The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

Today was the last day of art camp for Big E.  All week they worked on a Picasso-esque painting of a cat.  Big E talked about his painting all week.  He was very excited to show me the finished product. Big E was beaming with pride as his teacher handed over his painting. OH, BIG E, IT IS WONDERFUL! Now, I'm not sure how much help he had, but for a three year old, I thought it truly was awesome. NO, HE MESSED UP SOME! I looked down at one of his fellow campers.  I'd say she was about five.  I suppressed the urge to punch her in the gut. I'm not a confrontational person.  Not even a little.  I say all sorts of nasty things in my head, but never release them to the general public, unless it is in my semi-anonymous blog. IT IS NOT MESSED UP, IT IS BEAUTIFUL!  BIG E, I LOVE IT SO MUCH! I quickly snapped back at her.  Big E's wide, proud smile faded to a very faint one. YOUR PAINTING SUCKS WORSE, LITTLE GIRL! Again, I didn't actually say that.  Becaus

I'm not going to lie.  This thought occasionally runs through my mind when people say or do something I'm not super jazzed about. This morning, as I prepared to load the Yoys up in the big red bus, Little E did just that. He was riding around the house on one of the thirteen toy vehicles we have purchased/inherited over the past few years. As Little E came to the threshold of the door that leads out to the garage, he had an Evil Kenevel moment. He could stop, or he could gun it.  Down one, big step. Much to my dismay, he gunned it.  I heard a loud, crashing noise and then wailing. OY. I ran over to Little E.  His body half underneath the front of the car.  No bleeding, so that was a plus.  He would definitely bruise, though.  Just in time for a visit from the extended Yoyser family.  Sweet.  Now they will suspect I'm abusing my kids. Is it wrong that the one thing that popped into my head as Little E took his fateful leap was: O'DOYLE RULES! Yes, I j

I have seen Mr. Yoy a total of 8 awake hours over the past week, with the majority of it coming last night when we hired a sitter and went over to the Dwood Yoysers to visit with my brand new nephew. Mr. Yoy is killing it at work.  He is working crazy long hours and with NBA players now trademarking their eyebrows, I may never see Mr. Yoy again. Anyway, I'll admit it.  I'm bored.  And, a little lonely.  I try to put the kiddos to bed at a reasonable hour, and then I have a few hours to tool around the house. I can only eat so much ice cream and watch so much Say Yes to the Dress before my brain begins melting and slowly slides out of my ears. Tonight, I spent 30 plus minutes on the phone with a stranger that was contemplating buying my bar stools I had for sale on Craigslist.  We were chatting it up about how hard it was to find the right bar stools. The ones I am selling are pretty nice, solid stools.  My one complaint is that they have wicker seats and if you look c

The Yoy house is going through puberty.  There have been a lot of changes around this place. Big E's crib got the see-ya and now he is sleeping in a full bed. Mr. Yoy and I received a fresh coat of paint in our room courtesy of future Cousin Yoy. The biggest change of all has been to our family room.  It looks like a totally different space.  I love it. These changes have created a need to either back the Goodwill 18-wheeler up to our house, or do some major Craig's List selling. I have chosen the latter as it is cash in hand, although exponentially more sketchy. I hate selling things on CL.  For the most part, I am alone when I invite these strangers into my home.  Visions of the Craig's List killer dance through my mind. Mostly, I am selling baby stuff, and it is usually a pregnant chick I'm dealing with, but you never know... Anyway, today I had a woman rush down from Calhoun to buy all of Big E's nursery stuff.  Everything.  For $50.  It was the

Tonight I took the Yoys to Mr. Yoy's company softball game.  It was a 6:30 game, early enough that it could potentially work. I pushed my luck a tad when we then went to Fellini's after their epic loss. The boys were pretty good, given the time. I buckled them in and headed home around 8:45.  I was tired, although they showed no signs of stopping. I was willing to gamble my life's savings on them both falling asleep on the drive home.  They both were in desperate need of a bath, so I could not allow this to happen.  I rolled down their windows, cranked the radio, and fielded question after question from Big E.  I felt pretty confident I could keep them awake. In between Big E's questions, I went through everything I needed to do tonight before I was able to meet my long, lost friend.  My bed. Then I realized it was Tuesday night.  The cleaning people would be here in the morning, and I was pretty sure my house was a sh*tshack.  Panic pulsed through my veins.

