Real Mommy Chronicles

Sooo…December Happened

Posted by RealMommyChron on December 23, 2011

I’m not sure where I’ve been. Or where December went. Or even when it got here.

Suddenly, it is the Eve of Christmas Eve. What the what?

Not much happened the first few weeks of December.

I went to the gym at least four times a week. Lost no weight at all. Possibly had a few handfuls of Nestle chocolate baking chips (As in stop eating them straight from the bag, freak!) to deal with my frustration.

There was karate. And art projects. House cleaning. And some baking. Netflix. And even a holiday party or two.

Everything was pretty ho hum.

And then Wham! Bam! Pow!

First, our nanny went back to Mexico for at least three months. She isn’t sure if she is returning at all, actually. I was emotional enough about her leaving, but then she wrote this card. The kind of card that I will keep for my entire life. That kind of card. The kind that had me sobbing so hard you would have thought someone killed my puppy. (If I had a puppy.) She wrote the kindest, most thoughtful things about all four of us and it just about broke me.

I never even wanted a nanny. Before we had kids I told my husband I didn’t want to have any help. The way he grew up, it is normal to have a nanny and house cleaner so he fought me a bit. I caved and said maybe, maybe part time and she had to be really old and ugly. Next thing I knew I had a young, beautiful woman in my house all of the time helping me take care of my kids when I had to work. And it was wonderful. Because she truly loves my kids. It is so incredibly special to know that when you can’t be there, the person caring for your kids actually loves them and enjoys being with them. She told me so in part of her card.

So, my heart broke a little when we said good bye.

And then, the next day, we got swept off to Disney World by one of the three sets of Grandparents. It was fabulous – so fabulous that it needs its own separate post that will be coming shortly. We went from lots of sadness…to stepping foot into the Happiest Place on Earth! Intense.

And because we don’t believe in anything but extreme swings of the pendulum in this family, we came home with fevers, vomiting and mouth sores, yippee! Yes, folks, despite what you may believe, there are germs at Disney. Shocking, I know. What mom doesn’t like to hear the word ‘Coxsackie’ five days before both sides of the family arrive for Christmas Day? I was super excited when the pediatrician diagnosed it.

Awesome! You know what? That was totally going around Carlitos’ preschool last year and we managed to miss it so I’m wicked excited to try it out! Something new! OOOh, and lace-like rashes may arrive in a few days? How pretty! We will look like three little wrapped up Christmas presents, all red and lacey and….blistery. Hmmm….

So December kind of crept by me quickly like a stealth Christmas elf and then SMACK! it hit me in the face with all kinds of intensity in it’s final moments. Kind of like one of those sneaky Elves on the Shelves, like this one.

And honestly, I think our tree kind of reflects the craziness, joy and memories of this December and this year.

First of all, all ornaments have rearranged no less than 78 times. Credit goes to Carlitos and Xavi for that. Mostly Xavi. Second of all, at this point, there are no more ornaments on the bottom of our tree. They have either been broken or almost broken and then moved up to higher tree limbs by mommy. Credit goes entirely to Xavi on this one. Third of all, we could only put on about five of our glass ball ‘filler’ ornaments, as those were sure to be immediately shattered as well. Again, Xavi. He’s worse than the damn cat with this tree!

So, to fill in our naked tree we began putting our Christmas cards on there. Husband’s idea, but I love it. And then Patricia, before she left, helped the boys make beautiful, glittery paper ball ornaments. Lastly, today Carlitos and I made snowflakes and he decided to hang them all over the tree. Apparently, the reason Christmas is his favorite holiday is because it means ‘the snow days’ are coming. Silly me, I thought he liked it for the presents.

I should also mention that we cut down our own tree. Which I think makes it even more ‘us.’ Not in a romantic, We Are So Awesome and Wholesome kind of way, but more in a We Do Everything the Hardest Way Possible and Call it a Memory sort of way.

