The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

My blogging is way out of order as I'm on vacation and my brain is not fully functioning. We spent Christmas Eve at the club pool.  The boys enjoy swimming, but more importantly, they enjoy the free ice cream. After lunch we swung by the ice cream cart where a nice employee was handing out the goods to all the children. She smiled at my wet, food-crusted children. DO YOU KNOW WHO IS COMING TO YOUR HOUSE TONIGHT? Ah, sh*t here we go again. Big E thought about it for a second. NO ONE IS COMING TO OUR HOUSE TONIGHT.  WE ARE HAVING DINNER AT MY AUNT AND UNCLE'S. I was hoping that would be the end.  But this poor lady was mining for some Christmas excitement from my kids and all she was going to get was a lump of coal. WELL ARE YOU EXCITED FOR TOMORROW? She came in from a different angle. I made the slash throat signal to her and mouthed "we're Jewish". No need. Big E launched into his well-rehearsed Jewish spiel.  When he was finished with he

The Yoys are wintering in Florida.  It is glorious. We have six days left until we head back to the frozen reality of January. Today we mixed things up a bit.  Instead of spending our eighth consecutive day at the pool, we decided to do the beach. Growing up in Florida, I rarely went to the beach. I didn't want to look 50 when I turned 30 and the sand was enough to drive this Type A-er crazy. But I know the boys LOVE the beach, so I took one for the team. It took an eternity to load up the car with our beach gear.  I'm pretty sure we packed more for the beach than we did for our entire two week jaunt to Florida. We finally reached the beach.  As we walked down the splintery, wooden steps onto the hot sand, the boys could barely contain their excitement. LOOK MOM!  I CAN SEE EUROPE! Oh, Big E.  I'm super amped that you take interest in world geography, I really am. And you are correct.  Somewhere on the other side of the great, big Atlantic Ocean is the contine

It's a little after ten, but I feel like I've used up all my mommy mojo for the day. This morning started out like any other.  Early, dark, and cold.  I got both Yoys up, dressed, fed and ready for the bus in 25 minutes flat. Soon after Big E finished eating his breakfast he began to complain his belly hurt.  I told him to go to the bathroom.  He refused and instead decided to clean up his playroom. I knelt down and looked him right in the eyes. DOES YOUR BELLY REALLY HURT? There was some serious overacting happening with him which led me to believe this was all a fake job. Big E moaned and yelled in pain and I told him if he was really sick to get into bed and that was where he'd remain the rest of the day. After Little E got on the bus, I came back inside and checked on Big E.  He was in bed writing in his journal. "TODAY I'M SICK. I CAN NOT GO TO SCOOL." Big E was really covering all the bases, but I still didn't belie

December has reared its holiday head again.   As the parents of only a handful of Jewish children at the Yoys elementary school, we field unlimited questions from them regarding Christmas. WHY CAN'T WE BE CHRISTIAN? WHY CAN'T WE HANG LIGHTS? WHY CAN'T WE HAVE A TREE? WHY DOESN'T SANTA COME TO SEE US? It's enough to break my heart, really.  I understand the feelings.  I can still remember feeling like the outsider at my elementary school.  WAIT.  I'M LEFT-HANDED AND JEWISH?!  I'M A FREAK! Our house was the only one not lit up on our block.  We were the dark, Jewish island on our festive street.  For a child, it was a major, big-time bummer.   Mr. Yoy let the Santa out of the bag during one of Big E's angst-ridden Christmas rants.   SANTA ISN'T REAL, BIG E.   I almost strangled him on sight.  How could he tell Big E that?  The boy that rattles off every personal nugget of info to anyone that makes eye contact.

