The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

Yesterday we hit up the pool at my parent's clubhouse.  It was kickin'.  Their neighborhood is full of old people and the pool was full of the old people's grandkids. We took Big E and Little E to the kiddie pool.  It is about two feet deep and the size of a small square. I forgot to bring pool toys because it's been about six months since I last thought about going into a pool and I was out of practice. Thank goodness for Zoe, a rambunctious four year old who showed up with her grandma a few minutes after we had arrived. I told Big E to go cozy up to Zoe because she had all the toys. MY NAME IS BIG E.  I'M 4 AND I HAVE A BIG BOY BED. She ignored him, as who wouldn't ignore the creepy kid who leads his introduction with details of his bedroom. It's like he's been hanging out at Johnny's Hideaway with all the dirty, old men. Oy. Is this Big E's future?

Last night we went over to my Aunt and Uncle's place for dinner. They are proud grandparents to nine grandchildren and to encourage lots of visits, they set up a pimp bedroom for them, complete with double bunk beds in a nautical theme. The Yoysers took one look at this room and decided they, too, should live there. Forget about the closet full of toys to play with, all they wanted to do was climb up and down the ladders. MOM, CAN YOU GROW TWO MORE BABIES SO WE CAN GET DOUBLE BUNK BEDS? Let's all let out a collective crazy laugh.  Sometimes, Big E's reasoning skills skew a tad off course. And, that's a lot of work and life-long commitment just to fill up some bunk beds. HOW ABOUT WE JUST INVITE YOUR COUSINS OVER? He processed that statement for a moment. OK, THAT WORKS! Phew, baby crisis averted. These weren't them, but you get the idea.

I know, you probably can't believe this has become a trilogy, but it has.  I'm hoping this will be the end of it, but I'm sure this is just the tip of the iceberg.  I should just get accustomed to having sons who eat nasty things and call it a day. We were having a lovely, expensive lunch during our day at Disney.  Our friends from South Florida joined us for our trip.  So this event had witnesses.  That I will see again.  Hopefully. We sat down at our table and immediately Big E pleaded with me for something to eat.  He was starving to death right before our very eyes.  Even though he had housed a snack size bag of Smart Food popcorn like 15 minutes prior to us being seated. I hastily gave Big E a box of raisins so I could get a whining reprieve. MOM, I HAVE SOMETHING IN MY NOSE. Honestly, I thought he was going to pull out a nasty booger.  Cause that's how he rolls. To my surprise, he pulled out a raisin.  I half yelled/half laughed because his raisin tric

Mr. Yoy and spent yesterday in the Magic Kingdom. The morning we spent with Big E, but as the day wore on and his energy level depleted, we made the decision to run him back to Mr. Yoy's childhood home, and return to the park for an adult evening. Mr. Yoy and I had a fantastic evening in the park.  A little after 11, we called it a day.  We were both drop dead tired. As we shuffled along with the crowds of people boarding the monorail to the parking lots, the collective crowd exhaustion hung over us like an impending thunderstorm. We were about to board our selected monorail car, when the man boarding in front of us farted.  Loudly. Not like an I-ate-too-much-fruit-today-and-one-slipped-past-the-gates-fart, but an intentional fart.  This man gave birth to his fart. DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?! The words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them.  I think he was foreign, so I'm pretty sure he didn't understand me.  Hopefully. Then he did it again. This s

On Saturday, we made the long trek down to Orlando.  We broke up the drive with a pit stop in Gainesville, so we could introduce the Yoys to the glorious campus of our Alma Mater, UF. Mr. Yoy and I were militant about getting Big E to use the potty and we had, thus far, avoided a pee-castrophe.  For insurance purposes only, we had also put a pull up on Big E. As we weaved our way through Lake County, we heard the SOS call from the back seat. I HAVE TO PEE!  I HAVE TO PEE!  CAN I GO IN MY PULL UP? I asked Big E to squeeze it tight and that we would exit the Turnpike ASAP. As luck would have it, the next exit approached quickly.  There was just one problem.  You needed to have a Sunpass or exact change, there was no one manning the exit.  It turns out, the Yoys had neither. As we waited our turn to approach the toll, Mr. Yoy and frantically searched our car, pockets, purses, behind our ears, anywhere you could imagine loose change. We counted out our change.  $1.20!  Aw

