The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

Yesterday, I took the boys to get allergy tested. Little E has chronic hives. His last flare up was so bad, it looked like the measles. Big E has had two allergic reactions to two different types of nuts.  One resulted in us pulling over on the side of Peachtree Battle so he could hurl in the bushes of one of the stately mansions lining the street. Sorry rich people. I was preparing for the worst, after the flu shot bonanza, where B ig E attempted an escape , only to be tackled by a nurse before he reached his freedom. After waiting in the lobby forever, we were finally called back. Both boys were weighed, measured, and had their blood pressure taken.  Thank goodness they didn't take mine.  I'm sure it was through the roof as I was STRESSING this appointment.  I had even applied extra, EXTRA deodorant and water proof mascara. Little E snarled at the blood pressure machine. He was not buying the arm hugger description. Big E immediately began laying out his case fo

We are muddling through Day 4 of Big E's intense fear of ghosts and being left alone. He's totally cool all afternoon and as soon as the sun sets, he permanently attaches himself to my a**. Last night we were all piled in Big E's bed reading another great pick about being clairvoyant and the ability to levitate.  So many mundane details about monks from two hundred years ago getting reprimanded for disrupting church because they were floating all over the damn place. My eyelids were getting heavy.  My brain was no longer processing the words I was reading.  I was wearing my Sherpa robe and things were getting too warm and cozy for Mrs. Yoy. And scene. Just as we reached the chapter on gravity, I fell asleep. My grasp on the book was released, which I've done many times before, only to drop a four hundred pager on my face. This time it was a smaller book and it landed, corner first smack in the middle of Little E's lotioned up forehead. SCREAMS. SCR

Chanukah begins at sundown on Sunday. In order to generate some Jewish buzz around here, and in an attempt to use presents as bribery for good behavior this week, I wrapped their presents and laid them out beautifully in our dining room. This year, I purchased both boys Kindle Fires.  They went on sale for $35, so I decided it was worth not constantly having my phone commandeered by Big E. My phone always returns to me sticky, which was puzzling until I witnessed Big E cleaning the screen with his tongue. Let's all take a moment to digest that. Ok, moving on. The boys have been circling their gifts since they made their appearance on the table. Big E has been acting super sketchy and I finally figured out why. That little stinker took a peak at his presents.  He has the worst liar face in the history of mankind.  It is a trait that will serve me well into his teenage years. We told him that we have a video camera set up in the room and we would pull up the foota

Last week's public library run brought us 31 new books to explore over Thanksgiving break and beyond. Big E immediately found the non-fiction section and began pulling whole shelves of books down.  His favorite topic these days, is scary stuff. Spooky Stories, Spooky Places, Paranormal Places, etc., he's in. We got to work immediately on Spooky Places where we read about all sorts of places I would never like to visit. Then we read this. And all hell broke loose. Full disclosure, it was mostly my fault as I started making spooky noises and then screamed out in a panic that a face had appeared in the hardwoods right by the dishwasher. Big E was legit scared.  I told him I was only joking, but the damage had been done. The first night Big E made his way into our bedroom around 3 am. MOM, I'M REALLY SCARED OF THE FACES ON THE FLOOR. I felt guilty, so I let him climb into bed for the night. Over the next few days, he brought up the faces on the floor and

Yesterday, after at least three months of our Comcast cable laying in the gutter of our street, where countless cement trucks, cranes, and everyday traffic drove over the fraying orange cable, Comcast finally buried that sucker.  They've already been out to replace it once, as our cable was acting up due to damage.  I asked numerous times for it to be buried.  Yesterday was the day. Things were getting done. I was happy. Until I tried to sneak in a little HGTV before my kids came home from school. And it wasn't working. And neither was my internet. And my home phone (not super important).  And the Comcast guy had vanished like a ghost. The cable may be out of sight, but it was no longer hooked up to our home. The Yoys came home and we were busy with homework and life and I wasn't able to call Comcast until after the kids went to sleep. The customer service rep kindly told me that they'd send a technician out on Monday.  LIKE SIX DAYS FROM NOW MONDAY?!

