Mystery Solved!

My husband decided to clean our cars last weekend.  He brought out the buckets and sponges and soap but when I saw the vacuum, indicating that he also planned to clean the inside of my car, I cringed with embarrassment.  Even I don’t like to clean the inside of my car.  In fact, there are 2 situations where I will spend the $20 at one of those full service washes: when my car is SUPER messy or when there is a strange odor in the car and I’m too scared to discover the source.  I’m always humiliated to claim my vehicle when they are done cleaning it and wish I could wear a disguise to hide my true identity.  Here are some of the items that were in my car last weekend.

1.       Cheez-its, some whole, some crumbs that were smashed into the seat fibers

2.      Three finished dum-dum sucker sticks with fuzzies and dog hair stuck to the sticky end

3.      Two  McDonalds Happy Meal toys

4.      The wrapper of a band aid (at least it wasn’t the used band aid!)

5.      Tons of flashcards, most with muddy boot prints on them and bent edges

6.      Six empty water bottles

7.      A coffee mug with about a swallow of coffee left

8.      A wallet-sized picture of Tyler from 2 years ago (???)

9.      Used wipes (I don’t remember what they were used for nor do I want to know)

10.  A tube of chapstick that is missing the chapstick (hopefully it fell off vs. was eaten by the kids)

11.  Three bags in the trunk for goodwill that I forgot about

12.  An empty juice box

13.  Two pennies stuck on top of a quarter that has been adhered to the bottom of the middle console since the early 90’s.

14.  A used band aid (see #4 above)

15.  A melted blue crayon

16.  Some mystery food item in a Ziploc bag hidden under the floor mat that is so decomposed even dental records wouldn’t help identify it (see discussion of strange odor above)

And that’s not including the countless French fries, cheerios, pens and crumbs that have disappeared into the void between the seat and the middle console.  A few weeks ago I spotted a girlfriend approaching my car as I waited in the preschool drop off line and had just enough time before she arrived to strategically place my large purse over most of the disaster scene in the passenger seat and shove a Ziploc bag of half eaten apple wedges………. under the floor mat.  Mystery solved!

Mommy in the Making

Just like a Dad waits anxiously for his son to connect with a pitch for the first time  (even if it’s a giant wiffle ball lobbed from 1 foot away) or catch his first fish (even if it’s a 2 inch bluegill caught on a snoopy fishing pole), or to flirt for the first time (even if it's with the elderly checker at the supermarket), a mother cannot help but swell with pride the first time she sees her daughter being tender and loving and motherly, even if it’s with a doll.  The other day I caught my 2 ½ year old changing her dolly’s diaper, and burping her dolly, and then kissing her sweetly on the forehead.  It was a touching moment to see her reflect the same love and care I had given to each of my three young children and I was proud of the example I had obviously been to her.  I found our camera after a brief search and flipped it to video mode.  I silently crept around the corner hoping to catch some of the loving words she was whispering in her doll’s ear.  As I approached I began to make out her conversation:  “If you do that again,” she said through clenched teeth, her smile unwavering, “I gonna spank you on the bare butt.”  I fumbled for the delete button as my pride quickly deflated.

P.S. The winner of the online raffle for a free 6 week Pre/Postnatal Pilates session is Teresa W!  Feel free to save it for number 3, Teresa, or pass along as a gift to that expectant mom in your life!!!  I will be sending the certificate to you in the mail shortly! 

P.P.S. The next Prenatal class will start Wed May 4th from 7:30-9:00 PM.  There are 3 spaces left.  Please visit the website at http://www.pilatesbycarrie.com/ and fill out the contact page if you want to reserve a spot!

Happy Earth Day!