Day 9 (and FINAL!) day of Thanksgiving break. Unfortunately for all involved, Mr. Yoy has only been off of work Thursday and Friday.  The Yoys and I have had intense togetherness over the past week.  At one point, we hadn't left the house in 48 hours due to cold temperatures. MOM. MOM. MOM. MOM. MOMMY. MOM. MRS. YOY. LADY IN THE KITCHEN. CRYING INTO HER COKE. FEED ME. NOW. MOM. MOM. MOMMY. PLEASE. I've grown accustomed to having eight glorious hours to myself each day.  I'll admit, I'm spoiled.  And I wasn't ready to give that up. So as I sit here in the dark, writing, shell-shocked from the past week, I look back at my parenting decisions and shake my head in shame.  I didn't bring my A game.  I didn't bring any game. I dug deep to make it through bed time tonight.  Mr. Yoy left for the office around ten.  The plan was to have dinner together.  In my fantasy, he'd also put the boys to bed while I rocked in the fetal position on ou

Today, I ventured out with the Yoys for the first time in 48 hours.  I had forgotten what sunlight and fresh air felt like on my dried out, dusty winter skin. We hit up my Weight Watchers meeting to get a reinforcement of how I should eat on Thanksgiving.  Lifting up the buffet table and sliding everything into my unhinged jaws is not highly recommended. I laid down the ground rules for the Yoys.  No talking.  They each brought books to keep them occupied and quiet. IN ORDER TO AVOID OVEREATING, WHAT IS A GOOD SNACK TO PACK? Many of the members chimed in with their snack ideas. I looked over and Big E had his hand anxiously waving in the air.  He was begging to be called on. WHEN I GO TO THE PLAYGROUND, I PACK RAISINS AND A STRING CHEESE AND KEEP IT IN MY POCKET SO I DON'T HAVE TO RUN ALL THE WAY BACK TO MY MOMMY TO GET MY FOOD. Applause all around for Big E's genius idea.  Which I came up with, by the way. He looked over at me and winked. I burst out laughing

My main mothering goal in life is to raise boys that grow into respectful, well-mannered, and productive young doctors men. It will be my greatest legacy.  There are days that I think the Yoys have no hope.  They bark orders at me. There isn't a please or thank you to be uttered.  It's disheartening. Other days, it comes organically and my smile is as wide as the ocean. Today's life lesson for Big E was the thank you note.  Up until now, I've authored his thank you notes.  But now that he is six and has semi-legible handwriting, I've turned it over to him. Big E has seven thank you notes to write.  In the three hours since I suggested he write thank yous, he's made it through two.  And it was painful.  He requested a snack break after note one.  Hopefully, he can get the remaining five buttoned up by the time his birthday rolls around again in 2015. His notes also come with artwork.

This morning I received a call from Little E's teacher.  He was complaining of a belly ache.  I told her I'd be over to school ASAP to grab him.  I quickly tucked my long nightgown into my yoga pants, creating a giant donut effect around my mid-section.  Luckily, I was still wearing my coat from the morning bus stop run as my house was a balmy 66.  With my coat on, no one was wiser to my clothing hijinks underneath.  Off to school I went. Little E seemed fine when I arrived and his teacher told me he had cried when she told him I was coming to retrieve him.  He claimed to feel much better, but I signed him out anyway.  I had been saving all of my errands for today.  Little E's illness could potentially destroy my productivity. I asked him if he felt well enough to run to Toys R Us to grab Big E's birthday present and Costco to get drinks for the Thanksgiving party tomorrow at school. He gave me the thumbs up, so we were on our way. We were on 285 one exit

Tomorrow, Big E turns six.   Mr. Yoy and I have made it 1/3 of the way to Big E's technical adulthood.  But who are we kidding?  We all know this kid is a scammer and will probably live off us until he is at least forty.  Either way,  I'm really excited about this birthday.  I feel like we are moving into a new stage of independence and growth.  At dinner tonight I talked with Big E about what he expects to accomplish in his upcoming seventh year on this planet. I WANT TO READ ALL THE BOOKS IN THE WORLD. I WANT TO BUY THE REST OF THE LEGO CITY SETS. I WANT TO STAY UP LATER. CAN YOU STILL HAVE BABIES?  BECAUSE IF YOU CAN, I WANT A BABY BROTHER OR SISTER? Hold up.  Stop the music.  I was way, way, way on board with all of his stated goals.  Even the Lego thing.  Up until the last one. For the record, I am a spring chicken and could pop out at least three or four more kids, if I really wanted to.  And as much as I'd love to eat my face off and pa

