School's back

You guys, I have a kindergartner, how is that possible when I am only 26 years old? And how is it possible this guy is in big-time elementary school?

His smiles were much more genuine then, but he still has the ability to shrink his eyes to 1/8th their normal large size when he smiles. He gets that from me - he is so lucky.

This is not going to be a weepy long post about my oldest starting kinder. Mainly because it has been done for me and I don't really do weepy. This post is my favorite first day of school ones (not weepy, just funny) and this one made me cry. Everything has been said and it is all true. However, I didn't cry, I practically danced out of the school and once I dropped James off, the only thing going through my head was:

I then spent an hour and a half at the grocery store (I had to make two trips and chat with friends) went to an eye doc appointment and prepped dinner. I could not have been happier. I then made what I thought was an awesome snack which both my children refused to eat asking instead for cheese and crackers. Naturally they did, it is the standard Wall snack. No worries, I polished off three to make myself feel better.

My friends keep asking me how I am doing, with a sympathetic look in their eye and I tell them I am fine. I am EXCITED. These boys are used to being in school. Zach likes it, James does as well once he gets past me not being there (I am awesome in his eyes, more of you should cry when I leave). Zach is so social and has oh, so many questions, he is a great fit for more schooling. He has already come home asking me to be sure to read him the author and the illustrator of the books we read before bed and has learned the sight word 'am'. Kindergarten = success.

Oh there have some hiccups too. Like getting up early. No one in our family is thrilled with this plan and we are pretty terrible at it. But luckily since Zach has to wear a uniform (basically, he can chose from khaki or navy shorts and a red, navy or white shirt) him getting dressed is fairly easy. When he does not get distracted by legos or something. And since they eat lunch at 10:40 I don't really worry if he doesn't eat all that much breakfast.

We have been riding our bikes to school, since we live less than a mile away. My sister says I am such a stereotype. Totally. I just need some pedal pushers (now called skinny pants) and I could be a 1950s housewife.

Except that on the way home, this guy sneaks my phone out from the pocket and plays games on it.

He also started school and did great for about three days then realized that this was also for real. He goes every day and staged a revolt (see paragraph above about my awesomeness). The revolt involved full body convulsions on the floor and a piercing scream to go with it. You would not know it from these angelic photos, but he is a beast when he wants to be. Which is anytime I tell him "no".

Happy first weeks of school my friends!

Here is the look back at the boys first days of school and the best example of the fact that clearly I birthed twins, 2.5 years apart.

Zach:

2013

2012

2011

2010

 James:

2013

2012

A Week with a Kindergartner

Last week Zach had no camps, and James was in school until 2, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Zach had been looking forward to this week for a few weeks, as I told him we could do whatever he wanted - this was his week.

I was looking forward to it as well, as it has recently hit me how much he will be in school in a few short weeks. His school day is 8-3:15. He can totally handle that much time, but it is big kid school. For real school that you can't cut or be late to for valid reasons like your mom is too tired to pour you cereal. I wanted to have this time with him, just he and I, like we used to be. Plus just having one five year old is a piece of cake! No bathroom assistance needed. 

The first place he wanted to go was to the children's museum. Murder. 

I am just over the museum. Oh, it is awesome, don't get me wrong. There is so much to do and super cool educational stuff, blah, blah, I am just over it. We have been going since Zach could sit up. We would meet our playgroup up in the Tot Spot (where James went maybe twice) and let our first babies stare at themselves in the mirrors while we analyzed their sleep schedules and debated what kind of diapers really were the most absorbent.

But off we went. We made the vinyl mask and cape you see above, we climbed the huge climbing structure; we played a matching game and a fractions game. He loved every minute of it and wanted to go back the next day. We did not. We had grocery shopping and dentist appointments to keep us busy.

Wednesday I made him go to the kid’s center at the Y so I could do my Pilates/yoga class, and then we headed over to see How to Train Your Dragon 2 at the movie theater. We snuck in lunch and bought popcorn, drinks and sour patch kids. The movie ended right about the time James was done at school so we scooped him up and headed home. Don't think the Walls are done with their day, it was only 2 pm. We had two more activities planned - all before dinner. We went and swam with our friends in the neighborhood (Hi Whitney!) and then took dinner over to a friend who had a baby (Hi Amanda!). I totally overstayed both places, as is my way and we didn't get home until after six. Whoopsies. 

