My Husband Thinks I'm a Cougar

Beloved Sisee -
Thanks for your wonderful letter filled only with truths and nothing else. 
I agree and completely identify with your assertion that kids are an equal-but-opposite force, working against Mommy at all times. Reminds me of that one “Law” of physics that I don’t care enough about to Google right now. Let’s just call it “Second Law of Kids” and agree that we know where it stems from. (First Law of Kids is obviously related to potty issues.) Anyway, so just yesterday I was folding laundry and “I do it” Evan came over and asked to “help.” It had been a loooong day and we were all tired and sick, so I tried to divert him from making an already tedious task even harder. I thought I had been successful, but when I came back from a mandatory Alec feeding (who was trying to spoon the food on to the floor the entire time I was helping him eat – BAM! Second Law of Kids gotchoo.) what should I see…? Evan had unfolded 75% of the folded laundry. And apparently very stealthily ‘cause I hadn’t seen it happen. And of course by the time I noticed, he had moved on to something else and reprimanding him would’ve just caused more mayhem. So I let it go, but that kid SLK’d me and didn’t even look back. What I like is that he didn't unfold ALL the laundry. At some point he realized Wait, this is boring, and quit. Example #2 – I had frosted a bunch of mini cupcakes and was putting little toothpick signs in them (this is a major part of my life now: cupcakes and cake pops.) Evan approached (Uh-oh. Play it cool. Just play it cool.) and asked if he could “watch” me. Ok, fair enough. Kid just wants to watch, no worries. I turned my back for literally five seconds, and he had taken four of the signs out of the cupcakes, smudging the frosting – BAM! SLK’d. Again. And these are both examples from the SAME day. You’re sooooo right that no one tells you about this Second Law of Kids phenomenon. They’re too busy extolling the virtues of back sleep and trying to push their hippie, tie-dye baby carriers on you to explain that just after you’ve finished cleaning the bathroom, you'll forget to close the door and your 16 month old will go in and start ladling bucketfuls of water out of the toilet on to the floor. Also same day. SLK’d.

So, as you know, our home is a one-television household. More or less by design, so that Brett and I are forced to spend time together and compromise rather than retreating to our separate quarters after the kids go sleep. (I think my smart psychologist sister may have suggested it.) So on a recent evening, I had the losing end of the compromise and was watching Stargate Nerd SyFy Universe Show (official name, I’m pretty sure.) During one of the commercial breaks, Brett stopped forwarding on the DVR in order to watch the ad for some superhero/ancient-time-type movie (totally normal.) I can’t even begin to recall the premise of said movie, but during the commercial there was the obligatory shot of six-pack-abs guy removing his shirt. And Brett turned to me and said “Do you wanna see that movie?” which is typically what he says after previews of sci-fi flicks, knowing full well the answer is no. I responded with something like “I don’t think so, but you go ahead hun.” Then he said something CRAZY. I’m still kinda shocked thinking about it. He said “No, it doesn’t look very good, but I thought you’d wanna see it ‘cause of that young guy.” Dead serious. He wasn’t joking. I waited for a chuckle, and when I realized he honestly believed I would PAY TO SEE A MOVIE IN THEATRES (the twice a year that I actually go) in order to see some 20-something “hot” guy, I was like “WHAT! OMG! Do you honestly believe I would PAY TO SEE A MOVIE IN THEATRES in order to see some 20-something ‘hot’guy?!?!” He replied casually “You wouldn’t?” OMG! NO! I WOULDN’T! (Which I said, just like that.) He naturally just brushed the whole thing off and continued watching his show like “Oh, ok, my bad.” I was all “Hey! I’M NOT A COUGAR!” And he replied with something like “Ok, ok, I get it.” Seriously though, I’m pretty sure he didn’t get it. First of all, I’m thirty-three (ok, ok, almost 34, simmer down mathletes) – not nearly old enough to be a coug. Also, I don't own anything leopard print. Next… EW! Forget spending money in theaters – there is nothing I can think of (NOTHING!) that I would go out of my way to do, in order to see hot young men. Seriously! I really, truly wouldn’t! Suffice it to say I was so disturbed / offended that I literally interrupted his show four or five more times to say things like “Hey, Babe… I don’t do things based on seeing good-looking men. Like NEVER. Never, EVER. Ok?” Also, “Babe. Hey Babe, can you pause that for a moment? Thanks. Ok, so… I’m not a cougar, ok?” Anyway, completely ridiculous. I don’t know where this came from considering I’ve never once whistled at a construction worker. I can’t even whistle! Whatever.