The bus comes at 7:09AM.  It's early.  And mornings can be rushed and stressful. And by can be, I mean they consist of 30 minutes of me gently urging my offspring to hurry up.  A snail's pace will not cut the time deadline looming upon us. This morning was especially rushed, as the wind chill is 21 degrees and I needed to put three shirts, a sweatshirt, a puffy jacket, and a hat on each of the boys.  I am from Florida AND I am jewish, so of course I'm going to completely overreact to the latest cold snap. The boys were in their playroom picking out which books to bring on the bus and to school.  Because why waste the 14 minutes they are on the bus looking out the window?  Learn. Learn. Learn, slackers. I was in the front hall.  Putting on two hats, my gloves, long underwear, and hanging a portable heater around my neck.  And then I heard the idling. SH*T!  IS THAT THE BUS? I pushed up the four sweatshirts I was donning to check the time on my watch: 7:07.  If that

Yesterday afternoon we attended our second wedding of the weekend. As we waited for the buffet to open, my children made it very clear they were both starving to death.  In the same reception room their own parents had celebrated their wedding, the fruits of said wedding were about to become rotten, fall off the tree, and perish.  Oh, the drama. Dinner was served and Mr. Yoy and I knocked some people over in an effort to feed our starving children.  We grabbed what was quick and easy. I threw some dollops of hummus and cut up pita on a plate.  Mr. Yoy grabbed a giant bowl of cashews from the soup station. Little E happily chowed down on the cashews.  Big E was more apprehensive. AREN'T I ALLERGIC TO CASHEWS? I thought about it.  His one food reaction has been to walnuts.  All other nuts he has eaten with no issues.  But has he eaten cashews?  I couldn't recall. EAT THEM, IT'S FINE. Mostly because his whining had sent me over the edge and I could no longer li

Friday we flew up to New Jersey to visit my brother and his family. We navigated the Newark airport with ease.  It was pretty empty in the middle of the afternoon.  As we walked the long, carpeted halls I saw in the distance a person approaching us.  Just one person. As she came closer, I quickly realized she was a Little Person. My kids have never seen a Little Person before.  I panicked because I knew there would be stares and comments.  Not in a hurtful way, but in a very curious way. It was just us and her on a collision course.  There were no other people, no back ground music, nothing except the occasional airplane to drown out the questions I knew would come. How was I going to escape this situation unscathed?  I quickly came up with a game plan.  I was going to start asking Big E random questions to keep him engaged.  I wasn't super concerned about Little E as half the time he is living on another planet. WHAT GAMES DO YOU WANT TO TEACH COUSIN N? ARE YOU GOING

This afternoon I spent the better part of an hour picking out both warm AND stylish outfits for the boys to wear on our weekend jaunt to New Jersey.  I folded everything neatly and placed the clothes in the bonus room where I would decide which suitcase to bring once I had packed my things. During a post bath, Lady Gaga fueled dance psychosis, Big E decided to Swedish Chef all my hard work.  I was blissfully unaware of this as I lotioned up Little E and painfully inched him into a pair of footed pajamas. I falsely believed I was nearing the end of my Thursday to-do list.  But, alas, I was not. I've looked at it long enough.  Time to refold and reorganize and pack.  New Jersey, here we come!

