I'm officially "that" Mom.

I got the Parent Volunteer Form for Luca's class and was asked to check off ALL the ones I was interested in.

- Room Mom
- 3 year old Pre-School Representative (requiring me to attend board meetings and "represent" the 3 year old class)
- Willing to assist in helping the teachers prepare for classes (cutting/stapling/etc. for their lessons)
- Willing to make things at home to bring in to class to help the teachers (play-doh, etc.)
- Willing to come into the class and share a talent (i.e. cooking, music, etc.)

I checked them all off. And made up a talent.

She's alive!

Ah, what a beautiful evening it is. I sit here reflecting on how terrible of a blogger I am as I chug a bottle of Skinnygirl Margarita. It's just been one of those days. You know...the kind where Luca doesn't have an accident for the entire 2 hours that we're out running errands but as I stand at the front door trying to unlock it he pees his pants (all while Avery was having a fit on the front lawn...a note to my neighbors: please do not call DYFS on me today. They will just give her back to me and walk away). And also the kind where Avery has a 7 hour temper tantrum. You know...just a ho hum kind of day. Hopefully it should only take one bottle of Skinnygirl and one yittle (yes, 'yittle' is my new word for little) bottle of vanilla vodka to recover from this cluster fuck of a day. Oh and did I mention that Avery only took a 20 minute nap? Haha...I must have left that fabulous tidbit out. Ah, wait....it gets better. Big Poppa is out of town. FABulous! Doesn't he pick the most convenient days for these business trips of his?!

So, it was a good day in the Cav house. And you know what? Shit is deceiving sometimes. I thought, without a doubt, that today would be a great day. The kids actually slept in until 8:15am! That's an AMAZING start to any day, right? Wrong. I should have known that because they were nice enough to sleep in that by mid-day mid-morning they would give me a big old 'fuck you' and rebel. And that's precisely what they did.

In better Cav news, Luca just turned 3 on Monday. Where did my baby go? He had 2 fabulous construction themed birthday parties. Yes, parties, plural. Because one party just isn't enough for a measly 3 year old. And Avery? Well she's Avery. She just turned 22 months and I've come to realized that I'm fuuuucked when she hits the 'terrible twos.' Like, the thought of it frightens me because I feel like we should already be 9 months into the terrible twos and she's still 2 months away from them. I love her. She's so damn cute. I think that's part of the problem though. She knows she can get away with murder. You tell her no and be prepared for a solid 30 minute tantrum. She such a typical girl already. Can't say no to her. Ah, her mama's daughter.

Alright, I need another margarita. Or maybe some sort of vodka concoction. And I need to put the kids to bed still. Oh what? You thought the kids were already in bed and I was drinking up a storm? No, no, no silly readers. Remember...it's been that kind of day!

At least he knows the proper terms for the goodies!

It was a rather peaceful Wednesday night. Big Poppa was away on a business trip (to play in a golf tournament...sounds like hard work to me ::insert eye roll here::) so it was just me and the stinks. We played, watched some Dora, had a snack and some milk and it was time for jammies and bed.

I change Avery. No biggie other than her normal combative behavior. A kick to the stomach doesn't even faze me anymore because of that child. Now it's Luca's turn.

Oh, my sweet, sweet Luca.

Let me set the scene. Luca was laying on the floor of Avery's room, naked. Av is in the background reading about 'octopussy's' (and yes, that's her word. I've tried to correct her). Luca is now playing with his penis. This is how the conversation goes:

Me: Luke, stop playing with your weiner. It's not going anywhere.

Luca: Mama, I have a pee-nos.

Me: Yes baby, you have a penIS.

Luca: And you have a bagina.

Me: Yes honey, I have a VAgina. (see, I try to teach them the proper pronunciation!)

Luca: And Avie have a bagina?

Me: Yes baby, Avie also has a VAgina.

Luca: And Daddy have a pee-nos too. Yike ('Like') me!

Me: Yes sweetie.

Luca: Mama, you got a crotch.

Awesome. Just awesome.

I quit my job. And it felt so good!

Have you ever wanted to scream at your boss, "I'm done...I quit" and then hang up on him/her?

Yes?

Well I got to actually do it. And I highly recommend doing it at least once in your life. It feels so good! It's like not drinking my beloved Bailey's for a week and then having that first sip...ahhhh, glorious alcohol!

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it, kicked some serious ass at it and make the company a serious amount of money but the boss man was a world class dickbag. Here's just a small breakdown of why I no longer work for him and why I screamed at him and then proceeded to hang up on his ass:

1. Mama can only take so many bounced paychecks. I'm a loyal and sympathetic girl (most of the time), but you take advantage of me and I will go ninja on your ass.