Ah, the adventures of being a wife/mommy. This last weekend, it was so beautiful and sunny (well just one of the days, who are we kidding this is Oregon). Brett and I were hanging out in the front yard with the boys. Evan was playing on his slide, Alec was running around Brett with a ball, and I was sitting on a blanket thumbing through a magazine. Every once in a while, Evan would come sit in my lap and ask me questions about the pictures (“Mommy what’s her name?” of women in the ads), then Alec would run over and “attack” my back with his hugs and kisses. I felt really blessed to have these 3 amazing guys in my life. I thought to myself I’m going to access this memory next time I’m mopping up toilet water.

Love you Sisee. Please keep rubbing your East Coast sunshine in my face - not making me bitter at all. Tell Sofs Auntie Ava misses her so much.
xoxo
Ava

Machines Save All of Us!

Dearest Sissy-roo spacek,

Wow, what is going on with potty-training? I’m traumatized from your description of the shower/toilet debacle. No one. No one ever warned me of that. They just gave “swaddling” tips and “she’ll start smiling around 6 weeks” -not, one day you’ll be cleaning adult size poop off your couch. Wow. Thanks to your last entry, I’ve decided to put off potty training Sofia for another few weeks. We’re taking a weekend trip to Miami at the end of this month, and thinking about having to find disgusting public bathrooms in a foreign land (I’m still trying to get the state of Florida removed from US territory -you know, because of the whole serial killer breeding ground thing). I’m already frightened of public restrooms, but as my good friend L reminded me the other day, “just wait until her legs, pants, underwear, all rub up against the side of the toilet.” EW!!!! I CAN’T. I CAN’T DO THIS! I’m seriously considering having my mother-in-law take care of the whole situation. She has a lot more patience and frankly, that’s not a mommy war-wound I’d mind avoiding. I can just imagine the other mom’s complaining about how hard and difficult potty-training was -me nodding in agreement, while silently overjoyed at having avoided the whole fiasco (flashback to Sofia & Grandma painstakingly working, while I’m in a car, windows rolled down singing, “It’s a death trap, a suicide rap, we gotta get out while we’re young, CAUSE TRAMPS LIKE US, BABY WE WERE BORN TO RUUUU-UUUUN!” I realize, all of this, mind you, is just a pipe dream...and no, I don’t plan on abandoning my family. 

On another note, you are so correct about Dora’s constant screaming. Why is she yelling at us? Non-stop. That’s why I’m grateful for Caillou. He’s just a young boy, who each day, is learning some more -and most importantly, it’s narrated by grandma. It’s the only cartoon that doesn’t make monday mornings unbearable. Now Caillou, as you know, normally has some song in the middle of the episode, sometimes about cleaning, helping out, the outdoors, etc. But recently, I’ve stumbled across one of his songs about machines. The song is set to a Beach Boys tune, about how we can’t live life without machines, “machines, machines they’re working for us, from driving down the road to cooking beans” and the chorus is, “machines save all of us.” So naturally, this song has become a favorite, mostly because it is ridiculous, and the fact that it’s trying to subtly indoctrinate our children to allow the rise of machines against humans, a la the documentary series Terminator. So the point of this story is that I’m regularly singing, “machines save all of us!” and yesterday, I told Dean to listen to the song and share in the absurdity with me. He listens, laughing to himself, and says, “Wait? what? Machines save all THE FUSS, you know they help people...SAVE THE FUSS!” So naturally, Dean ruined the song for me. Now, it all makes sense, and has therefore totally lost it’s appeal. 