Thursday, blissfully, both boys went to Discover Gymnastics in the morning and I relished my glorious two and a half hours of alone time for the week. I got a bit over relaxed in those two hours and totally dropped the ball on swim lessons. Whoopsies again.

Friday, with James back in school, Zach and I headed back out to Splashtown with Ashley, Charley, Jen and Tyler. We went in May for Charley's birthday and Zach loved it. I did not. I don't like water parks. I don't like the rides, they terrify me. My dad would tell me I am being a chicken, and he would be right. I am fully convinced I will flip out of my tube, my contacts will fly out of my eyes and I will drown. Nothing in between that could happen. The park is actually very nice and clean, with a great little kid’s area that our kids could do all on their own. I think even James would like that section.  

My first water park experience was actually better than I thought until one ride in particular. It was a covered tube ride that you go down in an inner tube. Charley refused to go down it and I insisted I would stay with her so that Ashley would not miss out. I am such a generous friend, as you all know me to be. So Ashley walked up 384 steps with Zach and about five minutes later she comes shooting out one of the slides. Then we wait on Zach. And we wait. A few more people come down, and then the lifeguard at the bottom blows her whistle to shut down the slide saying, "A little boy is stuck". Holy shit. That is my little boy. And he is stuck in a dark slide many feet up in the air. The lifeguard confirms what he looks like and which tube he would be coming down (via Ashley) and runs up the steps. Meanwhile I am trying not to scream and position myself in front of the slides so when he comes out, I am the first thing his terrified face sees. 

About that time the life guard comes shooting out of the pink slide. Ashley, almost nicely, reminds her that he is in the yellow one. Up she darts again and down she comes in the yellow. At this point Ashley takes matters into her own hands and runs up the steps, coming down a few minutes later with Zach on her lap. Laughing. 

Another mom comments that she can't believe that mother (Ashley) is staying so calm when her child is stuck in the slide. "Oh that is me", I replied. I am the mom. Only one of us needed to be freaking out and Ashley had that covered for me. She really is generous.

Turns out that he was not stuck. They would not let him go down as the lifeguard (and I use that term loosely) at the top didn't realize he was with Ashley and that she had gone down first. So once Ashley got to the top, she grabbed him, plopped him on her lap, with a warning to the lifeguard not to stop her and flew down the slide. Zach was none the wiser, while Ashley and I were both shaken and needed to take a break.

Later in the week Ashley calls Splashtown to discuss how the guard at the top handled the situation. Again, yes, this is not her child, don't make a big deal. They end up giving her six passes for the park. So just to reiterate - we got six free passes to the park for Zachary NOT getting stuck in the tube slide. She is such a good friend on so many levels.

Luckily, no one got stuck this trip (I still refused to go down that ride) and I screamed my face off on the one ride I did go on, that my throat was sore for days. Days! And we all know how loud I talk anyway.

At least I was not traumatized this time. And my week was a success. Zach had fun, we got to spend one-on-one time together and hopefully I don't have to go to Splashtown anytime soon. 

It got really hot in here

For James's birthday party this year (vs. his actual birthday celebrated at Chuck-e-Cheese), I decided to do hold the weekend after his birthday aka not on the 4th of July weekend. We rented the same giant water slide from his first birthday which arrived at 7:00 am that morning. The boys slept until 8 (which they never do). I am not the least bit bitter about it, can't you tell? I guess we did get our money's worth!

So, it turns out that if you have a party on a non-holiday weekend, people show up. Like, a lot of people. We had about 24 kids plus their corresponding parents in my house.  Not outside, but IN my house. The water slide lasted exactly 30 minutes for the majority of the kids (except Miles, thankfully). The three year olds started it by coming inside and insisting on getting dressed. Not just to get cool, no, they wanted to get fully changed.

Vince was the lifeguard at the bottom of the slide, making sure that kids waited their turn and didn't go down head first. Liv stood at the front door welcoming everyone inside. This was after she had iced all the cupcakes. Where was I? Talking to all my friends and trying to pretend it was not 82 degrees in the house. I told them both that I didn't know what I would have done without them!

James wanted to have Team Umizoomi as his theme this year. Well, technically he wanted Umizoomi and Spider-Man both as themes. No. You get one theme and we go with it. My one concession was to let him have a left over Spider-Man candle on top of his pink cupcake.

Generous. I am so, so generous.

