BREAKS....I NEED BREAKS...

There are days when I feel as though I am the passenger in the car driven by an out of work Nascar driver on a snowy night with turrets. I am serious. I sit here fingers clenched, holding my breath, slamming my foot on the non-existent brake petal (did you all get the image of your parent teaching you to drive).

My life doesn't seem to take a break. My last vacation consisted of driving 8 hours with 2 small children and a husband who has decided he "just can't do long car rides", followed by the stress of in-laws. Don't get me wrong, love my sister in law and her family, but there is stress involved there, just no doubt about it. Few days there, 8 hour drive back, 24 hour turn-around, and then 5 hour drive for work, 2 days in the office, and then up at 4 AM to drive back home another 5 hours. All with my 4 year old and my 8 month old.

Last two weekends have involved people visiting, which I LOVE, but there is no recharge. I work 5 days a week for my main job, then there is the cooking, cleaning, parenting part of the insanity. Then people arrive and you spend a good amount of energy being social. I am constantly fighting the remorse and guilt at not being able to do MORE with my children since I work full time. Especially my daughter who asks every morning "mommy, can we go somewhere today?" and when I explain that mommy has to work I get "I miss daddy." She isn't being mean but when daddy is at home it's his day off, so he can focus some energy. Mommy is here all the time but it's a tease because I am working. It's pitiful that she gets excited to go to the grocery store because at least it's something better than sitting around here all day.

I digress. So, this last adventure was my sister in law, her husband, and their 14 year old staying at my house. I have a 3 bedroom 1200+ SF beach box. So, imagine this:

• Small bedroom - nursery = crash test baby
• 2nd Small Bedroom = the Expert's room - Uncle slept there.
• Living Room = 2 couches - 1 aunt, 1 teenager
• My master bedroom (queen bed) = The Yard King (daddy), The Expert, Myself & the Crash Test baby because we didn't want him crying and waking the house guests during the second half of the night.

YEA...cute huh. It's all good, it was just a couple of nights, but it's exhausting. There is no down time, there is no escape. It's tragic when you find yourself taking an extra long time in the toilet because it's the only place you can go, lock the door, and NOT TALK TO ANYBODY for 5 minutes. And the constant coordination, when you are as OCD and control freak as I am, you burn yourself down trying to keep ahead of it all. Meals, clean up, ensuring they have what they need. Trying to dissuade your dear in laws from COMPLETELY spoiling your daughter or feeding the baby something they either haven't tried yet or shouldn't have. Sigh.

And then the day they are getting ready to leave, crash test baby is up over night with a fever. So we have fever throughout the day, acetaminophen isn't doing anything. Send hubby to find Motrin....guess what, there was a recall in MAY...never saw it, never heard about it...unless you go to buy it, at this point, how would I know...CUTE, LOVELY...ARGH. More stress. Overnight we have fever so more, so we head to the doctor's office. Guess what it was...NOTHING. a. no fever at the office (it started to creep back on the way home) b. no ear infection, c. no inflammation, d. no chest congestion....it's VIRAL. The magic "i dunno" diagnosis. So we have to "monitor" it. Was told "if you have another really bad night come back tomorrow".

In truth I love my doctor and truly there is nothing else she can do for me, BUT....every time I go in my insurance poops on me, every time I go in, I have to take time off of work, and I have to take a sick baby & a bored preschooler to the doctors office waiting room, and when you are there for a sick baby visit that means they have to work you in and you sit, and sit, and sometimes sit some more. Hence the desire to throttle the preschooler, throttle the baby, and pray for something with more kick than coffee. And once you DO get back into the room, you go into the complete time warp of waiting behind a closed door for the doctor the "be right in".

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!

Look, I am not classically claustrophobic BUT....stuck elevators, major traffic jams, jammed locks on public bathroom stalls, and doctor's office exam rooms make me INSANE. I want to start running into walls and screaming because I figure they will have to come OPEN THE DOOR. And if you open the door to let the insanity OUT, they all give you the "you impatient b*&^" face. Well, yes I am but NO, I am trying not to chew off my arm!