I feel like Sofia’s vocabulary has just jumped in the last month, she repeats everything and puts 2-3 word sentences together so well. This, albeit, adorable, is now a source of worry for me, because we have to be extra careful of what we say. No, I’m not just referring to swearing, but even cute things we say to her. For example, when she burps, Dean will say, “wow piggy,” in a cutesy way. So now, when he burps she says the same thing. The other day, we were out, and someone burped, and she yelled “PIGGY!” Now, it was pretty funny, and they didn’t hear, but seriously, what if she does that now to everyone? and I don’t know if I’m crazy, but I think in worst case scenarios: what if a police officer burps? Omg, what would I do? What could I say? I’d be mortified, and really have to then just say, “No, I swear, we appreciate officers! Just ones with MANNERS.” 

Here is another thing I never thought parenting was about: Do you ever feel like there is someone working against you? Namely, your child? Like it’s not enough to remember to do 100 things, but then you have to also remember to make sure your child doesn’t undo whatever you just did. For example, I had a coupon emailed to me from the babyGap that I wanted to use over the weekend. So, instead of procrastinating, I pulled it up, put printer paper in, printed it, then -instead of just leaving it on the printer until I was ready to leave, I decided to be responsible and place it directly into my purse. Now flash forward a few hours, at the check out stand, and of course, said coupon is no where to be found. WHY? Classic rookie mistake. Even though my purse was in a closed closet, Sofia would get daddy to open said door, and then remove whatever important object was needed. It’s not enough to do the right thing, you have to remember there is a force working to undo it at all times. It goes without saying that cleaning the house operates under the same conditions.

Not only is Sofia getting super big and using all sort of words and expressions, including “blah, blah, blah,” you would be proud to know that she is an art connoisseur. Wherever we go, she notices large paintings, mostly modern, abstract art, and says, “woooow! painting!” and keeps wanting to return to the paintings...nonstop. She’ll walk back to the paintings repeatedly, and become upset in our attempts to direct her away from them. It’s actually adorable, and regularly says “praaaty (pretty) pentang (painting).” It’s so cute and I really hope she will be able to express herself one day through her own artwork, unless of course, it’s “modern/contemporary” dance -because then I’d be forced to push her towards baby pageants, ‘cause anything is better than that super sad, fall on the ground, non-sensical “dancing.” (“You know it!” -exclaims the infomercial audience)

Alright siss-myss. When will you come out to the east coast for a visit? I miss your family so much and wish they were able to enjoy our beautiful spring, sunny, warm, go outside whenever you want...weather. I love you tons.

xo xo,

Sissy Sara

The Chronicles of Potty

Loveliest Sisee –

Before I begin, let’s just get the obvious out of the way: SWIPER NO SWIPING! SWIPER NO SWIPING! OH MAAAAAN. Btw, what is going on with Dora the Explorer’s haircut?? Do her parents hate her, or are they just too busy with the twins? I guess considering the kind of adventure she’s allowed to go on without any parental supervision, the bowl cut isn’t surprising. Though, seriously, if my kid TALKED! like THIS! ALL! the TIME! it would make me much more inclined to just open the door and say “Go. Get out. I don’t care what you do, just take that weird ‘boots’ thing with you.”

Now: the potty. It’s killing me. Killing… me. Evan has no intention of being potty trained. The only way to get him on the toilet is to have no pants on him all day (aka: stay home all day) and remind him to get on every 30-60 min so he doesn’t forget and just pee WHEREVER HE’S STANDING. Oh, and when he does go on the potty, Alec will run into the bathroom and try to shove various things into the toilet while Evan is sitting there. So then I have to put Alec in his high chair, at which point he’ll start screaming. Awesome, right?  I was thinking about it and realized that perhaps Evan’s just too smart for all this potty business. His powers of deductive reasoning are pretty good – So, I should STOP conveniently peeing/pooping in my pants wherever I am,  and having mom change me on demand, and instead take MY OWN PANTS OFF, and sit on a cold toilet?! Ha! Haha! HAHAHAHAHA! Well, I finally got him to poop on the potty. Before you celebrate, let me explain the circumstances…