James is very into pink everything this year, so he only wanted pink cupcakes. Obviously, I ignored that and had Liv ice them in pink, green and blue; the Umizoomi colors. Topped with some rings from Etsy, and they were done.

For the party favors, I kept it simple and just grabbed a bunch of James's favorite things, figuring what one three year old likes, others would as well. So in went a lollipop, cheddar-blasted Goldfish, a bouncy ball and fruit snacks. Side note: James 100% balked at my organic fruit snacks. Sorry, party goers.

Team Umizoomi is a team of tiny super heros that save Umicity using math. I am not kidding. They do a lot of measuring, counting and geometry. Geo does a lot of shape creating via his shape belt. I found a link on Pinterest to make belts like the one that Geo wears. It is orange with shapes all around it. I, of course, have no pictures of mine, because I finished them the night before.

For the record I would like to state that I whole-heartedly disagree with the no-favors moment. I am sure I actually didn't need to state that, you all get me. I love to do the favors. It is fun for me. I don't care what other people give out (at all) and you could throw a bag of chips at my children and they would scream, "BEST FAVORS EVER!!". So again, let's all just calm down.

You guys, I can't even tell you how hot it got in my house. I was sweating like a fool. Everyone was crowded into the hottest part of my house (on a good day it is 77 degrees back here) and opening and closing the doors. I was so mortified. However,  no one (but the pregnant lady, sorry Lanie!) seemed in a hurry to leave, so I guess everyone was just used to be hot in July.

The finale of the party was a piñata . Oh, you are wondering where it is? Alex is holding it. In his hands. While James swings a bat at him.

So, a homemade piñata was not part of my party vision. Especially a tiny one that was not strong enough to be hung on a rope.

The weekend before the party, Zach asked if we could make a piñata, for fun. I said sure and looked up how to make paper mache. We had an old Chick-fil-a helium balloon lazily floating around the house, so I grabbed that we set to work. I didn't add glue to the mix, because this was just for fun! It didn't need to be strong!

We got elbow deep in paper mache, coating the entire balloon. We let it dry, Zach painted it, then we popped the balloon. About this time Alex walked in and said, "Oh, you guys are making a piñata for James's party!" Zach got so excited and what I could do? Say, ummmm, sorry, but this is not my vision plus I did the paper mache wrong? Nope, hence us having a globe looking ball for an Umizoomi birthday party that pulled off its string a minute before we tried to hang it up.

The boys and I went to the store and I let them pick two kinds of hard candy to include. And really, all the kids liked it and Alex got his due for suggesting it, by having to hold it.

I need to stop calling him a baby

James turned three and I have not really processed it yet. I mean, I have, clearly we had two parties to celebrate, but I still think of him as my baby. Especially since I am trying to finish our 2012 photo album and keep seeing photos like this one.

But he is not that chubby faced baby of one, he is now three. With many opinions that he will share with you via a very loud voice and some exceptionally close talking.

On his actual birthday we had breakfast at Einstein's and then he went to school, armed with pink cupcakes for his class. He wanted to go only one place for dinner, Chuck-e-Cheese. Of course. I invited Vince and Liv to come join us for the festivities. As if anyone could turn down animatronic mice and pizza. Vince came in early and took the boys to see Rio 2, as a birthday treat, which was an extra treat for me, since I just got to meet them at Chuck's at 6.

James's teacher's made him this birthday crown that he decorated and wore most of the evening.

 Our family gets very intense on the basketball games.

 And cheating, that is totally, totally cheating, Zachary.

 What night would not be complete without a family photo in a parking lot?

So maybe our family gets intense on most games...given the photo of James on the motorcycle, Alex and Zach playing basketball, and me killing giant spiders attacking my jeep. They had already killed my guides!

Everyone, just calm down.

I stumbled upon a post from a blogger that I follow who created a theme for her year. I can't be sure I am that warm and fuzzy, but then I saw this image from the January Oprah magazine.

It just spoke to me, so I tore it out and pinned it (with an actual pin) to the wall where I keep my jewelry. You know, for inspiration. I had been out of work six months, the holidays were over (thankfully) and now what? What did I want to do now? Do more blogging? Wear lipstick again? The world was my oyster - three days a week for four hours. What can I make happen?

Nothing, I have made nothing happen, but luckily this is not a blog post about that.