2. After having so many bounced paychecks, don't even try and yell at me for cashing the check rather than just depositing it (only for it to bounce a week later).

3. You can only blame late deliveries on the "idiot delivery driver" so many times. Especially when 9 times out of 10, you were the one delivering and not the idiot delivery driver.

4. When a client orders pork tenderloin, it is not okay to just give them ham because you didn't have the pork tenderloin ready. And no, you cannot then get pissy with them when they question where the fuck the pork tenderloin is.

5. When my days become spent apologizing to clients and running around the county to clear up bounced paychecks, I throw in the towel.

6. And finally, I have two children and a husband to stay on top of. I did not house you in my uterus nor did you put a ring on it. Therefore, I should not have to nag you like only a mother and wife know how. You cannot blame your forgetfulness on your "ADD" forever. You're in your 50's. Drug yourself like every other kindergartner with ADD.

So, I'm taking this as my summer vacation. The kids and I ran errands yesterday and went to the zoo today. I'm even gonna get all Betty Crocker tomorrow and make some cake balls for a party on Sunday. Nothing too crazy though. It is summer vacation which means it's illegal to exert too much energy.

I live life on the edge. I laugh in the face of danger.

You know you're life has taken a sad, sad turn when you're idea of danger is laying in bed, playing solitaire on your iPhone with the fear of God in you that the light from the phone will wake your sleeping toddler who is mere feet away.

Sad, right?

That's about as dangerous as life has been lately. Blog has been neglected, eyebrows have been neglected, swimsuit body...well, that's just too far gone at this point. We're past neglected on that one.

On another topic...can someone please explain to me why my son is obsessed with dog poop? He marches around the house singing, "let's go see the dog poopy!" Then he'll proceed to tell me he wants to eat it. Ummmm....I've never fed him dog poop before. At least not that I'm aware of. What the hell could be so appetizing about it? Ahh, toddler boys. Gotta love them.

Avery is imitating every little thing that Luca does. Luca decides he wants to eat his dinner like a dog so Avery proceeds to go face first into her plate also. Monkey see, monkey do. Luca climbs on top of furniture....Avery is right behind him. She is completely fearless too. Especially around water. Which throws me into cardiac arrest every 2.5 seconds.

This post goes out to my wonderful friend Kate whom I've so neglected by not blogging as much. I promise I'll try to get back in the swing of things!!!

Our wedding weekend in Lancaster

(**This post is VERY picture heavy. But they're cute so it's worth it!**)

We traveled to Lancaster, PA a couple weeks ago (and yes, I'm just getting around to blogging about it) for the wedding vow renewal for our best friends Chris and Leigh. Big Poppa was a groomsman and Luca and Avery were the ring bearer and flower girl. And my God the cuteness is almost too much.

I have to say that I'm quite pleased with how the weekend turned out. I was nervous petrified that Avery wouldn't sleep because she's a bit of a sleep diva. She only really sleeps in her crib. She gives a big old 'fuck you' to pack and plays and even to Mommy and Daddy's bed. But she surprised us by sleeping wonderfully in her pack and play...thank you sweet baby Jesus! Luca slept in one of the king size beds and looked so teeny tiny in it. It made me melt. Of course I didn't take any pictures out of pure fear that he would wake up and make the remainder of the night a living hell.

Here are some pictures from the weekend. The vow renewal was absolutely beautiful and we were so honored to be apart of it. Thank you Uncle Chris and Aunt Lee-Lee! We can't wait to meet sweet Baby J!

The night before the wedding at the Lancaster Barnstormers baseball game!

Luca swimming with his Winnie (my mom)!

The kids chasing and popping bubbles!

Avery wanted to leave and I made her a take a picture. The horror!

Looking like such a little man!

Super nervous that she would fall down the hill and just roll into the aisle (kind of like what she did in the rehearsal)!

The diva started twirling her hair as she walked down the aisle.

Leigh looked absolutely gorgeous!

Why? Why? Why? Why?

WHYYYYYYYYYY??

Oh my sweet baby Jesus, if I have to hear this one more time I might jump from the nearest liquor store roof.

We have officially hit the why phase and for reals, I don't know if I'll survive it. While I don't claim to be the worlds most patient person I am proud of the fact that I've become more patient since birthing two children a mere 14 months apart. But this phase folks might be the death of my patience and resurrection of the former short-fused Amy.

My son, God love him, is a talker. No clue where he gets that from (shut up to all the family and friends reading this). He doesn't stop talking from the minute he wakes up in the morning (::whispers:: "Mama...what you do-ning?" UMMMM...SLEEPING!!!!) until he he falls asleep with a ya-ya shoved up his nose at night (usually singing, "Bob the Builder, can we fix it? Bob the Builder, yes we can!") So you can imagine with his already talkative nature plus this newfound inquisitiveness all equals a Mommy who is verbally beaten down by the end of the day.

