The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

Today's blog theme is water. It has been raining pretty much nonstop since we arrived home from Florida.  It's like Georgia is sending us the big middle finger because we have publicly declared Florida > Georgia in football and in life. So why would tonight be any different?  I only had to fold laundry, cook a new, Mr. Yoy requested, recipe (with more than 3 steps), and finish up our taxes and the taxes of my moocher family members (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!) My plan was to have the boys to bed by 7:15 and I was ON TIME.  Even with a game of UNO thrown in there after dinner. I drew the boys a hot bath and quickly tried to fold the remaining laundry. MOM!  MOM!  MOM! Big E seemed really concerned about something in the bathroom.  I limped into the bathroom. THE FAUCET IS TURNED OFF, BUT THE WATER WON'T STOP COMING OUT AND IT'S SCALDING HOT. Sweet.  At 7PM we have a plumbing issue.  The boys are BEYOND concerned that the whole house will flood.  I washed th

We're at my parents house this week observing Winter Break #2 of the 2015-2016 school year.  What?  You don't have a random a** week off in the middle of February?  Move to Cobb. My parents have moved about five times since the house where my brother and I grew up in.  There isn't a lot of our old stuff laying around.  My mom gave us the chance to come home and take the mementos from our childhood, the rest was gone faster than you can say: I JUST CAN'T DECIDE IF I WANT THIS LIFE SIZED GUMBY DOLL WITH BENDABLE LIMBS?! My diary, my Joey McIntyre posters, and my endless high school picture collages got the thumbs up.  So did my giant Madame Alexander doll collection. Yes, that's right.  I had thirty dolls with soulless eyes staring at my every night as I fitfully dozed off into my teen angst ridden dreams. It was creepy as hell.  I didn't realize it at the time, but now that I have had time to digest my childhood, I've seen the light. So you can on

Saturday I took the boys to a birthday party at an indoor trampoline park.  It was Sky Zone, but who's pointing fingers?  Certainly not Mrs. Yoy. We've been to one of these places before, during a weekday.  When it didn't appear that every metro Atlanta child under the age of ten was in residence. I really enjoyed the trampoline park during our first outing.  With the exception of the ultimate betrayal of my bladder each time I jumped, it was a great workout and the boys were dead tired when we left. Thank goodness, the birthday party had its own roped off area the kids could jump in.  I didn't have to worry about some sugar drunk thirteen year old landing on my child.  I just had to worry about my own child landing on his foot.  His left one to be precise. Big E hopped over to me and said his foot hurt.  He sat down and we inspected it. There was nothing glaringly wrong with it.  No bone sticking out between his toes.  He felt fine enough to re-enter the trampo

I would like to announce that for the first time ever, Big E ate his baked chicken tonight without crying or gagging or vomiting or dying. He just ate it.  He didn't even bother drowning it in the ketchup I provided to help get it down. I'm not sure this will ever happen again in my lifetime, so I wanted to take this moment to document it. CHICKEN, AGAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN?! - Big E.

I have two sons. I have zero daughters. I have extreme clothing jealousy.  As soon as I enter any children's clothing store, I immediately veer over to the pinks and tutus and tights and leggings and sparkles and OH MY GAHD! I glance over at the plaids and khakis and dinosaurs and tear up.  But this is my lot in life.  I have boys. I do my best to dress them like little preppy WASPs heading to the country club for dinner.  Classic, neutral tones rule the Yoys wardrobe.  They each have one pair of shoes: New Balance sneakers .  The extra wides keep us coming back time and again.  And I pick out everything.  The boys have shown zero opinion in what they wear, which is awesome, because sometimes I'm borderline ridiculous. See the old man sweaters. I usually buy their shoes on Zappos, but Sunday I made an impulse decision to drop into the New Balance store by our house.  This was a dangerous move because now Big E would see ALL the shoes.  Not just he gray or navy ones I