What this post is about is that 2014 is not so much about making things happen, but about the need for people to calm down. I can't fix myself, but I can sure tell others what they need to do. And it is calm. down.

It became crystal clear that was the real theme, when I read this article about screen time, AKA the new hot topic for preschoolers. Having everything BPA free and organic is so 2013. It is screen time, screen time and screen time. This was just one of many posts I have read in the past year. Starting with "Dear mom on the iPhone" followed quickly with "Dear mom on the iPhone: you are doing fine".

The article that settled in under my skin is not from a blog I follow, but I can guarantee you that the blogger is a wonderful woman and mom who is only trying to encourage and remind us exhausted mothers to not always give into the screen. And I know that some of us listened and took it to heart and are now better mothers.

However, after reading it the first thing that came to mind was - calm down. I mean, I love the points she makes for her kids and I totally want mine to think I want that.

"I want to talk to you when we are out to eat. I want to listen to your questions. I want to have training opportunities. I want to allow space for conversation that can take us deeper. And if you are always distracted with electronics, well… I might miss those moments."

But right now, I don't want that. I don't want to answer any more questions. I don't want to train. I don't want deep conversations, I have them every time we are in the car (today it was why the homeless man is hungry and where did he get the cardboard). But I do recognize that, my kids are little and we are together all the time, so surely once they are bigger and not coming to me to pull up their underwear I will want all that she talks about.

I think it is more than that for me, though. I, personally, think technology is such a wonderful gift. Yes, can it be overused, but so can cookies. No one writes post after post about how cookies are evil and when people see kids with cookies they get sad for their future.  Calm down.

Think about how our mom's had it rough. Imagine this if you will....Mom has to drag a sick kid to the doctor. She has taken off work, or has another kid in tow. They all have to wait for an hour,  with no way to entertain the children. She has read all the books in the place and all the ones she brought with her. The kids have eaten all the snacks and are now fighting. She had no recourse. You know what we have? Iphones. I can pull out my phone and within seconds everyone is quiet. I can take a minute to calm myself down and we don't get kicked out of the waiting room.

Same goes for restaurants. I don't bring the iPad with us, but I know plenty of parents who do and I don't judge one bit. Because I pull out my phone in a similar situation to above. If the kids are finished eating and are starting to get rowdy, I take no shame in wanting to eat a meal without yelling. Plus, this is the benefit of the technology. We have to suffer with the dangers and grossness of the digital age; shouldn't we at least get to enjoy the perks? Again, let's just all calm down.

This weekend, I took the boys swimming out at their grandparent's house and Liv wanted to see if the boys would like the books she downloaded for them. The one they are reading is about an otter that did something (I was on Facebook when they were reading and not really paying attention). But about every other page had an embedded link to a video of different types of otters swimming. They were enthralled. We don't have otters at the Houston Zoo, so they could not see them in person.

I don't really have a great and eloquent point to my rambling (no one is surprised). Plus, I could go on and on about how there are much bigger problems affecting America's children, but I think that would circle me back to cookies and I am not taking a stand against those either.

I would just like it if we could all calm down and realize that the majority of parents are doing the best they can. We can't begin to know what they deal with at home, why would we judge what they do in public?

I am the mother of a graduate

Last Thursday Zach graduated from Pre-K and I didn't cry. Who is proud? Me, too! OK, I might have teared up when the director started reading some poem about how we gave them our kids as babies and they are giving them back to us as kids. But I pulled it together. It is just Pre-K after all, I needed to calm down.

Zach's teachers told him to dress up and he took them very, very seriously. Going so far as to tell me I had to wear a dress and not exercise clothes. He even picked it out and told me I had to wear my fancy shoes. He needed to calm down as well.

We went to Chick-fil-A for a celebratory lunch after and I tried to get a photo of all four of us (plus Liv) but as usual it looks like I was not there. Some stranger just took photos of my family.

The entire ceremony lasted about 7 minutes and I put Alex in charge of videoing the part when he got his diploma. I should have remembered Zach's first solid food and known how this would go. Ridiculous.

Three is the new two

Everyone who has had a baby in the past five years (maybe longer) will know what I am talking about. The questions start almost immediately after you have your second baby - will you have a third? And God forbid you have two of the same gender, then everyone wants to know if you will "try for the boy/girl". When did having two kids stop being plenty? Because let me tell you, two kids is more than plenty.