Please tell me this phase ends soon. Like, tomorrow. That would make me happier than a pig in shit.

This is what my life has become...

Prior to having babies I would spend my weekends sleeping, shopping, relaxing with Big Poppa, visiting family or friends...just taking it easy. No big responsibilities or events. Nothing overly exciting. I could come and go as I pleased. It was a lovely time.

Now that I have children my weekends are spent in a completely different way. Take today for example. How am I spending my Saturday after a long week of working and child rearing?

Trying to get Luca to poop.

Please contain your excitement. The kid has been whining since this morning that he pooped and needs his diaper changed. So I lay him down, take off his pants, un-velcro his diaper and alas, there is no poop. This has happened at least 1,689,478 times today. He even asked to use the bathroom when we were out to brunch this morning. Ummm...this is the kid who won't even pee on the potty and he asked me to use the bathroom?! Riiiiiight.

So it's now 1pm and still no poop. And he's still upset about it so clearly there's an issue.

So, I'll spend the remainder of my day partaking in a "form" of child-rearing...literally. Ah, the joys of motherhood.

Happy Weekend!

I can't even remember the last time I blogged. That's sad.

I've been MIA. I know. But I swear it's for good reason. I got a job. It's only part time but it's really not feeling so part time since I pretty much am working at some point every single day. It's for a catering company. Get this....they contacted ME to help them expand their catering business. Pretty cool, right? Someone passed my name along to them and next thing I know, I'm working. So far I really enjoy it. I'm selling and booking events which is what I was hired to do. I don't mine working so much because I actually like it. So it's all good. But it's making life extremely hectic.

Besides that, all else is good on the homefront. Babies are good, crazy as ever. Avery is just the sweetest thing this week. But as you all know with her that could change in an instant. Luca is all about being outside. From the minute he wakes up at 630am, he wants to go outside and I don't stop hearing about it until he goes to bed at 8pm. As annoying as it is, I'd rather he love being outside then sitting in front of the tv.

Gotta run. Luca is crying because he wants his easter basket. I hope to catch up and resume normal posting soon!

What do you do for a 2.5 year old who is hitting/pushing?

Luca is in a BAD phase. Hitting, pushing, kicking and just overall testing us with everything. He is talking back and getting a little attitude. Nothing we do seems to work either. We yell, he gets upset, he repeats the behavior. We talk calmly, he gets distracted, he repeats the behavior. He goes to timeout, sits for 2 minutes and is smiling by the end of it. So that's kind of defeating the purpose of a miserable timeout since the kid is happy by the end of it.

I'm lost. I give.

What do you do to stop these behaviors?

Or am I doomed to have an abusive child?

Writers Block.

I have a serious case of it.

Send help.

What do you do when you have bloggy writers block? Where do you find inspiration for a pessimistic, sarcasm heavy post?

Coincidence?

If you've read my blog for any length of time then you know that I sometimes lovingly refer to my daughter as the devil child. If you knew her, you'd understand and probably agree. She's very headstrong and extremely fiesty. She most certainly doesn't get this from me. Ha.

So fast forward to tax time. Trust me, this is going somewhere. It's random but it's funny. Big Poppa was doing our taxes and had to enter social security numbers for everyone.

Want to take a wild guess what the last 3 digits of my sweet daughters social security number are?

Yeah.

666.

Coincidence? I think not.

I rest my case.

Since this is supposed to be a blog about my kids...an update.

I guess I should include kid updates once in a while. They're cute so at least it won't be annoying for you all to read.

Luca

This kid gets funnier and funnier everyday. He's speaking in full sentences now which never fails to entertain. He's so sweet and sensitive too. He still messes up words saying things like:

- See you martow...See you tomorrow

- Oh my good-mess!...Oh my goodness!

- Hole ma-role!...Holy macarole!

- Giant ex-da-day-er...Giant excavator

- Bull-doe-uh...Bulldozer

- Skid skeer...skid steer (are we seeing a trend with the construction vehicles here??)

This was a recent conversation of ours:

Luca: "Mommy, where Daddy?"

Me: "You know where Daddy is. I told you yesterday."

Luca: "Oh yeah. Daddy in O-highway."

PS - Big Poppa was in Ohio.

I am so proud of the little boy he is growing into. His sensitivity to me and his baby sister is so sweet. It melts my heart constantly. Potty training has been, um, non-existent. We've tried. Good lord, have we tried. But he's a stubborn one. Big Poppa sat him on the potty recently and told him to push out the pee-pee. His response?

