Whoever called two year olds terrible, obviously had never met a three or four year old.   “Emotional whiplash” doesn’t even describe the stage with justice.   One second they’re sharing yogurt with their baby sibling and doling out blueberry flavored kisses after every bite, and the next second they’re demanding a napkin and then freaking out so completely when it doesn’t magically appear, the shrieks and bellows can be heard two counties away.    Consequently one moment, my heart is swelling with motherly emotion, and the next moment I want ear plugs and some duct tape.   After disciplining Jamie for somewhere around the fifteenth time today he wailed at me “mommy, you’re so mean“.  “No babe, if I were a mean mom, I’d make you find your own worms and eat them.”
Then again, he might think that’s fun. 
It’s not just that he fluctuates between St. Valentine and Hagar the Horrible, he also has these weird quirks that just popped out of nowhere.   Like the revenge of the Scary Toilet, where apparently all the toilets in the world have banded together to eat little boys when the handle is flushed.    Sometimes he bravely flushes the toilet and other times he runs shrieking from the stall tryinng to climb up me as if the wold is a safer place when he’s clinging to my ribcage.   In his defence some of those self flushing toilets scare me too and sound more like soul sucking machines. 

Today I decided to do a quick photoshoot with the kids for Mother’s day.   I don’t know why I always do these things last minute.   Jamie thought it would be hysterical to squeeze his eyes shut the entire time.  I went from bribing to threatening, and finally I gave up and caught these.

If your name is Gio or Jeanette then these are for you….Happy Mothers Day.

Yes that is drool on Charlie’s face

Shopping gives me super powers.  
For months now I’ve been driving past the meadow I blogged about back in January.  Summer is nearly here, and my enchanted fairy land is disappearing, slowly turning into a desert wasteland before my eyes because I lack the nerve to journey past the angry “NO TRESPASSING” signs at the gate.   Every time I leave my house I feel a little more spineless and little more disgusted with myself, but apparently not enough to actually do anything about it.     I always come up with an excuse like…the kids are both wailing or I’m too young to die.
  
But today I went lingerie shopping with Heather (she’s one of the few people who would dare attempt such a thing with my two man-babies).    We hit up Nordstroms Rack where Jamie picked out a lovely, fluffy looking pink tanga and excitedly brought it to me  “Mom you need this, it is soo cute”.   He also had opinions on what bras Heather and I ought to try on, although he called them “for charlie’s food”.    He is either going to be royally embarassed by this tale someday, or he’s going to make a fantastic husband with great tastes.   Maybe both?
A mobile Charlie was a twist I hadn’t prepared for.  I had him sitting happily on the floor in the dressing room when suddenly he spied a crusty, stale cheerio three stalls down and he took off like a locamotive.   I was not attired properly to go charging after him, so I resorted to sticking my head out the bottom and yelling for him to come back.   He didn’t.   I got dressed very quickly.    We survived however, and  I scored a $118 piece of french lingerie that was mis marked for $5.97.     I was seriously stoked.   

So stoked, that when I drove past my fading fairy land, and the familiar pangs of guilt hit me, instead of ignoring it and sliding further down my seat, I pulled a u-turn, went back and started up the driveway. *gulp*  It quickly turned into a dirt road  path marked every ten feet or so by signs like “YOU LOOT WE SHOOT”.  I kid you not.   If I could have turned around I would have, finally the trees cleared and I saw a house straight out of a Louis La’Mour novel.   I swear it grew straight out of the ground, complete with an old wrap around porch filled with saddle equipement, rocking chair, and an old sleeping dog.   I left the car running (in case I needed a quick escape) with the kids sleeping in the back seat.   In a last second decision I ditched the Ralph Lauren sunglasses and bluetooth… since I didn’t think they’d win me any points, and I knocked on the door.   And knocked again.   Third time the door finally opened to reveal the man I remembered from 4 years ago.  And he wasn’t any happier or more pleasant.     He was seriously wearing cowboy boots, hat and gun.    My heart was pounding in my throat although in some ways I felt justified.   This was one case where my imagination didn’t exagerate real life.   He demanded with scowly eyebrows if I’d happened to notice the no trespassing signs (um….yeah, all ten of them).    I sputtered something dumb about wanting to introduce myself, being his neighbor and all,  quickly complimented him on his gorgeous property and sign placing skills, and then managed to remember my ace in the hole and hurridedly mentioned that I’m the Deckert’s niece.     He was smiling at that point, apparently he really likes “Vern and Dr. Pat”.  Whew.   He likes them so much, he granted his permission for my photoshoot.   ….providing we don’t pick any flowers.   I assured him we wouldn’t even touch them.  He countered saying we had to take some seeds though.   Ok.
I shook his hand, and thanked him profusely, then willed my wobbly legs back to my waiting car.