On Sunday, we are taking Big E to Disney World. As I mentally prepared for the amount of packing I need to do, I let my mind wander to things beyond my control. WHAT IF BIG E COMES DOWN WITH A NASTY VIRUS AND WE CAN'T GO? I seriously contemplated holding him from school today.  But who are we kidding, right? Little did I know, it wouldn't be some plague at school that would be Big E's undoing. The boys awoke extra early this morning.  Apparently, they wanted to make the most of the last day of the world.  Big E, in all his rapture, ran full speed into the banister post. He came running into our bedroom silent crying.  Finally, I was able to extract from him the details of his story. It was pitch black so I couldn't tell if he was bleeding.  And there was no way in hell I was turning the light on.  So we did what good parents do, we used the light from our cell phones to determine the extent of Big E's injury. It was a shot to his eyelid.  A

Big E is obsessed with his baby blanket. Approximately four years back, I made a rookie mistake.  The blanket that I registered for, which would become the centerpiece of my child's life, is white.  In my defense, this was before I had become a parent.  I couldn't begin to comprehend the ability my future kids had to ruin sh*t. Fast forward to 2012. Big E's once white, soft, and fuzzy baby blanket has been transformed to the human equivalent of a meth head.  It is worn, missing vital parts, and no matter how many times I wash it on the sanitize setting, it remains dingy brown/gray in color. Today is a homebound day.  The weather is cold and rainy.  I am taking this opportunity to do as much laundry as humanly possible. This includes Big E's beloved blanket.  Total wash to dry time is about 70 minutes. Total number of times Big E has asked for his blanket back during this period is about 70. Seriously, if there were a love contest between me and the blanket

This is a follow up to yesterday's gnawing on ear plugs blog. Last night, as my lavender-scented, freshly bathed son was brushing his teeth, a giant, stringy booger escaped from his nostril. Of course, I overreacted, because even after four years of boogers, they still skeeze me out. DON'T MOVE, LET ME GRAB A BOOGIE WIPE! I flung open the bathroom closet door, ripped open the flap, and frantically began pulling out boogie wipes. Unfortunately, I was too late. Big E had used the bathroom mirror to retrieve the majority of his booger with his finger.  He eyed it like the biggest piece of Publix birthday cake ever. I watched in horror as he ate it. Seriously.  I just gagged.  Even almost a day later, the thought still rolls my stomach. BIG E!  YOU DO NOT EAT BIG BOOGERS LIKE THAT!   I launched into a diatribe about boogers and how they are full of germs and dust and other environmental hazards. He looked at me sincerely. OK, MOM.  I&

Today's daily confession:  I wear ear plugs to concerts.  Because, while I enjoy live music, I also enjoy hearing. On to my story... I hastily cleaned out the bottom of my purse this week.  The throw away pile, which included my used ear plugs, was still on the kitchen island when Big E climbed up on the bar stool next to me. I was engrossed in trying to explain to my parents how to visit the app store on their new smart phones and download Skype.  A typical evening would include Skyping with my folks during the boys' dinner, but since my parents did something deadly to their home computer, we haven't been able to Skype. If you have ever tried explaining computer stuff over the phone to your baby boomer parents, then you will understand why I didn't notice what was going on a few feet away. I glanced over at Big E, who was unusually quiet.  He was fumbling with my foam ear plugs.  They had been squished down to about 1/3 of their normal size. I caught a fain

I warned you. Get your awwwwwwws ready. Yesterday I took both Yoys to the dentist for a cleaning. Big E earned two coins to put into the toy vending machine as a reward for sitting still during his x-ray and cleaning. Little E earned zero coins.  Not because of his abhorrent performance, but because the toys can be small and they don't want a two-year-old choking to death in their office.  Little E instead received a tub toy. That didn't mean Little E wasn't interested in the toy tower, because he only had eyes for it.  I thought for sure we'd have a war on our hands once Big E retrieved his two, much cooler toys. But then something weird happened. Big E used his two coins to get TWO super bouncy balls. ONE FOR ME AND ONE FOR LITTLE E! Big E handed over the ball without hesitation. I plotzed. I wanted to run up to Big E and hug him for being so sweet to his brother, but I didn't want to make a big deal out of it. THAT MAKES ME WANT TO GIVE MY