As I drove the Yoys home from a playdate last night, we drove by the Georgia Power plant.  It was letting off some serious steam. MOM, WHY IS THERE SO MUCH SMOKE? Since it is now illegal to type on your phone while driving, I was unable to google the sh*t out of this question.  I also do not get along with Siri, so she was out of the question. UM, WELL, THAT IS THE GEORGIA POWER PLANT THAT GENERATES THE ELECTRICITY WE USE. (all probably true facts. so far, so good) THE STEAM IS THE RELEASE OF HEAT GENERATED FROM THE ELECTRICITY.  My answer was followed by silence.  A long silence.  Maybe I had quenched his thirst for power plant knowledge.  This made me happy as I was entering uncharted territory.  Even though I've lived in the shadow of this power plant for eight plus years, I have no clue as to how that thing works.  As long as I can charge my phone and heat my food, I'm a happy girl.  For all I know the steam could be poisonous.  It probably is, I'm ju

This week is Red Ribbon Week at school.  What is Red Ribbon Week I hear all of you wondering? It's a national campaign to raise awareness of the death and destruction caused by drugs in our country.  They are keeping things light and care-free for my four and five year-old. I suppose it is never too early to learn about the dangers of drugs, but I'm not sure if my kids even understand what all this means, except they get to dress up in a different theme for each day of the week. Neither Yoy has asked me any drug related questions, but I have my speech all prepared, especially the ending. ...WINE IS TECHNICALLY A DRUG, BUT IT IS LEGAL AND YOU GUYS ARE RELENTLESS.  THE END. Fast forward to bath time this evening, I asked Big E to strip down and hop in the bath so he could get clean. CLEAN FROM DRUGS? I'm sure my eyes bulged out of my head.  I guess he WAS listening to his teacher. UM NO, CLEAN FROM BOOGERS, CANDY, AND DIRT.  THANKS. On a side note, better

Today I chaperoned Big E's class, who along with the four other K classes, went to the High Museum of Art. The kids were super amped to head off campus. We were assigned a docent upon arrival.  She was super southern.  Her name was Anna.  Like the girl from Frozen.  So immediately everyone had to tell her she had the same name as the Disney movie character.  She was neither amused nor excited about this nugget. Then she laid down the rules: 1) No Running 2) Inside Voices 3) Keep an adult arm's length away from every painting, sculpture, and other unidentifiable object in the museum. 4) No Food or Drinks It was like a torture chamber for kindergarteners. Note to self, don't volunteer to chaperone the next trip to the art museum.  Pick somewhere indestructible, like the aquarium. Or Stonehenge.   I glanced over at Big E's teacher.  This was going to be interesting.  Luckily, we only had nine children between the two of us, even if seven of t

We are deep into the 2014-15 school year.  The boys have adjusted well to the routine, including riding the school bus.  This morning we had our first rainy bus stop wait of the school year. I dressed the boys in their matching green rain coats.  Little E gave me some push back.  He wanted to wear a Thomas rain coat a friend had given us.  The problem is, Little E needs to grow about a foot before it actually fits him. Big E has a little umbrella that came with his rain boots.  Otherwise, he would not have one.  I grew up in Florida.  It rained pretty much all the time.  Even when it wasn't raining, it was so humid that there was always a layer of moisture coating my skin. Little E does not have an umbrella.  This is an integral fact in this story.  I brought my giant red umbrella to the bus stop for us to share. This was not acceptable to Little E.  He began to whine and cry. I WANT MY OWN UMBRELLA! He wanted me to leave them alone at the bus stop and run to Target and

Today is Day 5 (and the final day) of Fall Break. What is Fall Break you may wonder? It's some bullsh*t break invented by the Atlanta Public School system.  My out-of-town friends and family couldn't believe that the boys went back to school in early August.  But they also don't have Fall Break.  Mostly because they reside in South Florida and don't have things like seasons. My mom flew up on Thursday to help out with the Yoys.  Today we took them to the mall to kill some time before we had to drop Grandma off at the airport. (tears) We spent three hours bumming around.  After lunch we decided to leave. Big E had been nursing a Starbucks water for a few hours.  He dropped the straw on the food court floor and went to use it.  With all the nasty things going around, I asked him not to put it back in his cup and we got him a new straw. Big E began whining about which escalator we were going to take to get down to the bottom floor.  Proof that our mall time had

