Happy New Year!!!!!

I hate New Years. Especially this New Year. I hate New Years because it's all about organization and self-improvement. Isn't it? Everywhere you look, every magazine cover "Lose 20 lbs. by Valentine's Day!!" "This Is the Year to De-Clutter!!"

Normally I manage to resist the pressure- I proudly stay fat and slovenly. But this year I feel the need for some self-improvement and de-cluttering.....But lest you think I bought in to all the New Year's propaganda, these are not, in any way, New Year's Resolutions. I've been feeling the need to shape up and clear out for a while. And, dear god, did I start a big ol' ball rollin' with that one.

I decided a while back that I wanted an elliptical. I just wanted a little small, cheap, unobtrusive one. But Matt was appalled. This was one venture that he was not going to let me cheap out on. (An aside here- I still think we could have gotten a perfectly good one for half the price on Craigslist, but was outvoted by the masses due to lack of warranty. Psssssh, warranty, schmarranty...) So he spent a month or so diligently researching ellipticals, and when winner went on sale for New Years, we used our Christmas money (thanks lovely family!!) to buy it. We were most grateful to The Old Man for being our delivery man, and now I have a HUGE behemoth of an exercise machine in my playroom, and it hurts. Seriously, today was day one, and it kicked my ass!!!!

The upside is that it forced a major playroom overhaul. I am talking de-cluttering on an epic, furniture-moving, multiple trashbag/donation box-filling, get this crap outta' here, scale. A new toy storage unit made (most) of the baskets that held toys unnecessary. Old toys were tossed or donated, same for books, home decor stuff, everything under the sun. I took a big load to Goodwill today and I have another one to take. And while my house is still torn apart, and filled with boxes from Christmas, it is slightly more organized.

And here's the really funny part- I'll be having family and friends over for lunch tomorrow. Yup. I'm nuts. But my attitude is, I'll have it (the parts you can see!) fairly clean, and everyone that's coming over has already pretty much seen us at our worst, so they'll probably forgive a little disaster. Hell, they knew disaster was inevitable if they were coming over here! And I do this every year. It's the one holiday that I host despite my tiny house and chaos, and I love doing it. I love cooking all the old soul food, and my grandmother's banana pudding, and having almost all the people I love gathered in our home. So mess be damned, the collards are done, and the black-eyed peas are on!

I wish all of you out there in my little cyber-community, those of you who are kind enough to care about my life, or even if you just find it funny enough to read, a happy and blessed 2011. (Although you may just not be able to look away from the hot mess that is our household. That's okay) But all of you, whomever you are, wherever you are, may this be your best year yet, I hope this is the year your dreams come true, I hope it's your happiest year so far!

What a Holly, Jolly Christmas!!!

I think Santa's getting ready......

One of my fancy snowflake ornaments that I made this year.

Boy toys galore!!

The twins' haul- not bad, not bad at all.

All is calm, all is bright

Just what I wanted!!!!

Will's feeding his new baby a bottle after a ride in the doll stroller!

Merry Christmas, everybody!!!! I'm sitting here watching it SNOW- in Georgia, ON CHRISTMAS!!!!! That is totally unheard of- hasn't happened in a hundred years. And yet, big fat snowflakes are falling outside the window, capping off what may have been a perfect Christmas. The boys got a pile of cool stuff from Santa and great stuff from the assorted grandparents/aunts/uncles, so they were happy as pigs in mud all day.
Matt got some cool stuff. He'd already gotten his big surprise from me a couple of weeks ago when I took him to see Cirque Du Soliel, so he got smaller stuff today, but it was pretty great stuff. I, on the other hand, got FAAAABULOUS stuff. Seriously, I was the Christmas queen this year. Tickets to go see West Side Story, my favorite musical of all time, from my FIL, a huge, expensive, gorgeous, fancy-girl pocketbook from my MIL, a sparkly ring from Matt, and my parents I got this awesome painting of a cow that I've been coveting. It's like, the sweetest cow face you've ever seen. So me, the cheapest girl in the world, got theatre tickets, art, jewelry, and a designer purse! Damn, I feel fancy, kind of like Cinderella- thanks Fairy God-parents!!!! (Hopefully it won't all turn into pumpkins at midnight!)

And as if the fanciness wasn't enough, my sister gave me and my mom and my youngest sister possibly the Best. Gift. Ever.- a girl's weekend at a cabin in the mountains! She's already booked it!! How cool is that? A whole weekend's break from the nuthouse, hanging out with my very best girls? My sister rocks.

And now it's snowing. Seriously- could it get any better? I hope all of you had an amazing Christmas. I hope you felt as lucky and blessed as we did. And I hope that your kids got quieter toys than ours did. My mother bought them little plastic recorders- they're louder than a whistle. Thanks, mom......



PS. Hays celebrated Christmas with us, even though he's woefully underrepresented in the picture department. Not only did he get lots of toys, he got a fever as well : ( So he was slightly pitiful all day- but overall, it was a pretty darn good sick day!

Better late than never! Merry Christmas everybody!

