Ready, Set, NOOOOOOOOO!

It has become obvious that my little boy is growing up. Much faster than I want, might I add. It seems like only yesterday he was kicking me in my belly or we were welcoming him into the world, or marveling at all the little cooes and movements he made.

These days, I can hardly keep up with all his movements. He is all over the place and so full of himself. He talks constantly and has an unreal vocabulary. He is stubborn and head strong, demanding to feed himself, dress himself, wash himself. At every turn it is "No! I do it. No! I got it!"

He is quickly turning into my BIG BOY. But I don't want him to. I want him to stay my baby forever. I have been avoiding the inevitable. He is growing up. And I have to let him and FACE IT.

I thought I was doing well. I have entrusted my precious baby boy to someone else's care one day a week and let him go to the daycare at the gym. I even shrug off his little tears when I leave, because no doubt in 30 seconds he is off and running and not missing me a bit.

And then it happened today. Hidden amongst all the junk mail and overdue bills was the tall tale sign of Ryker becoming a big boy.

Coupons for Pull-Ups arrived in the mail today. Huggies is trying to tell me something. Time to start potty training and truly turning my baby boy into a BIG KID. A wave of terror has come over me with the thought of having to potty train this stubborn little boy. Visions of pee-streaked walls and hellacious naked tantrums come flood my mind.

I asked Ryker today when he got up from his nap if he wanted to use a big boy potty. His response was classic... and typical Ryker. "No potty."

This is what my next year will be. I wonder if I should start counting how many times he says NO POTTY now?

Ready, set... here he grows!

My Dryer is a Liar

My household appliances are smarter than me. Or so they think.

One of my favorite things in the world is fresh clean sheets and a freshly made bed. Yes, I appreciate the little things in life. But when they don't go my way, there is hell to pay.

So the other day I stripped the bed and washed all the sheets. After I threw them in the dryer, I went downstairs and proceeded about other household chores. About thirty minutes later, I heard the dryer beep indicating that the cycle was done. I thought in my head, "liar". I made a mental note to run back upstairs and run it again.

My dryer and I have this battle everytime I wash a large load. It thinks that it is smarter than I am, and even though I set the cycle on SUPER SIMPSON SIX HEAVY DUTY... the auto-sensor always determines that things are done long before they actually reach dry. And then it beeps.. and tells me that all is well, when I know its lying. There are damp cloths to be dealt with.

And as usual, my mental notebook is very sloppy and filled with little annoying reminders, and I ofcourse forgot to go run the dryer again.

When it was time to go to bed I realized my oversight. And sure enough, at 11pm my dryer was filled with a damp wad of king size sheets. And ofcourse I have no backups... that would be too simple. I threw a quiet little hissy fit (only because they kids were asleep or else it would have been a full blown temper tantrum). I hit the button again, and went and layed on the bare mattress and chatted with my husband about how smart our appliances are. Our icemaker tells you what type of ice you want... even if I am craving a cup of crushed... it spits out full unchewable cubes. Our garage door dances open and closed when its too cold outside, and never will stay down when you are running late. And then there is the dryer... its a damn liar.

And then today I discovered it is also a thief. Where the hell did those socks go?

Fountain of Youth

For my birthday this year, my wonderful husband brought home a beautiful bouquet of star-gazer lilies and roses and gave me a membership to Powell's Wellness Center. Now in any other situation, I would have been highly insulted that he gave me a gym membership - but I have been asking for it for some time. Just check out the post from last year - http://motherofmayhemva.blogspot.com/2008/10/all-i-want-for-christmas.html

So I was all anxious to get started and reclaim a couple of notches on my belt - then the house got sick last week. Everyone had the ick - and every attempt I made to head out to the gym was greeted with either puke or poop.

Yesterday, I finally made it. I attended the 9am group class... and although it certainly is not Jazzercise, it was definitely a good workout. I was horrified though when I walked into the group class room and it had mirrors on every wall.

One of my favorite things about Jazzercise was the lack of mirrors. So I could dance and pretend I had rhythm and moves and not have to actually see how ridiculous I looked. There was no escaping my reflection yesterday. But the girl in the mirror, that stumbled and stuttered over unfamiliar steps actually helped me a bit. I saw how many rolls and bumps I had jiggling all over the place. I definitely need to keep up the exercise and get rid of all that extra Pillsbury!