"It not work anymore. It broken. It need batteries."

We're also trying to teach him to ask questions properly. The other day he wanted to 'get down' from the dinner table. He turned to me and asked, "Mama, may I have some 'get down' please?"

Seriously, how can you not want to eat him up?

Here are a couple pics of our sweet Luca Joseph at 2.5 years old!

He loves to vacuum...this is him helping my Mom (his Winnie) vacuum her living room!

Avery

Oh my sweet, sweet Avery. She is such a cuddle bug but can also throw one hell of a tantrum. She curls up on my chest and nuzzles her sweet little head into my neck with her flower lovey and ya-ya (pacifier) and just...cuddles. And it's so sweet and I hope she never stops doing that. But when homegirl doesn't get something that she wants, oh sweet baby Jesus in a manger. The tantrum and screaming and flailing that she does is UNREAL!

But she's growing at an unbelievable rate. Her vocabulary is so impressive too. She's starting to string words together. Her particular favorites...

- Go a-waaaaaay! (yeah, this is a fun one.)

- No waaaaaay!

- moooooe...more (the sign language for more usually accompanies this word)

- dabba dabba...Yo Gabba Gabba

-pee-pee...sippy

When you ask her, "where is Daddy?" She responds, "where Dada (while raising her hands and shrugging her shoulders)? I da know." It's the most adorable thing in the world.

As stubborn and fiesty as this little girl is, she completely lights up our world. She has her Daddy, Pop-Pop and Ah-Pop wrapped around her little finger. But I know she's gonna make me go gray by the age of 30.

Here are some updated pictures of our sweet Avery Pie!

This is a trash can lid that the diva thought would make a better hat. Or necklace.

Lukey and Avie baby...you mean the world to me. As much as I might complain about you and drink myself to sleep at night, you are the best things that ever happened to me. And I cannot imagine what my every day would be like without you in it. I love you Luca and Avery...as high as the sky and as big as Heaven!

(And I'll be back to my normal pessimistic, sarcastic blogging tomorrow! LOL!)

Will you be my menstruatin' friend?

Dog just pooped on your carpets? Baby just projectile vomited all over the place? Ran out of Baileys (that's like fucking Armageddon for me, by the way)?

Well then this, my bloggy buddies, is for you. It's one of my favoritest (yes, that is a word, thankyouverymuch) things in the whole world. I present you with another gem from the Best of Craigslist. Just sit back and praise Jahweh that you aren't the fucked up person who posted this beauty on a national website.

As always, my comments in red.

___________________________________________________________________

W4W seeking menstruation

________________________________________________

Hi there (Hola!...sorry, I'm channeling Dora). I am looking for a friend one who is currently or will soon be on her period. Mine is two weeks late (CONGRATULATIONS!!!) and, while I know I'm not pregnant (ooooh wait....my bad), I would like to kick-start mine to get back on my normal, lovely schedule (lovely? what's lovely about a period? pregnant bitch must be on crack). I would prefer it if you have a history of being dominant in these matters how the hell are you dominant in menstruating? color me confused (i.e. do you have a history of setting other women's cycles? duhhhh...now i'm following and i totally forgot about how i check and see if every woman around me is now getting on MY cycle by just being in my presence. i totally forgot. i ask women that all.the.time.) so the chances are maximized. Must be willing to spend lots of time in a somewhat small space with me bow chicka bow wow (we can watch cheesy romantic comedies in my walk in closet. or... maybe the living room or maybe nowhere you psycho pregasaurus rex) so the pheromones (that is the leading theory for why this works, right? i have no fucking clue...who researchs this shit?! oh that's right...women who don't want to accept that THEY'RE PREGNANT!!) are sure to, uh, transfer (or whatever they do) clearly you didn't do enough research. And if you happen to know a bunch of other women who're also menstruatin' (that's the slang word for menstruating, ps), bring them too. let's have one big period party! bring your favorite tampon or pad! i'll bring the freshening wipes!

And I know it's hot, so I'm offering to provide as much haagen dazs as it takes to make it through the heat. Um, how about some air conditioning? Last time I checked that was pretty nice to have when it was hot out.

• Location: pacific beach
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1347840902

_________________________________________________________________________________

These people never cease to amaze me. Not only will you have to spend an undetermined amount of time with a total stranger, watching cheesy romantic movies in a coat closet no less, but you are having to do it for free. Pretty much out of the pure goodness of your va-jay-jay heart. Better you then me.

"If you love something, set it free. If it returns, it's yours forever..."

She has returned to me. My love.

You might remember back here when I vented about my new car. You see, I was bullied by my husband and car dealer owning friend to turn in my lease early and to get a different car entirely.