Tomorrow is Big E's El Greco presentation. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little nervous.  What if he gets up there and bombs? It's 50/50 with him.  Mr. Yoy has ice cold nerves when it comes to presenting in front of people.  I, on the other hand, need about two bottles of Chardy before my stellar presentation skills finally emerge. We will see which gene pool runs deeper around 9 AM. In the meantime, I've been doing some last minute artist costume prep. I never thought I'd be THAT mom. 1) I'm lazy as hell. 2) All my creativity is directed towards my writing. This is what I'm working with: For a brief moment, I thought about putting a baldy cap on Big E.  But I didn't want him to get his butt beat at the bus stop. Instead, I took a sip from the devil's cup. PINTEREST. I just finished up my Elizabethan collar made of coffee filters, some string, and a hand-crippling hole punch. It's a little more dramatic than El Greco's

Last Saturday, we hosted a bunch of friends for the UF vs. Vandy Game (dubbed by Mr. Yoy as the battle of the only two SEC schools the Yoys are allowed to attend). Now that we have edged into our mid-thirties (ahem), these parties also include lots of children. We had ten little ones roaming around the house, including the Yoys. I had instructed Big E to be my eyes and ears.  If he saw something that shouldn't be happening (i.e. purchasing movies via Comcast - yes, that happened), please alert me. One of my main rules is no food out of the kitchen.  But this was a party and I was hitting the Riesling, so I may not have been as sharp as usual. At some point, Big E snuck an apple up to the playroom. I guess I can't be too upset that he is sneaking fruit, but rules are rules. What happened next remains fuzzy for all involved, at least for my kids who proclaim complete innocence. What I found, after the game ended, was a half eaten apple lazily propped up against my for

On Tuesday, Big E will turn in his first major school project, complete with character dress-up, tri-fold foam board, and presentation to parents. The assignment was to choose a famous artist and then compare and contrast the artist to Leonardo DaVinci. (not DiCaprio) Big E chose El Greco. My art history study was limited to one semester in high school.  I'm ashamed to admit I know very little. Undoubtedly,  I learned just as much as Big E as I read through the El Greco book he brought home from the library. El Greco is most famous for his paintings of Jesus Christ.  I found this to be an odd choice for a Jewish boy. BIG E, WHY DID YOU CHOOSE EL GRECO? Maybe it was his haunting, larger than life figures.  Or the way he up-lit his subjects.  He must have been visually drawn to this guy's work. THERE IS A COMIC STRIP INSIDE THE BOOK, MOM.  I LIKE COMICS! So cool. You made your decision based on some amateur comic inside a children's art history book. I ran to

My kids love to hear stories from when I was young and awesome and in high school. Yesterday, I told Little E a real yawner about the summer I worked at a candy shop in the mall. My duties included deep frying cashews, making chocolate covered pretzels, and refilling the candy and nut bins. It was a pretty pimp job for the summer and paid a very livable salary of $4.25/hour, which I subsidized with eating my weight in all sorts of gummy products.  I'd eat anything in a gummy form. I did not, nor would I, ever discriminate based on size, shape, or color. With the exception of one piece of candy, which I will refer to from now on as the evil gummy bear. One evening, as I shoveled fresh gummy bears into the bin (and maybe some into my mouth), I noticed something unusual.  I thought maybe a piece of licorice had found its way into the soft, sweet goodness of the gummy bear bag. Upon closer examination, it had scary, mean eyebrows and a look that could stop my candy-eating a

This is dedicated to Martha Stewart who makes everything kitchen related look super easy and enjoyable. For those readers that are lucky enough to know me on a personal level, you know that I possess many talents.  I'm funny.  I'm a clever writer.  I'm tall.  I'm good at math.  I shower semi-regularly. But there is one thing that I am not known for, and it's my kitchen prowess.  It's not that I don't try. But I'm always trying to make things healthy and that usually sabotages my baking efforts. One of the two things I am able to bake without burning down the house, are corn muffins. They are a fall favorite for the boys.  I usually double the recipe and then funnel those suckers down my kids' throats everytime they eek out an "I'M HUNGRY!" By about day four of the muffins, Big E has started grumbling. I DON'T WANT ANYMORE MUFFINS! He's basically morphed into a giant piece of cornbread. But like any g

After almost seven years of bon bon eating, soap opera devouring, basically doing nothing from sunrise to sundown, I have decided to go back to work part-time. Rest easy, IRS, I will not be putting my tax skills to use. Instead, I have chosen to join the Weight Watchers team.  I joined WW, as a member in 2006, right after Mr. Yoy and I got married.  It was the perfect storm of leaving my 20s, being newlyweds, and just not giving any sh*ts about my food choices. My pants snugged up real quick and I realized my metabolism wasn't able to burn through a bottle of riesling and a bag of candy corn like it did in my 20s. Willy's burritos and chips 3x/week, while very delicious, is not the model of healthy eating. I originally joined an At Work meeting at SunTrust and dropped 20 lbs in about five months.  I looked way better than I did at my wedding.  WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THIS EARLIER? I reached my goal weight, became a Lifetime member, and have religiously attended meet

