The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

Yesterday, I suffered through not one, but two, balls to the wall, massive, little boy tantrums. After each tantrum, I am always amazed at the passion and intensity of them. I'm not going to bore you with the details, but let's just say it was over a food choice. Big E lost it.  He was screaming, crying, tugging on my clothes, and throwing food.  A glorious mixture of snot and tears were running down his face. It's always at this point in the tantrum that I wonder how a simple decision ends up causing armageddon for my 4 year old. And trust me, I am not unmoved by his performance.  It rattles me to my very core. Last night, I let my frustration get the better of me.  I slammed the hell out of the microwave door to get him to stop crying.  It startled Big E for a moment, but then he ramped back up. I needed to put myself in time-out, because I was seconds away from losing control of the situation. I took a seat on the bar stool, rested my head in ...

Today we were killing time at the mall. On the second level, they have a fleet of motorized toy vehicles that the boys love to climb in and fake play with. I say fake play because somewhere, some idiot thought that parents would pay $2 per ride and even included a place to swipe your credit card or as Big E refers to it, plastic money. My kids love to do this.  We go probably once a week, especially during winter months when this former Floridian favors indoor hibernation. As the Yoys were fake navigating a rocket ship, a little girl approached with her mom.  The little girl was very shy and timid and on the verge of tears. Big E must have smelled her fear. HI! He yelled to her.  His voice echoed throughout the mall corridor.  She, as so many girls do , flat out ignored him. HI! He repeated again.  This kid is not swayed by rejection, which could mean he is either persistent or well on his way to being a stalker. HI!  I'M FRIENDLY! Thi...

I've got two years worth of material that I will one day publish into a book and hand out to every girl that wants to date either of the Yoys. Baby pictures is the least of their problems. Redemption is mine!

Saturday evening I met up with Mr. Yoy and the boys for a quick dinner at the Paces Ferry Willy's. I was fresh off a visit to my friend's house so I could kidnap (err, get acquainted) with her brand new, beautiful baby girl.  The ache in my uterus was very real. After the tour of the nursery, I about lost my sh*t. LET'S HAVE A BABY GIRL! I enthusiastically announced my revised family plan over dinner. Like an iceberg, Mr. Yoy sank my Titanic dream. Once I snapped out of the newborn baby smell induced insanity, I noticed something very odd about Willy's.  This place was the epicenter of the Buckhead richy-rich private school social scene. All the usual suspects were represented via sweatshirts and sports uniforms. Pace, Woodward, Westminster, Lovett - they were all there.  And they were intermingling. I didn't know what to expect.  Maybe some sort of West Side Story gang violence from the overprivileged? Mr. Yoy and I quickly picked up on the awkward ...

We make the long walk back towards the patient rooms. Screams, cries, coughing, and sneezing fill my ears. Is this the doctor's office or some sort of modern day torture chamber. After a brief wait, Dr. K comes in.  She begins to chat up Big E.  I start to tense up, as I never know what crazy sh*t will come out of his mouth. Fresh off filling out this lifestyle checklist, on which I claimed Big E eats many servings of fruits and veggies a day, because he does, Big E feels the need to share the following gems with Dr. K.  1)  MY MOM GIVES ME BROWNIES ALL THE TIME.  I feel my cheeks turning red.  I try and defend myself. OH, ONE OF THE GIRLS IN MY BOOK CLUB BROUGHT THEM OVER ON SUNDAY AND I GAVE BIG E 1/2 OF ONE AFTER DINNER LAST NIGHT.  (All true, by the way). I never keep awesome stuff like brownies in our house, because I would eat them.  The idea of a special treat over here is a Special K bar.   2)  ...

Today was Big E's four year checkup. Let us all take a moment and reflect on the fact that Big E is four. He is 25% of the way to legally driving.  He is nine short years from his Bar Mitzvah (which because I have birthed zero daughters, will be like a wedding for me). And he is thriving.  Whatever Mr. Yoy and I are doing, seems to be working.  So yay for not completely screwing up our kid.  Just yet. I have split this entry into two, because there are really two stories to tell. The waiting room story and the actual check up portion of the day. I was especially anxious about the waiting room.  The flu is knocking people down like the Gators' defense (a much more timely reference before the Sugar Bowl blood bath). I knew I was walking into the Super Bowl of germs and I was bringing my two healthy kids with me. I never want to come off as crazy germ mom, but I couldn't help it.  My eyes darted from kid to kid. Who was here for a well visit an...

I was on my elliptical.  Vigorously moving while replaying in my mind every terrible, unhealthy thing I consumed during my trip to New Orleans. Why yes, I did eat two Crystal burgers laying in the hotel bed after a night out. My cell phone began to ring.  I didn't recognize the number, but I answered it as the Comcast guy was making a trip out to fix some issues.  Maybe he was calling about what time he'd be here. Then this happened: MRS. YOY:  Hello? (I answered very calmly even though I was panting like a dog. I didn't want to scare away the Comcast guy.  I really need to catch up on all my trashy TV.) RUDE LADY:  Did somebody call me? It was her tone that was most offensive.  It was accusatory and rude.  And by the way, SHE was calling  ME! MRS. YOY: No, I don't think so.  (Again, very calm and polite, as always.) RUDE LADY: Ok! (Then click) After our engaging conversation ended, my mind reeled with anger. How coul...

Asleep is Yoyser code for I've tucked that creep in like seventeen times and now he is sitting in his room with the lights off playing with some very loud toys and sometimes singing. Things are looking up for his teenage years. He appears to be missing the sneakiness gene. Amen. Not in Big E's future.

Friday pretty much sucked. We drove 600 miles with the kids, the dog, and two grumpy parents. Mr. Yoy actually wanted to wake the kids up on Thursday night around midnight and drive back then.  I immediately vetoed that idea, although the thought of two sleeping kids in the backseat was slightly intoxicating. As much as I love my van, it does not have a DVD player built in.  So I bought a budget DVD  player which has been abused by the kids for the past two years. This week, it took it's final fall to the floor.  RIP DVD. So that left the Yoys' Leap Pads to keep them quiet-ish in the car. Except Big E hid (yes, he has starting burying things of value to him, like a dog) the rechargeable batteries at some point over night, and after ransacking my parents' house like we were executing a warrant on Law & Order, we gave up. BIG E, WHERE DID YOU HIDE THE BATTERIES? I guess he slept so hard, he forgot.  Location of batteries still unknown. That lef...

We just returned from a two week trip to Orlando, West Palm, and a child-free trip to New Orleans (thanks mom and dad). I went from one extreme of single parenting (at least during the work week) to having my children cared for and played with by their grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. So let's cut the crap, having round the clock help was awesome and I was glad to unload some of the responsibility of caring for the Yoys. It was such a long trip, that I forgot how tough and intense motherhood is.  I let my guard down.  I was arrogant. THIS WHOLE PARENTING THING IS A PIECE OF (PUBLIX) CAKE! Today was the Yoys first day back at school. At pickup, Big E asked to play in the field with his buddies and I obliged. Fast forward approximately 47 seconds. MOOOOOMMMMM, I HAD A LITTLE ACCIDENT... Dang.  Really? I'M WET AND COLD! Shocking, as it was freezing out. Immediately I scramble my vacation brain into problem solving mode.  Big E is also do...

So I fell in a deep, dark hole named New Orleans. Sorry I haven't been able to write, but I refused to tap out a blog entry on Mr. Yoy's iPad.  Today we make the long drive back to the ATL. With both Yoys.  And the poodle.  And alcohol withdrawal. Pray for us. I'll see you on the other side of hell. Happy New Year to all of you! Happy 2013!