Wait, don't judge me.  Yet. My meetings are every Wednesday morning when the Yoys are at school. Little E awoke this morning with a touch of emphysema, so I kept him out of school.   This week Mr. Yoy and I had a very full social calendar.  We went to many parties and ate many bad things and drank many glasses of wine (mostly me). But I was very diligent with my exercising and staying on plan the rest of the time, so I really wanted to go to my meeting and see my weight loss. My original plan was to weigh in and leave.  Last time I popped in for a weigh in with Little E, he thought we were at the doctor's office and cried the whole time.  I had low hopes it would be different this time. But it was.   After weigh in (BOTH OF US, BUT NOT AT THE SAME TIME!), Little E walked right over to the meeting area and sat in a chair.  I guess we were staying. I told my meeting leader we'd see how Little E did, but we'd probably be leaving shortly. I to

Big E attends a Jewish preschool. To psych the kids up for Chanukah, Big E's class made the equivalent of an advent calendar out of orange and blue (GO GATORS?) construction paper. I have had the talk with Big E about not celebrating Christmas.  I'm not sure he fully understood the ramifications, but he didn't cry or shout WHY ME!? so I'm feeling pretty confident heading into December. Big E is obsessed with The Octonauts, a tv show on Disney Junior.  The show is doing a Christmas special that they are constantly advertising. Below is the daily conversation I've been having with Big E. BIG E:  MOMMY, HOW MANY DAYS UNTIL IT IS CHRISTMAS? MRS. YOY: WE DON'T CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS, REMEMBER? BIG E: BUT CAN I STILL WATCH THE OCTONAUTS CHRISTMAS SHOW? MRS. YOY:  OF COURSE. BIG E: SO HOW MANY DAYS UNTIL IT IS ON? I think his main focus is the tv show.  But he understands that the show will be airing on Christmas, so that is why he keeps asking about

MY FOOT HURTS!  MY FOOT HURTS! Twice, Big E has woken up over the past two nights to this ailment. I ran through my mom ideas. IS YOUR FOOT ASLEEP? IS IT CRAMPING? ARE YOU HAVING GROWING PAINS? I'm unsure he understood any of it, so in the end I offered him some medicine. He was really amped about that. Last night, before I could even give him the medicine, he declared his foot was fine.  But he still wanted the medicine. Normally, I'm in tune when Big E is faking something.  But he comes into our room with such tears and heartache that I almost believe him. IF YOUR FOOT KEEPS HURTING WE ARE GOING TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL AND HAVE IT OPERATED ON. Maybe some mind games would flush out his lies. OK, MOMMY. So, mark surgery of the list of things this kid is concerned about. Hopefully tonight he won't go for the trifecta. Please, sir, may I have some more? (In a bad British accent)

I have a high maintenance dog.  She is an old, partially-blind, poodle.  She eats poo diapers like they are Willy's Burritos.  And she needs to get her hair done about every six weeks. So every six weeks I take her over to Petsmart for some pampering. The drop off is cake.  I take her on Wednesday mornings, right after the Yoys depart for school.   I run in.  I sign some stuff.  I run out. The pick up is the polar opposite. The dog isn't ever ready until after I've picked up Big and Little E from school.  I have to take the whole circus to the store. It's not like we are going to Target.  We are going to a place filled with animals. Sometimes there are big dogs shopping with their owners. There are toys and treats at dog and Yoy level.  I'm always on guard for Yoy-lifting. Before we can even pick up the dog, we have to do the tour of doggie daycare, the fish, the rats (for reals?), and the birds. Simultaneously, I'm praying we don't encounter

Little E had to have his blood drawn this week to rule out some underlying possible causes for his chronic hive situation. To say I was apprehensive about taking Little E to get stuck with a needle was an understatement.  The kid bursts into tears whenever we enter any room that resembles a doctor's office.  He went bat-sh*t crazy at the vet.  Poodle Yoy on the other hand, was the calmer of the two and she even nervous pooped on the floor. They ushered us right back when we arrived.  I signed away both our lives and the nurse asked me to sit in the chair and then pull Little E up onto my lap. I'm not going to lie.  I'm a wuss.  Right after I had my babies I had lost some of my wussiness.  After going through a chunk of unmedicated labor, my pain threshold went through the ceiling. Novocain for pulling teeth?  FOR THE WEAK, I SAY! But two years out, I've reverted to my old self.  I held Little E close to me.  I pinned down one arm.  The nurse pinned down the ar