Wednesday evening found us on the banks of the Chattahoochee. We were meeting some of our friends to participate in Tashlikh in conjunction with the Jewish New Year. In summary, you throw bread crumbs into the water to cast off your sins from the last year and start this year anew. As we drove to the river I laid the ground rules for the Yoys.  Really there was just one rule: WE ARE THROWING BREAD CRUMBS INTO THE CHATTAHOOCHEE, NOT OUR BODIES. There are many things in the river that you don't want to come into contact with: 1) Trash 2) Pollutants 3) Chemicals 4) Dead Bodies 5) Mutant Fish Initially, the boys and their buddies obeyed. They threw rocks and sticks into the river.  It was very A River Runs Through It. The sun was setting and the light glistening off the river waters was lovely.  I was amazed at the beauty we found in the middle of the bustling city. Fingers and toes began to creep closer to the water.  A shoe. Then another shoe. Then shoes were

This afternoon, my new neighbor innocently rang my doorbell.  Her car battery was dead and she wondered if I could drive over and jump her car. Of course I could, but first, what is a car battery?  Kidding.  Sort of. She had the jumper cables and actually knew where they went so I just popped the hood and let her work her magic. Big E saw this as an opportunity.  He ran in the house and gathered all of his fall fundraiser catalogs.  He was finally going to get his chance to close the deal with a neighbor. He went through his whole spiel and pressed for the hard sell on the cookie dough.  I felt bad and I didn't want her to think that she had to buy something from him.  Even if we were jumping her car and saving her from calling AAA. I told her we'd bake up the cookie dough we'd already purchased and bring some cookies over to her and her daughter another day. That seemed to appease Big E, the closer. Have you thought about the Chanukah wrapping

Big E got into big trouble at school on Friday. He and a few of his classmates thought it would be HI-LARIOUS if they pulled down their shorts and undies in the cafeteria during lunchtime.  It was not. Because no one wants to see your hot dog while they are actually eating a hot dog. Big E's teacher sent a note home in his backpack detailing the incident.  He knew he had messed up.  Upon arriving home from school, Big E ran into his playroom and shut the door so he could "be alone with his toys and his backpack".  Maybe he thought he could destroy the evidence, but I'm too sharp for this kid.  Because I've been a kid.  Although, I was perfect and never got into any trouble. I sat down and asked Big E why he had done this and explained why it was inappropriate.  While everyone was laughing at it today, he could find himself in real trouble if he continued showing his privates in public.  He seemed to grasp why I was so upset and disappointed in him.  Shower,

Yesterday I made a run to Publix with my visiting mom.  She was helping me pick out food for my Rosh Hashanah dinner menu. We delegated the task of grabbing the Yoys from the bus stop and watching them until we returned home from Publix to my dad, Poppy.  It was a mere thirty minutes.  Whatever could go wrong? I pulled into the garage, popped the trunk, and hopped out of the car.  I immediately heard horror movie type screams coming from inside. I threw open the door.  Big E stood there.  Hysterical. I SWALLOWED A LEGO! My dad was flustered, to put it nicely. I'VE TOLD HIM EVERY DAY NOT TO PUT THOSE IN HIS MOUTH AND NOW HE SWALLOWED ONE! I tried to calm Big E down and get some details.  The piece was a 4 by 1, for all of you Lego professionals out there. I DON'T WANT TO BE CUT OPEN! It was time to spring into action.  I called Mr. Yoy.  He didn't seem impressed by our current crisis.  I hung up with him and called his doctor.  Because the Lego was plastic,

