It All Balances Out

Yesterday was my birthday (Hint: my age rhymes with schthirtybun) and I had a fabulous weekend celebrating!

On Friday night, Marcus threw a wonderful party it was so great to see so many friends in one place! Some highlights include a friend trying to convince me that she ate her placenta and another friend accusing me of having a conversation with my Latin lover right in front of my husband. The assumed lover was my brother. I also discovered that many people are vehemently against taking selfies.

Saturday night I headed to the casino with my neighbors and was somewhat of an 11th wheel, because my husband stayed home with the kids so we didn't need to get a babysitter 3 nights in a row. I sat down to play Family Guy slots and within a couple of minutes I won a bonus game!

I chose Chicken. And won $75!

Since I won right off the bat, I just walked around awkwardly, waiting for my friends to win/lose enough to be done.

And to cap off the exciting weekend, Marcus took me to see Jersey Boys on Sunday night. We saw it in Chicago when I was about 4 months pregnant with Lena and I was so tired from shopping/growing a human, that I dozed off during the show for a little bit, so I was glad I was given a second chance! I loved how I could tell Marcus was trying his darndest to keep from singing the songs out loud. It's not so much that he's such a theater nerd, he just likes Frankie Valli. 

But like all good things, they must come to an end. And that brings me to today. I needed to get groceries. It's normally not that big of a deal. I don't love taking the kids, but it usually goes just fine. But today? Murphy's Law took over and was determined to crush my spirit.

Everything was just pissing me off. From the drivers in the parking lot, pulling out in front of me and taking the spot I was driving towards, to Charlotte getting out of the van and splashing into a giant puddle.

We walked in the store to grab a cart with the attached bench, but the woman in front of me with her seemingly capable 5 year old took the last one. *deep breath.* So we walked to the other side of the store to see if there was one there. There was not. We walked back. Every single regular cart was dripping wet from the rain. I wipe it down with my shirt sleeves. 

As I'm trying to navigate the produce aisles, it feels as if there was maybe an retirement home's day out because all these octogenarians are standing around shootin the shit like what else would you be doing by the grapes, pears, berries, and bananas. 

Ok. I get it. It's not everyone else, it's totally me. I know I'm the one with the problem today, but I don't think I was looking for things to be annoyed by, the annoying things were pushed up into my face.

Parallel walkers down the aisles? don't set your cruise control and just putz along beside me. Either pass or stop. Am I the only one who finds it really awkward to be walking carts side by side in the same direction? Just STAHP IT.

Then. THEN. This. Everywhere. 

Had I known that Mondays at 11am were the times when every shelf is being stocked, I may have reconsidered my timing. 

The one redeeming and slightly embarrassing factor of the trip was Lena trying to keep things interesting by going wild.

One of the more inappropriate versions of "Where's Lena??"

Since she doesn't like to be "messed with" I often don't bother with a onesie beneath her outfits, but I guess if we're going out in public, maybe I should consider it next time.

Over all, the kids behaved pretty well even though we didn't have the bench for Charlotte to sit on. She rearranged the salad dressings and would sit down on a shelf or the floor anytime I took a little too long deciding what to pick out. And to end the trip, we always have to ride the penny pony. Fortunately that was in working order, otherwise we all may have ended the trip with tears.

Oh, and as we're walking out, Charlotte starts whining because look:

Carts with benches. Charlotte's fave.

Of course it was pouring as we were leaving but I ran out of all craps to give while I was shopping. Lena kept slapping her own face with delight when she was getting rained on and Charlotte prancercised all the way to the car, so we all made it through just fine.

So what it comes down to is that if I have a *too* wonderful weekend, it will indeed balance out for me.

I am That Mom.

My kids are those kids.

We have arrived!

Today I needed to head to Target to pick up a couple of things and just get out of the house. Lena has been taking a super short morning nap the past two days, and if we don't fill up the time, we all start going a little crazy.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I saw a woman putting away a cart and told her I'd take it from her. She saw me loading up my kids and said "oh wow! you have your hands full!" I replied "Oh, I only have two! ...But I guess I only have two hands, so yes. My hands are full." But I was upbeat and positive, because my kids are just so doggone sweet and angelic and darling and polite.

We walked into the store, and Charlotte was bee bopping around, Prancercise style:

She pranced her way over to a Disney Princess shopping cart and was completely fascinated with it. Normally, she has no problem with putting a toy back at the store, but she wanted to push it around. Instead of dealing with a potential spazz attack now, I decided to let her push it around the store while we shopped and then we could put it back later. (I am an idiot.)

At this point, the only mischief she was getting into was bumping into my cart and saying "Cheers!"

Any time she sees two like-objects, she clinks them together does a small toast. It's especially great when she bumps shoulders with Lena in a matching outfit.

I found the items we needed, which included some giant storage containers for their outgrown clothes. The cart was pretty full, and I had the lids of the bins on the rack beneath the cart. It was time for us to check out, which meant it was time to put the beloved princess shopping cart away. 

