Not Me! Monday

The boys did not just completely unravel my knitting project...
So, I figured there was no better time than now to present to you, my few loyal viewers, Not Me Monday! That fabulous MckBlog Carnival that gives desperate housewives housepeople {or you know, people in general. We don't discriminate because discrimination is icky. Moving on..} *ahem* desperate people *heh* That's really not quite the same is it?

*ahem*

Welcome to Not Me Monday! The fabulous MckBlog Carnival brainchild gifted to us by the stupendously spectacular MckMama, a marvelous MckForum for desperate housewives and the like to reveal their indiscretions and "oh no he di'nt" moments through the safety and false anonymity of our lovely blogiverse.



My high fiber diet and coffee intake combined do not sometimes create a force greater than Captain Planet. So I most certainly did not get a sudden "uncomfortable" feeling while sitting at Rowan E.'s bus stop at 5:50 a.m.. I did not suddenly stand up and squeeze my cheeks as tightly together as possible. The bus did not change it schedule from a 6:08 pick up to a 6:20 pick up with out notice. I did not contemplate squatting in the well maintained hedges, something like that would be atrocious, so I most definitely did not attempt to rationalize how it would be okay because it was still dark out. Rowan E., the smarty pants she is, did not decide to take the opportunity to "mommy me" and say "You should have gone before you left the house.". I did not groan and counter with the child patterned "I didn't have to go then." and promptly tell her to shush. When the bus finally arrived at 6:25 I could not be seen walking waddling, cheeks squeezed, pushing a stroller the mile home, praying the whole way that I "made it". I did not swear at my keys and the stroller for slowing me down in my pursuit of the toilet, and I most certainly did not leave Ori A. in the stroller to cry as I ran to the punk-a-monks' bathroom and managed to narrowly escape disaster.

Want to get in on the Not Me! Monday fun? Click here to find out how then head on over here to see what she, and everyone else is not doing.

Some one should seriously kick me in my ass...

Or at least slip some birth control into my morning tea...
*sighs*
My punk-a-monk kid-lets are getting older...
My littlest is walking around like a pro, he identifies and says "ball" and "car {insert car noises here}"...
My middling is attempting to do the terrible 2's thing except he just can't pull it off so it's more like an annoying almost three *giggles* he's certainly attempting to exert his independence, he likes to tell me "NO" but then giggles about it like he gets how ridiculous he is being. He is getting big {for him}, and strong... and he has the silliest little developed calve muscles...
seriously what two year old has bulging calve muscles?
Anyway, he's getting big and probably comes up with at least 20 new words/phrases everyday.
And my oldest is riding the bus to school, riding her bike sans training wheels and is {*ahem* slowly} embracing her freedom and big-ness... kind of.
It's all very sad I suppose... but really it just gives me the impression it's time to start a new project. The problem is {just in case I haven't mentioned it before} my kids are the only thing I have ever really stuck to....
Yep, you guessed.
Baby fever.
Be careful.
It's more contagious than swine flu.

Out Takes: dialogue and commentary

Teijah M. {crying}
Rowan E. : What?!? You're not hurt! You just closed your penis in the drawer!

Seriously?! Now I don't have a penis... but I'm pretty sure closing it in a drawer would be a pretty big deal

Me: {takes scavenged old hot dog from baby}
Baby: {cries & chases me, pulling his hair}
Me: "Yes. I know it's all very sad. You liked the hot dog, but you can't eat rancid old hot dogs."
Baby : {walks away from me complaining}
Me: "Would you like some booby instead? You can always have booby."
Baby: {turns around quickly, shoots arms up in the air so far he's almost leaning backwards, toddles to me at full force}
Me: {giggles}

What? why are there old hot dogs... well because I have children... they like to hide things and save them for later...

Teijah: {frantically screaming}
Me: {seeks out screaming banshee child to investigate}
Teijah: {eyes shut tight... still screaming frantically}
Ori: {watches with a curious slightly amused look on his face}
Me: {sighs} "Oh man Teijah! I can't believe you sprayed OxyClean in your eye, AGAIN!

Sheesh! Someone should seriously watch these children... or you know, learn to turn the OxyClean sprayer to the "off" position.

Me: {reading random bed time story to all three children}
Teijah: {suddenly looking very concerned and worried as he stares at his sister}
Me: {giggling}"What's the matter Teijah?"
Teijah: Oh no! See!? Teijah's mouth broke!" {points to his sister's newly toothless grin}
Me: {laughing hysterically}
Teijah: {looking offended}
Me: Rory's mouth isn't broken! She just lost her front tooth, that happens when you get big.
Teijah: {satisfied and informed} "Oh."