It began with escalating yelling from the playroom.  From my well-worn spot on the sofa, it sounded like Little E was repeatedly wrecking something Big E was building.  Typical annoying little brother stuff. Before I could intervene, I heard one final yell and then a scream so high that all the neighborhood dogs were beckoned to my front door. I ran to a hysterical Little E. WHAT HAPPENED? No response.  Just silent crying. HE WAS RUINING MY BUILDING!  HE KEPT GRABBING THE BLOCKS.  I HIT HIM IN THE HEAD. Big E spoke up.  His bottom lip was quivering.  He knew he was in the dog house. For the record, Little E was having a rough week as I'd already tried to wipe off his face with a soccer ball . I knelt down to try and soothe him. I couldn't tell where the point of impact was. Maybe his forehead? There was a smudge of blood.  Maybe Big E had cut him with the magnetic blocks. It was only then did I notice the drip, drip, drip of blood onto my hard

This afternoon we were playing on the school playground.  It was mostly deserted and the boys were getting b-o-r-e-d. We decided to play a harmless game of soccer. Little E and I versus Big E. Little E mostly ran around, played some hopscotch, and sucked his thumb.  He was not a very solid teammate. Even in my dress and Croc sandals, I was determined to destroy Big E.  I lined up for a big kick and fired away. I'd like to blame my rubber sandals for my misfire, but it might just be my soccer ineptitude. The ball fired off the side of my foot and straight into Little E's face, a mere five feet away. I gasped. Little E began screaming. MOMMY, YOU HURTED ME!  MOMMY, THAT HURTED! Over and over again. Oy, the guilt.  I felt horrible.  Big E immediately recovered the ball and scored on me while I comforted his baby brother.  He is clearly soul-less. So many tears fell down Little E's sweaty red face.  Tears welled up in my eyes, too. IT HURTED ME, TOO, L

Up until the start of school, Little E was still peeing like a girl.   I knew once school began the lure of the tiny urinals would convert Little E to a stand-up urinator, but I was delaying this as long as possible. You see, last year I painted their bathroom wall a beautiful blue.  I purchased a new shower curtain and coordinating rugs that I really loved and enjoyed.  I'd walk into their bathroom and smile.  I had actually successfully decorated a space in my home without the use of a designer.  It was perfect. And I wasn't about to let a bunch of urine destroy my dream. But as I predicted, Little E began to ask to use the toilet standing up.  And you know what, his aim was pretty decent. What WAS I worried about anyway? And then I remembered. Little E must have been hallucinating before bath time on Monday.  I think he believed the bathroom wall was on fire and was in need of a hose down.  So he graciously provided the "water".  He soake

Last week Mr. Yoy visited Washington, D.C. for work and like any good daddy, returned with presents for the Yoys. One was a 3D puzzle of the White House and the other was a fake Lego, which I will from now on refer to as Flego, of Air Force One. The boys' eyes lit up when they saw their gifts. I just saw a giant headache in the making. On Saturday, while Mr. Yoy was at the office, the boys decided they wanted to put together the Flego plane.  I opened the box and the bag and handed the instructions to Big E. GOOD LUCK, BUDDY. And with that, I returned to the kitchen to clean up breakfast. MOM. MOM. MOM. MOM. MOM. CAN YOU HELP ME WITH THIS? I knew this moment would come.  I gulped down some Coke Zero, swept the cobwebs from my brain, and sat down on the floor in the playroom with the Flego instructions. The Flegos instructions were most likely printed in the same factory as the Ikea instructions. IS THIS IN SWEDISH?  AND IS IT UPSIDE DOWN? This well-intentioned

This afternoon we met some friends at the local Chick-Fil-A for some indoor playground time and an early meal. My friend and I watched our four crazy boys through the extra thick glass.  We weren't about to enter the play area where their laughs and yells were amplified to deafening levels. But we watched other kids' moms go in there and sit on the germ infested bench and slowly bake to death. I noticed Little E was getting very chatty with a few of the moms.  I could see his mouth moving, but had no idea what information he was disseminating.  I prayed it wasn't anything incriminating or personal.  Or both. One of the moms approached me when she was leaving. IS THAT YOUR SON IN THE BLUE THOMAS SHIRT? Gulp. Um, yes, I guess I'll claim him.  But only if this is a good, positive story.  If not, he's my friend's son. YES, IT IS. She went on to explain that she was speaking to her kids in Spanish and Little E recognized it as such. She asked him if