So, even though it is a bit scraggly, is undressed from the pants down, and has clusters of ornaments next to awkward vacant expanses, I love it. Because it also has photos of people that we love, ornaments made by people that we miss, and snowflakes made as a family.

Happy December, everyone! And remember: Wash your hands, wash your hands, wash your hands!

Posted in Real: my personal trials, tribulations and tales | Tagged Christmas Eve Eve, Coxsackie can coxsuckit, I love our nanny, wacky Christmas tree | 1 Comment

Little Miss Helpful

Posted by RealMommyChron on December 1, 2011

I like to bring a lot to my friends and family. And really just to the world in general, you know?

I mean, I don’t teach full time anymore, so I have to be a giver in other ways.

For my husband I do awesome things like offer to go pick up his dry cleaning. And show up there with no money or credit cards. Twice. I am pretty sure he appreciated the gesture even though I came home empty handed both times. Wearing the same work shirt for three days because all the rest were held hostage at the dry cleaners probably let him reminisce about his college days. If he ever writes an autobiography I am pretty sure it will be things like this that come to mind when he wants to describe what a great life partner he chose.

My children are also super lucky to have me as their mom. I do great things like steal their best Halloween candy, trick them into eating foods they don’t want to eat, help them get dressed and give them fun presents like books and socks. Some day they will be the most well-adjusted, happy, confident and motivated self-starters ever. They will thank me then. I am sure of it.

For my friends I also do lots of amazing things. Just today I made my 9 months pregnant friend wait 30 minutes at a restaurant for me while I was stuck underground waiting for the elusive and mysterious “G Train.” (Turns out, if you wait for 3 or more F trains to pass, click your heels and pull on your left ear, the G train does finally magically appear! It’s real!) Granted, I could have given myself an extra 30 minutes to get there and not left exactly on time. But I am sure she was grateful to have some time to herself for half an hour with aromas of delicious Cuban food wafting around her. I know that’s how I would have felt when I was on the verge of giving birth.

As a daughter, I work hard to let my parents know that they are still an important part of my life. I bring home plenty of laundry every time we visit and make sure the car’s gas light is on. Sometimes they groan or show what seems like genuine concern (good acting, guys!) that perhaps I need to ‘get my act together.’ But I know that secretly their hearts are swelling with the warmth that comes from feeling needed.

Okay, okay, so wanting to give a lot to those around you doesn’t always mean you succeed.

But there is one area of my life where I think I am truly succeeding in giving to those around me. It happens to be an area where I am not intentionally trying to be thoughtful.

The gym.

More specifically, the exercise classes at the gym. I swear, I am the chubbiest woman in every single class I take. You might think I am exaggerating, but I’m not.

A) I have tried multiple classes to see if it continues to remain true. Kick boxing – check. Stability Ball – check. Step – check. Pilates – check. Zumba is still on my short list of classes to try, but I assume the situation will be the same.

B) There are at least 15 people in every class.

It kind of sucks. For me, anyway.

I think it is pretty awesome for everyone else in the class, though. I see them start to fade but then glance at me and start lifting those knees higher. I know what they’re thinking:

If chubs can still do her 20th roundhouse, I can too!

I am seriously considering asking the gym for a discount membership since I am helping to motivate so many of their clients.

Or at least a gold star. Or an inspirational poster. (Because I need some inspiration, too, guys!) Or a tiara.

Just, something.

Something that I can show to my family and friends so that they see that I am not entirely unhelpful in all areas of my life.

Posted in Real: my personal trials, tribulations and tales | Tagged awards, bad daughter, bad friend, bad mom, bad wife, chubs goes to the gym, good daughter, good friend, good mom, good wife | 7 Comments

Run, Annie, Run!

Posted by RealMommyChron on November 23, 2011

I may have mentioned once or twice or – okayfinedamnit – a gazillion times on here that I still have some weight to lose after becoming a mom twice over.