It's the Most Exhausting Time of the Year

Ah, Christmas, a time filled with joy. It's wonderful and nostalgic for adults, magical for children, and exhausting for mommies! I didn't realize until I had a family of my own how much goes into making Christmas happen. When you're a child you just take it for granted that sparkly ornaments and lights wink from every corner, piles of presents pop up overnight, and elves magically appear in funny spots all over the house. But have a kid and all of a sudden you realize that you have become the magical elf that makes everything merry and bright!

The other night as I was wrapping presents, I asked Matt, "When Christmas comes around and you don't have to do anything but show up, does it make you glad you're married?" He was like, "Uh, yeah, sure, I guess." He'd probably never given it much thought, but he should! I'd love to hire a wife for the Christmas season. Imagine it, having someone to do all the shopping, decorating, wrapping, cooking. Someone to buy the perfect teacher gift, address a million Christmas cards, bake for the coworkers, bus drivers, neighbors, etc. Heck, I'd be happy if I could just have someone that would remember to move the elf on the shelf to a clever new hiding spot each night!

But since no one has come up with a rent-a-wife operation (well, they probably have, but I couldn't afford to hire one anyway), it's all on me. And though I complain about it sometimes, I wouldn't have it any other way. Because even though it's exhausting, it's so worth it. Seeing my kids' faces on Christmas morning makes it all worthwhile- even though all the credit for that goes to a jolly fat guy. I'll stand back and smile knowing that I am Mommy, and I make magic happen. Then I'll go take a nap.

After Midnight....

It's midnight on Sunday night and I should be snuggled up in my cozy bed sleeping soundly. Why am I in the drafty playroom blogging instead? Because Hays and Matt are out on a little ER adventure, and I'm anxiously awaiting their return, that's why.

Hays was fine this morning- eating, playing, driving me crazy- the usual. This afternoon I went to run some errands with my mom and got a call from Matt saying that Hays had thrown up twice. We figured he had a little virus, but later in the afternoon, he seemed fine. He didn't throw up any more and ate a huge dinner. We thought it was weird and kept musing aloud, "I wonder what made him throw up?" But he went to sleep with no problems, so we kind of shrugged it off.

Fast forward to 11:30 pm. Matt and I were picking up the playroom, getting ready to go to bed. Matt found a battery operated candle lying on the floor- minus the battery. A quick search around the floor turned up the casing to the battery, but no battery. We searched every nook and cranny, but couldn't find it anywhere. With a growing sense of dread, I called the poison control center to let them know that our two year old possibly swallowed a button battery, and to see what steps we should take. They recommended an immediate x-ray. Apparently, that particular type of battery can separate easily- particularly if it's sitting in a child's stomach, and the leaking battery acid can burn a hole in the child's stomach.

We really hated the idea of waking up our soundly sleeping baby and taking him out in the frigid cold, but we hated the idea of battery acid burning holes in his internal organs more. So I woke the little guy up as gently as possible. Gave him some milk, bundled him into his coat, and sent him and his daddy off into the dark, cold night with Stinky monkey, cozy blankie, and his chocolate milk. So now I'm just waiting (and blogging) to hear the results of the x-ray. Chances are, the battery is somewhere in a hidden corner of the house, and this was a pointless middle-of-the-night excursion, but what can you do?

**UPDATE**
According to the x-ray, Hays did not, in fact, swallow a battery. So we totally woke our kid up and drug him out in the middle of the freezing cold night for nothing. Yay. But such is life. We couldn't take the chance. But the question remains, where the hell is that battery?????

**UPDATE- Part Deux**
So after my last update, they tested Hays for strep, RSV and the flu. Turns out, he has strep. Poor baby. The silver lining on that little cloud is that we caught it early, so he didn't have to sicker and sicker for the next day or two. He's on antibiotics now, so he should be right as rain in a day or two. Of course, he'll miss the last day of preschool tomorrow (picture me sobbing uncontrollably), but he'll feel better. Now we're just crossing our fingers and toes that no one else gets strep, because that's some nasty funk.

Adios, Paci

Let me start by saying that I am aware that almost three years old is too old to still have a pacifier. I know it, and if you'd told me that I would allow a child of mine to still have a paci at almost three years old, I would have called you a dirty, rotten liar. But that was before I had twins. I confess, we did not break Will of the paci habit by two as I swore I would. So what, sue me. Part of it was laziness- it was so much easier to put him to bed when he had a paci, it soothed him when he was sick, and quite frankly, there were days when shoving that paci in his whining mouth was the only thing that kept him alive at 5:00.

Plus, I had a bit of an emotional attachment to Will's pacifier. I know that sounds odd, but back in the dark days of his early infancy, there wasn't a lot that could bring comfort to Will, but that baby loved his pacifier. It was the one thing that never failed to soothe him. And then we discovered Wubanubs, the pacifier with a Beanie Baby-like stuffed animal attached to the end of it. We bought a red dog we named Clifford for Will, and it became his constant companion. I couldn't be at the hospital with Will all the time, but Clifford could. And while I'm not suggesting that a stuffed animal pacifier is a suitable stand-in for a mother, it did give me some measure of comfort to know that he had his Clifford. He always had something that made him feel safe, secure and soothed. I loved Clifford about as much as Will did, and when the paci part fell off, I kept Clifford for sentimental reasons. (Though once he didn't have the paci part, Will had little interest in it.)