During our morning mall visit, Big E ended up visiting with Santa. It's not like he sat on his lap and rattled off a list of toys he wanted for Christmas, or even took a picture.  He just walked up to Santa with his friend Lady P. Big E can identify Santa, but he doesn't understand the back story. So after Lady P finished talking to Santa, my son got his turn. SOMETIMES I HAVE A COUGH. Holy moly, Big E thinks Santa is his doctor.  He is clueless!  Ha! Maybe I've been granted another year of Santa reprieve. In any case, I'm experiencing my annual feelings of envy.

This morning we met some friends at our local mall to escape the nasty fall weather. We played, ate lunch, and played again. Big E used the bathroom as we were finishing up lunch.  It wasn't a code red emergency, so I was thankful.  Normally we end up racing to the bathroom like we are on an episode of Supermarket Sweep. As Big E and his friends were climbing in and out of all the coin operated vehicles, I saw him grab his bottom. Panic bubbled up in my throat. BIG E, DO YOU NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM?! He did.  And, even worse, it was a poo-mergency. We were located dead center of the mall with restrooms located on each end of the mall. I scooped Big E up, as I felt running would not help his cause, and took off.  I slowed down to ask a woman working at the cookie kiosk where the closest bathroom was. Sweet lord, I had to run all the way down to the end AND down an escalator. At that moment, I pictured myself as the Incredible Hulk.  Big and muscle-y and green

I'm forever second guessing my parenting abilities.  Am I rearing wonderful human beings or are they both going to be serial killers?  I guess I'll know in about 15 years. In the meantime, I find solace in other parents' obvious lack of judgement.  At first read, I sound like a royal b*tch, but really it is deep rooted in my insecurity as a mom. On our way home from Thanksgiving dinner, we made a pit stop.  Mr. Yoy decided it would be awesome to check out all the Black Friday maniacs. We swung by Best Buy a little before nine.  The line was tremendous.  People were camped out.  I've seen such madness on the news, but to witness it in person was amazing. As we slowly cruised by and stared at all the people two things struck me. 1)  There were more people in line to buy a door buster then when I voted for president a few weeks back.  Sad. 2)  There was a mother sitting on the sidewalk with her infant in a bouncy seat and she was bouncing the sh*t out of this b

So my last entry was a little sappy.  Sorry for that.  I guess I was still on an endorphin high from our morning excursion of do-goodness. Don't worry, though.  That ended in like five seconds flat. Our cleaning people were here this morning.  Oh, how I love coming home to a perfectly clean home.  We came upstairs so I could put Little E down for his nap. As I was changing Little E's diaper, Big E took it upon himself to completely unmake his freshly made bed and drag all of his sheets, pillows, and blankets under his bed. Five hundred curse words consecutively ran through my head, although I rattled off none of them aloud. WHY?  WHY?  WHY? At first, he stonewalled me. I DON'T KNOW. Oh, I know.  Because you want to drive your dear, sweet mother insane. I went downstairs for a minute to grab a drink (non-alcholic, of course) and cool off.  I was feeling so frustrated. I tried again. WHY?  WHY?  WHY? Finally, he came clean. He was doing a monster che

Raising a kid is hard as hell. For those of you that haven't yet swam in the parenting pool, you are lucky in a way. Once your baby is born, everything you do shapes this little person. I've watched in pride (and sometimes horror) as things Mr. Yoy and I have done as parents presents itself in my kids' actions and comments. We have many hopes and dreams for the Yoys, one of which would be to have compassionate, philanthropic children. I read an article recently that children receive more pleasure from giving than receiving.  I discussed it with Mr. Yoy and we decided to do a food drive in lieu of gifts for Big E's 4th birthday party. I'm not going to lie.  The first ten or so times I mentioned it, Big E was not super jazzed about it.  He wanted TOYS!  Which, by the way, we in no way need. We talked about the food drive to Big E and eventually he came around, or at least stopped complaining about it. The day of his party arrived and his friends did no