Lately I have been trying to achieve my goals through exercise. I found a Y near us that offers up to 2 hours of free child care a day. (Yes, obviously sometimes I just drop them off and actually sprint next door and read trashy magazines and do tequila shots for two hours at a dive bar and then sprint back so that I at least look a little sweaty. Wouldn’t you?)

In any event, I usually stick to my trusty cardio kickboxing classes, elliptical and weight machines. Sometimes I’ll kick it old school with a step class. Shockingly, I have yet to try the mommy mecca of all classes: Zumba. I do want to, but the line to get a ticket to get into class overwhelms me.

Plus, I tend to fight trends that are aimed exactly at my demographic. I didn’t purchase a pair of low-rise jeans until well into my sophomore year of college.

Something you will likely never find me doing at the gym? Running.

The only place you are less likely to find me than a treadmill is a yoga studio. Shoot me.

My aversion to treadmills could have something to do with the emotional scars I still carry from flying off of one when I was twelve, but I don’t think so. Although getting caught in your walk man wires, stopping to untangle – while the treadmill continues to speed along, and promptly being whipped off into the wall is embarrassing. Truly.

I honestly just never liked running that much.

However, something about seeing constant Facebook updates for all of the trillions of races my friends do finally inspired me:

I decided I wanted to do a 5k over Thanksgiving weekend. I enlisted the other 30-somethings who will be around this weekend and we decided we will either enter one or make up our own.

Suddenly, I realized I hadn’t run in oh…years. [Insert Fat Mommy Joke here about 'Unless you count running to the __________ store for chocolate ______________!' Ehhhyyohhhh!]

So I went to the gym yesterday and ran a 5k on the treadmill. You know, just to double check that attempting it this weekend wouldn’t make me vomit and die.

About 5 seconds in I remembered another reason I am not so fond of running: I currently jiggle more than Ol’ Saint Nick himself. ‘Twasn’t pretty.

But I didn’t stop.

Listen, if I can push out two human beings who have ‘Horcasitas – size’ heads (no offense, family) with no drugs whatsoever, I can do this. (Yes, I am pretty certain the whole point of having a natural birth is to drop it casually in stories like this and give yourself a pat on the back. They didn’t give out any gold stars at the hospital so I will have to create my own glory.)

And today, even though my butt feels like I did three Buns of Steel videos in a row, I am feeling pretty good about myself. The older I get, the more I find myself just doing things, rather than attempting things. I tend to not let people or things get in my way as much as I did even a few years ago.

And that feels so good.

Honestly, it feels even better than just randomly running a 5k at the gym on a Tuesday as a chubby mom of two. And that feeling is pretty hard to top.

Posted in Real: my personal trials, tribulations and tales | Tagged 5k, chubby, jiggle, mommy, natural birth, race, running, treadmill | 4 Comments

What Autumn Means to Me…

Posted by RealMommyChron on November 20, 2011

by Annie Horcasitas

My best friend’s name is Autumn, so this title could be interpreted several ways, but right now I am referring to the season. You mean a lot to me too, Aut, if you’re reading this (which you SHOULD be, Supportive Best Friend!) but that will be a different post.

In any event, I LOVE Fall. LOVE IT.

It makes me happy. And nostalgic. And hungry.

Most of all, everything done in Autumn feels somehow more meaningful. Everything has the fuzzy glow of a memory in the making.

Here are some of the special memories we’ve made while celebrating the awesomeness of Fall this year…

Making date night more of a priority

Eating more meat while on dates

Ensuring that even nights at home feel like cozy date nights more often

Fitting in date night moments that sometimes don’t revolve around food and drink

(I REALLY wish I was allowed to post photos of my husband on here. )

And then we even make some non-date night memories! (What?!? Yes! It’s true)

We bake yummy things like carrot cake cookies!

We do arts and crafts and coloring and work books up the WAZOO. (While we wait for cookies to bake, of course)

Also, please pay no mind to random objects seen on the floor – apparently Fall does NOT mean regularly cleaning my home.