Leave doctor's office, buy Pedia-sure and something to placate the expert, NO WE ARE NOT HAVING CHICKEN & FRIES....finally get home, feed everybody, turn around twice, feed me, update all involved parties on the health and well being of the baby, nurse baby, check email, fight with Expert about eating her lunch.

Yup, I am sitting here, slamming my foot on the ground PRAYING that this roller coaster ride of a summer just Stops. In the midst of my chaos just now, I sneezed and ended up with a bloody nose, no, my system isn't completely overfull at all. I was one of those kids that got nauseous on the merry go round at the play ground, no wonder I feel ready to fall on the ground and cry uncle....

Babies=Ducks

HISTORIC RANT #1
During my pregnancies I decided to share the bizarre experience with friends and family. Mostly I wanted to complain about stuff and decided that a broad spectrum audience (should have learned to blog then) would serve my performer’s personality. So it began. Here is one from when I was pregnant with the Expert, remember this is first pregnancy and I have inserted some comments from the present in Red.

So what is this about? It's about food, fat, registering, baby stuffs, stupid people comments, difficulty sleeping, and food. I am currently 29 weeks...pick your math but that is sometime in the 7th month. Only 11 weeks to go - in theory.

Fat... the belly is SO cute and I love the belly - got the baby in it. Rub the belly; talk to the belly, its presence makes sense. I got boobs - bizarre new concept - kind of fun, kind of annoying but acceptable none-the-less and then the whole situation TURNS AROUND. WHAT IS THIS WALRUS CHASING ME FOR? Apparently my BUTT is carrying twins; it’s like watching two pigs wrestle under the covers. ACK! I had kind of gotten excited about the boobs – for ONCE my boobs were going to catch up with my butt and I would have a balanced equation – but NOOOOO...couldn't have THAT! The butt couldn't be overshadowed. The worst part is this insane desire to do something about it coupled nicely with this insane need to feed myself and do NOTHING. It's like having a split personality. I thought I would walk the stairs at work (there is a handrail for safety) and that would exercise the Gluteus MONSTROUS - but I got up the first flight and stopped - I was exhausted. How can you keep in shape when all you want is ANOTHER nap? (Welcome to parenthood….)

Stupid Commentary...ONLY I CAN SAY THE INFORMATION ABOVE. NOBODY ELSE IS ALLOWED TO HAVE AN OPINION ON MY FAT! People NEVER go up to a plump girl and say – “wow, you are getting quite a butt on you”, or “wow you are carrying big”, or “wow you got round”. What is wrong with people? Does the fact that I am now OBVIOUSLY pregnant completely detach the TACT meter in people’s heads? I actually had a woman tell me that she and her friend were discussing how I had suddenly "got a butt." I mean - DON"T TELL ME THAT. It's the rule of cattiness – be catty - but don't share with the person you are talking about. That's like walking up to someone and saying - we were all just discussing how dreadful that shirt is. I know my butt has gotten out of control – not much I can do about it - not until AFTERWARDS. At least be graceful. Any comments must be said WITH A SMILE, IN ADMIRATION and AWE...This is NOT your change to get your cheap shots in! Just be warned - crappy commentary could result in a couple of things. Option A: I will immediately burst into tears. Option B: I will discuss with everyone who will listen your stupid comment and tell them it was YOU that said it. Option C: Use a choice phrase that would imply your need to leave the vicinity. F-bomb possible. OR Option D: Ask you how your fat is treating you? And point out something that I am sure you would prefer everyone ignore. Oh and there is the chance that ALL these things could happen in combination. DON'T POKE THE BEAR - that is just stupid. (There is no time limit on this veto. My brother & husband thought that 1 year was enough lag to tell me about how big my butt got during my pregnancy. WRONG.)