The toy situation at my house was out of control. We were long overdue for a toy purge. This can be a very precarious process.   Do I let the boys help me pick out the things they want to give away?  We all KNOW how that ends.  With zero toys being removed from the giant toy sh*thole that mocks me as I relax on my buttery leather couch.   With the start of school I was finally given the time to sneakily go in there and remove things that the Yoys haven't touched in months. I said good-bye to mega blocks, duplo blocks, one too many Chick-Fil-A toys, and a menacing Wreck-It Ralph doll.  I also earmarked some Geo Trax trains to be driven up to my brother's house when my parents roll through in a few weeks. I was feeling cleansed.  Organized.  I dumped the toys into trash bags and labeled them for their final destinations.  I moved the black bags into my trunk.  Guilt crept into my thoughts.  But I shut that down fast.  It's not like I was dumping a dead

Little E has worn the same shoes since he began walking: size XW New Balance sneakers.  We may switch up the color but it is always the same shoe.  It's the only shoe I can find that will close over Little E's Fred Flintstone feet. Currently he is rocking a gray pair.  I bought them right before school started, so they are still in pretty good shape. Last week, I got a call from one of Little E's teachers.  Anytime I get a call from school I expect the worst . At some point during the day, Little E had ended up with another student's gray New Balances.  His teacher requested I send them back the next day. I checked his shoes as soon as the bus dropped him off.  Sure enough they were a size smaller and were just W, not XW.  I pictured Cinderella and laughed at the visual of Little E jamming his foot into the wrong shoe. I thought it and my mom and Mr. Yoy both asked it. HOW DID HE NOT REALIZE HE WAS WEARING THE WRONG SHOES IN THE WRONG SIZE? He just didn

This week, Little E's class is learning about their different body parts. At the dinner table, Little E was eager to show off his newfound anatomy knowledge. MOM. THE BRAIN IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF YOUR BODY. As he proclaimed the brain's importance, he pointed dramatically at his heart. His face beamed with pride and I just didn't have the heart (see what I did there) to correct him.

During a recent weight watchers meeting, a lady described how she used spaghetti squash to replace spaghetti in her recipes.  If this was for real, this would be a jackpot for the Yoys. Big E would be content manhandling his way through a giant bowl of buttery spaghetti for every meal until eternity. The problem is, it has zero nutritional value.  But if I can get him to eat a steaming bowl of squash disguised as spaghetti, that would be the greatest mind game I've ever played on him. So I bought the spaghetti squash about ten days ago.  I put it in my fruit bowl and let it intimidate me for about a week.  I'm no Bobby Flay and the thought of cooking something new was daunting. But not for Mr. Yoy, who threw that thing in the oven last night and we had "pasta" with our chicken and brussel sprouts. I reheated the remainder of the squash for dinner tonight.  I threw on a little butter and parmesan and presented it to the Yoys. UH, WHAT IS THAT? Big E buste

Saturday night was date night. Mr. Yoy and I hit up a foot spa before gorging ourselves at Local Three. Mr. Yoy and I sat side by side as we had our foot massages.  I had almost passed out when my foot rubber began whispering to me.  There are other people in the room so talking is a no-no. IN A WHISPER: WHERE ARE YOU FROM? I came out of my coma to process his question. FLORIDA. Wrong answer for this guy. WHERE ARE YOU FROM, ORIGINALLY? He must have heard tinges of my mother tongue, the Midwestern accent. OH, ST. LOUIS. Still, not the answer he was looking for. NO, WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?  I TOLD MY FRIEND YOU WERE EASTERN EUROPEAN. This guy was going all ancestry.com on me.  Good thing I've done my research. YES, MY FAMILY IS FROM THE UKRAINE. He was pleased with this answer and told me how beautiful I was.  I guess he didn't realize my husband was sitting next to me or maybe he thought he could whisper it and not get into trouble. He then bega