Aprons (or ‘eggplants,’ as Carlitos refers to them) are a big part of our Fall wardrobe.

Fall is also the perfect time for taking Hipstamatic photos. They make everything seem special and instantly nostalgic. Yes, even while it is still taking place.

This Hipstamatic print is of our newest cousin playing hockey…in Vermont. Oh yes. How very Fall.

What could possibly be more ‘Fall’ than hockey in Vermont?

Ohhhh, a cemetery in Vermont. A really old cemetery in a quaint town…shot in Hipstamatic.

So Fall.

Gravestones from the 1800s. With mountains on all sides. Super Fall.

(As are plaid fleece and leather high tops. And hooded sweatshirts.)

Perhaps one of the most Autumnal things you can do?

Break out the plaid, fleece, old-man pajamas….

and wear them all day long.

Because they make for a pretty fantastic visual for all of these Autumn memories we’re making…

Stay cozy, guys. And please share YOUR favorite things to do in the Fall!

Posted in Mommy: just showing some baby love | Tagged Autumn, cemetery, cocktails, date night, Fall, hockey, I am oddly obsessed with Fall, nostalgia, steak, Vermont | Leave a comment

Blog it!

Posted by RealMommyChron on November 17, 2011

I don’t really have any business blogging. For starters, I don’t actually have any spare moments in a day – ever. And it’s not even like this gig is pulling in any money for us. (Look, Ma! No ads!)

But I like it.

I am a communicator. And also, what I believe is referred to as an ‘over-sharer.’ (Also known as someone with frequent and severe diarrhea of the mouth. Yes, I aim to make you proud, Mom.)

Blogging suits me.

So at this point, I often find myself thinking about blog posts throughout the day. Despite what some of our friends believe, I don’t actually need you to say, “Blog it!” any time something more exciting than an ant pooping takes place.

Trust me, I am already there.

I have already started writing the blog post in my head before I can even untangle my static clingified underwear from the ankle of my jeans in the middle of the playground. Or while I am still in mid-sprint away from the cab driver that is screaming at me and calling me an effing bastard. (When retelling that particular story to my husband the most upsetting part for me was that apparently the cab driver thought I was a male. My husband comforted me by assuring me a language barrier was probably much more likely.)

The problem is that, as I mentioned, I don’t actually have any free time. I have to steal moments in order to write blog posts. Mostly moments stolen from what would be my REM sleep state.

(That is a joke, for any non-parents reading this. Parents don’t actually partake in REM sleep.)

Typically, when I write some beautiful, eloquent, hysterical, clever blog post in my head I am also driving, ellipticalling, diaper changing, or dish washing.

I am never in the vicinity of a computer.

So, I jot down a few notes in my phone to jog my memory enough to rewrite that exact same post later that night. Obviously. Because a lack of sleep makes you super good at memory jogging.

Here are a few ‘notes’ I found recently in my phone:

Preggo exercise hard. Me watching beef.

Fireman at Fairway

At gym, toddler tumbling having snacks and milk was like the walking dead zombies smelled and all and stumbling toward us. Hard to fend off!!!!

Mayo!!!!! $$$ Still alive

Soap dispenser. Preggo.

How he eats lunch…Tell a man each detail to do – think ahead, oil spill, but is amazing, helps with everything, not like Mitt Romney.

Pillows (whores)

I mean, clearly these gems will help me write blog posts that are every bit as amazing as the first time I wrote them in my head, right?

Are you as excited as I am to try to figure out what the heck the connection between soap dispensers and a preggo are?!? Yeah, don’t hold your breathe waiting for the blog post titled: Soap Dispensers.

I just truly have no idea where I was going with that one.

It’s a wonder that I am as good at Taboo as I am. I will Taboo clue ANYONE under the table, but it seems I can’t figure out how to write down coherent and useful reminders to myself about things already going on in my own head.