Sleeping...sleep only on your left side, never on your back, with pillows supporting your knees, neck, back and belly...WHAT? These people have all lost their marbles – what am I a mummy? First off - half the time you wake up because of the extreme change in body temperature, or getting kicked or having to pee – again, for the 3 millionth time. Or for any of the non-pregnancy related issues - like your dog needs to sleep RIGHT THERE (oh no you didn't), or the cat REALLY wants your attention (flying cats), or husband dearest finds that his elbow suddenly needs to be at the exact point on the pillow where your FOREHEAD IS! Regardless, all these wacky rules make me crazy. I understand the logic of them all – BUT, can we PLEASE relax. I just want to sleep – I don't want to POSE. Also, I have been getting muscle and joint cramps. Okay, I know what to do for a calf muscle cramp but pardon me, can anyone tell me how to counteract when your hip JOINT cramps. What do you flex to make that stop? Please, suggestions are welcome! Then you have to flip over - but now you are on your RIGHT side, you can't sleep on your belly – so ¼ of my options for sleep positions are out, actually a lot more than that because I ALWAYS slept on my belly or my side. So then you are all the way awake trying to THINK of a way to position yourself for sleep...I love cable! (Complaining about lack of sleep due to little things like cramps seems insane until you get pregnant again and realize that yup, it really is THAT irritating.)

Registering and Baby stuff...ITS ALL SO FRICKIN CUTE! Ok - so registering for a baby is very complicated. Registering for a wedding is one thing - you know WHAT towels are, you know WHAT dishes are...you generally understand what everything you are asking people for is or does and how it will be applied in your everyday life. But with babies, WHAT IS HALF THIS CRAP?! I mean really, you start off with the simple list of things you need. OK – but then you start looking at them - it's all so frickin' complicated. Sheets...ok - that is easy - but also there are bumper pads, and mattress protectors, and contoured vs. non-contoured changing pads. Classic burp rags vs. cloth diapers, teethers, rattles, gas-less bottles, bottles requiring inserts, issues with not getting a seal on bottles and complaints of complicated bottles, pack and plays, convertible cribs, travel systems, play yards, bouncers, swings, portable swings, baby nail clippers, baby booger suckers (aspirators or something), bibs, washcloths, towels, hooded towels, receiving blankets (what am I receiving?) So obviously you get the picture. Then there are the clothes. EGAD, the clothes...everything is SOOO cute, but let’s face it folks babies grow fast - but not consistently fast - it all varies. Onsies - check...in 3 different sizes, check, without stupid phrases....umm....white, check...you get the picture. Then you see the cute outfits...and it's all over. I really don't know where to go - just you wait...walk into a Baby's R us...see what happens to you! And for a woman who isn't into pastels...I AM SCREWED! Everything is baby pink, or light yellow, or baby blue, or sage green. You occasionally get the lavender. But folks, umm, BABY'S BARF...why is everything designed to SHOW you where the LAST place baby barfed was? Can't I find ONE pack of onsies in bold FUN colors...I hate pink...and everything that is yellow –HAS DUCKS ON IT? Apparently Babies=Ducks. WHAT?

Food...saved the best for last. I WANT IT ALL. People keep asking me about cravings, I don’t have cravings, I just eat everything. If it stops it is lunch. I should be starving hungry right now. I had breakfast at 8, was STARVED at 11:30, ate my lunch and NOW at 1:00 I could go order a large pizza and eat it ALL. I know the baby is growing a lot and needs food – but WOW, can't it eat some of the fat I have stored on my butt and thighs? THERE IS PLENTY. Sadly – I think I am going to have to go find more to eat...it’s just sad really! I really don't have much to say because my stomach actually just rumbled. This is totally unacceptable. Before being pregnant I could go an entire DAY without eating. I could go 2 days on nothing but coffee, nicotine, Snickers bars, and Pepsi what is this inhaling of food thing about. I mean there are days when I eat because I am bored (quit smoking reaction) and then the last two weeks I could literally eat my way through the day and not feel full. I think I stop because I am bored or the plate is empty and I am too lazy to get up and get more! (yup…and then I got to experience the magic of breastfeeding weight loss, and then the torture of post weaning weight gain….it’s an evil cycle.)

TEACH THEM TO FISH....