*lol* No that wasn't a typo. He calls her Teijah... he knows that it's not her name... we don't know why he does it. What gets me is she lost 4 teeth before and he apparently never noticed the difference until the first top front tooth came out... *giggles* that and the genuine look of worry... like something was terribly, terribly wrong that suddenly swept across his face...

Repeat offender...

*sighs* so Ori and I were just hanging out on the kitchen floor, chatting about drool, balls, cars, and whatever "AH" means. All was good, he was eating yogurt snacks out of my hand, and insisting on sitting in my lap... but not on my lap facing away from me, on my lap facing towards me so he could gaze at my face and pet me as we talk... because he's just intimate like that. So we're snuggling and chatting it up and all of a sudden I notice his patented gagging, "help me mom! I'm choking!' face. Knowing that my house is absolutely clean {more on that later} I was not terribly worried, I figured his yogurt snack went down the wrong way or something.. baby appears to spit out suspect yogurt snack & I assumed all is well. *sighs* But all was not well. Then, I remembered that Ori managed to steal Teijah's hot dog {which I then stole from him} a few minutes before, so I begin the throat swiping ritual... searching for a rogue hot dog skin. Nothing. Ori is still gagging, & making some weird low gurgling sound, I continue to swipe his throat {Teijah jumps on my back *grumbles*}. After explaining to Teijah that baby is choking and this is so not the time to play, baby starts to vomit... and he vomits again and again. Finally out comes a freaking sticker... one of those stupid shiny metallic stickers... with Cinderella on it. *ARG* Rowan E... and her stupid stickers. It would be safe to assume that stickers are officially banned from this house.
*ahem*

Of pancakes and Funbags...

So if you follow me on twitter you know that my pancake making this morning led me to thinking about the future state of my boobs. I suppose giggling would be a better way to put it. Either way, the point of the matter is that after years of glorious, spectacular service the girls feel they have been abused {oddly by their purpose.. but whatever} and they aren't going to take it anymore. They will be saggy, lack substance, and need good push-up/cross back/ front snap bras... and of course only the best will do... otherwise they will {of course} look like I breast fed 3 kids {2 of them over a year} because they hate me.
And you know what? That's fine with me dear beastestes. I hate you too.
I can wait for you to shrink down to the B cup that I haven't seen since 5th grade.
Don't get me wrong. You were fun once... I guess, you were spectacular, so much so that I was okay with the fact you choked me when I laid down. We had a great run. And I'm thrilled that I used to flash people, go bra-less, and celebrate you and your bounty as much as possible when you were still amazing. But now? Not so much.
Now I think big boobs are just gross... you have indeed over stayed your welcome... swelling to the size and hardness of large cantaloupes, leaking all over my bed, dripping on my feet... spraying the baby in the eye {okay, okay, that was pretty funny} but I digress.
And I fantasize about the time when I'll be able to "tape" you down to my chest.. and see my feet... the marvelous era of the pancake boobs.

and yet another reason why money is evil...

So I just pulled a penny out of Ori throat. Yeah. I suppose 1 out of 3 isn't bad, neither of Ori's siblings have ever been stupid uh.. clever enough to actually choke on pocket change. Scary, just the right size to completely cover the airway, and never come out: pocket change. {Rowan E. did however, risk it all for Dorritos. Twice.} As he was suddenly gagging he turned around and gave me the cutest, desperate "save me mom!" look ever. I swiped his throat and couldn't find it but luckily ramming my finger down swiping his throat did seem to induced vomiting which forced the darned thing out. Now all is well, you know, now that there are not any choking babies and I yelled at Teijah about leaving money on the now vomited on floor. I'm just saying things like this aren't helping the argument against the whole money is evil thing...

5 weeks!?!?

Um yes... that's right it's been five weeks since I've posted anything. I've been feeling equally uninspired and lost. I tend to go through these periods where I have to find myself and be comfortable with that new version of myself before I can function properly and honestly I'm just not feeling it yet - probably because whoever Dani is for this 3 to 6 months is still hiding. And so I figure I should catch my 4 glorious followers up in the form of a Q&A post {you know, like I had enough readers to actually ask enough questions for a Q&A post} because a) I still haven't found my creativity that has been squandered and hidden in the box at the back of a closet somewhere. b.) my 9 month old has a longer attention span than me ATM. and c) um... because I said so.