A few of my neighbors hired a swim instructor to come in and give the kids swim lessons at our neighborhood pool. Big E is almost four and I feel like there is no time like the present to tackle this. For the most part, Big E is a big fan of the pool.  He has no problem putting his face in the water and blowing bubbles.  I assumed swim lessons would be cake. The first warning shot came via a text from my neighbor whose son had the first allotted time slot of the day's lessons. SWIM CLASS UPDATE: CRYING ALREADY I tried to remain upbeat as I dressed Big E and lathered him with sunscreen. By the time we arrived at the pool, our neighbor was finished with his lesson.  His mom reported he had yelled for a good fifteen minutes. I was still holding onto hope that Big E would be a superstar student.  But the nagging doubts I had been ignoring were bubbling to the surface. The teacher took Big E and explained to him how everything was going to happen and went through a book

In my pretend-perfect mommy world, my kids are the cutest, best-dressed, most well-behaved and mannered children anyone has ever encountered.  They are one notch below robots. Their diets are impeccable.  They only ingest unprocessed, organic foods.  They are basically doing the Paleo diet. Snack cups full of goldfish and cheerios?  The thought of it makes me gag.  Who would poison their kids with that crap? Saturday morning we took the kids to the Peachtree Farmer's Market.  We attend under the guise of buying fresh organic fruits and vegetables, and sometimes we actually do. But let's get real.  I make a beeline to the Queen of Tarts, where I get my fix of warm fruity pocket goodness. This past Saturday, we bought the Yoys hummingbird muffins.  I'm not really sure what they are, but I heard pineapple and banana and I was sold. We sat the kids under a tree and divided the muffin up for them to eat for breakfast. I watched as the Yoys went to town.  Little E w

Last night we went to a going away karaoke party.  I really wanted to get up and sing, but I am a tad shy. So I had a few glasses of wine (three big honking red solo cups full) and got up on stage.  I killed some Ke$ha and Justin Bieber and had a grand time.  By the way, I have the music tastes of a fifteen year old girl.  Don't judge me.  It's catchy. Around 12:30, Mr. Yoy suggested we head home.  While we were both enjoying ourselves, we knew no matter how late we stayed out, we had two little guys at home who would be up promptly at 7 AM. As I settled into my wine induced coma, I had a nagging feeling that tomorrow was going to blow . I wasn't even awoken by Big E.  I was awoken by my severe dehydration.  Around 5:45, I went downstairs to drink two giant glasses of water.  My drinking days are far behind me, and I'm a little rusty on all my post drinking rituals.  I had forgotten to drink any water before bedtime. I couldn't fall back asleep so I watched

Last summer, Big E gave us a hard time every morning before camp.  Once he was there, he had a great time. But the camp anticipation was a whole other, painful story. Monday and Tuesday went off without a hitch.  He jumped right up in the car and didn't break into tears as we exited Riverside Drive .  I felt like we were over the camp hump.  Relief steamed off my shoulders. And then came today.  Wednesday.  Day three of many, many, many days of camp this summer. Mr. Yoy backed the car out of the garage.  Both boys were standing on the porch.  I opened the car door and turned to get Big E. I DON'T WANT TO GO TO CAMP! Aw, sh*t, let the games begin. Big E took off.  Running as fast as his short legs could take him.  Down the hill, towards the model home. BIG E!  GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! He kept running.  It was way too early for me to go chasing after him.  I had not eaten my breakfast nor had any caffeine.  I was useless. In the meantime, Little E was trying to

I picked Big E up from summer camp today around 1:30. As we began the ride back to our 'hood, I asked Big E what he did today. The weather was finally decent after two mornings of rain, so the kids finally were able to go swimming. Big E loves to go in the pool.  From about 1:40, the point when he told me about swimming, until I pulled the big red bus into the garage, Big E tried to convince me that he did not need a bath later. I WENT IN THE POOL, SO I AM CLEAN.  I DON'T NEED ANOTHER BATH. A smile crept onto my face.  I love to see how a three year old's logic plays out. I explained that the pool was not necessarily clean.  I withheld the whole urine in the pool scenario, as I didn't want to give him any inspiration. BUT, MOM, I WENT IN THE POOL, SO I AM CLEAN! He repeated his argument many times. I know I complain immensely about never seeing Mr. Yoy, but now that I think about it, he's always around. As I sat there, discussing bath time with B

This morning, Mr. Yoy witnessed first-hand, a mere 45 minutes of what I deal with on a daily basis. Recently, and I'm sure this is not going to end anytime soon, the boys have been constantly wrestling, bothering, and harassing each other.  It usually ends with both of them high pitch screaming.  Big E instigates most of it, but Little E isn't necessarily trying to avoid it, either. I'm becoming immune to it.  Mostly, it's just white noise for me, but for others ( carpet lady, anyone? ), it is soul shattering. The only time the Yoys settle down, is when I turn the television on.  They both enter a trance and the house is quiet. Mr. Yoy told me to leave the TV on all day.  While I can see where he is coming from, the thought of them watching TV all day makes me feel incredibly guilty.  I don't want to make them zombies.  I just want to make them quiet. In the meantime, here is a list of ideas to help me survive the summer: 1) Guzzle liters of cheap wine.