But of course you parents of one kid don't know this. You are enjoying all the special moments with that solo kid and worrying about every little thing (no judgment, I totally did it). But if you decide, and are able to, have another, your world is turned on its ass. Totally. I can't even fathom what throwing one more person into the mix is like. I know too much now, it is not like the naivety of going from one to two. I only have two hands, four chairs at a table and I have a hard enough time listening to two people talking to me at the same time. What in the world would I do with another?

And yet.... as my boys get bigger, I have a hard time getting him out of my head, this third Wall boy (we all know it would be a boy).

Back in January, I took James' car seat into the Baby's R Us trade in event and smugly thought, I am handling this so, so well. Look at me! I am not sad or sappy about giving away this car seat we bought for Zach, that James has now outgrown. Only hoarders attach sentimental value to inanimate objects.

Seriously, I was really handling it well.

Then we turned down the baby isle and I lost my mind. I legitimately needed a new thermometer and the next thing I knew, I was holding back tears and throwing diaper paste and safety latches into my basket.

Keep in mind my actual baby, James, was with me. And that I had plans to potty train him in the coming weeks. And by "I had plans" I mean he has been crying about wanting to wear underwear for weeks. Point being, I don't need diaper paste, a safety latch or the Purell I now own. As if I Purelled with James anyway. Clearly I was not handling this as well as I thought.

But what I have finally realized is that I am not sad about not having a third baby, I am just sad that my two babies are not actually babies any longer. I am not looking for that third Wall baby, I just want my two Wall babies to stay little. I get sad that I will never rock them in the chair and listen to the sleep sheep (that I can't give away) while they sleep in the bassinet next to me again. My babies are turning into kids. Great, happy, funny kids, but the more baby fat James looses, the closer it gets to me being alone with three boys in my house.

When I see pregnant women, I don't long to join their ranks again, But, I remember the excitement and the anticipation you feel when there is a tiny being growing in your belly. There are so many questions and so many different ways your future can go. I miss that.

And when your infant comes home and you rock your baby to sleep, or let him sleep on you, it is just the best, sweetest feeling. That small weight in your arms, relying on you, needing you. I miss that too.

I am not sad about not having a third, or not having a girl, I am just sad that that time period in my life is coming to a close. OK, maybe a little sad about not having a girl. But as I told Zach when his asked, if I wanted a girl baby; yes, I did, but I just didn't know I really wanted him.

The P Word

As some of my loyal followers might have noticed, there are few things I don't talk about on the blog. 1) how skinny I am (I know, I know, I am clearly getting too thin) and 2) potty training. 

I know you thought I was going to say penises.

I was at lunch with my friend Melinda last week, telling her the story of James' potty training and she said I had to put it on the blog. I gave her my lecture about how people don't want to read the word "potty", "pee" or "poop". And by people, I mean me. People, do not use any of those words in your Facebook status. We, moms, are thrilled for you and your diaper free house, but I don't want to read about it unless you are telling me how to do it in one day and with no alcohol, Then you have my attention.

Unless you have successfully completed this stage using the above mentioned conditions, I barely want to talk about the subject that monopolizes 95% of my life. But she insisted it was a funny story and should be shared. So, if you would like to not read about pee or the potty, please go away now. Or at least after you look at this photo of me in a pee stained shirt.

That is right, those stains are pee. I sent this text to my sister so she would understand the dire position I found myself in. I still don't know how he manged to hit my shirt. There is pee all over my bathrooms. Please don't come visit and expect to use the bathroom without me handing you a Clorox wipe and protective shoes. I mean, I clean it up, but my baby boy manages to pee out the door and into the living room.

I don't get it. I really don't get it. Zach was not like this. Granted, I am clearly remembering it all perfect - but he was done in three days, his pee always went directly into the pot and he was standing up in about 2-3 weeks. Done and done.

Then came the love of my life, James. He was determined to wear underwear. Spider-man underwear which he and his lisp call Biderman underwear. He first refused to go on the potty, he just peed in his pants. Like a boss. Not the least bit concerned that his socks and shoes were now soaking wet. He would look you in the eye and lie that no, his socks were not wet and no, he did not need to change his pants; he was busy and could you please stop pestering him with this insane talk. 