Q. So how's the Zoloft?
A. Freaking horrible and evil the first month was sheer hell. It does however seem to help with some things. On day 1 despite how physically awful I felt it seemed like my brain fog had lifted and I was not exhausted anymore just "regular tired", my children are also seeming less grating and I've been playing and more patient with them. I realized after week 1 that I wasn't going to be able to donate breast milk and that made me a little sad, but it's whatever I guess.. I figure right now it's more important that I get back on the right track to my super mom destiny and once that is taken care of I can worry about philanthropy... though I really wish I could take Zoloft and help all those micro preemies that they prescribe the milk to. *sighs* I often have times {because I hate meds and tend to be overly skeptical} where I wonder if the Zoloft is actually doing anything or if it's me. Oh! and you know how they say loss of one sense heightens the others? Apparently the same idea applies to behavioral issues. So now that the Zoloft is masking my depression and anxiety/panic issues my ADD thing is flying like it was given new wings. So now I don't feel like some strange force is preventing my from doing anything, I'm not exhausted and I enjoy my children again but as i previously mentioned my attention span is shorter than my 9 month old's. I speak in incomplete thoughts, forget what I'm doing/get distracted constantly and the ability to stay on task is a laughable concept. So I care enough to want a clean house but do to my constant running around {and Zoloft apparently raping me of my sense of urgency} it can take a few determined days to get it done.

Q. So how are you?
A. Um... Currently I would say that I'm on a journey for self re-discovery and I lost my compass. I'm taking a day at a time and giving my self as much slack as I am pushing myself, Talking to Hilary about the things that frustrate me {though whether it falls on deaf ears or not is debatable}, and getting super excited about super tiny accomplishments {because if you ask me the little things are really what is important anyway}, and really starting to enjoy my kids again. I've been looking into new career/school paths. Lurking a few of my top few favourite blogs. Considering growing my hair out just to get it dreaded, and trying very hard to remember that it's okay to be silly around serious people. I'm pretty sure I definitely want to get my baccalaureate in Nutrition, but I have also played around with the idea of going back to culinary school {especially after I made these phatty Eggs Benedict that nearly changed my life {or made me smile} and {and this is the big one} fantasizing about this awesome natural school in Washington {state} where I could get a BS or Masters in Nutrition or Doctorate in Naturopathy {that's right I'd be Queen Dani N.D.} the curriculum is just as rough as the price... but OMGosh. I'd love it. But for now I need to focus on me and my head and the small picture so that I can find out if I can actually handle it and what not.

*heh* so I know that your seats must be tingling to see the question that I'll answer next but I totally need to TBC {to be continued} this... it's time for the kiddies and I to peddle our way to target to pick up my prescription and then do random mommy & kid things. So feel free to add your own real reader question in the comments and I'll answer them along with all my own faux reader questions next post.

toodles,
queen dani

...and the journey begins.

Tomorrow marks a new journey, one that begins with passing up the rare chance to sleep in so that I can drive panicked and white knuckled for an hour to our not so local mental health clinic. As I have hinted or possibly bluntly stated before something is just not right... it hasn't been for a long time and now it has grown to a head so to speak. I'd rather not get all emo about it. It's just not my thing. It is simply time for me to take care of me. And so tomorrow I'm going to wake up bright and early... and start this new journey to a whole, healthier, more "me" me.. get it? The funny thing is despite my previous resolve and understanding of the whole yes I need to get help thing... now it seems silly, like I'm supposed to go talk to a stranger and be all poor me? I know it's not actually like that but it just seems silly now.
For now I'm just trying to focus on how not silly it's going to seem when I'm closer to my "normal" state, when I'm not so easily frustrated with my children, when I can keep up with and enjoy life...
And so..
I am sucking it up.
I am cleaning my house.
And tomorrow I'll be taking the plunge... and you know... pretending driving doesn't totally freak me out.
{But for now I'm off to the store to get some sort of sugary pastry breakfast to go with my coffee and Pilates at before the sun come up in the morning. *giggles*}

The return of: Not Me! Monday

So it's no secret I've been gone for awhile... I've been busy/out of touch/whatever... not inspired. But I've decided (as I often do) to try the "fake it till you make it" approach in an attempt to be a functional... well... anything. And so now with out much more ado I bring you...



That right! Not me! Monday; that stupendous blog carnival set in to motion by the fabulous Mckmama in an attempt to free our minds of countless indiscretions and oh no he di'nt moments while we share the wonderfulness that is mommy-dom... or you know, not.

I have not waited to the absolute last minute to enroll Rowan E. in school... the last minute would technically be Friday and Friday hasn't happened yet... but... I of course was on top of my mommy job and enrolled her way back in January...

I have not totally decided that it's absolutely okay for her to go to public school because I most certainly need a break.

I would never let my children run around in the nude, so of course there are never accidents on the floor... and I certainly wouldn't blog about it.