I’m so glad that’s over.

Now I actually have to plan a photoshoot.

We have been trying to tempt Charlie into crawling as he’s been on the verge for weeks now.   What finally did the trick was Jamie’s legos; the small easily choke-able kind.   I dutifully kept dragging Charlie away, and Charlie kept stubbornly crawling over to the lego toilet Jamie was designing (more on that later).  I wasn’t surprised when Charlie triumphantly managed to sneak a lego into his mouth, which I promptly went to fish out.   They teach you the hook and sweep method in CPR class, but it comes more in handy with mouth-happy babies.   I “hooked” and “swept” but to my surprise the lego wiggled and squirmed.   I’m not normally squeamish, but I was so surprised and caught off guard I shrieked (just a little) in horror as I pulled out a very large half eaten beetle with two thirds of its legs waving around frantically. *gag*   Charlie was very peeved with me. 

If beetle babyfood wasn’t disgusting enough, I pulled the car out of the driveway yesterday and noticed what looked like a gray rag on the middle of the garage floor.  I left the car running and ran in to pick it up, only to discover it was a big nasty rat.   A rat that oddly enough didn’t move when I came screeching to a halt in front of it.   It had obviously ingested a large amount of the poison Jim put out in a bait trap (in an attempt to protect our car from more rat inflicted damage), but I had no idea what to do with it (the rat).  I couldn’t leave it in the garage, but I wasn’t to keen on touching it….with anything.   What if it suddenly came to life and charged at me.   So I stood there looking at the rat, the rat looking back at me, as if waiting for me to hand down its sentence.  That’s when I noticed it was an awfully cute looking rat.  It had even the Ratatouille rats beat on looks.   It looked more like a large stuffed animal mouse, vs a beady, sinister rat.   She was also in terrible pain (yes, at this point I decided “it” was a “she”) and was plainly terrified.   I started to imagine all sorts of things.  She probably was just out looking for food to feed her starving babies when she inadvertantly stumbled across my evil husband’s poison apples.   I called Jim for advice, by this time I was actually sobbing and my eye makeup was running down my face (I’m seriously losing my grip on reality lately), his sympathetic advice was to tell me to take the rat out of the garage and bash its head with a rock.   Yeah, like that was going to happen.
I finally got the rat up on a shovel.  She was shaking in terror.  I seriously could not look at her eyes.   As I’m carrying the dying rat out, I run into the UPS guy.   He looked at the rat, then my face, then back at the rat.   I don’t even want to know what he was thinking.  I put the rat down in the shade next to the garage, apologizing profusely for not having the nerve to put her out of her misery, and I ran back to the car where I was met with two screaming children, which was fine.  We all bawled together. 

Ugh, I got lost in the world that is Twilight.  Three days spent drowning in 2,560 pages of total nonsense.  My own fault I realize, but as much as I like good food, sometimes I can’t stop eating junk food.  I find it excusable when I tell myself she didn’t maliciously set out to destroy the very essence that is vampire lore, she really wrote a poorly written but entertaining series about x-men, but got her terms mixed up.

In case you didn’t hear my shouts of glee that traveled round the globe, Jamie is potty trained.  Today I almost *almost* wished he wasn’t.   We were picking up some paint and canvases at Michaels for the living room when suddenly he was hopping around holding his crotch and eying the clearanced easter baskets like a dog looks at a fire hydrant (I blame Jim for teaching him it was ok to pee in the backyard).   Why is it that little kids either don’t need to go, or they absolutely-must-have-to-pee-that-very-second?   We took off in a mad dash through the store with Jamie insisting that he didn’t mind peeing in a bucket, and me begging him to hold it until we got to the bathroom.   Sweet relief, we made it to the bathroom without taking out anything breakable or expensive from my mad cart driving skills.  But the bathroom was locked (both of them, because which is worse… pee all over the picture frames or a woman in the mens room?).   It wasn’t like anyone was using the bathroom, it was a regular, multi stall bathroom with a push open door that someone had so thoughtfully padlocked shut.  