Now if you know me, you know that I do not get bullied. I do not succumb to pressure very easily. I was never the victim of peer pressure when I was growing up. It wasn't my style. So when I gave in to them and ended up hating my car, I made sure to remind Big Poppa every.single.time we got into and out of that dumb f'ing car.

Eventually I got so annoying wore him down and he gave in. Smart man. This past weekend I got my beautiful Pathfinder back. I love her. And nothing, particularly a butthead spouse, will come between us again.

My love for Luca was put to the test yesterday...

...when he threw up all over my brand new, one hour old car.

It's a good thing he's cute.

Sort of like locks of love.

Now that things are calming down I figure I can update a little more about what's been going on.

My sister, Jil (she has a blog and I'd link it but she's so overly devoted to it. I mean she does have a whopping two posts on it. And no offense but that's just not worth the effort of linking it in), was taken to the hospital about two weeks ago with what appeared to be stroke like symptoms. It was scary and after a bunch of tests and crap, it was determined that she had something called a Chiari Malformation in her brain. This diagnosis resulted in brain surgery last Thursday. It was super scary, especially for her, but she made it through successfully.

The neurosurgeon informed her that most of her head would have to be shaved. So in an effort to make it look less, um, dumb, she opted for a super short but super cute haircut. She was really upset about doing it but thought it'd be better than having to shave her whole head. As a show of support (see? I'm not always a bitch whore) my other sister Jodie and I decided to also chop our hair off.

Here are the pictures. I omitted the ones of me crying. I kid, I kid. It took me over a year to grow my hair to the length it was when JoAnn (hairstylist extraordinaire) hacked it all off. But it's hair so it'll grow back. Whatevs. And I'm a loyal girl so it was worth it.

Here is Jil, in her hospital room, getting her hair did. Her eyes are closed because she was pretty drugged. Lucky.

And me. Shut up with the comments on my hotness. You're all just jealous.

Luca got in on the brain surgery haircut action as well. So damn cute!

And my other sister, Jodie, got her turn as well.

Jodie and I with the finished product. It looks much better after a blowdry and flat iron. Promise.

Jil and I later that day. She's a tough cookie.

She made it through the brain surgery!

Just a quick update that my sister, Jilian, made it through the brain surgery this morning with flying colors! She has a very hard recovery ahead of her but she's a tough girl so I have no doubts that she can handle it.

Stay tuned for my "Brain Surgery Haircuts" post!

I'm not dead!

I'll be back to blogging soon. I'm insanely busy with some family stuff. My sister is having brain surgery this week so we're focusing on her right now!

I've got some good stuff up my sleeve though so stay tuned!

I FOUND A JOB!!!

You'll be pleased to know that I've found a job! And guess where??? THE BEST OF CRAIGSLIST, of course! Uh-duh!

This one is a real gem.

My comments in red. Here we go!

____________________________________________

Astronaut Needed (do you get the title of "Astronaut" even if you aren't technically qualified for the position? If yes, SWEET! Sign me up! Mom and Dad can finally say they're proud of me!)

---

Date: 2009-09-14, 3:43AM MDT

---

Astronaut needed for experimental flight to Titan. Where the hell is Titan? I'm no Albert Einstein but last time I went through my solar system {in 3rd grade}, Titan wasn't included. I am a bit rusty though. Google just told me that Pluto was de-planetized. Maybe Titan took its place? I have been working on this project now for near 40 years (that's a long ass time to working on something imaginary. Jeez...my imaginary friend only lasted 20 years. He's got me beat.) and am afraid I'm no longer fit (read: sane) enough to go.
My secret space craft (that he borrowed from Balloon Boy's parents) is the result of my professional experience and imagination (AH-HA! There it is!!!) while serving the U.S. military (prior to being kicked out for schizophrenia) in advanced aeronautics as a scientist.
The craft harnesses a revolutionary (read: new, untested, death likely) propulsion system and its fuselage is fabricated with the most advanced material (baking soda and vinegar). While considerably safe (not sure how much weight there is in "considerably safe" to a schizophrenic but whatevs...) , I am certain you will make it safely to Titan but there will not be enough fuel to get home (you can stock that flying piece of imaginary crap with enough fuel to get to Titan but not enough to get home??? So this has now become a suicide mission???). This is for someone unique (read: suicidal) that has always wanted to see the universe first-hand (you want to see the universe?? Go on a safari in Africa. Eat pasta in Italy. Pick up a hooker in Amsterdam. But board a big helium balloon to "Titan" and don't return? Hmm...I don't think that's on a travel agents agenda.) and has perhaps a terminal view on life here at home (there it is again. If you're looking to die that he's the guy you want to talk to). Here's your shot at romantic history (that's a ballsy way to describe it. Unless Brad Pitt {minus the nasty ass braided pubic hair looking thing on his chin} is joining me, I would probably describe it as psychotic).