 I was in the shower and Evan (who had been home two days in a row with NO PANTS ON other than at night), hadn’t had a bowel movement in approx. 48 hours. So basically, it was a countdown. Race against the clock, if you will. Physically, it’s not possible to keep eating and drinking, and eating and drinking, w/o something having to make its way out, right? So, I’m in the shower, and Evan runs in (again, no pants) and he’s hysterical because he needs to go, and he doesn’t know what to do. I jump out of the shower mid-shampoo and grab him and put him on our toilet, where he starts screaming hysterically. I’m talking to him calmly and telling him he can do it, naming all of his friends who don’t wear diapers anymore and ONLY pee and poop on the potty – not that he can hear any of this over his own screaming (which BTDubs, woke up Alec – awesome #2). Water and suds are pooling everywhere from me, and he can’t do it - he freezes up. So I let him get up, and I jump back in the shower. He stays in the bathroom, and a few minutes later, again, he’s hysterical. He has to go, and doesn’t know what to do. So I jump out of the shower again, grab him…. Etc, etc. Repeat FOUR TIMES. So, the FIFTH TIME, he finally managed to go, all the while hysterically scream-crying. When he was done, though, he seemed pretty proud of himself. I gave him a reward, and lots of praise, but let me tell you what – I was freaking exhausted. And so was he. Also, he may now be traumatized, who knows. I want to be happy that he finally pooped in the potty, but I get the feeling the only real winner in that situation was the poo.

Sis, this all-consuming potty “training” is so frustrating. What happened to me? When did my life and my day’s thoughts, dreams, creativity, hopes all become hijacked by a constant need to stop changing (and spending $100 month on) diapers? When did the perfect spot for a wall-mount wine rack on the side of the cabinet become plastered with an enormous “Potty Chart”? And for the love of all that is good, when did I become desensitized to pee?? It’s so gross! It doesn’t belong anywhere other than in the toilet! Certainly not on the floor, or rug, or couch… or my clothes and skin. Ugh! Last night I was slumped on the couch in a coma, and I looked down at my super dry hands and realized they’re falling apart from the multiple daily contact with Clorox bleach “pee clean-up” wipes. Oh, and WHERE is my lotion? It’s in Alec’s room, where he was playing with it, because Cetaphil lotion is way more fun than the 10,000 toys he’s got. And since he was sleeping, I couldn’t go find it in the dark. It’s seriously a testament to the existence of Almighty God, that after being terrorized all day we still look at those little faces and melt with love and gratitude. Anyway,I will keep you updated, should any further progress be made.



Totally ineffective potty chart



In cutesy-wootsey news: Alec is starting to talk. This week he started saying “more” and “up.” And Caillou, whom he calls “raa-roo.” He also started saying EH-BAA… aka: Evan. And by “he started saying” I mean, he started saying every waking minute, and some semi-asleep minutes of every… single… day. It’s very cute, his total obsession with big brother. The first thing he says when we grab him after sleeping is EH-BAA?? Then he says EH-BAA, EH-BAA, EH-BAA?? about 33 more times (so, yes, 99 times – good math super sleuths). Poor Evan has been waking up every morning in the most traumatic way: Alec yelling EH-BAA!!! in his face. Literally, inches away from his face. Poor kid. But they’re both so insanely cute.  No bias.

Sis, why was your tv on Maury when on-demand turned off? If I’m not mistaken, Maury is on CBS – why are you watching CBS??? Now that 2 ½ Men is off the air (yeah, I’m not spelling it out – it’s a Charlie Sheen show) what more could be worth watching? Ah, just kiddin’ – paternity tests are a ratings goldmine!

Sis! Guess what Brett was watching the other night?.... BET (the channel). I think American Gangster was on, which he had to watch for the 4th time, or something. The funny thing is that during every single commercial he’d ask something like “Hey, who is that?” or “Have you ever seen that show?” Hilarious. Um… no, I haven’t honey. (Well, 106^th & Park I totally watch sometimes.) Anyway, what witty, advice-dispensing gentleman happened to have an ad…? Steve Harvey! He was reading excerpts from letters he gets, and said something like I can’t MAKE this stuff up! Naturally I imagined you, standing in your kitchen, and practicing saying that line until you got your celebrity impression DOWN. I wish I could branch out and try some new celeb impersonations. Alas, I'll have to stick to what I know best: Neil Diamond singing hip-hop songs from 10 years ago. No more... shopping sprees. No more... late night creeps. (You KNOW you know the rest.)