I also love to look back and see what aspects of a story truly excite me:

Fending off toddler zombies in search of milk!!!!

Mayo!!!!!

It’s amazing I don’t have more friends.

Posted in Real: my personal trials, tribulations and tales | Tagged blogging about blogging, how to write a blog post, I might need a diagnosis, mayo!!!, notes to self | 6 Comments

Practically BFF

Posted by RealMommyChron on November 7, 2011

You know who probably knows me better than anyone else?

The FreshDirect delivery guys.

I mean, they don’t know my hopes and fears and goals in life.

And don’t worry, dear husband, they don’t know me in the biblical sense. That stuff only happens in dirty movies. I’m pretty sure, anyway.

But on a certain level, they know a more real version of me and of our life than even our closest friends and family.

For starters, they come into our home around 6 am. Now that is to truly see someone’s reality.

I don’t clean up before their arrival like I do for family.

I don’t put on a bra like I do before my husband’s friends come over.

I don’t do all the dishes and have a glass of wine ready for them like I do before my friends come over. (Okay, okay, like I do before my friend – singular – comes over.)

The boys are screaming while covering each other’s heads with a dish cloth. One has no shirt on. The other has no pants on. And the poor delivery guy has to step over no less than 15 books and toys to walk the 10 steps it takes to get to our kitchen.

Plus he sees me with no makeup on. Not even mascara.

I’ve been told that my morning breath is no joke either. So there’s that lovely truth they get to experience also.

Basically, it is a pretty raw and gritty encounter every time.

Not to mention, if they feel like being nosy, they can examine our order slip and see everything we eat all week. They know what I make my family for breakfast, lunch and dinner. They know that I buy organic milk and eggs every week…but also sometimes give my kids pepperoni Bagel Bites for lunch.

If you think about it, that says a lot about a mom.

And they know I’m still trying to lose this extra weight because I order so much darn arugula. And green tea.

But you know what? They still smile every time. Except that one guy who rings the wrong door bell every time and then yells at me when he finally calls my phone to tell me they have been waiting for 4 whole minutes.

But the rest are always super nice. Which I am going to assume has nothing to do with the fact that they are paid to be friendly and instead has everything to do with the fact that they still like me anyway.

Even after seeing the dirty underbelly of my life.

So I am strongly considering heading to Claire’s and getting them each a Best Friends necklace instead of their usual tip next week.

I am pretty sure they ‘get’ me, so I think they’ll appreciate it.

Posted in Real: my personal trials, tribulations and tales | Tagged 6 am, BFF, FreshDirect, know what you eat, pepperoni Bagel Bites, real life, really know you | 4 Comments

We Don’t Believe in Silence

Posted by RealMommyChron on November 3, 2011

I’m a Talker. Yes, capital T.

If you know me in real life, which most of you do since, you know, my three readers Your Mother, Erin and Monica all know me in real life, you know that it really is true:

I never shut up.

If you ever ask me to shut up, I will just talk more. (I also pride myself on being a special type of Annoying.) And I will probably hit you also for speaking to me with such disrespect. Or at least threaten to hit you if you ever tell me to shut up again.

(Please don’t call my bluff. I have never actually hit anyone, but I will be extremely mad at you for at least a minute and half if you tell me shut up again. And don’t try just saying Please Stop Talking…it is just as rude.)

In any event, I like to talk. A lot.

And I decided to procreate. So, guess what?

My boys both like to talk a lot. Imagine that.

Sometimes it drives me crazy. I am pretty sure plenty of people in my life (ahem, Moooom) secretly love this perfect payback for my own history of being a motormouth. (ps. Laughing hysterically actually makes it not so secret, but I’ll let you think you’re sneaky.)

But here is the thing you may not know: Being a Talker myself gives me insight in how to handle my little talkers.

Ignore them.