Once that phase passed he now runs to the bathroom, sits down (that is what baby boys do) and pees everywhere. I am running right behind him shouting, "put you penis down! You can do it!" like a perverted cheerleader. He just beams at me, pees on my good yoga pants and says, "I did soooo good not pee-pee in my underwear". He is just so proud of himself, I can only agree. Even though of course he has peed on his underwear as they sit on the floor at his feet.

I tried to talk to my co-parent and got zero help. "He will just have to learn" and "He didn't do that for me [for the 2 hours I had him]" do not help me as I am using my, now catlike reflexes to dive out of the way of the stream.

So here I am. Cheering and doing a dance to the "We did it!" song from Dora the Explorer after every successful trip to the bathroom, even if "success" now means he didn't get his shoes wet. Or mine.

So now, he is exclusively going in the backyard. Yes, we are those people. I don't care. Not even a little bit. My baby drops his pants to his knees and flashes his teeny tiny bottom and my bathroom stays clean.

Unless it gets rains again. Sigh.

Clorox wipes and vodka can be shipped to my mailing address. 

6 months retired

That is what I say when Zach asks why I don't go to work anymore, I say I retired. I also put that recently on a form requesting my "employment status". Unemployed just seems so harsh.

It was six months, December 14th, that I have been staying home full time and five months since the boys started in their true 9-2 school schedules. People ask me regularly how it is going, do I like it, and do I miss working? The quick answer is good, yes, and absolutely not.

At Trader Joe's this morning I overheard a woman about my age with about a two year old little boy in her basket, talking about how she didn't understand why she wasn't as happy as other working mothers. That comment stopped me in my tracks, and forced me to linger behind her to eavesdrop, pretending I was very interested in the chopped vs. whole Brussels sprouts options. She went on to say that she just didn't get it and what was she missing? I had said that exact comment to Sonia in one of my many should I, should I not quit, should I go part time conversations. That is completely how I felt; that other mothers had somehow figured out how to make it all work and I just could not. They had these great careers, husbands who were supportive, kids that didn't miss them and they were above all happy. So why couldn't I be happy? I had all those things, but I was miserable.

So six months later, am I happy? Yes. So, so much more happy. Now, am I happy every bit of every day? Of course not. But I will take the stress over summer camps (It is JANUARY, why do I have to worry about this now?) over the anxiety I was feeling about failing as a working woman and a mother any day.

The thought of going back to work gives me anxiety. The other night I had a dream that I did, in fact, go back to work. I was sitting at Zach's swim lessons when my boss, Regina, calls me to ask if I am coming to the meeting. I had totally forgotten I was supposed to be at work. The me in the dream just shrugged her shoulders and said, "Well, I can't because I am at swim lessons, but I will be there tomorrow." The me, in real life, woke up in a panic and had to calm down once I realized it was only a dream. But it haunts me...

On the flip side, the thought of not going back to work also gives me anxiety. I am clearly becoming dumber by the day. Seriously, did you notice I spelled pole wrong? Now, I know plenty of very smart SAHM's but I don't think I am one of them. I think the stress of summer camps (Zoo or Legos, their school or soccer, seriously, what??) is not enough stress on my brain after having to be on top of so many things at one time for the past 5-10 years. I clearly need to start reading more and maybe doing crosswords. Alex says he is going to give me math problems to do, but I had some choice words regarding that suggestion that are not blog worthy. Aka, not helpful Alex, not helpful.

So I am still struggling to figure out who I am without my career and what can I do, besides the laundry, that gives me a sense of fulfillment. But, spending so much time with them has helped me to really know who my kids are and what makes them tick. I can see the fights before they happen, I can negate the missing/stolen snack issues, etc. And the happy part of each day is when I have the time to stare into the boys faces and really see them. See that fat baby for the toddler he is, and little boy he is turning into. Appreciate that he kisses me willingly and runs into my arms when he sees me. How his little lisp is slowly going away and how athletic he is - even with a big baby belly.

I see my five year old for the self-sufficient kid he is, but still see the sweet little boy inside. I try to remember what it was like to be the older sibling and to not want your little sibling to be with you all the time nor destroy your block towers. I love our little jokes, his full, smart negotiations and how he still wants me to lay with him at the end of every day, even just to have me turn back into Kinsey vs. Mommy (that happens at 8pm) when I have even less patience for potty words.

 This is a super rambly post and I am sorry about that. But, that basically sums up my life right now. I am happy to be where I am, I don't regret leaving for one second, but, I do look forward to the next chapter when I can fully become Kinsey for more than just 12 hours, during which most of that time I am sleeping.