Kids birthday parties are pretty lame (this excludes the drop-off kind). Don't gasp at me.  This is a safe, honest place.  You can admit it without judgement.  I'll never tell. Mr. Yoy would be happy if he never had to go to another birthday party again. This includes our own children. I begrudgingly plan the Yoys' parties.  Little E didn't even have a 2nd birthday party.  Don't feel sorry for him, he won't remember it anyway. On the spectrum of kids' party planning ranging from not giving a sh*t to insane, over planning maniac, I'd like to say I fall somewhere towards the more relaxed side of things.  In fact, I pride myself on it. Yesterday we held Big E's birthday party.  There is an awesome old mill by our house which has been converted into a park and playground.  The only wild card is the weather. Luckily for us, we had a beautiful day.  We brought in Big E's music teacher, ordered some deep dish pizza, and publix cake, and we h

I've been spending many afternoons slowly deweeding my flower beds.  They were so neglected, that I can only do a little at a time before I want to stab my eyes out with my gardening tools. Big E is my constant gardening companion.  He (attempts to) rake, sweep, and pull weeds. He also greets all of my neighbors as they meander by on their afternoon walks. One neighbor walked by with his two big dogs and his little girl.  I'd say she was about a year younger than Big E. I watched in horror as Big E made himself into a human gate in the middle of our sidewalk. SAY PLEASE AND I'LL LET YOU BY. She just stood there and stared at him.  She wasn't saying sh*t. SAY PLEASE AND I'LL LET YOU BY. Nothing. I began encouraging Big E to let her pass.  Her dad was halfway up the hill with the dogs.  He also was  encouraging her to keep walking. SAY PLEASE!  SAY PLEASE! I carefully untangled my arms from the thorny rose bushes and removed Big E from the sidewa

Big E was especially wound up this evening.  In the midst of book reading, usually a calm time for us, he was jumping on the bed and steam rolling Little E. I abandoned Clifford about 3/4 of the way through because I was getting seasick on Big E's bed. I grabbed Little E first and tossed him into his crib.  He's easy.  He can't climb out.  He goes right to sleep.  Tonight, he is my favorite son. I tuck Big E in.  I can tell from his tossing and turning he is not ready to sleep.  But I so am. I close his door and sit down at my desk.  I hear his feet hit the floor and about thirty seconds later he opens his door. Always strategizing, I pick up my phone and dramatically act out a fake phone call to my mom.  I realize how lame this is, but I'm desperate. YES, MOM, I DON'T THINK YOU SHOULD FLY UP TOMORROW BECAUSE BIG E WON'T GO TO BED. AND I'M CANCELING HIS BIRTHDAY. AND I'M CANCELING EVERY OTHER FUN THING HE MAY EVER DO IN HIS LIFETIME. AN

Little E has been a late everything. He waited until the last possible second to walk.  I had halfway dialed the physical therapist's number when he finally stood up and nakedly sashayed his way across Big E's bedroom. Same for talking.  It has been caveman city here for quite some time. Only in the past month or so has he begun stringing together words to form ideas. It can be quite frustrating as he is trying his darnedest to tell me something and I am just repeating back nonsense to him. DOUBLE?  DOUBLE DOWN?  DOUBLE DOWN ON ELEVEN?! It occurred to me this evening as I was deciphering him, that conversing with Little E is like vacationing in a non-English speaking country. I just keep repeating what I think he is saying louder and louder.  Because that is what I did in France.  I could have a megaphone hooked up to an amplifier and Little E and I still wouldn't understand each other. His response is usually a lot of NOs which progresses to a high pitch sc

Last night we had a lovely dinner at Ted's Montana Grill. And I'm not being sarcastic.  The boys were really well behaved.  It was like being in a Twilight Zone Episode starring our family. Towards the end of our meal, Big E crawled under the booth to sit next to Mr. Yoy.  While it seemed sweet at the time, his true motive was to posture himself next to all the table goodies. Like a Jimmy Buffett song (Mr. Yoy do I need you to approve this part?), Big E was just looking for a shaker of salt.  I watched in horror as Big E put his mouth over the top of the shaker.  I never extra salt my food but at this moment in time, I had visions of all the nasty things that could be on the salt shaker. Including now, my kid's mouth.  I suppressed the urge to vomit. Mr. Yoy quickly took the shaker away from Big E.  But he repeatedly reached for it.  So finally, in a fine parenting moment, Mr. Yoy (JOKINGLY, OF COURSE) informed Big E he was going to saw off his hand with the bison k