Not like ‘let Xavi sit in his crib screaming with a dirty diaper all day’ kind of ignoring. And not even’ refuse to respond to any of Carlitos’ 5,000 daily questions’ kind of ignoring.

But rather, Selective Periods of Vague Response type of ignoring.

If we are doing an activity together I will answer any and all questions and respond to all comments. Howeeevver, if, for example, Carlitos is coloring and I am trying, for example, to write, my responses are along the lines of, “Yes,” “Right,” “Of course,” and “Uh huh.”

This might sounds cruel, but the truth is, he literally doesn’t stop talking all day. So, if I were to stop everything and only speak to him all day long, well, our house would be even messier than it already is. And nobody would ever have a hot meal. And I would never have time to put on pants. Which means I could never leave the house. Which means they would never get to go to the playground. And then I would feel like a bad mommy. So at certain intervals during the day, such as when I need to accomplish something (like that whole pants thing), I utilize SPVR. (Crappy acronym, useful tool.)

Plus, do you think he really needs a thoughtful response to, “Is that a good idea, Mommy?” each of the 679 times he asks it each day?

No.

He needs to hear, “Yes, Carlitos!” Because his ideas are always along the lines of, “Should I go get my workbook and practice my letters, Mommy? Is that a good idea?” or “Should we pack up some snacks and go to the park, Mommy? Is that a good idea?” or “Should I start my dissertation now so that I can be finished with it before middle school, Mommy? Is that a good idea?”

Yes, Carlitos!

Now, when Xavi learns to string all those new words he keeps babbling about into sentences and starts verbalizing his ‘ideas’ and asking me what I think about them, I’ll have to change it up a little bit.

“Should I grab Osa’s tail and scream as loud as I can, Mommy? Is that a good idea?”

“Should I take the nice bowl of goldfish you gave me and half chew them all up and then throw them all over the entire living room, Mommy? Is that a good idea?”

“Should I deconstruct this bagel and rub the cream cheese in my clean hair and then use my crayon to scoop fresh poop out of my diaper and spread it on the table, Mommy? Is that a good idea?”

“Should I take every wooden animal magnet on the fridge and slide it into the tiny crevice on the stove top so that you can’t ever get to them without taking apart the stove, but will now worry constantly when the pilot flame will finally catch them on fire, Mommy? Is that a good idea?”

No, Xavi, those are not good ideas. Please try again.

He is lucky that it is pretty much impossible to mad at him with those beautiful eyes and goofy smile.

So please prepare yourself if you ever plan on entering our home. You may step on one of the thumbtacks from the box Xavi managed to open and then spread around the house. You will surely hear Xavi say the words Ball, Book and Go! ten times each. And you will absolutely be told all about clouds, apples, the number four and soccer - in detail – by my chatty little Carlitos.

That is, if you can hear anything over the sound of me talking your ear off.

Posted in Real: my personal trials, tribulations and tales | Tagged chatty, constant questions, constant talking, how to ignore, poop smearer, shut up, talker | 8 Comments

The Aftermath

Posted by RealMommyChron on November 1, 2011

The day after Halloween is one of the worst days of the entire year if you are a parent.

Post-sugar high crash isn’t pretty. Add to it the ongoing desire for even MORE candy and a slight headache from sipping cheap wine from a water bottle all night. It’s a rough day.

Oh, you thought this holiday was about the kids? Silly billy.

In all seriousness, the boys’ fatigue and sugar rush/crash/rush/crash delirium is a little overwhelming, too.

The treats also serve as another means for Carlitos to torment his brother.

Oh man. I totally feel bad for you that Mommy gave you lousy pretzels and is letting me have this blue Handy Manny lollipop. Here, have a lick.

Sike!!!!!!

We kindly do them the favor of removing the best candy from their bags on Halloween night after they fall asleep. Otherwise, their addiction to candy would be even stronger.

We are saving them from themselves. If people really did have to take a test before becoming a parent as so many of us believe should happen, we would obviously pass with flying colors.