No, seriously, I might be getting famous any second

This is not like last time when I was the star of the evening news for 10 seconds. No, I wrote an piece for Houston's Motherhood Center and they actually published on their blog! Look! That is me!

Don't worry, I took it easy on the exclamation points for them. Plus, my sister edited the piece before I sent it. She said something about my acceptable usage of "optional" commas, but that my "grasp of 'needed' commas to make my sentences grammatically correct was horrible." I thought that was a bit harsh. She then went on to tell me that her freshman students knew more about commas than me. Yes, but do THEY have a blog? Wait, most likely they do. Whatever, I have a sister and a mom completely fluent in all things grammar. And I love to delegate.

Anyway, back in October, my friend Lanie forwarded me a newsletter from the Motherhood Center asking for bloggers to submit articles. I didn't really feel I had the right stuff for a classy place like the MC. For those of you not from Houston (and/or don't have a baby), the MC is the place in town for all your baby needs. Not like a Toy's R Us, like a my baby won't stop crying/pooping/refuses to eat/what the hell am I doing/ I need real help place. They offer pre-natal yoga (which was awesome when I was carrying James who pointed straight out, killing my back), mommy and me yoga, breastfeeding classes, pump rentals, lactation consultants and a host of classes to get you ready for a baby and to help you once the baby is here. I called one of the lactation consultations after James. I, apparently, had totally forgotten how to feed a baby and that it is not supposed to hurt like a bitch. I did at least know that was wrong. To summarize, the MC is a big deal and I am just a lowly mommy blogger/crafter who tortures her family with poor grammar and cussing (sorry Daddy).

But you all know I eventually think I can do anything, so I sent a note last week asking if they were still looking for bloggers with a link to my blog. A lovely lady wrote me back and asked for an article about the holidays, something that would introduce me to their readers. Well, that was a stumper. How do I describe myself to people who have never read my blog or spoken to me? I have no clue and that is the reason I don't have anything under my Complete Profile link. Seriously, what do I say? Stay at home mom who blogs about how her children are precious but super annoying? Over user of sarcasm and a hot glue gun?  Lives near The Little Couple? It is terrifying trying to define myself without an actual job description.

It was like college all over again. I was frozen with a blank page staring at me. All I could think, was to write something about our first Christmas when Zach was two days old and we were still in the hospital. But, that was all I had when Alex walked by. You know he tries to pretend I don't have a blog (and we let him by not telling him what I write about him) but he is really good with ideas. Too good much of the time. I don't need to be told AGAIN that exercising is good for a headache/being tired/pants being too tight, thanks. This time he was helpful and suggested writing about our family traditions. You know I am  not good with sentimental stuff. But I liked his idea so spun it my way. I was totally shocked when the MC group liked it and posted it to their blog.

He is now calling himself my muse.

Check it out over on the Motherhood Center Blog. You guys who have been reading since 2009 know the story, so just pretend it is new to you.

I am really going to need to get my nails done if I am going to be such a big deal. Oh, and get a better spell check program.

Mom Fail

Each day something happens in my life that causes me to text my sister with the hashtag #momfail and an accompanying story. Usually, they are poor choices I have made throughout the day versus true failures. Examples include but are not limited to:

• Still heating up milk for that terrible baby so he doesn't scream at me. 
• Constantly engaging in the question and answer period of my day with Zach when I should just say "yes" vs explain what acne is and why it does not wash off. 
• Scheduling any doctor's appointments for the boys on days they are IN school.

You get the point.

But on Wednesday I really did feel like I had a big mom fail. Last time we went to the dentist with Zach it turns out he has two cavities. That was my first #momfail, I felt, as that is so my fault, right? Well, his dentist told me it was not mom fail but his super sticky saliva that is genetic (thanks a lot, Walls).

His cavities were in-between his molars on each side, which can, obviously, only be prevented by flossing. Which we don't do. I don't floss my own teeth (to my mother and Alex's horror) but I am expected to floss my four year old's? Yes, apparently or cavities are my consequence.

Anyway, I moved past that failure, deciding to blame it solely on the Wall genes. But we had to get rid of the cavities. I had to take my little, scared, four year old, who had not eaten a thing all morning, to be gassed and given Demerol. You all know I play it pretty cool and loose but I was a nervous wreck with this. Plus I could not even walk him back (which turned out to be a good idea in the end).