Oh, the L word. Care to take a guess?  It has infiltrated our daily dialogue.  Overuse of the word demands an automatic deduction of 50 IQ points. And the disease has spread to Big E. I only recently noticed his affinity for using LIKE. It would be one thing if Big E were a Facebook post.  In that case, you can never have enough likes. But he is a mere, almost four year old. Sometimes I have to laugh because I expect him to follow it with GAG ME WITH A SPOON! or something equally as relevant. My giggles quickly morph into sobs, because there is only one person he would have picked that up from. That would be the person he spends the majority of his life with, me. So maybe I need to rename my blog.  The Valley Girl Blog.  It has a nice ring to it. Anyhow, I have got to eliminate this word from my vocabulary. Like now. Get it? Maybe I need to set up a LIKE jar.  It could be my New Year's resolution.  That and losing 50 pounds.

My brother is visiting from NYC.  On Monday after we picked Big E up from school, we headed over to Toys R Us so Big E could select his birthday present. Mr. Yoy and I decided to buy Big E the Leap Frog tablet, so I could regain custody of my iPhone. I figured Big E could pick out a game and we'd call our shopping trip a day. Our trip to the check out line was derailed by a giant Little E poo and a Thomas the Train table.  We finally made it to the front of the store.  I checked my watch.  We had been shopping for almost 30 minutes. I handed the Leap Frog slip of paper to the cashier.  Apparently, people steal these things, so you have to have someone dig one out of the warehouse when you are committed to buy. The cashier radioed back to someone for the tablet. Five minutes passed. A second radio call. The Yoys were done, even if we were at a toy store.  They began grabbing candy from the so thoughtfully placed shelves in the check out aisle. UM, DIDN'T WE JUS

Little E is FINALLY starting to talk. It's not that I'm dying to have two motormouths, it's just I was starting to worry if he would ever talk. He's got a few catch phrases that are sweeping the Yoy nation. I DID IT! NO NIGHT NIGHT! NO TRAIN TODAY! MORE COTTAGE CHEESE! Pretty standard two year old conversation pieces, I know. But then Little E took a ride on the scary train. He started singing an innocent little tune, although I'm not sure where he picked it up. RAIN, RAIN GO AWAY COME AGAIN ANOTHER DAY! Except he sings it slow and in broken english.  And it is creepy as hell. My brother spent the past few days with us and he may never be the same again. It's like living with the ghost of Brittney Murphy.  Or that girl from Poltergeist. I'LL NEVER TELL!! Sometimes he mixes it up and does a slow jam monster version. I really need to get this on video,  so I can embarrass him for years to come. And lock my bedroom door at nigh

Yesterday, I met my old college roommate and her husband for lunch at The Flying Biscuit. I arrived first with the Yoys and proceeded to set them up for lunch.  This is a major process and can take upwards of five minutes before you actually sit down. My kids immediately zeroed in on the bowl with the pats of butter.  They each needed a pat of butter. The sugar packets would have been a better choice, in my opinion.  I tried reasoning with them, but as their volume ramped up to a rock concert level, I threw them each a pat of butter. I can barely type that without gagging.  I watched in horror as they unwrapped and began eating butter.  Plain.  No bread.  No corn.  No nothing. I could see the customers at the tables next to us looking in disbelief.  I could feel their judging. TRUST ME!  I'M DOING THIS FOR YOU, TOO! I wanted to yell at them.  I didn't. About halfway through their butter appetizers, they both decided that butter was gross. Sweet.  They finally ca

Tomorrow is picture day at school. Normally, I would spend the evening obsessing over such gut-wrenching decisions as what color polo shirt should they wear and skinny jeans vs. khaki pants.  Oy, such choices. But Little E has thrown me a curve ball. You know that he has horrible, horrible skin.  I had almost forgotten, as the moist, warm summer months were good to Little E's skin. Yesterday morning he awoke with a full body rash that included an unfortunate cluster on the tip of his nose. Can I just say it? SH*T! SH*T! SH*T! SH*T! SH*T! SH*T! Cause that is how I felt. He's been Cover Girl flawless for months. I'd hoped by this morning it would be better.  It wasn't. I took him to the doctor this afternoon to see if it was just his standard crappy skin flaring up and also to see if she had a instant magic cure for red splotches.  She didn't, by the way. So now I'm desperate. I'm not saying I'm GOING to do this.  But I'm also n