I was surprised at all the older women that were in the class... and I don't mean old as in mid-life... I mean old as, should you be kicking that high granny? I chuckled at the beginning of class and thought I actually stood a chance at keeping up with the geriatric crew. Hmm... they showed me. They knew all the moves - they jumped around like they were 17. They knocked me on my ass, that's for sure. I wonder exactly what is the water at the Powell's pool? Cuz these old people can MOVE!

Me on the other hand - day 2 of class - my abs and legs are burning, I'm sweating like a stuck pig and my face is so red, the grannies are thinking of calling the rescue squad.

But I'll be back tomorrow. Mark my word - grandma can't keep me down!

Hard Lessons

Many of you know me well enough to know that I like to keep a clean house. I can't stand clutter or unvacuumed floors. I hate seeing dirty laundry in the hampers and wash clothes as fast as my kids can wear them. I have a sickness. And I am available for rent if any of you need a room or two tidied.

Well Genavieve and Skylar have been testing me for the last couple of weeks in the clean department. I can't stand walking by their room because it is in a constant state of clutter. I ask nicely, I scream, I try to come up with creative ways to make room cleaning fun. And it never works.

A few weeks ago I decided that I would stop stressing about clean rooms for a while. I told the girls they could do whatever they wanted in their rooms all week long, and then Thursday evening I would do a "room check"... yeah kinda military style, but I was desperate.

The girls had strict instructions that their doors had to stay closed so that I couldn't see what was being tossed willy-nilly on their floors throughout the week. And come Thursday, it all better be cleaned MOM STYLE. (and if you live in this house, you are very well versed on what MOM STYLE is... the words perfection and squeaky come to mind)

Well for two weeks, this method seemed to work. I gritted my teeth every time I caught a glimpse into their room, but Thursday nights it was pretty decent.

But then Gena and Skylar started slipping. They couldn't meet their deadline, they couldn't walk in the room due to the mess... they were taking advantage of my very generous system. So they lost privileges. Daily room cleaning became part of their everyday once again. Yeah I know... I'm a mean mom.

Well yesterday, as I was going about my routine, collecting laundry and dusting and what not... I stumbled across an area that I thought to be my daughters' room. Dirty and clean clothes alike were scattered about the floor. Every toy imaginable was pulled out, as if they were having some sort of indoor yard sale. The Barbie and Bratz toy box seemed to have exploded is some twisted naked doll orgy.

I was livid. My psycho mom button switched, and I literally had to step out of the room and cool myself off.

Now for those of you that are thinking I am blowing things out of proportion... stop and think. When you were growing up, did you get to make the rules of your household? Nope, me either. I just had to abide by them. And my children are spoiled rotten.. they don't want for anything... and hence they have no respect for their belongings or their space. I don't have many rules... but a clean room is something I insist upon. So stop judging.

So after my head stopped spinning, I grabbed paper and pencil and wrote a brief note that I taped to their door, and locked it. It read:

Dear Skylar and Gena -
You no longer have a room.
Your father and I will discuss what will happen
to your room and your belongings when
he gets home.
-Mom

When the girls got home, Skylar turned on the waterworks and Gena pretended she didn't care. Where will we sleep? How will we get clothes? I ignored their questions and let them sweat it out until 7pm.

So when Ken arrived home the girls told him what happened. He proceeded with one of his famous lectures and ventured up to their room to see the damage.

What happened next, even I could not have imagined.

Ken got up to their room and surveyed the mess. And then he began opening drawers... one by one he emptied each drawer all over the floor. He then dumped the toy box and moved on to the entertainment center where the girls have a collection of DVD's and videos that rivals Blockbuster. He began tossing those too. At one point, Ryker got clocked with a flying DVD. He thought the piles of stuff all over the floor were hilarious. Gena and Skylar, not so much.

I stood in the door way with my mouth wide open. Was he trying to give me a seizure? I felt the OCD neuron in my brain begin to twitch... The girls were bawling.