I briefly considered letting him actually use a bucket and then buying it, but instead I hollered for Jamie to hang on just a minute longer while we careened through the store looking for an employee.   There. were. none.  
The bucket idea was quickly becoming the most viable option, but in a last ditch effort I pounded like an idiot on the “employees only” door in the back, hoping that it would (remarkably) contain an employee.   There were several moments in time where I stopped pounding and yelling because really…I looked and sounded like a delirious idiot, but then I’d picture Jamie saying “look what I peed on mom!” and my hopless resolve would be strengthened and I kept pounding on the door, which an eternity later was opened by an icy woman who made me feel about an inch tall with one look.   Of course unlocking the bathroom was absolutely the biggest inconvenience in the world for her, but I was in too big of a hurry to really care.   Got Jamie in, got Charlie in, couldn’t get the cart in so left it outside the bathroom in and went barreling in with a kid under each arm.   I had just gotten Jamie situated when I realized that I’d left my wallet sitting on the seat of the cart.    Being just two feet from the door, I lurched out again to grab the wallet only to find the door locked on my return.   Seriously?   I’m not sure what the protocol is in that situation.   They didn’t really cover it in any of the parenting books I read.   Do you leave the kid unattended while you go find someone to unlock the door, or do you sit outside the door and wait until someone wanders by, meanwhile your three year old is doing who the hell knows what in a room coated with germs like crispy creme coats their donuts.

I had to resort to pounding on the bloody “employees only” door again, which of course was eventually opened by Atilla the Hun. De ja vu.   I meekly asked her to unlock the door again.   If looks could kill, I would definitely be dead.  I kindasorta wished I were dead.
I quickly and quietly got Jamie washed up and out of there, grabbed the last few things on my list and headed for the only checkout that was open…with the only employee who apparently works in the whole store.  Yes, her.  Despite my best attempts to melt into the floor I still had to pay for my stuff and she had definitely not forgiven me yet for ruining her morning (hey, at least she didn’t have to clean urine off of anything, how was I supposed to know they deadbolt all their bathrooms every second of the day).    She finished off my lovely experience with Michaels and their non existent employees, by ordering Jamie out of the back of the cart because yes, that’s a violation of store rules.  

We got to the parking lot and Jamie announced he had to go poop.  

Having a bedskirt doesn’t make Charlie a bigger fan of his crib, but I can finally say I finished his bedding.   Whew, much harder to do on post partum hormones than the feverishly frantic nesting ones.   I finally got the pictures hung in their bedroom too.  This house is driving me crazy.   It’s got angry eyes like the Mr. Potato Head.   I walk out of my bedroom in the morning and the blank hallway glares at me as if I’m mocking its naked walls.   The living room has more unfinished work than Boston’s big dig (although please God may it not take me that long), and I have a daunting to do list that has seventy three blinking neon projects on it.  *groan*  I did get the furniture rearranged (with help because home decorating is nothing like photography), and so it looks better…. a little better; just better enough to make the empty walls look at me even more accusingly. Gah
   My complaints truly are quite pitiful and ungrateful I know, but sometimes I wish I had my wee little house back.  The walls liked me there.

The april fools bug hit me early this year, because although today was seamless and quiet on the pranking front, a couple of days ago I was on a roll, and I should thank my lucky charms, those nearest and dearest to me are very indulgent of my madness.  
 Jim’s cell phone broke, so while his new one was on its way, he was sporting the purple flowered lotus that generally finds its home in my back pocket.  I can’t even blame it on boredom, but regardless, I got a mischievous desire to create a new AIM screename and txt my phone messages as if I was some…er…random guy he didn’t know about.    Poor guy,  I don’t deserve him, because not only was he not jealous or remotely suspicious, but he honestly didn’t mind…figured it was just some friend of mine.   He both and equally assumes my popularity and trustworthiness are staggering.   The latter one is more true.   
While we both got a good chuckle out of it, I moved on to a much more entertaining target.  My sister Liz: The girl is a txting fiend and lives with her qwerty in front of her nose, so this was much more deserved.    I sent a veritable hailstorm of txts trying to get her to go out on a date with me (by me I mean “tall dark and handsome”).   I was just low key and believable enough to convince her it wasn’t spam, but outrageous enough to be telling her how divine her hair looked that day.   She meanwhile was freaking out and forwarding all the txts (my txts) to me asking me what she should do and if I knew this guy.   When she finally did figure it out, we were both rolling with laughter.  It felt good to laugh, and now you know if you receive any txts from “surfinsandieog80″ it’s probably my alter ego.

The test results came back on my mom and she was positive for Hepatitis C and CMV, and negative for Leukemia.  The cancer tests aren’t conclusive without a bone marrow biopsy, but for now she’s just going to wait and see if everything will eventually recover.  