What a lovely Saturday we had today.  We awoke early and made our way to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens to checkout the Scarecrows, we ate sushi lunch with daddy, and even hit up an old-timey toy store. The perfect day.  I left the part about swinging by their pediatrician's office to get their yearly flu shot off the daily itinerary. But as we headed South on Peachtree Street, I had to come clean.  Well, sort of, anyway. I told them we were going to get the Flu mist, which they had last year.  I had read that many places had run out of the mist due to a shortage.  Deep down I knew that there was a good possibility they would be getting a shot.  But I kept that dark secret to myself.  Next to the one about me, the pantry, and a bag of Skinny Pop. There was no way the Yoys would willingly walk into the building knowing the truth. I checked them in and I could hear far off screaming.  Oh yes, they were out of the mist. But my poker face is epic and I played cool.  We g

After a long day of school, homework, Transformers, dinner, and my personal favorite, zombie tag, it was finally time to get the Yoys upstairs for bath and bed. Big E pulled out an old trick. MOM, I'M HUNGRY. I immediately presented Big E with steamed carrots and green beans.  He balked at my healthy suggestions.  If he was truly hungry, he'd eat anything.  But he was looking for something a little more processed and diabetes-inducing. I took Little E and headed upstairs and told Big E he was on his own for food. ****IN HINDSIGHT THIS WAS A BIG-TIME BAD IDEA**** Big E followed us upstairs about ten minutes later. HEY MOM!  I'M IN THE BATH! Real casual, like everything was thumbs up. I put the boys to bed around 8:45 and headed into my bathroom.  Being a mom is stinky and it was time for Mrs. Yoy to get herself a shower. Mr. Yoy arrived home from work and asked about the crime scene in the kitchen. OH, THAT'S JUST CHALK.  THEY DREW ON THE BACK PATIO

I know it is a terrible idea to compare your kids.  And I know one day the Yoysers will read their blog and I don't want them to think I favor one perfect child over the other perfect child. ***I LOVE YOU BOTH THE SAME, BUT I DEFINITELY LIKE ONE OF YOU MORE*** But for two people from the same gene pool, their looks, their personalities, and their adoration for their mother couldn't be more different. Big E has always been a student.  This has been documented numerous times. When homework assignments began in Pre-K, Big E was in hog heaven.  And that's saying a lot for a jewish kid. Little E would prefer to burn his homework in the fireplace and use it for warmth.  Getting him to sit down and do it is painful. We are struggling most with his sight words.  He immediately blocks out anything with four or more letters.  Those are TOO HARD.  We dutifully go over them each night, and he stumbles on the same ones over and over again. Sometimes, I just stand

We have just wrapped up the first quarter of school. Big E has started receiving homework, so yesterday I had both boys sit down to work on their assignments before the neighborhood pack of children assembled for the afternoon and any sort of productivity would evaporate. Little E has had homework for awhile, and no matter what the task, it always ends with him on the floor sobbing WHY ME? It's bad. I asked Little E to start on his homework.  He sat there at the table and had the nerve to sass mouth me.  That's what we call it.  I especially like when my kids tell me to stop sass mouthing them.  It's a one-way street boys. I told Little E to go to timeout at the bottom of the stairs.  He stared me down. I counted to three.  He continued to stare me down. Who is this person?  Where did sweet, obedient Little E go? I walked towards the table to ESCORT Little E to timeout.  He got up and ran around the back side of the table.  He had his head turned tow

Instead of therapy and violence, I'm going to express my feelings in a healthy way and write them out of me.  Lucky for you, you have found your way to this page. Prepare to be enlightened. For those of you who know me in real life, you are blessed.  You know that I have a pretty even-keeled personality.  My patience runs deep and it takes some big-time bullsh*t to really get my blood boiling. And my blood is boiling.  You see, Mr. Yoy and I just dropped a pretty penny on new construction in an area that doesn't come cheap.   Building a home tests your faith in humans.  It tests your marriage.  It tests your will to live. Our builder, Ashton Woods, is "America's Trusted Builder".  That's their motto.  It's on everything.  I'm pretty sure they didn't do a survey around my neighborhood, because trust isn't the first word the Yoys and the majority of our neighbors would use to describe their dealings with Ashton Woods.   Part o

Last week we observed "fall" break.  For the record, this break technically began during summer which is why I'm using quotes. Yom Kippur and our trip to NJ chewed up two days of it.  On Thursday, I took the boys up to the Atlanta Botanical Gardens in Gainesville (GA) to check out the new Lego exhibit. It was an hour drive and well worth the trip for you locals looking for something different to do with your little people. A few interesting things to note during our visit to the gardens: The gardens set up Lego building stations out in the garden.  I was able to relax on a bench, watch my kids go nuts on some Legos, and enjoy the serenity of the garden. About 30 minutes into playing, another mom rolled up with four kids.  She was definitly emitting the granola/crunchy vibe. We started chit chatting about the exhibit, weather, etc. SO DO YOU ALSO HOMESCHOOL? I tried to hide it, but my eyes bulged out of my head.  Do I look like I have the patience to homesc

