing open the bag of goldfish. I told Bubu that we could have the brownies for dessert after dinner but that wasn't good enough. He hauls off and smacks me. I mean, it didn't hurt of course, but still, he hit me. It's not the first time. Recently, anytime I say no to something, I get hit by my 3 year old. It's pretty disturbing.
   So, I try time out. I try the whole, use your words conversation, whatever I can think of to stay calm and deal with this. Meanwhile, in my head I'm wondering about what I have done wrong to have caused this bad behavior. I've never hit Bubu, but I have gotten angry at him before. Has he learned to get angry because he's seen me get angry? Is he ever going to understand that hitting is wrong? Will he get kicked out of preschool this fall??
   Anyways, I googled what to do on Babycenter and all the experts say to do the stuff I am doing now. So I guess it will just take time and patience. Two things that are a scarce commodity these days. I will also be downloading the first 8 seasons of Nanny 911 on demand to watch on marathon this weekend.
   So this morning, I decided to gather some data and so I ask the nanny if Bubu ever has hit her. She told me that he did once but he apologized immediately she said because he felt so bad. Of course with me, there's no stopping the mommy abuse. I got smacked a few times in a row for "no brownies, no lollipop, and no juice at night" with NO apology. But anyways, the nanny proceeds to tell me that as soon as I leave the house, they act different, better, because they know they can't get away with anything with her.
   I didn't say anything because I know she isn't smart enough to understand that it was rude to say that. And I have many mommy girlfriends who have kids in preschool who have told me their kids are great at school or in my case, very well behaved with the nanny, but a lot of trouble for mommy. I know it's a pretty common occurrence. Unfortunately, dumbass doesn't know that. So I think I mentioned before that the nanny is pregnant and therefore, she'll be leaving us soon. I can't wait for her kid to be three and start hitting her.
   All in all, I figure if I can just make sure Bubu doesn't beat up his preschool teachers and get kicked out, I'm ok. Right?

Mom of the Year

   So one of my mommy friends, who seems to be my biggest fan, said I should write more often. I thought about it and for the sheer therapy of it, I agree. So, from now on, I vow to write once a month, whether I have a story to tell or not, I will write.

    March 2013: I was brushing Bubu's teeth one night and noticed on his back molars, there was some black shit on there I couldn't brush off. After two days of scrubbing, I called our dentist and made an appointment. We went in this past Monday and turns out he has four cavities. One in each back molar. Wonderful. Thank God we have dental insurance because the worst case scenario is over $3000 which with insurance is now the bargain price of $1633. So, Dear Disneyland, we'll see you maybe in the fall if we're lucky.

   Moving right along, I wonder sometimes if a working mom could ever win "mom of the year." I know I won't win with the four cavities but let's pretend like that didn't happen. And that Peewee didn't fall off the kitchen counter, and that if the kids don't want to take a bath I don't just skip it. Seriously though, is it impossible? I mean disregard that it is 9pm right now and I haven't put either of my kids to bed yet because I'm blogging. I actually just put Peewee's helmet on so she can ride her scooter around the house. Do I get some safety points for that?

   So, did I tell you that my nanny is pregnant? Yeah, so I guess I'll be writing about interviewing new nannies soon. I guess it's fine though. I've learned so much about myself and how much OCD I have thanks to this nanny. I cannot believe how many little tiny things I could nit pick about with her but I don't, because I don't want to be a nut job. I feel like I can train the new nanny, whoever she is, much easier with this knowledge.

   If you haven't noticed, I'm trying to paint a silver lining on my clouds of life. The reason why is because life is too short to "sweat the small stuff." One of my closest friends here in Roseville has taught me that. Even when the most annoying douchebags bug me, or when I owe the IRS a bunch of money, I just remind myself, I have two happy, healthy, beautiful kiddies, a pretty amazing husband, and incredible friends in my life.

The Fall

     So, it's Friday night, my husband is out with his buddies, and I've finally, finally got a moment to be awake and write. I guess I'll start with the the most recent occurrence and work backwards. Thanks to a New Years resolution of sorts, we are eating based on the Zone diet these days. For those of you who don't know, basically this diet means I gotta cut up a bunch of veggies every night. Which isn't a bad thing, don't get me wrong. So, I get home from work a couple days ago, I feed the kiddies their dinner and then Bubu and Peewee "help" me prep dinner for daddy.

     In our kitchen, we have an island so I put two bar stools at the counter, and they basically transfer veggies from one bowl to another. Well, I know it's so cliche to say this but, it happened so fast. Peewee, who is 18 months old now, climbed up on to the counter from her stool. I told her to get down, but she didn't listen to me...maybe because she's 18 months old...and she fell. On her face.

     First of all, she's fine. Thank God. But I didn't know in the moment. She started crying. I scooped her up trying to figure out what to do next. I checked fingers, arms, legs, checked for blood anywhere, anything broken? No. I ran and dug my phone out of my purse and tried my husband, knowing he probably wouldn't answer because he's at crossfit class. I start texting 911 to his phone knowing it's a futile effort. I give up. Then I sit down with Peewee and she's lethargic so I start to worry. I call my sister en law in North Carolina. No answer. I can't call ANY parent for fear of the "why was she on the counter?" question. So, I call my big brother.

    Isn't it interesting, who you end up trusting the most in your life? So he answers the phone, I blurt out what happened, and I wait for his advice. He tells me to call the doctor while he googles it and texts me what google says. Sounds like a plan. I call the after hours nurse, with Bubu stuck on his bar stool at the kitchen counter asking if he can get down now...and me saying, Peewee is hurt Bubu, gimme 5 minutes ok? I can't help but wonder if Peewee is brain damaged but within 10 minutes she's navigating normally on my iphone so I start to relax.

    About 30 minutes later, my husband had come home. Peewee was running around with Bubu at this point laughing and playing, with me stunned silent staring at them run circles around me.

    Let me go ahead and admit, it was a bad idea to put my "climber" on a bar stool at the kitchen counter. I should have known better. Bubu never climbs shit so I guess I wasn't prepared. Peewee the daredevil, the trooper, the bruiser, should no longer be the "Peewee".