The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

My kids love treasure maps.  And burying sh*t.  And keys.  And playgrounds. If I mixed all of these things together in my magic blender, I could pour myself a big, tall glass of the worst afternoon ever. I pick Big E up from school around 2:20.  We then head straight to the school playground for 1-2.5 hours, depending on how much sugar the Yoys have ingested during the day. Yesterday, day my car/house keys went missing during our playground adventure. Big E snuck them from my bag and then handed them off to Little E, which is the equivalent of throwing them into outer space.  He is a black hole. I interrogated Big E, but for a kid that can remember the graphic details of when he fell off a train car in 2011, he had complete amnesia in regards to my keys he had stolen an hour before. Bless their hearts, Big E's school mates helped me look for hours.  To them it was just another "treasure" hunt.  To me, it was my ride home. I...

At three and almost five, I can leave the Yoys unattended for short timespans without an apocalypse. This evening I ran upstairs to put their laundry away before bedtime. The cleaning people are coming in the morning, and I have to make sure my house is pristine so they don't judge me and my filth. It took me five minutes.  That is all. In five minutes, Big E had used the bathroom.  Yay for him!  Except he left a sh*t trail starting on the side of the toilet seat and down the bowl. But the damage didn't stop there. Somehow he managed to smear it down the front of his quads via the arches of his feet.  Apparently, he took up some crazy form of yoga in the brief time I was upstairs. BIG E!  WHAT IN THE WORLD?  HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? He looked up at me (because he was busy playing) and smiled. I WENT TO THE BATHROOM, MAMA! I asked him to freeze like a statue and went to get the baby wipes.  I wiped up his feet and legs so I could get him t...

After a stellar checkup at the dentist this afternoon, Big E received a coin to put into the prize vending machine.  There were many crappy prizes to choose from. Big E ran ahead of me and impulse bought a stick-on mustache.  I thought he made a pretty solid decision given his options.  I was going to stick that thing on his face and take some HILARIOUS pictures. Big E immediately had buyer's remorse. I WANT THE SUPER BOUNCY BALL INSTEAD. There are too many indecisive little kids running around this place to have a return policy in place.  The next time you return, you'll get another prize.  That's it. As I tried to check-out, Big E had a balls-to-the-wall meltdown over his missed opportunity to own a seventh super bouncy ball.  Tears, stomping, pushing as I tried to remain calm, although I wanted to match his crazy with my own that was simmering up inside me. Not to be outdone, Little E screamed to be picked up. I signed my life away and hurr...

This morning was Little E's three year old checkup. Everything was within the normal parameters with the exception of his inappropriateness levels.  They were off the charts. The nurse asked Little E to disrobe down to his polar bear themed tighty-whities. WHY?  YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE MY BOOTY?! And just to reiterate his point, he stretched the word booty out into six syllables. Yep.  That's my kid.

Both my kids are toilet trained. In the past, I needed to asterisk the above sentence. The Yoys had a deep, dark secret that we share with many other families. After using the toilet all day, we slide our kids into pull ups at night as the ultimate uninterrupted sleep insurance policy. Any sort of bathroom accident is messy, but in the bed at 3AM with all seven of your stuffed animals is plain Armageddon.  I wasn't ready to dispose of our safety net, and neither was Big E. Let's just air it all out here.  Pull ups are code for diapers.  Because that is what they are.  They just fasten differently.  They are a crutch. You may innocently start your child in them for insurance purposes, but like any gateway drug, it quickly escalates to cocaine, I mean, urine-ville every morning. With Little E, I noticed his pull up was always dry come morning.  With that nugget of truth, I altered my parenting trajectory.  I wasn't going to fall into the pu...

Just in time for the high holiday season, Little E is rockin' a fat lip like he's Lisa Rinna stirring up trouble on Melrose Place . Unfortunately for my raging mommy guilt, this injury was my fault. Little E was laying in the hallway on his belly rolling his Scooby-Doo Mystery Machine back and forth.   I managed to clear Little E, but the bumper of the Mystery Machine had a fight with my flip-flop and Scooby-Doo and his ride took flight right into my poor, sweet Little E's mouth. Blood.  Tears.  Swelling. MOMMY, YOU HURT ME! I wanted to cry, too. I made him suck on an ice pack, wrapped in paper towels.  Apparently that tasted the same to him as the Yoforia we ate on Sunday.  Note to self, cross that fro-yo place off the list. So if you run into Little E tomorrow, please don't ask for his autograph. 1) He can't write. 2) He is NOT Lisa Rinna.

As a family, we viewed zero television today.  Not one news report.  Not one fifteen minute episode of Fireman Sam.  Nothing. Big E's punishment for lying about being sick was a full day unplugged.  I certainly wasn't going to make staying home sick fun for him. But my stubbornness came with its own set of consequences.  The most dire of which, involved me.  I spent 12 straight hours in constant dialogue with Big E. Every facial expression or under my breath comment I made was then fully analyzed by Big E.  It was exhausting. But my kids evolved.  They made up some crazy games which I will share with you.  Maybe you can teach them to your kids when they run out of things to do. 1) Yank My Chain.  The title IS catchy, isn't it?  This involved my kids launching themselves off Big E's bed in an effort to reach the chain that turns the fan light on and off.  Based on the thuds and substantial cheers that followed, ...

This morning Big E awoke from his extended weekend.  He was groggy and grumpy. I, on the other hand, was singing from the mountaintops a la Julie Andrews in The Sound Of Music .  My kids were returning to school.  I'm sure many of you had awesome Labor Day weekend plans.  Mine involved spending Sunday and Monday with them while Mr. Yoy worked.  It truly was a Labor Day. MY STOMACH HURTS.  I DON'T FEEL GOOD.  I CAN'T GO TO SCHOOL. Big E grasped at his stomach and even made a lame attempt at vomit. After multiple questioning from both Mr. Yoy and I, we decided to keep him home. Mr. Yoy left the house at 7:30. Poor Big E.  He was ill.  My plan for him was to lay in bed all day.  He was going to rest up from whatever ailed him and be as good as new for tomorrow. Around eight, Big E emerged from his bedroom.  Angels sang out.  He was a new man.  Completely healed.  It was a Rosh Hashanah miracle, I tell you! ...

We have reached Monday evening of Labor Day weekend. We have done tons of eating and playing and swimming and learning books. Not much napping and most definitely not much sleeping . As I navigated 285 on the way home from a visit with our family, my mind wandered to the upcoming week.  It wasn't until I was about half way home, that I noticed the eerie silence that had enveloped the van.  I peeked into my bus driver mirror and saw both Yoys, heads slumped over. YES!  YES!  YES! I yelled this to myself for fear of waking the beasts.  I spent the remainder of my drive strategizing how I would get them out of their car seats and neatly tucked into bed without a flutter of the eye. So take note parents.  This may be helpful to those of you struggling with the transfer. 1) Always carry a set of pajamas.  I had the Yoys bathed and fed when I left D-Wood...just in case an opportunity arose. 2) Once home, close the garage door with all car doors...

Last night Mr. Yoy and I climbed into bed around eight to binge watch  Orange is the new Black . Shortly after our show began, we had not one, but two haunting visitors.  Big and Little E. Obviously, we didn't want them to watch our prison show.  They can't comprehend bad words or adult themes, but we wanted to freeze them in their extra-wide tracks. EEEEEEEKKKKKKKKKK!  MONSTERS! Mr. Yoy dug deep.  His acting rivaled the great Robert De Niro. A flicker of fear washed across Big E's sweet face. He did a 180 and sprinted down the hall back to the G-rated walls of his bedroom. Mission Accomplished.