Must be:
-physically fit. Why must we be fit to die? If I'm gonna die on this thing you better believe I'm going out in all my glory. Surrounded by Baileys, Starbucks, Wendy's, ChickFilA and Dunkin Donuts.
-mentally sound. Pot meet kettle.
-over the age of 18. Make sure you're not assisting a minor in their death!
-a dreamer.
-a believer. If you're a believe of this, then maybe you should go because you are that stupid.
-not afraid of heights.
-not afraid of extreme conditions such as speed, pressure, heat, etc. You're gonna die anyway so suck it up.
-brave.
-no taller than 5'10 and relatively slim.
-good eye-sight & hearing.
-manual dexterity (although the craft is largely cpu controlled). HA! So this guy is going to actually control your death. That's fabulous!
-OK in cramped conditions for long periods of time. Duh. Titan is pretty far away.

• Location: Northern Alberta
• Compensation: $25,000 CASH. Here is where I'm baffled. You get $25,000 cash to die. Can I at least get that shit in advance so I can enjoy it???
• This is a contract job.
• Principals only. Recruiters, please don't contact this job poster.
• Please, no phone calls about this job!
• Please do not contact job poster about other services, products or commercial interests.

PostingID: 1373376861

---

So I've come to the conclusion that this man is the new era Kevorkian. Or did you hear about the guy who was seeking sexual services on Craigslist and then killing the women? I think he was even labeled the Craigslist Killer. Maybe this guy is just going about it in a new, more "unique" way.

Either way, the man is clearly a loon. I wish I could spy into his email and see if he got any responses and what they said. They've got to be equally amusing. Or sad.

He had me up until the suicide part. I was ALL for being an Astronaut but I'd kinda like to come home from Titan to see my hubs and kids.

Oh well...guess my job search continues.

Peeing in the dark.

You know your life has hit a new low when you sneak into the bathroom to pee and don't dare turn the lights on because then the kids would know you were in there and it's your only chance for some peace and quiet for two minutes.

And that was the worlds longest run on sentence.

That is all.

So my lungs caught on fire today.

For reals.

Ya see, I decided to run a half marathon. And I know what you're thinking...

You: "Don't you like your Bailey's on the rocks and Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks?"

Me: "Like? Try love. Worship. Obsessed."

You: "Okay. And aren't you the girl that doesn't understand the sport of track and field because you can't see why people run for fun?"

Me: "Guilty."

You: "And you're actually going to run a half marathon?"

Me: "The operative word in there is run. But yes, I'm going to try."

You: "13.1 miles?"

Me: "Okay, now you're just being a jerk. Shut it."

Clearly, I'm on crack. I'm the girl that made fun of my sisters when they were training for their half marathons last year. I'm also the girl that listed every excuse in the book for why I couldn't do it.

But now, I'm sick of the excuses. Sure I have a bum leg. Yes, an entire leg. My knee down to my ankle and foot. But I'm hoping that running will help strengthen it. At least that's what I'm telling myself. See, psychotic. And not to get all sappy because it's not how I roll, but I want to be proud of myself for something. So...13.1 miles it is. Go big or go home.

Today, though, I went home.

The workout for today was an interval session. 3 minutes of a hard run, 1 minute of an easy run. Repeat 10 times. Sounds easy, right? Totally. NOT.

My lungs caught on fire halfway through the first interval and never recovered. The combination of the dry, cold air did me no good. Plus it was windy again today which threw another wrench into things. After that, it was sort of like a multiple system shut down. My knee and ankle started to fail me. My neck started acting up again. And let me tell you, my lungs still hurt and it's nearly 7 hours later!

So I went home.

But I won't give up. I have a 30 minute run tomorrow. 30 whole minutes. Ugh. Plus I can't give up now because I've put it out to the whole world that I'm doing this and it would be pretty f'ing embarrassing if I quit. Does that make me vain? Whatevs.

Hopefully tomorrow I won't have lungs of fire. Or eat a Munchkin as soon as I walk in the door from said run. WHAT?! Don't judge.

I chose to be a Mom.

If you remember, one of my New Years Resolutions was to quit the SAHM gig. We're in a place where I can go back to work full time and have child care handled. And the extra money right now would be so helpful.

One problem.

I've been out of work since May 2008. That's almost two years. And last time I checked, employers don't really find that desirable. Especially in a market where they are getting no less that 75 application submissions.