The truth is, they are so excited by getting any candy at all the next morning that they don’t even notice that all of the Reese’s peanut butter cups, dark chocolate Milky Ways and Butterfingers are gone from their little pails.

They’re all, “Yay! Mary Janes and hard strawberry candies! Oh my gosh – is that a mini Twizzler?!?! My life is so great!”

Suckaaaaaahs.

Thankfully, we all had such a blast last night that it makes any rumbly tummies or earth shattering meltdowns kind of worth it.

As you may be able to tell, Xavi is happy as a shark clam in his costume now, as opposed to earlier in the day. As soon as he fully understood that he received candy in exchange for wearing it, he was game.

Although it still took a little while to truly grasp the concept. At the first ten houses he tried to trade candy or just put his candy in other kids’ bags.

By the end of the night, however, he was sprinting from house to house and even trying to say ‘Trick or Treat!’ and ‘Thank you!’ He would then practice saying ‘Happy Halloween!’ whenever we put them in the stroller in between.

It was pretty much the cutest thing ever.

I think this was my favorite Halloween of all time. The boys were at their cuteness apex, the four of us had so much fun, and the weather and neighborhood were perfection.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go the gym and burn off the 8 stolen mini snickers I chose to eat last night because ‘the peanuts practically make them a healthy, protein-packed meal.’

Please share your Halloween Aftermath tales!

Posted in Real: my personal trials, tribulations and tales | Tagged aftermath, candy, crash, gym, Hallowee, I live for Reese's peanut butter cups, Mary Janes are gross, rush, stealing kids' candy, worth it | 7 Comments

Halloween Makes Me a SUPER Nice Mom

Posted by RealMommyChron on October 31, 2011

My child seems to confuse Easter with Halloween. Pretty easy to do, right?

What, with all of the black Easter baskets and and bloody cardboard cutouts of the Easter Bunny in the CVS Holiday aisle every Spring and all.

Last year he wanted to be a bunny rabbit. Thankfully, I didn’t end up needing to make the final decision in my progressive parenting dilemma. I am pretty certain I would have made him a bunny costume – white fluffy tail and all – if it came down to it, but ultimately, he decided on Triceratops anyway.

This year he has been telling everyone he wants to be an Easter egg.

I have no idea.

Until we saw a killer whale costume next to a shark costume at Marshalls. He was sold. So was I: Half price!

Mommy, did you know killer whales eat seals? I have an idea! Next year Xavi can be a seal!

I love that he totally says it as though they are two entirely separate thoughts and not at all malicious. Or at least as though I am going to fall for it. He thinks his mama is fresh outta that pumpkin patch!

So, even though I didn’t have it in me to do another Halloween party this year, the boys at least finally have costumes. And we did manage a few decorations out of recycled objects, too.

Here’s an idea of what Halloween looks like at our house this year:

We start with some “Halloween Flowers”

Then make some scary bats that are apparently too lazy to fly.

And some spiders. Carlitos made this one. I, being a novice, made mine with two eyes. He informed me everyone was going to laugh at my spider – and not in a funny way – and make fun of me because everyone knows that spiders have three eyes.

I wish I could say I was a kind mom and humored him by putting a third eye on mine. But, as you can see, I have no fear of being laughed at…and no intention of letting some 3 foot bully push me around.

We both forgot about our ‘spider dispute’ as soon as he got into his costume. He is kind of in love with being a killer whale. And I am kind of in love with him.

Xavi, on the other hand, had no desire to put on his costume. So Carlitos did what you should always do with an 18-month-old: try to reason with them. Even after hearing about the wonders of trick-or-treating, Xavi wouldn’t budge.

Being the amazing mom that I am, I tricked him and put it on after changing his diaper. He completely understood why I had to do it that way and was super happy I made him give the costume a try.

He truly did enjoy chasing his big brother around for a few moments…

Then he remembered he was pissed. And threw a huge tantrum.