And while my other kids had lovies, Will only had his pacifier. Mason was a paci baby, but he also had his beloved stuffed dog, Buddy. So when it was time to take his paci, I didn't feel too bad because he still had Buddy to sleep with. And Hays was never really into his pacifier, but I can't imagine putting him to bed without Stinky Monkey. But Will never really developed a strong attachment to a particular animal or blanket, so all he had at bedtime was his paci. It seemed sort of cruel to take it away. But cruel or not, damned if I was going to be one of those moms that lets her five year old walk around with a paci. (And if you are one of those moms, I'm sorry. I hate to judge you, but honey, it's time to lose the binky)

So Matt and I made a plan. We were down to one pacifier, and we were already limiting it to naps and bedtime (or major illness). We agreed that when that paci got torn up or lost, we were done. We were not buying any more under any circumstances. About two weeks ago, we noticed that he'd bitten a small hole in it. It was in no danger of coming apart and choking him to death at that point, so we let him keep it. But we knew the end was near. The end arrived yesterday.

He got up from what was supposed to be naptime, but which was actually jump on the bed and play time, with a paci mangled beyond redemption. I told him, "Uh oh, Paci is broken. We have to throw it away." He gave it a kiss and hug, told it bye-bye and threw it away. He didn't seem at all distressed, but I wondered what bedtime would bring. I was able to conveniently push that off on Matt because I had to take Mason to a thing at his school. I expected to hear tales of woe, great wailing and gnashing of teeth. But actually, Will did okay. There was a little bit of crying, but not much, and he fell asleep fairly quickly. He did wake up early this morning and cry a little bit, but he went back to sleep. And while I figured naptime today would be a bust, he only asked for his pacifier once, and fell asleep within 15 minutes.

So we are officially a pacifier-free zone. I'm proud of him. A little wistful to see one more vestige of baby-hood cast off, but proud nonetheless. And very, very grateful that it has gone much more smoothly than I anticipated. My baby's growing up.....

Dog Days

Tess in her heyday as our beloved dog child (excuse the freaky, glowing eyes)

Tess in her current pitiful, second class citizen state. Note the huge, mangled hot spot on her flank.

Tess. Sigh........ Tess is our dog. Matt and I got her almost a decade ago, not long after we made the move to Athens. We were young, in love, and living in sin- obviously it was time to adopt a dog child. There was no question about it, we were going for a shelter dog, preferably a large breed since I hate little yappy dogs. Much to our delight, we found an 8 month old lab mix that a shelter was giving away free because the dog had asthma. Never one to shy away from a good deal (free asthmatic dog? Awesome!) we adopted her despite the fact that she was wheezing, painfully skittish, flea-ridden and had the worst teeth imaginable. She didn't seem like such a bargain when we got her home and took her to the vet- his exact words "Take her back where you got her. This dog's about to die." She'd apparently had pneumonia over and over, and her lungs were ravaged. But despite the vet's dire predictions, she rallied after a course of steroids and antibiotics, and became one of the most loving, loyal dogs we could have ever asked for.

And we adored her. She had baskets of toys, we never went anywhere without her, hell, she even had a Snow White Halloween costume. She was our beloved dog child. Then, we had our first human child. Things kind of went downhill for Tess after that. I mean, we still loved her, but in our sleep-deprived haze, we often forgot to feed her, make sure she had clean water, and forget walks or trips to the dog park. As Mason got older and slept more, things improved for Tess. She never returned to her glory days as top dog, but at least she wasn't starving and thirsty.

Cue the twins arrival. Oh lord, if she thought things were bad when Mason came along, it's a wonder she didn't give up when the twins got here. If I had been her, I would have packed my chew toys in a hobo bindle and set out for greener pastures. (Who are we kidding, by that point, she didn't have chew toys anymore!) Now, not only was regular feeding out the window, our house was so full of people and stuff that she was frequently yelled at for being underfoot. Poor dog. Things have improved slightly. I remember to feed her most days, and she's learned to stay out of the way. But now she has to suffer the indignities the twins heap on her, including, (but not limited to) using her as a step stool, attempting to ride her, and poking her in the eye while saying "dog's eye?"

I think that the stress is getting to her. Over the past year or so, she's started to develop terrible hot spots and she's chewing herself bald and bloody. Today she had the mother of all hot spots, seriously, her flank looked like it had been mauled by a bear. I finally gave up and took her to the vet. He claimed it was a flea allergy, but I'm not convinced. Either way, I shelled out $150 to get her partially shaved, the hotspots treated, antibiotics and steroids and different flea medication. I hope it works, but really I think she just needs a vacation. A quiet place where no one will step on her or smear her with jelly. A house free of shrieking and screaming and fighting. So when I give up and run away to Tahiti, I'm taking Tess with me.