This list below was geared to parents that are raising a child with autism but I think these are good rules for all parents. Look folks, if you want to encourage your children to speak to you and others so that they can be understood, then you have to speak to them and not for them. Read, talk, discuss, expect answers, help them learn to phrase answers, but stop doing it FOR them. These rules can apply to a lot of communication tactics, politeness for example. Teach your children to use the simple, “please, thank you, excuse me, you’re welcome” phrasing and it will benefit them in the long run. Correct your children and then make them repeat again. Asking for things FOR your child, does not do them any favors and being their translator won’t help them learn independence either. I respect the necessity of assisting communication when necessary. But we need to really think about when it’s necessary versus when it’s just easier, for us. I have encountered lots of parents that respond to demands or grunts. At a certain age, grunting isn't trying. Give them the skills and expect them to use them. Every kid learns at a different pace, I know that and I am not an expert in child psychology or child development and I know there are shy kids out there and can speak but are timid about it. I am talking about parents that are willing to be the translator when their child is absolutely capable of communicating but isn't learning because why learn the proper way if somebody will just do it for you.

Please remember I am speaking as a mom with a non-autistic child to parents with non-autistic children. I know next to NOTHING about autism, I understand the basics but nothing about the difficulties and have nothing but respect for these parents. But if your kid is NOT autistic and has no reason NOT to communicate with words, please expect them to. Make them ask properly, make them speak for themselves, and make them do it correctly and in sentences.

Help Me Talk
1. Do not anticipate your child's every need or desire before he has a chance to communicate them to you with a word or a gesture.
2. Delay your response to your child's pointing or gestures when he wants things. Pretend you don't understand for 15-20 seconds and then respond appropriately. If he attempts to say any words, respond right away to teach him things happen faster when he uses words.
3. Label objects and actions in real life and in pictures. Give your child a chance to respond.
4. Use slow, clear, simple speech with your child. By the age of one, never use baby-talk to your child. If he mispronounces a word, repeat it back to him correctly, Example: If your child says "wa-wa" for water, you say, "water- yes, drink water." If he/she says "wabbit", you say, "I see a rabbit."
5. Read lots of books. Choose colorful books with simple pictures. Modify your reading depending on the age of the child. For younger children just say one or two words or a short sentence per page, rather than reading the words printed on the page.
6. Talk out-loud about what you are hearing and seeing, using simple words and short phrases.
7. Talk out-loud about what is happening to your child. Example: When your child is playing with a truck you might say, "push the truck, big truck, beep beep, truck stops."
8. Echo and expand what your child says. A child loves to hear his own words repeated back to him. If he/she says "allgone", you say "milk allgone." If he/she says "shoe", you say "take off shoe."
9. Once your child has said a word a few times, let him/her know you expect him/her to use the word. If your child has said "juice" but then just hold our his/her cup for more juice, say "I know you can say juice. Use your words."
10. Ask questions of your child and give him/her a chance to respond. Always praise attempts to communicate.
From my friend’s blog http://speakautism.blogspot.com/

A Little Finance Rant

I don't complain about just my kids, I have thousands of things I like to complain about. I just found a rant about minimum wage that I wrote about a year ago.

I just saw the note that the minimum wage is $7.25 per hour and I decided to look at the reality of this and I am truly disgusted.

Working at minimum wage:

• IF a person worked 40 hours every week (2,080 hours) a year, with no days off. They would only make: $15,080 annually.
  
• IF they worked an avg. number of hours a year (2,000 hours) (that is estimating only taking 10 days off for holidays, sick days and vacation) they would only make: $14,500 annually.

Just a point of reference, poverty is considered:

• Family of 2 = $14,570
• Family of 4 = $22,050

Theoretical Middle Class is considered anyone making between $30K and $90 annually

• Lower Middle Class (2080 hours) = $14.42 per hour
• Higher Middle Class (2080 hours) = $43.27 per hour

Now for the Amusement (and I mean that as cynically as possible).

Congressional Lawmakers... Avg. Annual Income = $174,000 Annually

• IF they worked 40 hours a week, every week (2,080 hours) = $ 83.65 per hour
• The Reality IS considering their average hours IN SESSION which in 2008 were estimated at 131 days per year (1,048 hours) = $ 166.03 per hour

So at an hourly rate of comparison...