As we turned down the aisle, Charlotte saw another toy shopping cart and needed to clink them together and shout "cheers!" and while she was putting the less-loved cart back, I secretly took the princess cart and put it back on a high shelf without her noticing. 

A look of panic washed over Charlotte's face as she saw her soul mate-toy went missing. She was calling out for the cart as if it would come wheeling around the corner like her trusty dog. When it didn't appear, she went back for cart #2 and decided that one would do. 

I explained to her that she already has a shopping cart at home. 

<sobs>

I asked her if she brought her money (like $1.25 in change), because she needs money to buy it.

<says no, sobs more>

I was holding Lena during this time since she was sick of sitting in the cart, and I had to put her back so I could reason with the terrorist. A strange lady approaches and actually helped by playing peek-a-boo with Lena while I attempted to talk Charlotte off the ledge.

And miracle of miracles, Charlotte got up off the floor (did I mention she was sitting on the floor? Her latest protest position) and we continued on. About 10 steps later, she decides she is not quite done mourning. She throws her body down onto the floor and starts crying some more. 

Lena continues to cry in the cart. 

I'm crouched down trying to get through to the toddler. "I remember when I was little...."

(This gets her attention EVERY time.) 

"...I would go to the store with my mom. You know, Grandma."
<stops crying>
"It was so hard seeing all of those fun toys at the store without taking them home. But Grandma told me about all of the fun things we could do at home with my toys....." and more lies and more lies and more lies.

<gets up and starts walking>
Ten steps later, she begins to wail again. A crabby old woman looks at me and I tell her that I'm just living the dream. She told me that she had two girls "10 and 3/4 months apart". Instead of getting into the nitty gritty of that, I just said "then you know how it goes." And she agreed and went on her way. 

At this point, Charlotte's face is blotchy and red, she's got drool on her shirt and snot dripping down her face. She shoved the cart so that all of the lids to the bins went flying out and scattered across the floor right near the checkout. I'm doing my best not to lose my shit, and I'm getting my items out of the cart to buy.

I was laughing to the cashier about how I just need to get out of there and as she totaled up my items, I realized I didn't have my debit card. The one that was in my pocket last night. The one that I held and said to a neighbor "I really need to stop putting this in my pocket. I'm just going to forget about it." The one that I put on the counter instead of in my purse "so I would remember it". 

Yes, people. This is my life. I asked if she could suspend the order or whatever so I could run home (thankful, once again, that I live a couple of short miles away). She was able to do so, and I got the whole thing figured out, but seriously.

I'm afraid that this is becoming the norm, as Charlotte has had meltdowns just about everywhere lately. 

So if you have any coping mechanisms, please do share! I could use all the help I can get. 

I'm BAAAAAAAAACK

Hey 35 readers!

It's been a while since I've documented the thrill ride that is my life, so I figured you're pretty much just dying to know just what on earth I've been up to lately.

Summer is going really well. It's not nearly as hot as last summer and I'm not 8 months pregnant like last year either, so that right there makes it better. We've been staying pretty busy and the girls are being pretty fun.

This week we are staying (on and off) at the family cottage, and over the weekend, Marcus and I ran in a 5k that took place a couple miles from the cottage. I didn't train even a little for this thing, but figured since I've been doing TurboFire (a cardio-heavy dvd program) 6x a week, I would be juuuuuust fine. I mean, it's only 3.1 miles. I should be able to do that in 30 minutes easily, and I exercise for at least that long every day. Certainly since I ran cross country 13 years ago I should have no problem whatsoever with running a measly 3.1 miles. I ran a 5k in March after doing a teensy bit of training and I completed it in 31 minutes and it was like 20 degrees outside. Today was comfortably warm, not too hot, and I have lost 10 lbs since March. Obviously, I will win this 5k. or at least get some sort of award for my being so laid back about it.

Well, "comfortably warm" is like 80* at 8:00 am. I somehow convinced my husband to run with me and not stray, and he took the glory by pushing the double stroller with the kids. It's probably 35 lbs without kids, and another 50 with, so it's not exactly a breeze. However, he was having a hard time running slow enough for me.

We started off in the back (stroller rules) and had to zip around some of the slower people so we could get in a good groove. I almost started yelling swears at Marcus because he was a good 25 feet in front of me and I couldn't keep up. My heart rate monitor wouldn't stop beeping at me because I was above my target range. I figured it'd balance out once we found a good pace. Well that didn't happen. I was frickin huffing and puffing the whole time and I couldn't believe it. My body felt pretty good, other than a sore knee, but I was so out of breath, running a 9:40 mile. I was pretty disappointed in myself for not feeling stronger than I did. I had a little bit of juice left at the end so I pushed it to the finish and people were cheering "GO STROLLER GUY" and I died a little inside. Like really? Do they not see how fit he is? Do they not see the struggling mother who BORE those adorable little children? WHAT ABOUT ME, PEOPLE. I hit start on my watch as soon we crossed the line, and our "official" finish time was exactly one minute later than that. I'm going with my time since I really wanted to beat 30 minutes.