Yesterday was Yom Kippur.  It is the holiest day of the year for the Jewish people. We fasted from sundown on Tuesday night to sundown-ish on Wednesday.  The fast is intended to help you focus on all of your wrongdoings over the past year and how to make yourself a better human in the coming year. I was going to list all of my sins, but fortunately for me, this platform has a word limit. We dragged the boys to Synagogue, where I had signed them up for babysitting, while Mr. Yoy and I prayed and reflected.  Parenting is hard, parenting while hungry is worthy of sainthood.  I had to pack lunches for the boys because they are not required to fast until they are bar mitzvahed. Big E decided at the last minute that he would have nothing to do with something with the word "baby" in it.  He was coming to sit in services with us for close to three hours.  We exchanged knowing glances with the babysitting staff. WE'LL BE BACK IN LIKE FIVE MINUTES.  HAR. HAR. HAR. Mr. Y

Big E has been given the opportunity to check books out of his school library the past few weeks. For whatever reason, instead of settling on my preferred type of read, chick lit, he is all in on a series of books that focus on energy. We've read about fossil fuels, renewable resources, and the latest (and my person favorite) nuclear power. The thing that makes these books fantastic bedtime material is that they are boring as sh*t.  I'm basically half dead by the time I make it through the 20 or so pages.  But not Big E.  He is FASCINATED. And a book about nuclear power is not worth reading without mentioning the dangerous side effects of disposing of the waste and the time our country dropped a couple of these suckers on Japan and killed hundreds of thousands of people. Big E was very concerned about the nuclear power plants.  He insisted that I google where the closest ones to our home were.  They're in SE Georgia, thank goodness.  Because if they were in the

The clock is loudly ticking on my 30s. To distract myself from the dirty F word, no the other one, I've been throwing myself into unpacking and settling into our new home. It's not that I'm sad to say goodbye to my thirties, it's just forty always seemed so old to me. Why are you rambling about this, you may ask. This evening, as I rinsed away the mom grime in the shower, my phone alerted me to a new text message. After my shower, I picked up my phone. I spent the next five minutes trying to remember meeting Doris.  And I just couldn't.  Did I forget meeting Doris and distributing my number to her? As a 39.5 year old, am I now old enough to have friends named Doris?  Maybe it's the lady from Everybody Loves Raymond?  I really just can't recall. In the end, I decided it was a wrong number and did what any upstanding human would do.  I ignored it.

Friday morning came fast and early for the Yoys. My cousins arrived Thursday night with their kids, and this sent Big E into a tizzy.  He was unable to settle down until after eleven.  Thank goodness Little E fell asleep before their arrival and slept through all the excitement. I was able to get the Yoys dressed for school ahead of our normal sprinting-to-the-bus-stop timeline.  Big E was determined to accidentally wake up his cousins so he could play with him.  He was singing in the hallway some made up bulls*t song about farts and umbrellas. I couldn't SHHHHHH and threaten him enough.  Only later did I learn that all my SHHHHHHHH was very audible through the bedroom walls. As I herded the boys into the bathroom to brush their teeth, I circled back into Big E's bedroom to turn off his light.  And that's when I saw Poodle Yoy. Squatting. Pooping on his bedroom floor. POODLE YOY! I screamed at her.  I checked the floor and I had interrupted her before she had do

Tomorrow we will have lived in our new place a full month. My month has consisted off unpacking (not fun) and working with a designer on picking out curtains and bedding and art and furniture (very fun). I found a piece today at Home Goods which caught my eye.  I liked the colors and the size (small horse) as we are looking to fill a giant space in our family room, and of course the small price (because Mrs. Yoy is on a strict budget!) I took a quick shot of it and sent it to my designer. She told me to buy it. Which in theory, sounded like a good idea.  I lugged it to the TJ Maxx checkout and waited patiently with all the other ladies of leisure. I walked it out to my car and then it hit me.  This painting MAY not fit in my Avalon.  I almost missed my mini-van .  Almost. But I was hopeful.  First I tried the trunk.  Yeah, no.  This was not a good trunk for carting anything substantial around.  If I ever planned a murder, this would not be the car I'd commit my cr