I am not absolutely ecstatic that Teijah has stopped forcing himself to poo 5 to 6 times a day just to get poosnacks..
He also has not worn diapers at sleep times for over a week.

And finally... since I know all children are different and uniquely special I my concern did not suddenly become overwhelming and I did not frantically Google the term micropenis and research all day. *sighs* I am not even going to go there... but I will say I'm so not concerned now... and ew... serious ew.

So want to get on all the Not me! fun? Head on over to Mckmama's blog for all the detail and to see what she, and every one else is not doing.

Oh baby, baby...

Oops!
... He did it again.
He peed on the flooo-or
Hes. Just. Not. Potty trained...

*giggles*

If someone were to come unannounced (okay, okay.. and sometimes with days notice) chances are my boys would be nonchalantly frolicking in their birthday suits. That's just the way we roll. Naked is normal, natural and the way we were all born; I have often pointed out that "if it wasn't okay to be naked, you'd be born with clothes on.. *sighs* I just feel that being comfortable (aka not prude) with their tiny bodies is the beginning of a healthy body image (or even just plain being happy with what they've got) later in life. But I digress, I am not campaigning for a less prude America... there are too many sickos out there.

moving on...

An obvious side effect of all this streaking is the frequent occasional incident where Ori A. a child who will remain nameless pees and/or poos on the floor. On our tile floor...

Now despite the initial frustration that I have to clean the floor.. again, or at least that I should; I'm really starting to think this naked baby thing is really one of the best things to incorporate into my "potty awareness" repartee. Now you may say: "Okay, seriously, Queen Dani, Seriously?" (you know if your kids love Demi Lovato like mine do) or you may borrow one from my book and say "Peeing on the floor is so the opposite of potty training, you silly Dani." And well I'd have to disagree. You see when he's urinating (and hopefully not pooping) on the floor... he always notices. He stops what he's doing he watches, sometimes he looks at me, and then I exclaim "you're peeing on the FLOOR" like it's the best thing ever. He smiles stares at his puddle, and then I try to rush over and grab him before he plops on to his baby ba-dunk-a-dunk bottom and starts finger painting swooshing it around.

I don't always make it.

But like I said he always notices and that's a big deal. Being aware is one of the first steps in potty training whether you're early potty training or waiting until your child is ready and they also happen to be 3 (or four or whatever).

*sighs* Now if I could just get the timing down so I can get him to go in the toilet so we can get some "toilet association" started. We started Teijah (around 6 months, when he could sit) by sitting him on the toilet when he woke up... but Teijah pretty much woke up to pee and was finicky about his diapers, he learned pretty quickly that we wanted him to pee on the potty and would even force some out when he was seated... but we weren't strict with it.. the idea was for him to just get the idea so that when he could tell he needed to go the transition would be easier.

Ori just thinks it's hilarious to sit on the toilet. He prefers to pee standing on the floor...
maybe that's the miniature macho man inside him...
sitting, squatting and the like are for the lady folk...
*giggles*

so you see sometimes peeing on the floor is good..
you know, as long as they don't know better.

I love the internet....

So just for fun and gearing up for my evaluation on the fourteenth I figured I'd do some of those free online self checks...

this is the advice the internet gave me:
"Your score was 37 out of a possible 45.

These answers indicate that you have severe depression. Please seek out a therapist to talk about this. If this is not possible or you are not comfortable with this, please call your nearest suicide hotline.You may also find it helpful to repeat this test from time to time; tracking your score and your responses may help you recognize when depression is beginning to build, or perhaps to understand what events might trigger your depression.

This test was adapted from The Feeling Good Handbook by David Burns. If you found this test useful, you may want to buy this book; it has many useful suggestions for dealing with depression."

thanks internet... thanks alot.

Because I'm crazy for that cow....

So we were on a somewhat routine shopping trip this morning trying to quickly grab whatever we needed because the kids still had not had breakfast,
(yes, I'm that mom - shush we were at the store to get breakfast...)
{and free cookies}
and Teijah tends to be so ravenous (you, know when he is actually hungry and willing to eat) that he tries to open all sorts of packages with his teeth in an attempt to satisfy said hunger. If we are not quick when he is experiencing said raging hunger that results in a remembrance of his hunt and gather instincts... well lets just say I imagine it would result in me being forced to hide buy a lot of half eaten merchandise.
So any way there we were, rushing around with the cart that is way too huge that Teijah insists on getting even though he always decides to walk 2 minutes later...
We ran towards the dairy section and grabbed a few varieties of pre-made yogurt then we headed over to the organic dairy section to pick my soy milk (which isn't organic anymore apparently... bastards. When I started drinking it the box always read *filtered water, *organic soybeans, etc., and then I see this new green {not pretty btw} box of "Organic Silk". Whatever.) While I reached out for my *not organic* soy milk I thought it would be cute to get the baby some of his own gimmicky baby yogurt so I scanned the organic baby varieties and much to my surprise found this:


and I said to myself {yes, out loud} well that's pretty awesome. You see I've been randomly sneaking veggies into baby's whatever doesn't usually have veg via these Happy Baby spinach and fruit cubes {which I don't entirely ♥ btw, way too watery. My homemade food has substance and I was really hoping the "just like homemade" stuff would too. So what I do is after it has had it's 30 seconds in the microwave and before I stir, I drain off the excess water and then mix it into say fresh banana, and plain yogurt, or my frozen bannappley yogurt oatmeal cubes.}
*ahem*
so anyway I scan the ingredients for any offenders, decide this may be the best thing ever, then place one of each {of 2 kinds they had} into my cart. Awesomeness.

We check out, weigh everyone, and of course a few "drinkable" yogurts were passed to the starving children in the car... they turned down the apples, they wanted more artificially flavoured and dyed yogurt... tough cookies I say.
So we get home.
I get everything situated while children chant things like "have some please mom" and try to open more yogurts with their teeth. I set the older children up with their greek {not artificially flavoured & dyed} yogurt, orange juice and a doughnut of their picking {yes, doughnuts.}
Then I took pictures of the baby yogurt. Why? because I'm nuts.
And while I was photographing the boxes I notices that *tee.hee.hee* this is not Stoneyfield after all... It's Horizon... an right there on the box is my favourite little cow. I of course can not believe I didn't notice in the store, but am psyched. I love that cow! I love that it's skim milk has the substance of whole... that's a sign of some very happy cows folks.I also love how it never seems to irritate my lactose intolerance as much as "regular" milk. One day that happy cow's milk will be the only milk that passes through my kiddies lips... but for now *grrr* The government buys my milk and apparently my kids aren't good enough for organic.
moving on...
Then it was "little" man's turn
{did I mention he's walking.. or toddling really he's pretty wobbly sometimes, but seriously he's 7 months old give the kid a break.}


He's also pretty mad in this picture, am sure he's thinking:
"why does she keep taking pictures instead of feeding me!"
Except I also imagine that he swears and calls me vial woman... like Stewie.


Notice now he see's the food and is now looking hopeful.
Notice also how I manage to get consistent blurry backgrounds with my crappy point and click. I wouldn't exactly call it bokeh... but I'm still pretty proud that I figured it out. You see really it's all about the closeness of the camera and the half button focus.
moving on
So I decided to let him try the strawberry carrot first.


*Yum* It looks creamy and promising.


*giggles* I missed his mouth trying to get a picture.


There that's better... he totally "baby birded it" for every bite. And he ate the whole four ounces...
See?


{and see there's that consentrated focus/blurry back ground thing again - just not quite where I wanted it *sighs* a point and shoot can only do so much}


So any way here's the gimmick:
*It is yogurt with fruit AND a veg.
*it comes in 3 flavours: banana sweet potato, strawberry carrot, butternut squash apple
*and if you go here now you can get a coupon.
{there is also currently a coupon on the package.. :( but I totally ripped mine.}
* they are DHA enriched but not via a supplement of synthetic source, they use Algal oil from algea - so this yogurt is ok for lacto-vegetarians} - No this is a big deal because it means that the DHA is 100% bioavailable... for those of you that didn't just finish a nutrition class *grins* bioavailablity is how much of what ever you are intacking actually can be used - or is available to the body. So all food sources are always 100% while supplements are only maybe 30% bioavailable... get it?
*they come in cute 4 oz containers
*What can I say... I love the cow... it makes me happy.

Oh one thing though... it does have sugar... I felt a little tricked when I scanned the ingredient a second time at home. As you know {or don't know but are about to} I've been trying to kick the sugar out of our home and one of the ways I've been working on it is to find ways to cook fruits and veg to bring out their natural sweetness ... so the unexpected *unbleached cane sugar* sighting made me cringe a little. It is the 5th ingredient though. It's the third {of like 20} in Danimals, and the second in the greek yogurt we bought today, so I'm going with it's not that bad, and it's placement on the list means it's scant.... and Ori absolutely ♥ -ed it.
All in all I think that it's an awesome edition to our homemade stuff.
So check it out,
show the cow some love {I really &hearts that cow!},
{and sneak your kids some veggies too!}

