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