This morning I put the Yoys on the school bus for the first time. Mr. Yoy usually drives the kids to school.  It is the only time he sees them during the school week.  But Mr. Yoy is out of town and so I planted the school bus seed with the boys last night.  And they were amped. The problem is, the bus comes early.  7:09 to be precise.  The boys usually are ready to go around 7:30.  So we would lose 21 precious morning minutes.  These 21 morning minutes translate to hours in real people time.  There is peeing and dressing and teeth brushing and eating and packing that all need to be done in a short amount of time.  I'm usually sweating by the time Mr. Yoy backs the car out of the driveway. This morning I popped out of bed when the alarm went off at 6:30.  I threw on my workout clothes and went in to wake Big E first. GOOD MORNING, BIG E! I heard a few groans and he threw his pillow over his head.   IF YOU DON'T GET UP, YOU CAN'T TAKE THE BUS! He

We live in a very eclectic area of Atlanta.  After emerging from the Boca Raton cocoon, I've settled in an area where I see all sorts of crazy in my neighborhood and that's part of its charm. Our newest neighbor is a wild turkey.  And while some of my country readers may not think a turkey is that big of a deal, watching this turkey navigate the busy roads of Atlanta is pretty amazing. Lurkey Turkey, as he as been christened, even has his own Facebook page where you can keep track of the latest community sightings. Yesterday we drove by Lurkey hanging out in the parking lot of the local veterinarian's office, perhaps visiting some friends.  This is impressive as he managed to cross a six lane, heavily traveled road. This was the first time we've seen him in person.  The Yoys went bananas. IS THAT A REAL TURKEY? CAN WE CARVE HIM UP AND EAT HIM? (cover your ears, sweet Lurkey) They could not stop talking about the turkey. When Little E saw Mr. Yoy this mor

It's Friday night and since Mr. Yoy is STILL slaving away at the firm, I figured I'd do a little blogging. After school today, I took the Yoys to the YMCA for an end of summer pool party. We wasted the afternoon away at the pool.  And part of the evening.  I finally got the boys in the Y shower around 7. I had them jammied and was prepared for them to "accidentally" fall asleep on the short drive home. I got everyone situated in their car seats and put on some mood music.  Hello, classical! Now if only the sun would dive behind some clouds for the next fifteen minutes. As usual, my expectations were too grand.  The Yoys chatted away as we made the trek towards home.  There would be no sleeping. We arrived home, went upstairs to finish up bedtime and start reading. I thought I was golden when Big E pulled another Dinosaur book out.   WHY YES, I WOULD LOVE TO READ TO YOU (AGAIN) ABOUT HOW FOSSILS FORM IN MUD! I was nodding off during the book

Little E has an incredible imagination.  He is a fantastic storyteller at the ripe old age of four.  It is charming and adorable. Little E also has a six sense.  Apparently, he sees dead people.  His ghost tales began about a year ago.  In fact, it was a year ago yesterday that I wrote about it.  Look down.  See the goose bumps on your arms?  Please continue... Over the past 365 days I have become very familiar with the ghost that Little E saw on our stairs.  Pretty much everyone knows about it.  It's like this ghost is famous for being famous a la the Kardashians. Yesterday, Little E began to talk about the ghost again.  Lives on stairs, cries a ton, is white, yadda, yadda, yadda. Except he began telling me of a second ghost.  This one was sitting at the kitchen table with us.  He was a man with a mouth that would not talk or eat dinner. When I asked Little E what he was doing he looked at me with his best Poltergeist face and said: HE JUST STARED AT ME, MOMMY.  AND H