I am hopeful and optimistic, and I promise the update on her is true and not a prank.  (this is Esther speaking not surfinsandiego80).

There have to be at least a half a dozen people in San Diego right now who are cursing me…or my children (rather Jamie and Julia).   At some point in time you inevitably end up being *that* mother; the one everyone shakes their head sagely at and goes “If those were my kids they’d get a good spanking”.   
   I’ve got Mom, Dad and Julia staying with us again for a few days while mom has more testing done.  Julia being the proverbial baby of the family was too much for Hannah and Lydia to deal with and so I volunteered my wicked witch of the west personality to keep her toeing the line down here while Mom rests.    Not that I’m always mean, but Julia put her hands on her hips today and informed me that she doesn’t want me as a sister anymore, she’s going to be Jamie’s sister instead.   Fine by me.   I can’t think of her as a sister anyway, maybe someday we’ll have a more sister-like relationship, but for now she’s more like a foster child.  I guess that’s what happens when there’s a good solid 16 years between the two of us.
   My evil knievel armor though, has some chinks in it apparently.  When we went grocery shopping today Julia told me with a sad little sigh and a slump of her cute little shoulders that mom always lets her use one of the little shopping carts for kids.   I looked at her and felt a pang of guilt that I’m hardly the sweet sympathetic mother she’s used to, so in a moment of kind heartedness I agreed to let her use a kiddy cart.   Except she came back with two, one for her and one for Jamie.  I should have stopped it right then, but I thought how bad could it possibly be?  I was a little bit delirious and high on the fact I didn’t have Charlie with me.   Without a spewing infant in my arms I can do anything.   Or not. 

Between Jamie’s shoplifting fingers and Julia’s ballerina moves that took out an old lady and her coupons, I’m pretty sure they never want to see us at that store again.   Jamie was ill fortuned enough to get the dastardly cart that doesn’t want to go straight but rather veers off suddenly without any provocation.   Even with my hand firmly planted on the flag pole thing (and heels skidding) he managed to take out two (and a half) displays of food.   The employee who got assigned the clean up looked really annoyed, until Julia ran into him full force (it’s not my fault she and Jamie were holding races up and down the cereal aisle), thats when he kinda turned purple and started sputtering and I decided to make a break for it while the getting was good.     How I managed to corral both those children and all the groceries through the checkout aisle and into the car is a mystery to me.   
I forgot half the stuff on my list.
Julia and Jamie said it’s the most fun they’ve ever had at the grocery store. 

Impish no? 

Always impish.

As promised…

Baby Lucas

Jamie wanted to take him home.  I told him we already have enough baby going on in our house, he said this one could be his.

Charlie talks when he cries, or more like pleads desperately with every fiber of his being.   Jamie at this age was much more opinionated; definite in his opinion.  His cry sounded like “I-officially-am-pissed-off-and-somebody-better-pick-me-up-before-I-spew-rotten-milk-out-of-my-nostrils” ,  Charlie is much less confident and much more eloquent, “pleeease-pick-me-up-and-I-promise-I-will-never-chew-on-your-shoes-again”.
   Coming from either one it’s equally charming or hair tearing, depending on how much caffeine I’ve ingested for the day, or how long they’ve napped.  … Or today when I’m waiting by the phone for any news from either parent or doctor. 

Encouraging news when it did finally come.  I would have found it devastating a few days ago, but in light of last night when we thought my mom might have liver cancer on top of leukemia of something, today’s news seemed almost wonderful.   Her ct scan went well.  No tumors, her lymph nodes looked great, everything looked fine except for her ginormous spleen that is taking over her abdominal cavity and annoying the hell out of her liver.   After the hematologist looked over all the bloodwork, ultrasound and ct scan he concluded that it *might* not be leukemia afte all.  It might be that her spleen pooped out and she got some sort of gnarly virus like epstein barr or cmv which wrecked all this havoc.   And that’s what we’re all choosing to believe and praying for until Monday when we get the results back of all the tests she took today. 

To change the subject…
On Monday I did the follow up to that maternity shoot I did last month, this time it included the sweet, adorable little baby on the outside.   My goal is to blog about it tomorrow (the goal was today but I haven’t even looked at the pictures yet).  I did grab this one of Jamie though because it was cracking me up he suddenly wanted to be a part of the photoshoot.  The kid hates his picture being taken and he’s never been jealous of Charlie, but on Monday he saw baby Lucas tearing it up, and he had to join in the fun.
His best interpretation of melodrama.