I'm glad I didn't have to walk (for more than about 5 seconds at the top of a hill), but am disappointed that I was as out of breath as I was. Sometimes denial is better than the truth.

We checked our times later in the day and this is what I found:

FIRST PLACE. FEMALE OPEN WINNERS.
I left without my MEDAL!!!!

Then I look closer....

Do you see that? "5K Walk"??? Marcus registered me for the WALK? WALK.
The other thing is, no one else was registered in the walk. It's like they created a special category just for me. Oh, that poor girl. Let's let her get first place by creating a division that no one else can sign up for. That will make that poor mom's day. That poor mom. She looks like she tries hard. She just needs to be recognized. Her husband is so strong for pushing that stroller. He probably gets so much attention because he's so cute. She just needs some extra love. We'll give her first place. IN A WALK.

The interesting news is that when I scrolled up to look at the age results for the run, I would have come in 5th place (which wasn't last place, jerks) and poor, pathetic fat and slow Marcus came in SECOND TO LAST in his age group. So I will always have that nugget to cherish, even if he was running 3 minutes slower per mile just to stay with me. He's a keeper, that one.

The first and last picture we're ever get like this because I'm so over it.

Do you like organized races or do you prefer gym training/classes over running, like me? 

I'd rather do 2 hours of Insanity than run in a stupid race, but I know that won't stop me in like 3 months when I do another 5k I didn't train for.

Ranty Pants

I figure I'm due for a rant.
The following contains a story about poop, and blood. some related, some not.

Couple things: Poor Lena's guts aren't loving the transition to formula. It's been sort of hard on her tummy and she can't poop. Marcus called me while I was at the gym last night and I could hear her screaming in the background. He said it was like watching a birth. I didn't ask too many details and I assume he thought that only from the expression on her face.
At her last doctor's visit, it was discussed that she should start solids to possibly help her pack on the pounds. I know everyone has their own opinion on this, but I'm going to go with what my girls' doctor says. We talked about rice, oatmeal and barley cereal and decided that oatmeal will be the best option for her, given her poop history.
It's been about 10 days since we've started straight up formula and some oatmeal she's totally backed up. I called the doctor today to get some pointers, and the person I spoke with gave me some really excellent advice!!!!!!!
I explained to her that she was in extreme discomfort so I went out and got her a glycerin suppository. The phone med tech said they only recommend prune juice, and it should work in 24-48 hours. Well, I'm sorry I broke your rule, but she had relief within 10 minutes and slept all night.
So then I asked if the oatmeal could be part of the problem and she said definitely and asked if I've tried rice cereal. I told her that I thought that was more binding and it's not a good option for her, and she said "you're probably right" and then said I might want to try barley. "It's a different type of rice, it's called barley."
Oh you mean it's not actually rice at all, and that it's barley? got it. I'm glad I'm learning so much from you right now.
I also asked about giving her water. I never thought thought water was recommended for young babies, but have read that it's a treatment. She said never give her water, but that sugar water is okay. I seriously don't trust anything this woman has told me.

The other thing: I had to have a health screening today for life insurance. Someone was going to come to my house and perform this screening and it'd take 25 minutes. She showed up about 30 minutes early, but it really wasn't a big deal. She didn't tell me her name and I thought it was sort of weird, especially when I introduced myself. I feel like if you're going to show up at someone's house and make them pee in a cup, you should at least tell them your name. Common courtesy. You want to collect a specimen? just tell me your name, that's all it takes. She asked some question which prompted me to answer "well, I had a baby 4 months ago" (don't remember the question) and she responded with "aw, babies are cute." My guess is that she must not have children because that's a really weird response.
She then had to take a few blood samples. I've never had trouble with blood draws before, and while they aren't pleasant, it's usually not a big deal for me. She wrapped the tourniquet around my arm and pinched the ever loving shit out of it. I looked at my arm and my skin was all folded and squashed and it left a purple spot. She's all "oh my, you have tiny veins!" and I've never heard that before, but whatever. She said it at least 4 times. "tiny." So she pokes me and it absolutely killed. I've never had it hurt like that before! But whatever, the worst is over, right? Nope. No blood. Until she took the needle out, then it was spurting all over the place. So she tried the other arm (same pinchy tourniquet) and missed again because it was "wiggly". Back to the first arm, nothing. I asked her if she felt a pulse earlier, she was not amused.
Back to the second arm, poke #4. Nada. No blood. I apologized (WHY?) and she had to keep finding more band aids, smaller needles, different vials, more gauze, and then she tried my hands, where they "wiggled" out of the way too. I told her this has never happened before, and maybe my insurance would accept labs from the last 6 months? I was hinting to her that enough was enough. I told her that we'd have a real problem if I couldn't pee in a cup and I'm not even real. Still not amused.
I'm pretty convinced I just a had a weirdo come to my house who doesn't know anything about performing those tasks that just wanted my blood and pee. I don't know her name and then she was off into the blizzard.

What a weird morning.

have you ever received less than professional medical care?
I don't trust phone staff ever since the one time I was told over the phone that she thinks I had a miscarriage, and no I don't need to see a doctor about it.