Of course, everything was fine. The dentist said he was the best patient of the morning, so "laid back", you would not know he was nervous. I guess those Wall genes are good for something.

But when we got home he was starving. He could not really eat and drinking through a straw was hard too, as he could not feel his lip. I just felt so helpless. At one point he started crying that he was just so hungry. Which just crushed me. So I let him have bell peppers (he loves those) and crackers. What I didn't think about was how all that chewing would hurt his lip. It swelled up huge.

And he was still hungry. But he could not have dairy yet so basically he couldn't eat anything else. Again, I am so out of my league here, so I just tell him to go lay down in his room, maybe not in the nicest of tones (#momfail 2). I could tell he is still out of it and maybe he is sleepy? Well, he falls right asleep and does not want to get up an hour later.

Well crap. Now what do I do? This kid does not nap. Has not since he turned three. And he is not stirring after an hour and a half.

I finally do what I should have done from the beginning- call my mom. She says to get him up, maybe they gave him too much gas or too much medicine in general.

I do and he is totally fine. He eats an entire turkey sandwich and drinks a glass of milk and is totally back to his old self in about thirty minutes.

You know there are like 500 blogs on potty training but nothing on this? 

Wait, I didn't actually look online. I just thought I "knew" what to do. 

False. #momfail.

Oh, and if you need me I will be flossing my child's teeth in the bathroom and wrestling the baby to get him to even brush.

He is turning into a big kid

The other day Zach asked to call his friend Logan on the phone. Weird, right? He is four, what could they possibly have to talk about? But I said, sure and set up a time that we could call him.

When the time came, I dialed the phone and handed it to Zach with the instructions to say, "Hi, may I please speak to Logan?" He managed it, though it was pretty mumbled. Good thing Kelley was expecting the call.

Once Logan got on the phone Zach took off running to his room to talk. Like he really needed privacy? I am certain the entire conversation went something like this:

Zach: "Hi Logan."
Logan: "Hi Zach."
Zach: "You are a poo poo head, smelly diaper!"
Logan: "You are a pee pee head, smelly diaper!"
Zach: "Bye." And hangs up before the other person can reply.

Or something like that as those are both boys favorite words of the moment.

Check out that side eye he is giving me. 

He better watch it or I am going to start making him take calls on the house phone so I can listen in and make sure he is not trash talking me. Which he totally will be, have you seen how much of his life is on this blog?? 

The greatest show on earth

Is also the longest show on earth. They are really proud of all the circus acts in the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey circus.

I have very fond memories of going to the circus with my dad's parents, Jane and Harvey. We would go every summer I came to visit until I got too old to go. So I thought this year since Zach is four he would really enjoy it and it would be something we could do together.

Before the show they open up the area where the animals are held for the entire audience. You get to walk very close to all the animals. And I will say, these were some of the most beautiful animals I had ever seen. The horses had perfectly brushed coats, the elephants were clean and the tigers and lions were just spectacular.

 This was my favorite part for sure. We got this close to the elephants,

and the tigers.

And the five female lions. Zach started to get a tad scared at this point. Granted they were about 5 feet away from him but I told him to just stand there for one photo. And please, they were not coming for him. There were way chubbier kids there. He is turning into all knees and elbows like his dad.

We could then walk out onto the space where the actual show took place. They had some clowns doing acts, a bounce house and then they brought one of the elephants out.

On a side note: do clowns fascinate anyone else? I really, really want to know how this became their calling. How did they decide being a clown was for them? And what do they do when they are not with the circus? It took everything in me not to corner a clown and ask him.

We had great seats and just a little bit of popcorn to hold us over.

I thought the circus would be an hour or an hour and a half tops. We were going to have the popcorn as a snack and then go have lunch.

False. It started at 10 and didn't end until 1:30. So basically my child ate popcorn and a soft pretzel for lunch. Washed down with lemonade in a tiger cup.

But it really was a great show. I was also fascinated by the circle of death here, where one man was in the ring with one male lion, the five female lions and two tigers. I was petrified the entire time. I was planning in my head the conversations we would have to have when that man got attacked. You know we would be talking about it for months.

Zach said his favorite parts were the elephants, the motorcycle riders and the horses running. Some people brought their two year olds and those people are fools. Thankfully my two year old was at school yelling at someone else for the morning.