When I was pregnant with my second child and nervous about how my 19 month old son would react to a new baby in the house, a friend suggested buying him a fish.  That way he had something to take care of and feed while I was busy with the baby.  The first mistake I made was following this advice and the second was putting my husband in charge of getting the fish.  I was picturing a 99 cent plastic bowl with a goldfish or other low-life expectancy breed.  Instead he came home with a large tank and filter, several plastic coral reef decorations and 6 guppies (known as a “hardy” breed).  My son was interested for about 22 seconds before he toddled off and I was left staring at an extra six mouths to feed.  OK, so maybe I am being a bit dramatic.  It’s not like I had to change their diapers or rock them or make sure they were getting enough tummy time (on the contrary, I had to make sure they weren’t going belly up!)  But when my son was being demanding and my new baby girl was crying and I was on the brink of losing it, I would notice that tank full of guppies out of the corner of my eye with their little mouths anxiously  opening and closing at the surface of the water, hungry for some fresh flakes of guppy food and it literally would push me over the edge.  Slowly, one by one they began to pass on to a better place in fishy heaven (I promise I fed them regularly although I refused to clean that tank) until I was left with just one little guppy.  I fed him faithfully secretly hoping he would soon join his friends.  Every once in a while I would hold my breath with excitement when I didn’t see him swimming around the tank only to discover he was hiding in that damn coral décor at the bottom of the tank.  One day as I peeked into the tank I almost fell over when I saw 13 microscopic baby guppies (otherwise known as “fry” I learned on the internet).  No…..no,no,no,no NOOOOOO!!!  Of course my one remaining guppy had to be a female, and a tramp to boot!

Well, here I am almost 3 years later and, alas, the guppies are no longer.  I like to think that I am smarter now, not so easily tricked into added responsibility.  I also have another newborn, my precious little Gabriel.  My husband called me from work yesterday because a co-worker was wondering if he wanted a red maple tree in honor of Earth Day.  My husband said that it was just a couple of feet tall right now and would look great in our backyard.  I see a glimpse of the future: my 4 year old whining, my 2 1/2 year old hitting my 4 year old, the baby screaming and hungry and out of the corner of my eye…..a little maple seedling in the yard, wilting, thirsty, needing some of my attention.  “The only way I will even consider it is if YOU promise to take care of this tree” I demand .   I awoke this morning to my newborn’s hungry cries and seconds later broke up a fight between my other 2 kids about who called the other one “bad” first.  In my sleep-deprived state I stumble, on autopilot, towards the coffee pot and stop dead in my tracks.  There on the kitchen table is a maple seedling ready to be planted.  I feel my blood pressure start to climb and my heart rate quicken.

Is there such a thing as tree heaven???

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

I have never lied so much in all my life as I have since my son has become a toddler.  I realized the other day that the lying starts the minute he wakes up and continues ALL DAY LONG.  Observe:  My son wakes up and wants to watch Little Brown Bear (aka The World's Most Annoying DVD) for the hundreth time.  To dodge an inevitable meltdown I lie and tell him we seem to have misplaced it and we'll certainly hunt for it later on (another lie).  After breakfast as we get dressed for preschool, he asks if he can wear his favorite green socks with the blue stripes despite the fact that he is wearing a brown and mustard colored shirt with brown sweats.  "They are in the washing machine" I fib, avoiding yet another confrontation.  When we get into the car he gives me a hard time about buckling the bottom straps of his carseat.  "What will happen if I don't" he asks with an attitude in his voice.  "The police man will pull us over and you will go to jail" I snap back.  OK, I'm not proud of this obvious exaggeration but we are late for preschool (again) and the tone of his voice is like nails on a chalkboard so I let my frustration get the best of me.  After I pick him up from school he asks if we can go to a "bounce house" place.  "Oh, they are closed on Mondays" I lie which just seems easier than saying "No."  We stop at the store before arriving home and my son picks out some candy in the checkout line.  "Can I get this" he whines.  I tell a double lie:  "No, too much sugar will make your teeth fall out (this one may have an ounce of truth to it but no one has done an experiment to my knowledge to truly test my theory) besides I don't have enough money" I say as I hand the cashier my credit card (luckily he's not old enough to realize the irony of this statement!)  We arrive home and he asks if he can have a cookie.  "Not until you eat lunch I say."  As I prepare the standard peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I jam a cookie in my mouth right as he comes around the corner.  "What are you eating, Mom?" he asks.  "A carrot" I reply (at this point I've lied so much it's becoming second nature).  After lunch I begin to clean the kitchen and decide it's time to pitch the 15 sheets of "artwork" cluttering the front of the refrigerator.  My son accidentally finds them in the garbage and panics.  "What are my pictures doing in the garbage?!" he asks with tears in his eyes.  "Oh my, I meant to put those in your scrapbook" I fake as I dust coffee grounds off a shamrock covered in glitter that is getting all over the kitchen floor.  At dinner I tell him the fish is chicken, at bath time I tell him my wine is grape juice, at bedtime I tell him it's "way past your bedtime."  I collapse onto the couch next to my husband....coming up with new lies every day is exhausting and I'm glad I can finally tell the truth.  "Wanna do it?" my husband asks.  "Not tonight, I have a headache," I lie.