1 congressional lawmaker =

4 Upper Middle Class=

12 Lower Middle Class=

23 Minimum Wagers

There are 535 congressional lawmakers
Based on the Average Annual Income, the budget for their income is

• $93,090,000 annually (yea, that's 93 million dollars)

If they made minimum wage and only were paid for the hours they worked (1,048 on average):
The budget for their annual income would be

• $4,064,930 annually

HEY, look at that, I just figured out a way to put $89 Million tax dollars a year back into taking care of our people. And as soon as congress can figure out how to take care of those of us that work ALL YEAR, and try and provide insurance for our families, and figure out how to fund college educations. As soon as they take care of the people that serve in the military, that teach our children, that heal our sick, and serves their food. As soon as they work as hard as those people, then they can have a raise. But they have to PROVE IT. They have to actually EARN IT.

(Don't get me wrong, I don't mind people making a lot of money that work for it. I have a problem with MY dollars paying for people who still can't seem to put the PEOPLE first, when it's their job. The Customer is always right, well, this customer is pissed. And I am not pointing political fingers, I have issue with both sides of the aisle on this topic. )

Unsupervised at the Pool

Look folks, I was a total helicopter mom with my oldest. I was totally THAT GUY, I admit it. I hovered like it was a career. The Expert is a bit neurotic but that could just be genetics not my hovering (or a combo of both). I am learning (as she gets older) a certain level of distance is healthy and the second I step back she isn’t going to immediately have some disastrous issue. Both sending her to preschool, watching my friends (that I respect) with their children and having a second child have all further facilitated this progress in my dehelicopterization. Recovery is a process…

BUT…not paying attention makes me NUTS. Look, letting kids play in a playground without your hand 3 inches away is healthy, especially as they become old enough to do so without jettisoning their brains. Running in a field is fabulous, climbing, hiking, and playing in their rooms are all good things. THE POOL, while a place to have fun, should not be a world of unsupervised chaos. The lifeguard is not your personal babysitter; I bet they would even agree. During my jaunt to the pool recently, while allowing the EXPERT to play within the 2 foot deep area (not outside of scoop and rescue distance since she can’t swim yet) and carrying the crash tester (who is also thinks he has gills and dive bombs the water face first), I was set upon by a pair of unsupervised beasties. They came thundering into the wading pool area and crashed past the pair of 4 years olds and the 2 ½ year old that were playing contently. It’s the pool, so I try to maintain a defensive not offensive parental position. They meandered on for awhile but would represent their annoying presence every once in awhile. One had a squirt gun and felt compelled to shoot me with it occasionally. “Let’s not squirt the baby (or the mean not interested in being squirted in the face adult).” I got (and no, this isn’t nice) the stupid face. The one kid crashed into me a couple times and I always got the “where did you come from” face. In 2 feet of water…I am a monolith…don’t pretend I just appeared out of nowhere! I exerted huge personal control and did not GROWL at the child. They seemed well versed in POOL ROMPING, were generally harmless and seemed to be having fun. They didn’t strike me as probably drowners but I couldn’t identify mom and they were a bit crazy. I chalked it up to kids can be crazy sometimes and went about my merry little pool time with kids.

As I was packing up to leave they were sent out of the pool by the lifeguard, this is when I figured out who the mom was. She was the one sitting with the baby in a stroller, her head in a book, and cell phone on her ear, looking away from the pool. They told mommy (I was eavesdropping…yea, so…) that the lifeguard sent them out of the pool because they weren’t safe. Mom got all in a tizzy about “why, aren’t you allowed to play” and “well, maybe it’s because you were getting where it’s too deep since you can’t swim.” Ummmm….MAYBE IT’S BECAUSE MOMMY IS IGNORING HER 2 CHILDREN IN THE POOL THAT CAN’T SWIM…..MORON!

And let’s not even discuss unsupervised at the beach…..