Pray for Stellan! Monday

It's just not fair. I can't help but be angry, frustrated, and even sick over this. Every time I share a moment with my own baby, (which is often, because let's face it he's clingy) I feel guilty (and then I pull him closer and thank God, and then grumble to Him a little.) I can't help but think MckMama should be able to do this too. I have been begging, pleading, and then asking God nicely to calm Stellan's heart, to heal him, to make him strong and resilient. Then I tried to rationalize with him. You see it was because of Stellan that I "came back home" so to speak, at least he was the final step that brought the idea from theological philosophy to practice, He got me praying... and not just for silly little things for my self, but fervently and for him. I have been speaking with God on a daily basis... "now why God, would you take that away," I reasoned. So, by the end of my long night my prayer became for God to please give Stellan, the opportunity to be as great a Man as he was an infant. The chance to bring so many others to God, and do amazing things. That's all I've got. So please pray for sweet Stellan, things have really taken the turn for the worse - but I'm not buying it. Like I said I'm angry, new, and raw... so I can't just find some eloquent way to say God will take care of it and mean it. I'm kind of screaming at him to, and I have a problem accepting the answer "No."

Simply for the sake of posting

What? Haven't you heard? Baby toes = YUM!


circa 5/11/2009

Lifes a beach...

Once upon a time when our little family still lived at my mothers (after a series of unfortunate events) we would set aside one day each weekend to ride our bikes 15 miles to the beach with our (or rather my) still low in number children in tow.
*ahem* I feel that I should point out that I don't think the addition of one more really puts me in the ranks John & Kate (Though My Love is getting close, his tally is currently at 5) or Michelle Duggar but for some reason (ironically) in our go bigger or go home society people (a LOT of people.. seriously, EVERY time I go out with all of them) start asking "Are they all yours?" once you get to #3. Sometimes I think maybe they are just trying to be nice, you know, because I definitely look like I had three kids. Moving on...
So every Sunday the four of us set off with minimal beach equipment and ample water, the children happily loaded into their cart, My Love and I on our rusty but reliable (and very heavy) bicycles, me in my huge grandma shorts *lol*. It was always awesome, lots of good exercise, Teijah loved the water and eating the sand, Rowan E. freaked out and was scared of the water, and we all were looking tan shiny and healthy. Then we had a fortunate turn of events and were able to get our own house, but it was much to far from the beach and our little family was unfortunately out of our short lived tradition.
And then Mark came to visit....

Sorry I have no idea who's butt that is, I didn't even notice she was there when I was taking the picture *giggles* and now her brightly flowered bum is part of our family memories forever... let this be a lesson to anyone bending over at the beach. It is always better to sit when collecting shells...
*sighs* Of course I'm going to have to name her... or at least her fanny.
Of course Mark, who hasn't lived in Florida most of his life and does not have ocean beaches at his disposal was very adamant about going to the beach. The first day I sent them (Mark, My Love, and My Love's 3rd baby's(our sometimes Y number 1A lol) mama Sara), off with my car. The next day when the boy's wanted to go again I decided to go as well despite my lack of bathing suit. It of course was fantabulous.
The six of us packed into my 5 seat Kia Sephia, and with Mark driving headed towards Sanibel Island. On the way there we paid $7 in tolls made a quick stop to pick up an awesome guitar that Mark found for us on Craiglist for $20 *thanks Mark, and is still totally doing the happy dance* and at a little mom and pop shop to pick up more water and some yummy fried chicken that Mark got a great deal on.
Rory had to go potty of course so the boys went ahead of us.
Walking down the walk to the beach I saw this:


...and a warm happiness filled my heart. I could hear a child crying in the distance, so I looked around and thought "well that's certainly not Teijah! He must be so happy to be in the water again."
as I walked closer I still couldn't figure out where the crying was coming from and then I saw my son's twisted grimace. He was not happy. He was freaked out and most certainly did not want to be in the water. So I did what anyone would do, I picked him up and walking further out into the water laughing and jumping as the waves crashed against it. He bought it too and way belly laughing right along with my, that is until the wave that was taller than his 5'1 mommy and he got water in his face... his current phobia/annoyance. And so that was it, then Teijah spent the rest of his time at the beach like this:


Except for when he "borrowed" someone's beach toys


Oh and yes, all my very musical children can keep a beat/rhythm... Just in case you were wondering.

With in seconds of hitting the sand Rory looked around quickly, like she had a radar device in her head, and found the first kid she could see. Once her target was sighted she ran over and made friends. And her time at the beach was spent as such:


I'm going to have to watch out for that girl...


Little Ori loved the water and My Love even boasted that he laid flat in the water (Which is a big deal to him, Teijah never did he always was trying to keep his head out of the water, you know; because he has survival skills and this would never happen to him.)