The Halloween excitement has boiled over at the Yoys. The kids are BEYOND excited about trick-or-treating tomorrow night. I see this as a perfect opportunity to bribe the boys. If you don't INSERT DESIRED ACTION HERE , you are not going trick-or-treating on Wednesday. Another Halloween side effect, a steady supply of candy in the house, which is highly unusual.  This has also been helpful in the bribery department. On Saturday evening, we used the lure of candy to get Big E to load up in the car.  While he normally passes out on the drive home from Aunt and Uncle Yoy's house, the idea of a giant bowl of candy corn awaiting him at home kept him very alert. When we arrived home, I unloaded the Yoys while Mr. Yoy pulled the car in. I then gave Big E his "candy" bribe. Why is candy in quotes you ask?  Because I gave him two pieces of dried banana and passed it off as candy. MUUUUAAAAAAAHHHHHH (The evil Mrs. Yoy laugh). Big E quickly scarfed down the ba

Until it isn't. Which happened a few hours ago. I had won the Atlanta Gator Club SEC ticket lottery earlier this year and purchased two SEC tickets. I knew the Gators were a long shot based on our prior season, but I never rule anything out. See our own wedding scheduling conflict with the Gators' 2006 appearance in the Final Four. WHOOPS! Just last week, I had reserved our sitter for the good part of the December Saturday that the game was to fall on. I allowed myself to hope. Yes, it is awesome and exciting to cheer on your team in the SEC championship game, but for me, it was far deeper than that. It was a throwback to when I was fun and carefree.  I remember spending all day tailgating down at the Georgia Dome.  Drinking my fair share of cheap wine and mimosas.   Stuffing my face with all sorts of diet-killing food.  Taking tons of inappropriate photos that, thankfully, didn't end up all over Facebook. Spending the day with friends that I didn't get to

My kids have cornered the market on the bedtime stall. I've heard everything. I'M THIRSTY! I HAVE TO PEE! WHERE DO WORMS LIVE? But tonight, I heard a new one. I'M HUNGRY!  I WANT A SNACK TO EAT IN BED! A few points to note: 1) I COOKED for them tonight.  Like actually created something instead of using the microwave.  They chose to pick at it like baby birds. 2) There is only one reason I can justify keeping a stash of food on my nightstand.  I will admit that while I was nursing the Yoys, I would wake up in the middle of the night and be starving, like fat chick right before sundown on Yom Kippur starving.  I would lean over my nightstand (I'm anti bed crumbs), turn on my vacuum mouth and go to town on whatever goodies I had brought up a few hours earlier at bedtime. 3) This may be my final point, but it is the most impressive.  Big E already knew I wasn't going to let him eat just any snack.  It was going to be on my terms.  He ASKED for the st

This evening, I shuttled the Yoys over to have dinner with Mr. Yoy. We opted for the deli in the bottom of the building.  It was a beautiful evening and we wanted to sit outside. On one of the many trips I took rushing in and out of the patio door for things like multiple bathroom runs, trash dumps,  and drink refills, I slammed my ring finger in the door. The door closed squarely on my fingernail. I rushed out to the patio and begin half crying/half hyperventilating. I'm not sure I've ever slammed my finger in a door and if I have, it's been like 25 years. The pain was gut wrenching.  I wanted to barf. Mr. Yoy ran into the place to get me some ice. The Yoys did one better.  They both ran up to me and kissed my finger. Big E even asked how many kisses I needed to make my finger feel better. ONE MILLION. The enormity of the number startled him, as I don't think he was looking for a long-term commitment. The point is, both my sweet boys came over t