ACCOUNTABILITY DOES NOT REQUIRE A FINANCE DEGREE

Please hold your child accountable for their actions. Look, I know that we all make excuses for our kids at times, but please make your child responsible at least sometimes. And that doesn’t mean repeat yourself and turn your back folks. Kids are smart, if they know you aren’t going to do anything about it, they will continue to do it. I had the despicable pleasure of watching a child in a store who was in desperate need of some ACCOUNTABILITY. I watched a parent follow this TERROR around picking up after him as he threw things on the floor. Everything he touched just got chucked on the floor. Are you kidding me? When did parents get downgraded from PARENT to HOUSE-ELF? Silently expected to serve and clean. This all culminated in the final straw where dad quietly told the child to stop, the child then CHUCKED the toy down the aisle and took off running in the other direction. The parent followed the kid (obviously). But nothing changed, there was no repercussions, no discipline, he actually did NOTHING, said NOTHING. The toy remained on the floor until I picked it up. I know it’s rude to stare, but I seriously, just SLACK JAW RUBBER NECK STARED as this pair passes me in the store. I know that if a kid is really young controlling their insanity is difficult, tantrums happen. Shopping carts were designed with a place to put the kid for a reason if they are young. And if they are truly OLD enough to walk beside the cart, then they should have some RULES that are enforced and the maturity to GRASP the rules and repercussions.

Let’s face it; the world is not the place we grew up in. My parents did not beat us (even if we were REALLY ASKING FOR IT), but there were spankings in my life (not many, I was a quick learner and threw as much drama defense as I could muster), and the THREAT of spankings existed and were taken SERIOUS. If I kept touching things in the store, I was reminded once that this wasn’t proper. The next time my hand was taken back FOR ME. If I was foolish enough to REPEAT said incident (and my mother will probably tell you it happened A LOT…I don’t recall ever being foolish…I was a perfect child) I was pull up short and my 5’9 mother became 700 feet tall and shot lightening bolts from her eyes, her talon fingers crushed my upper arm (yeah, not so much but it was perspective) while hissing between clenched teeth (they were fangs actually) that if I didn’t STOP NOW, we would be exiting the store and it would be a BAD DAY. She was also queen of the LIGHTENING FAST finger snap. You know that one, when mom’s hand shot out faster than you could register (or dodge) and the back of her knuckles would connect with your hand, which was probably reaching for the light socket, a silk blouse on a hanger, that box of Crackpuff Sugarjolts or any other number of brilliant things we thought it was necessary to reach out and touch. It would leave a nasty stinging sensation and the distinct understanding that the car ride home was going to be filled with unhappy mommy tone. And while offended that we were CAUGHT, there was never any doubt that we had SCREWED UP.

So I guess my wish is that people would expect their children to behave and treat people and places with respect. It’s really not a lot to ask.

Silence is Golden, Duct Tape is Tempting

I adore my children, they are beautiful and wonderful. I wouldn’t change them for anything in the world, UNLESS, I could get a mute button installed.

My daughter is very verbal. She is 4, and an expert, on everything. She also loves to share her wisdom, knowledge, and actions. She will give you a ten minute explanation on a drawing without drawing breath. She will debate you on all points. The term “wait” or “shh” or “no” are completely and totally not registering. I believe that the phone is actually a homing beacon for her voice. It rings, she needs to show me something, ask me something, tell me something, and complain about something, or a mixture of all of the above. Please note; I am not on the phone for just personal chats, I work from home. Exact conversation:
“Mommy is getting on the phone do you need anything?”
“No.”
“Okay then, please be patient and wait to talk to me until I am done, okay?”
“Okay.” One minute pause…“Mommy?”
(Finger to lips to remind for quiet)
“Mommy I need…”
(More vigorous finger to lips, and point towards other part of room)
“Mommy, I am hungry.”
(Hand over receiver) “Please wait, mommy is on the phone.”
“Mommy, I want to color.”
(Mute button)“Then go color, mommy is on the phone.”
“Mommy?”
(Glare)
“Mommy, I can’t find the red.”
(Walks over picks up red crayon in middle of coloring book that she put down to come inform me she couldn’t find)
“Mommy…”
“NO.”