I've applied for 30 million jobs (maybe a bit of an exaggeration) and I haven't gotten a single interview. I'm no fool though. I know the reason.

I chose to be a Mom.

By choosing to be a Mom, I pretty much took myself out of the race. As mad/sad as I am over it, I can't say I blame the employers for tossing my resume to the side. If they have to choose between someone who has been working up until the present and me...well, the choice appears clear.

But it doesn't make it suck any less for me.

Once upon a time I was confident and awesome at what I did. I kicked ass in my field. People knew me and respected my professional opinion. I'm not saying I was the shit. But I was good. And I know that I still have it.

But I chose to be a Mom.

So I continue to check the job postings every day and apply as new ones pop up. I can only hope that someone will take the chance to interview me and see just how strong of an employee I am. I'm patient, organized and dedicated. I have excellent communication skills and plenty of energy.

Because I'm a Mom.

Relief.

Thank you all for your love and support in my last blog. It was so needed.

Big Poppa and I brought Avie Baby to the doctor, as I said, very discouraged. We left very surprised and optimistic though. Her case of Fructose Intolerance is VERY mild which means only minor tweaks to her diet. She won't outgrow this condition like we hope she'll outgrow her severe reflux and congenital hypothyroidism but 2 out of 3 isn't bad. Fingers crossed!

So now we proceed with all this medicine that's making her so happy. Unfortunately she can't eat ice cream and pudding for every meal of the day but there's worse things in life.

Once again, a big thanks for all the love!

Got some bad news on Avery :(

If you've been following this blog then you know we've been going through a lot of testing with our sweet Avie Baby for her failure to thrive diagnosis.

To make a long story short she was diagnosed with severe acidic and non-acidic reflux and a mild case of trachealmalatia. They increased her Prevacid dosage and honestly, it was like we had a new child. Our sweet baby girl was back and we were finally seeing her happy, smiling personality again. Up until three weeks ago, life with her was hell (maybe harsh but really honest...it was bad). But after her diagnosis and subsequent med change she has been a dream come true! I have fallen in love all over again. And she's gaining weight! We're talking nearly two pounds in just three weeks!!!! That's HUGE!

Anyway, we thought we were moving towards healing and then I get a phone call from her GI doctor. The last round of testing that was done included a pH and Impedence Probe as well as a Fructose/Glucose Intolerance Test. Fructose Intolerance is pretty rare. It pretty much means that your body is missing an enzyme called Aldolase B that is needed to break down fructose in your body. When the fructose isn't broken down it collects in the liver and kidney. It can be deadly if a strict no fructose/sucrose/sorbitol diet is not followed. But if the diet is followed, it is a non-issue.

You know where I'm going with this now. She was positive for a Fructose Intolerance. Fucking a. I was finally feeling really optimistic that we could control everything going on with her and keep her happy and thriving. And now I'm just lost again. She's eating everything in sight at the moment and now that's going to change because we'll have to remove fructose from her diet (which hello...fructose is in everything!).

So we're off to the GI today to discuss this latest diagnosis and our next step. I was so excited to come to this appointment and talk about how happy I was with her diagnosis and treatment. But now....

I'm just sad. And discouraged.

PLEASE VOTE for The Gwendolyn Strong Foundation!!

Another blog that I stalk recently posted about the Chase Community Giving

competition going on. I'm just going to c&p what she posted on her blog. It would be much more effective in persuading you all to go and vote immediately! Here it is!

Dear Friends and Family,

My daughter's best friend, Gwendolyn Strong, is the same age as Reese, and has a terminal illness called Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA). Children with SMA lack a gene in their DNA that keeps the motor neurons thriving: Gwendolyn's body is completely paralyzed, she breathes from a machine, and eats from a tube. Her mind, however, is completely normal and she's actually quite a spunky little gal. She loves to play with Reese and has an affinity for princess items :) Reserachers at UC Irvine are really REALLY close to a cure for SMA, but they need funding to push it towards FDA approval. It is so exciting (yet frustrating) to know how close it is!

JP Morgan Chase Bank has committed to donating $5 million dollars to non-profit organizations, $1 million of which was already distributed in December. Through a Facebook voting system, the top 100 non-profits were awarded $25,000 in cash. The Gwendolyn Strong Foundation was one of these winners (yippeee!), and 100% of the funds were sent directly to UC Irvine's SMA research team. Next up is the final round of voting for the BIG prize: $1,000,000. One million!! This voting is all done through Facebook, and it starts tomorrow: Friday, January 15th, 2010.

