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".

The Experiment: Chronicle of Week 1

   We are now in Week 6 of the NFL season and for the past 5 weeks, our family has been participating in an experiment to find a toddler-friendly sports bar in our home town. I've suddenly discovered that I've got this OCD type need to document our experiences and create a spreadsheet with all our findings but that's another story.

   Week 1: In attempt number one, we went to a little place up the street called the Diamond Plate (aka DP) where I have actually been a few times. During those times I've loved it. It's never totally packed and I swear I've seen a high chair there before somewhere, implying kid-friendliness, so I suggested to my husband that we test it out on a football Sunday for lunch.

   We got out of the house right after Peewee woke up from her morning nap and got to the bar around 11:30 am. That means we had a good hour and a half before any illogical meltdowns began. The DP was packed and the only available table was a high top. Bubu was ok but Peewee is 16 months old now and I'm about to change her nickname to Punk. Without a high chair we took turns holding her as she tried to kick, lick, and throw condiments across the bar. The server took my husband's and my drink order and turned away so quickly that I had to shout out over the fairly rowdy old man crowd, "and two kid's lemonades please!"

   We received a couple To-Go cups with lids that weren't quite secure enough for Peewee's onslaught. It's raining lemonade on my lap and so we determined that the DP was not our winner. We paid our tab and went to Chili's.

   Conclusion: In order to spend football Sunday at DP, get a babysitter.

Caution: Explicit Content

     5am, Tuesday, July 31st. Bubu had just climbed into bed with us which is the normal 5am routine. I cracked open my eyes and noticed a slight queasiness in my stomach. I thought it was a little constipation so I rummaged through the bathroom drawers to find some leftover Col-Ease from when Peewee was born. I popped a couple pills, chugged a bottle of water, and went back to bed since I had a good hour before I really had to get up. I figured I'd go to the bathroom one good time and all would be normal. But the tummy troubles never subsided and I found myself on the toilet repeatedly with no relief in sight. As I sat there, sweating, nauseous, I started wondering what I was going to tell my boss. I'm obviously going to be late, my parents happen to be flying into town in a few hours from across the country, and I can't get off the toilet. Do I tell him anything about the toilet? Do I tell him I have no more poop to poop and still feel bad? Ugh! No, are you crazy?! So I text that I'm having some stomach issues and I'm running a bit late.

     I somehow power through the nausea and weird pain to make it to the car, and then to Starbucks. Then, I sit on the toilet in Starbucks. No poop, just nausea. Seriously, is this what my life has turned into? I lean on the counter and order my coffee, thinking I will be fine, just power though it. I repeat to myself, I have a stomach of steel, I have a stomach of steel.

     After about 5 minutes at my desk, I concede to the illness and walk into my boss's office to confess that I am dying. I tell him I'd like to lie down under my desk for a few minutes but if that's inappropriate, I need to go home and lie down for a little bit and hopefully be back at work after I get my parents from the airport. I somehow make the drive home, sneak in without the kids and nanny seeing me, and crash for an hour.

   It's a struggle but I make it to the airport, make it back home with the rents, and out to pizza for dinner with the family. I was miserable, I couldn't eat not one bite of Round Table pizza, which is nuts. All I wanted to do was lay down in the booth. My Mom realized I wasn't feeling well, so she expedited the meal into a box and we drove home. I crashed for a few hours until my husband walked in and started asking questions. We were worried that the hernia was somehow causing this weird nausea and pain so he rushed me to the ER. What a nightmare that was. It happened to be the busiest night ever at Sutter Roseville. Every sick child, elderly person in a wheelchair, and bloody teenager was in the ER that night. We waited for 3 and half miserable hours until I couldn't make it any longer. Meanwhile, I had been using my purse as a pillow and an entire bottle of body spray spilled in my bag. The smell was overpowering and it did not help that I was nauseous in the first place. The people around me were horrified. I overheard some man say he'd been there for 7 hours and so we ended up leaving before we ever saw a doctor.