There is a homeless shelter that we drive pass on the way to school. We have driven by there approximately one million times since Big E was born in 2008. Today it peaked his interest as we drove home from school. WHAT IS THAT? I always struggle with questions such as these.  Do I give him the hard facts?  Do I say apartments? He is almost four, but I'm not sure how much information he can process. I opt for the truth. IT'S A HOMELESS SHELTER. Silently, I plead that that will end this line of questioning.  Next topic, please. WHAT IS THAT? Again, I debate launching into the definition of homeless. IT'S FOR PEOPLE WHO HAVE NOWHERE ELSE TO LIVE.  WITHOUT THE SHELTER, THEY'D HAVE TO SLEEP IN THE STREET. He thought for a few seconds.  I could hear his brain cranking from the back seat. BUT SLEEPING IN THE STREET WOULD BE SO HARD. He's speaking literally, of course, but his words have such deeper meaning. MAYBE IF THEY HAD PILLOWS THE STREET W

I hope you are reading these in order.  If not, go back and read the last one.  Then you can truly appreciate my mental state at the exact moment our cab pulled up to the airport. I pay the cab, swing open my door and take the mounds of crap I am carrying out of the car.  I have only one possession left in the cab. My son.  And his plan is to stay in the backseat and hitch a return ride to my brother's apartment. I reach in for him and he scoots towards the far side. At this moment I decide to leave him in the cab.  And one moment I later I remember that Mr. Yoy would be super pissed if we were down one kid.  Especially if that one kid was Big E. I drag his reluctant self out of the cab. He begins chanting his mantra. I WANT TO STAY IN NY! I MISS UNCLE D AND AUNT J SO, SO MUCH! I WANT TO LIVE HERE FOREVER. The airport was busy.  I drag Big E to the kiosk to check in.  Then to the baggage drop off. Everyone we pass is thinking the same damn thing. PLEASE DON&

The plan was to leave my brother's apartment around one on Sunday.  That would give us enough time to catch a cab and make the trek to La Guardia. As our departure time quickly approached, I mentioned to Big E that he needed to use the potty as we were about to leave. I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE NY! I DON'T WANT TO LEAVE THE APARTMENT! I WANT TO LIVE HERE FOREVER! I WANT UNCLE D AND AUNT J TO BE MY NEW DADDY AND MOMMY!  (ouch) It became evident to me, that the process of removing Big E from their apartment was going to require force.  Big E was not going to leave willingly. Uncle D carried Big E out into the hallway so we could catch an elevator.  Not even the lure of pressing the elevator button could calm Big E down. He was screaming in their quiet, swank, NYC apartment hallway. For the record, my brother is visiting in like two weeks.  Big E will see him in two weeks.  We tried explaining that to him.  The concept of time is not a good life lesson to teach to

This past weekend, Big E and I had a mommy and me adventure up in NYC. We honored/inconvenienced Uncle D and Aunt J with our presence for two days. Friday evening, they took us to a delicious pizza joint in the basement of an old building. It was close quarters down in that basement.  We were next to a table of students/waitresses/struggling actresses (my guess by their very loud and child inappropriate conversation). Big E finished his meal first. I'M DONE! First of all, this wasn't an eating contest.  I asked Big E to wait while the rest of us finished up. I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE APARTMENT! I, again, asked Big E to wait while we finished up. This was not acceptable to him. JUST DRAW ME A MAP! All who heard his comment busted into giggles.  Even one of the very dramatic actress/student/waitresses couldn't resist Big E's charms. You'll be happy to know that while I entertained the thought of allowing Big E to go all Home Alone in NYC, I deci

Tonight, I threw away two, perfectly edible, wonderfully delicious Publix cupcakes. I can almost see the shock and awe in your eyes. WHY IN THE WORLD WOULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO SACRILEGIOUS? I am a lover of all things Publix.  Publix bakery goods are on a whole other level for me.  But I was driven mad, you see.  I had no other choice. I'm sure you can guess the culprit. His name rhymes with Jiggy. After an open-handed, Real Housewives kind of slap, to the side of Little E's cherub face, Big E scored himself three fat minutes in timeout at the bottom of our stairs. He sat down and immediately began his negotiating. MAKE SURE YOU START THE TIMER! DO I HAVE TO STAY HERE? DON'T LET LITTLE E TOUCH MY TOYS! I reminded him of the timeout rules.  No talking.  No moving.  He broke both in world record time. I asked him numerous times to sit back down and be quiet. Every time he spoke I added another minute to his sentence.  At last count, Big E was due to s