Many years ago, I was a total b*tch to my younger brother.  For like the first 20 years of his life.  The beginning of this blog takes place in 1981.  We were fresh off our move to Florida. My brother and I were riding our bikes around the front of our rental home.  His ride was a babyish vehicle.  I had a bad-a** Big Wheel. The only reason I can easily recall this story is my dad filmed the whole thing with his giant video camera. It was like having a news station capturing your life. Or being the star of a reality TV show before they existed. My five year old self ran inside for a potty break. My brother looked around and noticed I was gone.  He took this chance to hop on MY BIG WHEEL. IT'S GOING TO BE WORLD WAR III WHEN SHE COMES BACK OUT. - My dad's narration. And sure enough it was. A_______!  THAT'S MY BIKE! I picked up his little tricycle and hurled it into the street.  I was like the hulk.  But not green.  And this ugly interaction became the stuff o

HEEEEELLO, readers! I know.  It's been a long time.  And you've probably given up on me.  And for that, I'm sorry.  We moved. To the suburbs.  And it has taken about a month to let that sink in, to unpack, and to finish my book club book, which is tonight.  I didn't feel like I had the luxury of writing until I had all my chores done. We have settled into our new life here in East Cobb.  The Yoysers are adjusting well to the new school and I have made some lovely new neighbor friends. But of course, it wouldn't be us, if I didn't have any insane stories to tell you. So here we go, folks. This is the second year that the boys have taken the school bus to school. This was one of the few things they didn't have to adjust to.  They climbed the steps onto their new bus and were off. Their bus driver is a no-nonsense woman.  She keeps things in order because she drives 100+ 5-11 year olds to school and that is the only way to get it done.  And I apprec

I was playing fake cupcakes with Little E yesterday.  Fake cupcakes is significantly less fun than real cupcakes.  Just in case you were wondering. Little E put a birthday candle in my fake cupcake and told me to blow it out and make a wish. I did. He asked what I wished for. FOR AN EASY MOVE NEXT FRIDAY. He gave me a puzzled look. YOU SHOULD WISH TO HAVE YOUR BEST FRIEND BACK ON EARTH AND TO BE HEALTHY. I teared up immediately.  My sweet boy.  He is very aware of what is going on, even at his age. I hugged him close, thanked him, and told him that I changed my wish.

My kids are easy to find. They leave a trail of their sh*t wherever they go.  They'll never be able to run away from me.  As all I'll need to do is follow the trail composed of their one sock, trash wrapper, and Thomas the Train car.  Just call me Gretel. At the large YMCA summer camp they are currently attending, this translates into them losing shoes (YES, BOTH OF THEM!), arriving home in someone else's clothes, losing swim goggles, and pool towels. We are still living the nomadic lifestyle.  All of our earthly belongings are socked away in a few pods somewhere in the metro.  We have very little.  I ran to Walmart the night before camp started to buy four towels for the boys to take to camp. As of Monday, day six of the Y camp, Little E had lost both of his towels.  And he has only had three days of swim. More importantly, he left his goggles, which resulted in a 45 minute meltdown during a swim playdate with some friends.   Monday evening I dropped

Big E came home from camp with a nasty splinter on the front of his toe. Splinters fall under the same category as loose teeth .  The ickiness factor isn't as high, but it still makes my stomach do leaps. Big E would barely let me touch his toe. I had to promise I was just going to hold his toe still to look at it.  Because the splinter was approaching the size of a 2 x 4, I knew it would be easy to pull out. If only Big E would let me. I explained to him in my calmest voice, that I had to pull it out and it might hurt, but only briefly. Like a shot. (I regretted using this example as soon as the words escaped my mouth). After some persuasion, Big E agreed to let me try it. We sat down by the window for the most light and I slowly approached his toe with tweezers.  The second I touched the splinter, Big E lost his mind. Failure. He cried on and off for ten minutes. Finally, we agreed that he'd go to bed with splinter in tow and Dr. Daddy would look at it in the mo

July has started off with a BANG! After tormenting me for days with his tooth, Big E finally wiggled that sucker out with minimal blood and gore.   Thank goodness ! The relief was temporary as then I remembered the next part in this process: the tooth fairy. I googled the going rate for the tooth fairy these days, because I am a 90 year old trapped in a late 30s body.  And guess what?!   It's well over $3 . Per tooth.   First, let me thank the good lord that he is not a shark, because this $3+ per tooth nonsense would get expensive. Fast. If I'm forced to choose between funding this tooth fairy thing or new curtains in the house, the curtains will win every damn time. Sorry. Second, I'd like to thank Greece for its inability to keep itself from defaulting on loans and causing a massive tremor in the world's financial markets, including our own.  Things here are shaky, folks. That's why I've deemed fifty cents to be an appropriate (and fiscally