When he grew over stimulated and was done with the sun he hung out like this in the stroller:

And because I always think of little Stellan every time Ori does something for the first time (they are close in age) before we left I couldn't help but to write his name in the sand:


And on the way home we stopped at a Chick-fil-A drive thru so we could finally see what the big deal was. After we got home Mark and My Love got dolled up to go have a boys night out with My Loves poppy and the kids and I settled around our coffee table to munch on our yummy Chick-fil-A feast (which came complete with shakes which were so worth the suffering) and watch Princess Protection Program.

We have totally decided to readopt our family tradition, but if we're planning on adding Chick-fil-A to our beach fun we'll have to switch to Saturdays since they are a Christian run corporation and are closed on Sunday's... which is as neat as it is inconvenient. *grins*

Now I seriously need to find a job to support my newly found Chick-fil-A habit... and you know, so I can buy car seats.

So maybe he just wanted to relive his birth...

...or, you know, just scare the crap out of me.
I was just giving the boys their bath, and Ori was just crawling around chasing his boat - the one toy out of all the bath toys that he plays with. He was doing a good job as he usually does I stood over the boys, warned Teijah a few times (as usual) to "watch out for baby, because he doesn't know how to take himself out of the water."
Which really is just baffling because he knows how to sit up and he knows how to crawl, he can stand and is on the verge of walking... but baby boy seriously has no survival skills. I suppose I also have never given him the chance to show me differently. So anyway, it's the boys evening bath as usual, they were doing so well that I even contemplated slipping into the toilet room to pee... I really had to pee but then Teijah and Ori started moving around again. So I took that as a sign and stayed. Business went on as usual boys playing, baby chasing stupid yellow boat, then Teijah tried to grab something, I put down my lemon aid, babies arm slipped, Teijah scooted back, baby fell face first in water, DID NOT flip over in the same instant that his older brother would have, mommy quickly - and I mean very quickly pulls colour changing baby out of water, blows in babies face, smacks, babies back, chants "breathe baby breathe" and "come on baby." a very familiar scene only last time we were both still in the bath, there were way more grown ups, and he wasn't the only one with everything hanging out... and I wasn't scared he was going to actually die. I blew in his face, nothing. I slapped him on his back, nothing. I put him on all four on the floor and slapped his back, again nothing. I swore at myself for never really remembering CPR and especially not infant CPR. I chanted some more. blew in his face. Slapped his back then finally some faint noises emerged from my youngest son.. not enough to ease my nerves but enough to let me know I didn't need to call 911. Then Teijah started crying to me to get him out. I yelled at him. Patting babies back, told him baby was not ok and he needed to suck it up. I took him out with one hand and handed him a towel... which of course he wanted help with. I yelled at him again and walked around patting baby. Finally baby gagged and puked up nothing and started making happy noises. I put him down and helped Teijah with his stupid towel and apologized for yelling and explained myself. *sheesh* Stupid baby with no survival skills trying to drown himself and holding his breath for way too long. ugh.

Oh no he di'nt!

So I'm wondering if i should just give up and give the baby a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Apparently Teijah feels he has waited long enough and likes to leave parts of his PB&J's tucked into places secret places for Ori to finds as he ventures through out the house. In case you have not put 2 and 2 together, Ori has yet again found Teijah's PB&J and was in fact munching on it... only he definitely had the peanut butter side this time and did not growl like a puppy losing his bone when I took it away this time but rather smiled as though he was satisfied with the peanut buttery goodness. I did however stop to a take picture this time, after I took away the sandwich of course, and since it's Not Me! Monday I know you'll forgive me for the pile of laundry that is NOT next to him, and the quality of the picture... it is after all monsoon season here in Florida.


He certainly looks pleased with himself. :)