My son is a baby, so he cries. I understand that. But he has some serious STAMINA. That boy can holler for 72 miles and that was just the last trip. Now don’t start judging right off the bat. He was changed, nursed, had binkies, toys, a sister talking to him, mommy talking to him…NOPE…man-child was ANGRY. He did not WANT to be in a car-seat. I know this because he does this a lot now. I have to drive 5 hours (each way) about twice a month for my job. My kids go with me. SO, the kids get loaded in and off we go and about 50% of the time man-cub LOSES HIS MIND. The first time he went ballistic I stopped after 15 minutes CONVINCED that there was something biting him or stabbing him or eating his legs or something. I stopped the car, he is WAILING, I jump out, I reach in to unhook him and through the tear-stained, drooling, red-eyed mess comes the WORLD’S BIGGEST GRIN. Should just have stamped sucker on my face. He was immediately all cute and playful and happy as a clam. Right up until I popped his little butt into that chair again…POOF, cuteness exit, evil car-screamer enter. FABULOUS. Dear hubby got to experience this JOY the last trip. Boy lulled him into complacency on the 8 hour drive out…angelic baby. Drive back….the first 95 minutes was constant hollering. Welcome to my world.

Singing is one of her favorite things. SINGING LOUDLY. All parents want our children to be talented and amazing and awe inspiring, I am no different. But we must learn to accept reality. When she sings along with something it’s okay. She misses notes here and there; words are a little strange and slightly different than the real thing. It’s cute. HOWEVER, when she makes up songs and tries to sing from memory…she is straight up TONE DEAF….it is PAINFUL. It’s loud, off key, really sharp high pitched 4 year old voice NIGHTMARE. My son loves it….heaven help me.

So try this one on, car DVD going loudly in backseat, daughter singing the song from 3 scenes ago (it’s loud as well, and special), son is SCREAMING in anger at being in his carseat….now the kicker…traffic. Please add 30 minutes to the clock and see which shade of crazy mommy is by the end.

Introducing the Players

My family is your basic all american insanity. Suburbanite Yankee (that's me) and Rural Southerner (my own personal Yard King) meet while doing summer outdoor drama. We colocate and decide we actually like each other enough for permanent long-term co-insanity (aka marriage). We buy house in suburbs of major metropolis, and begin the all-american dream of eye-ball deep debt.

Couple years later we join the world of parenthood. Our dear daughter is born. She is the Expert, just ask her she will debate you on the subject. After a few more months my poor hubby began to experience apocolyptic hatred for I-495.

I have to interject here. Nobody loves I-495 but those of us raised around it just accept it as a known evil. People raised in rural america should NEVER EVER have to commute on a daily basis on 495...it's just WRONG. They are obviously out of their league and hence either very angry ALOT or very dangerous, making experienced 495ers angry. A lose-lose situation. The entire area is a mess. It's as though a asphalt construction company can't decide what it's doing and uses it as a training site for more important projects. It wasn't until I traveled elsewhere that I realized that orange drums and half chewed up asphalt is NOT a permanent thing in the state of Virginia, they DO know how to complete roads. MD side isn't MUCH better, but they seem to COMPLETE one project before they destroy another section. VA...it's just cyclic.

But I digress....So, we moved. This seems simple unless you are an OCD, control freak that doesn't do change well (that's me). SO, at the age of 30 with a 1 year old, I finally ran away from home. Sounds insane, but my job came with me. I work from home and drive back to MD about twice a month. Because of schedules I take the kids with me. Yes, I am crazy, but necessity trumps crazy. This process was supposed to be "just until I got a local job". The EXPERT is now 4 and we now have 2 kids. You gotta love this economy.

The crash tester arrived 7 1/2 months ago. He is already up to no good, moving around and trying to climb even though he doesn't stand well. Chases the cats, pulls his sisters hair, but he has a grin that can crack the hardest exterior.

So there you have it, the Yard King, the WFH Mom, the Expert 4 year old daughter, and the 7 1/2 month old Crash Tester son. Add a couple cats in a beach box house in the OBX and you got a recipe for madness.