Cooking (if you can call it that!)

I was watching a cooking show on TV the other evening.  Let me re-phrase that:  a cooking show was on in the background while I scolded my 4 year old and 2.5 year old for the hundreth time and walked laps around the kitchen with my fussy 7 week old.  I'm not sure what the chef was preparing (I remember the word cutlets) but what struck me was the prep work.  There were diced tomatoes and some sort of fresh herbs (basil maybe?) and cubes of fresh mozzarella cheese.  The chopped garlic sizzled in the hot oil and my mouth began to water.  I used to LOVE cooking.  Even complicated meals that took hours to prepare.  I used to love the way the house smelled when I made things from scratch using only the finest and freshest ingredients.  I am snapped from my daydream by the sound of the smoke alarm going off (no joke).  The particles of pizza that had crusted to the bottom of the stove began to scorch with the rising temperature of the oven, only we weren't having pizza (that was last night's meal).  Tonight was ready-made Pot Roast.  The box boasts it can go from fridge to table after just 15 minutes of heating.  "DING!" goes the microwave as my steamer bag of vegetables is complete.  The finishing touch--left over salad from a few nights ago.  It is a little watery and some of the lettuce has begun to turn a slimy shade of dark green but a little extra dressing and no one will be the wiser.  Heck, I rarely even taste food these days as I shovel it into my mouth while begging the kids to eat, stop fighting, drink their milk, sit on their butts, use a papertowel instead of the sleeve of their shirts, hurry up because the baby is going to wake up soon (and then I will have to do the begging while I am eating AND trying to feed the baby!)  Maybe one day I will enjoy cooking again.  I just hope I'm still young enough to taste my food by then!

Reflections of......the way life used to be!

I vividly remember standing in line to check out at Target several years ago (in my BC or "before children" years).  I was behind a mother with a cart full of rugrats.  Her hair was in a ponytail and not the sophisticated and sleek kind but one with lumps and fly-aways that seemed to shout "I have not showered today and maybe not even yesterday!"  There was not a speck of make-up on her face and the luggage she was carrying under her eyes would definitely qualify for the extra baggage charge at Ohare.  She was wearing sweatpants and a large baggy coat.  I remember thinking to myself that even when I became a busy parent I would never leave the house looking like that.  The other day I was standing in line at Target with my two toddlers and 6 week old when I experienced a deja vu moment.  Another mother who had left the house without even a glance in a mirror.  Only this time that woman was me (or at least my reflection in the 2-way security mirror).  One day my looks will be a priority again but until then I'll just turn around and whisper to the young, childless girl behind me in line, "Oh, you just wait!"

Life Manageability Meter

OK.  I've invented a way to determine if you are at a manageable point in your life.  When you wake up in the morning (and by the way, if you awake and it's the afternoon already either you are dreaming, on vacation, or safer not admitting this to any parent of young children for risk of death) make yourself a hot cup of coffee or if you don't drink coffee (are you INSANE?!) any hot beverage will do.  Proceed to sip your hot beverage like a normal human being (guzzling will get you disqualified).  If you are able to finish the entire drink while it is still warm, congratulations, you are at a manageable point in your life.  If the drink is cold or if you have to warm it up in the microwave once, twice, three times.....then you are definitely in the trenches of parenthood!  As a mother of 3 kids under the age of five I plan to be enjoying my "iced coffee" for some time.  Luckily, summer is on the horizon!

One-armed Bandit

My 6 week old son, Gabriel, needs to be held all day long.  It is amazing what I’ve learned to accomplish with one arm while I cradle him in the other.  I made a list.

Butter a waffle

Type approximately 12 words per minute

Change my 2 ½ year old daughter’s diaper (talk about motivation for potty training)

Lead above-mentioned child into time out by the elbow

Color in my daughter’s My Little Pony Coloring book

Wrap a birthday present

Upload and order 6 month’s worth of pictures on snapfish (this took hours and risked developing carpal tunnel but it feels good to get caught up)

Help my four year old son change the batteries in his remote control car

Go to the bathroom, wipe, and wash my hands (make that hand)

Prepare an entire meal and then eat the same meal

To all the other mothers of needing-to-be-held newborns, I salute you!  (I would have said “applaud you” but that takes two hands!)