Not Me! Monday

Welcome to this installment of NOT ME! Monday the spectacular Blog carnival set forth by the endearing MckMama to help us (her loyal followers) vent, rant, rage, and deny all life most interesting moment. Want to join in on all this bloggy fun? Well head on over to her site to get the complete rules and to see what she and everyone else is not doing. Having our friend Mark visit for a few days did not make me miss the communal home we had when My Love and I first got together. I am not terribly lonely and do not feel lost all. the. time.
I did not tell Left Brained, Genius, My Love that he sucks, and does not challenge me creatively and that he has made me boring.
I have not thought about blogging about how terrible "adaptable" is as a personality trait and how parents should discourage adaptive behavior by mimicking their child's behavior to keep their "adapts easily" child unique.
I was not completely psyched when Mark searched and found an awesome deal ($20) on a guitar on Craigslist, and then decided to buy it for me and the children. I was not even more psyched when the $20 guitar was of the acoustic classical variety. I have not been contemplating dropping my 4 credit Creative Experience for the Young Child class so I can swap it for the 1 credit guitar class that is offered at the same time.
I am also not going to keep my fall ceramics class, which is not cohesive with My Love's schedule. My younger children will not be going to daycare from 10 to 2 on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the Fall just so I can feel full filled, because I of course feel that it is important for the children to be only socialized selectively and by their parent for at least the first few years of their lives.
My wanderlust has not yet loomed to the extreme where taking my city dwelling children into the woods with the hippies no longer screams CAUTION, and THEY AREN'T READY YET! in my head, and I am not totally jealous of anyone going to the National Rainbow Gathering or you know, anywhere.
I do not feel like a mossy tumbleweed must feel.
In case you didn't know, I have not switched my major from Nursing/Pre-med to Education just so my career would warrant summers off and I will be free to travel.
I did not suddenly for the first time in my life notice I was compulsively eating out of sadness, and if I did, I would not have shrugged my shoulders and went on munching on Teijah's "Hurray you went poo poo on the potty!" mini Kit-Kats.
My love did not clog the toilet when we were on our way out the door to take Mark to catch his ride out of town and not mention anything about it. Later that day Teijah did not go in the bathroom to go potty on the potty like a big boy. I did not hear him flush the toilet twice and then hear a large splash noise. And I certainly did not hear him scream "I DID IT!" as he was running out of the bathroom. When handing My Love our baby who is not way too clingy again now that he's over the fact he can get around he did not say "Oh yeah the toilet was clogged but I didn't know where the plunger was and we were in a hurry." I did not have to clean up 1 inch of water and tiny pieces of grown up poo off the bathroom floor... because you know grown ups use the grown up bathroom and fix plumbing problems right away. I did not tell My Love that he sucked and next time it was his turn, and that when he's old and pooing himself we were going to have to hire a nurse because there was no way in hell I was ever cleaning up his poo again, no matter how much I love him.
And, I was not absolutely pleased with my self for switching my major when I realized that if I was a nurse/doctor I could have to clean up grown up poo every day... because I of course would never change my major... I'm going to be Doctor Dani M.D. and would never settle for Doctor Dani Ph.D.

His brother's keeper

I was busying away in the kitchen making some nutty banapple pancakes and Ori had and his crankiness had found their way to the kitchen, sat up, and did that thing where he refuses to move but will sit there and make strange animal noises until someone picks him up. Since it was way too early in the morning and I knew I had no time to deal with him and his plump grumpiness I pick him up and plopped his chunkiness on the counter next to me so I could continue on with my pancake process.
Then I hear a beautifully round toddler voice ask:"Mom? Baby?"
So I answer: "The baby is in the kitchen with me Teijah."
To that he responded: "No. mom, PLAY!"
Giggling I asked: "You want the baby to play with you, Teijah"
He answered with a very serious: "yeah, mom. baby PLAY!"
Still giggling: "Alright Teijah,you can play with baby."
With that Teijah ran off to get his bucket of cars and I picked up "little" Ori and brought him into the living to play with his very eager big brother.
*smiles* Awesome.
Teijah really is an amazing big brother... and it's a good thing too,
especially since (and it's no secret but it certainly will be later) we had him for Teijah. That's right my only "planned" baby was for the benefit of my other baby *lol*. The five (4 at the time) year old's kept excluding him, he even got pushed off the top bunk once... ridiculous. It makes me so happy to see how well it is working out, and he appears to be very happy and willing to share his toys be his brother's keeper.

Coming to terms with my ginormocity.

That's right I said it. I am indeed ginormous, which is a big deal when you're five foot one (and three quarters). Now I feel that perhaps getting over being ginormous is similar to kicking an alcohol addiction: The first step is admitting you have a problem. So here goes:
Stands up, waves.
"Hi, my name is Dani, and I am ginormous."
Now that I've got that out of the way I suppose the "healing" can begin, or rather the shrinking.
So there you have it, I'm on a mission to loose a substantial amount of weight and make some substantial life changes along the way.
What's that?
How substantial?
Well I want to be ready to at least start training to run marathons by my next birthday.
What?
Oh you meant how substantial of a weight loss?
Ah...
Ummm...
Alright...
Let's just say I'm 50 pounds round and like to remedy that by *crosses fingers* Ori's 1st birthday on December 13th (which is also my & H's anniversary).
I &hearts challenging myself.
It is so on.
50 pounds, 6 months
GO!