Love you Sisee. Come home already. You've proven your point: you're independent; you'll straight up pick up and move to the east coast. We get it, we get it.
Miss you terribly and wanna gobble up that curly-haired niece of mine.
Love you.

Ava

Is my television always on?

Hello Dear Sissy,

I completely understand that scenario, as it happened to me like 5+ years ago, sans the baby. That movie sucks you in, as do all sassy southern women, and then...makes you cry. But really, I cry over everything. It doesn’t take much for a sympathetic cryer. If they’re crying = I’m crying. No matter how predictable or terrible the plot -à la Keanu’s Sweet November, Gere’s Autumn in New York, Swanks’ PS I love You...(side note: I actually googled “sad romance movies where someone dies” and got those! and I’ve seen only the ending of ALL three) How can such movies evoke so much anger and ridicule one minute from their terrible plots & bad acting, to full on tears the next? Dean caught me crying last week to The Lovely Bones, even though I literally caught the last 5 minutes. He’s like, “omg what’s wrong?” and having to explain why you’re crying is pretty embarrassing. He didn’t get it.

On a separate note, but tv related, yesterday, the television went from on-demand to whatever channel it was on originally, and yes Maury Povich was on. I got the remote to turn the television off, when not-so-surprisingly, a paternity test drew me in. Mind you I watched like 3 minutes total, but how could I deny the line, “we have twin girls -one has my eyes, the other has my neighbor’s eyes.” Shockingly, the results proved he WAS the father of his TWIN girls. That classic scenario, sadly, left no winners. 

So last night around 9:30pm, I was scrolling through old pics of Sofia, realizing how quickly she has grown and how much she has changed. I watched a few videos too, which then inspired me to do the unthinkable: I went to her crib, picked her up, brought her out to the couch so she could, you know, “sleep on my chest while I watch tv.” Since this topic has already been discussed, I won’t go into too much detail, but lets just say, she elbowed me like 3 times in the sternum and kept restlessly tossing about, until she finally (in her semi-sleep state) tried to get off the couch saying, “Elmo?” She wanted me to put Sesame Street on. So, back to the crib she went. Why? Why can’t they just lay and be cute? Why can’t they just want to be hugged and kissed all the time? 

Dean called me out yesterday for having a celebrity* “impression.” Omg, I couldn’t stop laughing. I guess I’ve just got one in the bag. Can’t help it. It really is just one line, which repeatedly is shown on VH1 for a “What Chilli Wants” commercial -which naturally, is  the reality show for the TLC singer who dated Usher. Apparently, she’s getting old and wants to settle down...assuming with failing male models or “actors” thinking this will be their big break. Because, well you know, some high powered casting director will most definitely be watching, and thinking his “refreshing look” is exactly what they’re looking for in a top hollywood movie. So basically, she’s looking for a narcissistic restaurant server, with creative aspirations. Anyway, not that I’ve watched the show -just the one preview for her SECOND season, repeatedly. So in said preview, she’s having a radio interview with...wait for it...Steve Harvey...(and of course I had no idea he even had a radio show), where he says, “Sounds like what Chilli wants is...TOO DAMN MUCH” -and then the camera closes in the face of a “he did not just go there” Chilli expression. 

So needless to say, I’ve done whatever I can to somehow engage Dean in a setup where I can say, well, said glorious line. Last night, I remembered Dean had actually gone to her birthday party, I assume in Miami, back in the day...which is some sort of claim to fame of Dean’s cool years -and anyway, so I say, “Did you get her a present, did she like it? or not????” Perfect set up, right? So then he said, without skipping a beat, “I never thought I’d be married to a woman who has a Steve Harvey impression.”  The End.

*term used extremely loosely, in fact, maybe even incorrectly

Okay Sissero, must go tend to Sofia. Please give the boys a big kiss from Auntie and tell them how much I love them.

xo xo,

Sissy Sara