The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

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 po...

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. ...

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...

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. ...

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 ...

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 t...

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...

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 po...