   The next day, I slept almost all day, no food, barely anything to drink, vomiting that awful stomach acid. On the phone with the doctor , they confirmed I was NOT pregnant. THAT just by itself was a large light at the end of a dark tunnel. So I thought, this will blow over and I'll be fine tomorrow. Thank goodness my parents were there entertaining the kids all day and night. I would have been so screwed if they weren't here. The next morning, I tried to make it to work. I actually was ok for an hour or two, but then felt the queasiness creeping back so rushed home to squat in front of the toilet I knew best. I made an appt to see my doctor at 3:15 pm to find out if I really was dying. After waiting for over an hour in the waiting room, I was scolded for leaving the ER without seeing the doctor. God, if they only knew. I felt so awful I could barely keep my eyes open.

   Without any true examination, it was determined I had a "bug" and needed lots of red Gatorade. Not yellow, or orange, but red or blue or purple. I puked for one more night but got plenty of red Gatorade down per my doctors orders and now it's Sunday, August 5th. I had to cancel our Saturday beach trip to Santa Cruz, our visit to the Monterrey Bay aquarium, and right now, my husband, kids and parents are out hiking by the river without me. But I have managed to eat two bites of toast and a few slices of pear today. I have survived the worst of it.

   Since I've never been sick like this before, except for being pregnant, this was scary I must admit. There is one plus side I guess, I've lost 7 lbs in 6 days. Eeesh. Just to be clear, not a recommended diet.

Love and Concern

   I still have half a glass of wine left so I'm actually writing two posts in one night. A new record for me. So anyways, I am so excited that my parents are coming to visit all the way from NC in a week. They are staying with us for awhile to hang out with the kiddies and also take care of me after my second hernia repair which is August 7th. Thank you Peewee.
  
   I have weekend plans for us, but during the week, the hubby and I go to work so I told the nanny she's on vacation since mom and dad will be here. I think that this is ok, I mean, my mom told me to give the nanny this time off, but my parents are getting older and I wonder if this will be tough on them. Do they know what they have signed up for? Bubu and Peewee for 8 hours/day? I'll admit, they are getting easier the older they get, believe it or not, but it's not truly easy with two little kids all day.

   All Bubu wants to eat is potato chips, fruit snacks, and the occasional chocolate donut hole. So let me tell you, that is wonderful. Absolutely delightful to deal with. I finally realize the trauma I caused my mother because I've been told that when I was a kid, all I ever wanted to eat was potato chips. For the record, I do not remember this.

   I'm sure they will be fine, I mean it is the BOTH of them so they aren't outnumbered. I'm planning a couple dinner parties to keep us entertained. And honestly, I treasure the time they get to spend with Bubu and Peewee since they are so far away and see the kiddies so little each year. So dear mom and dad, I cannot wait to see you. I guess that feeling never goes away. I love you both!!!

Hey Stranger

   Wow, it's been so long since I've written that I feel this might be a pure stream of consciousness. So here we go. I'll start with the kids. Bubu and Peewee are definitely entertaining little beings. I love watching their interactions with each other, even when they are beating one another. I sometimes sit back and allow them to beat eachother just to see how the other one handles the situation.
   Last week, Bubu came into our room around 2am coughing. From experience we knew to get bath towels and lay them all over our bed so that when he coughed till he puked we'd protect our sheets. So, he puked some of that clear, slimy shit a few times and I said enough already. I'm in the medicine cabinet looking for children's cough syrup, cough drops, cough pills, oh! I found some grape cough strips, like little breath strips. Perfect!! I ripped a packet open and told Bubu to open his mouth and I dropped it on his tongue. Then after giving it to him, I read the box. For children 4 and under it says: Do Not Give. Fuck. Did I really just overdose my 2 year old? Well, it's 3am so in my hazy cloud, I decided to just see what happens and let him sleep in our bed with us to monitor his breathing. He totally zonked out, it was awesome. No more coughing, no more puking, I just had to check that he was breathing every hour. The next day I call our Pediatrician to confirm I won't go to jail for the overdose, and she confirms I'm safe. Whew.
   The moral of the story is, it's probably a good idea to read the medicine box BEFORE administering meds to your children. But if you don't like to read, it's ok, the box is totally exxagerated.