After he finished his rampage (all done very calmly might I add) he told the girls that they had a choice. They could either clean up their room in the hour left until bedtime and KEEP IT CLEAN or they could go get some trash bags and take care of it that way.

Needless to say they cleaned... crying all the while.

Ken and I exited to our room and I busted out laughing.

"What was that?" I asked.

"I came up with that on the fly." He responded.

Obviously he was proud of the point he had proven, although I was still a little unsure. But his scare tactics worked... those girls cleaned for an hour straight and the room was squeaky perfect clean at the end of it.

Skylar was upset. Gena was mad. If you know my girl, you know she doesn't cry for anything. But she cried the entire time... not because she was upset or sad... but because she was PISSED. I went in their halfway through and tried to calm the situation down a bit. I explained that some lessons you need to learn in life are hard lessons to learn. This was one of those times... the girls needed to learn to obey the rules, respect their belongings, and take care of their space.

Remind me never to fuss about the girls not taking out the trash.... lord knows where that would end up if Ken is trying to teach another "hard lesson"!!

Mayhem Takes New York

So how does the old song go about New York?

"If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere...."

Well I made it to New York... despite braving the metro, two cancelled flights, my first cab ride and various other modes of transportation. I made it. And now I feel like I can take on the world.

Anyone that has talked to me in the last two weeks knows how incredibly nervous I was about my business trip to New York. Number one because I have never really traveled alone. And number two because I am a complete control freak and I don't like doing things I am unsure of.

I was so nervous in fact, I had the Mt. Everest of cold sores erupt on my lip just days before my trip. I say they are stress-related, not cootie-related.

Sunday night I drove up to my girlfriends in Springfield so that I could catch the metro to the airport. Note - metro and I aren't the closest of pals... ever since I got the brilliant idea to take five kids to D.C. on the metro last summer... I have steered clear!

I made my friend ride with me to the airport and I made it through security and to my departure gate uneventfully. And promptly at 8:15 they start boarding the flight.

I'm seated next to a young businessman and as the plane is taxied out to the runway, I debate whether or not to ask him to hold my hand. I decide against it and we begin to take off. Halfway down the run way, going full speed, the pilot hits the brakes and everyone in the tiny plane lunges forward. "Excuse me sir, will you hold my hand?"

We are taken back to the terminal and the pilot announces that we will be exiting the plane due to engine problems. The stewardess chuckles and states "We at Delta do not make water landings... hahahaha." Shut up chick. Not laughing.

Safely back in the airport, our flights are rerouted to another airport in New York that leaves in 50 minutes. And then a few minutes before boarding, that flight is cancelled. Is this a sign?

Finally, at 10:45 I am sitting much more comfortably on a larger plane bound for JFK Airport. The flight heads off without any problems and before I can't blink and eye, we are in New York. I could have made better time by driving.

So then the next adventure, a cab ride. Luckily I didn't have to hail a cab or anything, because there is a nice, convenient little line at the airport. I get in, give the cabbie my destination and hold on for dear life. Good lord... I think I was safer in the water-bound Delta flight.

I make it the Javits Center for the New York International Gift Fair and meet up with my boss and the manager. The place is huge and the show was amazing. We had so much fun shopping for Pepperberries and the new store, Green Nest.

After the show, we make it back to our hotel, which by the way is in the center of times square!

Here is the view from our window....

The whole trip was amazing and exciting and totally out of my little comfort zone, but I loved it. My boss took us to great places to eat and we all had so much fun.

Because of the weather in New York on Wednesday, I ended up taking the train back home, which was another adventure. Did I ever tell you about my fear of escalators?!?!

Face It

I'm addicted.

Facebook.

I AM addicted.

Curse whoever told me about it... Tracy, Wendy.. whoever it was. Curse you.

I never knew hours in a day could pass so fast.

I never knew there were so many people from high school that I never talked to that I now desperately feel I need on my friends list.

I never knew chatting instant message style could fill such a void in my social regimen.

And chatting with people that I could just as easily pick up the phone and call. Not as fun though.

My addictive obsessive personality fails me daily as I swear by and by that I will not log onto Facebook for the 20th time.

Let's face it....I'm addicted.

Excuse me, I need to check my wall.