The Mrs. Yoy Blog: The Quarantine Coronacles

Happy Easter, folks! This year brought the Yoys their first ever Easter Egg Hunt.  I gave them a pep talk beforehand.  Yes, we are Jewish. Yes, you can still hunt for eggs and eat delicious peeps.  Yes, you can wear bow-ties and pastels and no one will be the wiser.  We lit the Shabbat candles and headed out the door. And the boys had such a great time. Until the end.  When it was brought to my attention that Big E had taken another little boy's basket of eggs, snuck out of sight, and emptied its contents right into his basket. I was angry with him.  I was embarrassed that he committed the greatest sin on the Easter Egg Hunt circuit during our first time to the rodeo.  We would be labeled as the egg-stealing Yoysers and banned from all future egg hunts in some super secret Easter book. Scene of the Crime At home, Mr. Yoy and I sat Big E down and spoke to him about it.  He vehemently denied any participation in the theft.  He blamed a set of younger twins. Big E

Yesterday afternoon found us at track practice.  This trip, the drama was centered around the playground, not the woods, thank goodness. Big E was busy running his little booty off. Little E was blissfully playing on the playground. MOM! THAT GIRL SAID BAD THINGS TO ME!  SHE SAID SHE WAS GOING TO KICK ME IN THE HEAD! Little E ran up to me and pointed to a girl a little older than him (from now on referred to as Mean Girl).  His bottom lip quivered. I took at deep breath. What creature of Satan would pick on Little E? If it were Big E, I wouldn't even bat an eyelash.  He probably did something to provoke it.  But Little E? Aw, hell no.  That kid sh*ts rainbows.  His morning breath smells of Cinnabon. He's perfect.  In my calmest voice, I told Little E that if she said anything else nasty to him, that he should look her in the eyes and tell her in a stern voice: YOU CAN'T SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT. What I really wanted  Little E to tell her was that his mom w

Yesterday afternoon, Little E decided he wanted to sit out front on one of our landscape boulders and tell ghost stories. I was assigned to go first. It's been about 25 years since I last told a scary story, with the exception of the one where the guy stole all of this season's Gucci bags from Saks, but I dug deep and pulled out a classic. In the late 80s and early 90s, I attended a sleepaway camp in NC, Camp Pinewood.  I have so many fond memories that I will not bore you with. Back in the 1960s, there was a terrible plane crash which resulted in the death of everyone on board. Rumor had it, you could still find wreckage on the camp grounds if you wanted to snoop around. I was cool with just hearing the story that evolved around the crash, I didn't need a visual. Out of this crash, came the story of Peg Leg.  A ghost who lost his leg in the crash and had a Peg Leg (original, I know) that he dragged all around Pinewood creating mischief and scaring the

The Yoys are big fans of the library. 1) It's free (except for my property tax bill) 2) There is an unlimited amount of nuclear energy books 3) It's free (again) This week's trip saw a land grab of all things trains (Little E) and nuclear power and ghosts (Big E). I bring a giant canvas bag and once that thing gets filled up, we go. Little E grabbed a white book with a giant red circle on the front. MOMMY, CAN I GET THIS ONE? I opened the book and began reading all about pre-teen girls and the onset of their periods.  There was at least 60 detailed pages. I immediately shut the book. LITTLE E, THIS IS NOT A GOOD BOOK FOR YOU.  IT'S FOR GIRLS. I didn't mean this in a princess way.  I meant that in a this will not be useful to you until you are way older and need to learn how to avoid your PMS-ing girlfriend. THEN YOU CAN CHECK IT OUT, MOMMY. At 39, I'm a stone's throw away from menopause. If there is something I don't yet know ab

Big E began his career as a world class sprinter this week.  He has practice three days a week.  Two of the practices are held at an elementary school that does not allow the team access to its bathrooms. We were told this at Sunday's practice. MAKE SURE YOU USE THE BATHROOM BEFORE YOU COME TO PRACTICE. As the coach's words hung in the air, a single drip of sweat rolled down my back.  I knew in my heart of hearts that this would definitely be a problem. My kids are 238/238 for having to poop at parks, playgrounds, trails etc with no bathroom access. I have used leaves, receipts, and hand sanitizing wipes to clean up their bathroom trips.  I understand that they are young and don't have the bowel control that adults have, but I feel like they almost do this on purpose.  Like it's cool to sh*t in the woods. It's not. I can assure you. Five minutes into practice, I saw Little E doing the potty dance in front of the playground he was enjoying.  My heart leap