Carlitos decided that the only thing smarter than trying to reason with an 18-month-old is trying to reason with a screaming 18-month-old in a shark costume.

Shockingly, it didn’t work.

Luckily, even though I am a bit dim about a spider’s eye count, I am wise about the drinking habits of sharks: They love juice.

Thankfully, Carlitos is unfazed by his failed attempts to enlighten Xavi about the joys of Halloween. He is just pumped about his ‘pointy hands.’ And about the massive amounts of candy he is about to consume.

Xavi may have to just go as a Jedi. Or someone from the 70′s, a Southern boy, or an attendee at a Renaissance Festival, depending on how you view his hair style.

At least, as you can see, he definitely has the whole “asking for treats” thing down.

Have a happy and safe Halloween, everyone!

Posted in Mommy: just showing some baby love | Tagged egg carton bats, egg carton spiders, Halloween, killer whale, shark, tantrum | 2 Comments

Piskey Whickle!!!!

Posted by RealMommyChron on October 24, 2011

You’re smiling, right?

How can you not?!?! Say it again: Piskey Whickle!

My high school mascot was a Sailor. Yes, that means that as a female athletic participant all three seasons, I was a Lady Sailor.

No, seriously.

I guess subconsciously I took that label very seriously.

I talked like a Lady Sailor: Lots of cuss words, but no use of dirty words for girlie parts.

I drank like a Lady Sailor: Meaning I drank lots. But mostly wine and champagne, if available.

I ate like a Lady Sailor: Steak? Italian subs? Nachos? The Two by Four? Yes, please. Even if my date ordered soup and a salad, I still got the bacon cheeseburger. This area was really just straight up Sailor. There was (okay, okay and is) nothing ‘Lady’ about the way I eat.

I fought like a Lady Sailor: I had a mouth on me…but never showed up when my mouth got me threats of “Meet me in the parking lot after school!”

As I have grown older I have greatly matured past my old Lady Sailor days.

Mostly.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I went on a bowling date. Before going into the bowling alley, we decided to take advantage of a nearby bar’s Happy Hour specials. (I grew up the Blue Law land of Massachusetts, so Happy Hours still excite me.) We ended up at a funky whiskey bar where the special was a beer and a Pickleback for $7. We indulged them and inquired what, exactly, made up a ‘Pickleback.’

A shot of cheap whiskey followed by a shot of pickle juice (regular or spicy), of course.

We fell in love…with the Pickleback, of course.

As with most things since having kids, we were a little late to this fad. We told our friends enthusiastically all about Picklebacks.

Yeah, guys. We know.

Whatever. Just wait until you tell us about the existence of neon green poop that can reach all the way to an infant’s neck.

Yeah, guys. We know.

A week later we received this article link from our friend - who is also Carlitos’ Godfather. Pretty sure most people’s kids’ Godparents email them frequently about whiskey and such.

If you can wade through this magniloquent piece about such a classy topic as the combination of whiskey and pickle juice, there are actually some true gems to be unearthed.

Like the fact that many believe the concept originated with Texan truck drivers who used the briny chaser as a way to have some whiskey without having to stop frequently to pee. Or that following whiskey shots with shots of pickle juice prevents a hangover.

I’ll take pickle juice over Menudo any day.

I do have to say that the last time we were visiting my husband’s family we introduced them to the Pickleback and even though we did a gazilion several group Pickleback shots, we all looked pretty chipper the next day.

I can testify that I did not have a hangover…and that amount of Old Crow should have had me curled up in a ball on the bathroom floor.

Now that I think about it, I’m not sure I peed all weekend either.

How Lady Sailor is that?!!?

Posted in Chronicles: observations of the outside world | Tagged hangover cure, lady, New York Times, Old Crow, pickle juice, Picklebacks, Piskey Whickle!, sailor, shots, whiskey | 2 Comments