This video sums it up: Gwendolyn Strong Video

Imagine this: $1,000,000 towards SMA research could actually end this disease. Not "get the ball rolling" on research, not "hope for a cure," but actually end it. And, most importantly in my eyes, it could save Gwendolyn's life. The research that is sooooo close to FDA approval is one that could affect babies who already have SMA (like Gwendolyn), and could completely remove them from symptoms. Can you imagine Gwendolyn running into our playgroup and giving the kids high-fives and hugs without a breathing machine? I CAN!!!!!!!

Here are some facts:

• Dr. Kierstad (UC Irvine) has dedicated his life to spinal cord injuries. He has already successfully performed a lab experiment on mice that allowed the previously-paralyzed animals to literally get up and walk. He is now focusing on SMA research, which is closely related to spinal cord injuries, muscular dystrophies, ALS/Lou Gehrig's, Parkinson's and Alzheimer's diseases. It is his belief that a groundbreaking surgery (so close to FDA approval!) could allow the body to re-build the proteins that are missing in children with SMA. That means Gwendolyn has the potential to be symptom free! Forever!
  
• Money is holding back a cure. Other diseases, such as breast cancer and AIDS, have massive amounts of funding and reserach behind them, but "cures" are still unknown. The "cure" for SMA is just around the corner, but nothing can be done until the funds are there to continue the research.
• SMA is the #1 genetic killer of children under two years of age, and 1 in 40 adults (unknowingly) carry the gene to pass it on.

I really dislike forwards and spam emails, but I am going to send out an email, Facebook posting, and blog entry EVERY single day while the voting is open (Jan 15 - Jan 22). It's really simple, just three easy steps (I'll list them in tomorrow's email once the voting is open). In turn, I ask that you do the same...post it on your Facebook accounts (or heck, create a FB account if you don't have one already!), your blogs, your email contacts, etc. This is an effort sheerly driven by people voting: the GSF needs every single vote it can get.

Reese wakes up each morning and asks to play with Gwendolyn. She loves to hold her hand and help wipe her mouth when it is wet. I'm looking forward to explaining to Reese why Gwendolyn doesn't have to wear a breathing machine anymore ("she's cured!") instead of giving her the opposite devistating news. So, please, please, please, PLEASE vote and spread the word to every person you know.

Click on the button below to vote! THANK YOU!!!

If I could describe myself in one word yesterday...

...it would be neurotic. Totally, completely, absolutely neurotic.

And why am I so neurotic, you ask?

Pre-school registration.

Who knew that 3 year old pre-school registration would make my heart race and put me in the heat of a competition? Let's start from the beginning.

Big Poppa and I want to put Luca in pre-school next year. Easy, right? Um, no. Apparently there are only 3 pre-schools in the town we live in ranging in price from $3,000 (I'll wait while you pick your jaw up off the ground) to $1400.

Anyway, we had our #1 pick. A local church. Bonus points that Luca was gonna get some education and some God. The director tells me that church members and siblings of current students got first priority for registration and then it would open to everyone. At that point she would mail out registration applications. We were to fill them out, mail back an application fee and then she would number them as they came in. Essentially we would be on the waiting list until the 2 week window for the church members ended. Then she would go through the open registrations and start placing kids.

Now, do you wanna know what I heard while she was explaining that whole process?

It's a race. You must get your application in if you want your kid to get a spot. Don't let anyone beat you. Classes fill up immediately. If you aren't #1 on the wait list you will be labeled the worst mother in the town. Pft. You won't be quick enough. I dare you to be first on the waiting list. Double dog dare you.

So for the last two weeks I've been stalking the mail truck and subsequently running (yes, literally running) out to check the mail for that application. When I hadn't seen anything by earlier this week, I did what any sane, logical, concerned mother would do. I called and called and called until she finally answered and asked where the fuck they were at (okay, I didn't say it exactly like that but you get the point). She told me to simmer down and that they'd be mailed out this week.

Today was the day. I swear when I opened the mailbox bright light came flooding out. There it was. Like the golden ticket from a Willy Wonka chocolate bar.

I ran (again, yes, I fucking RAN) into the house and filled that shit out at lightning speed along with the check for the registration fee.

Then I grabbed my keys and went to jump in my car to drive it to the school. Screw mailing it. That would delay me the application for at least a day or two. And who knows? I could have been #150 on the waiting list by then. That would NOT be acceptable. So I go to jump in the car and FUUUUUUUCK!! Avery's napping! GAHHHH! Damn kids getting in the way again!

Luckily at just that moment my Mom walked through the door. Sweet baby Jesus in a manger! I yelled at her to watch the kids as I bolted out the door. I think she heard the words "registration," "pre-school," "waiting list" and "win" as I whizzed past her.

I get to the school, catch my breath and deliver the application. It was done. And get this...

I AM #1 ON THE WAITING LIST!!!

Fuck yeah, baby!!! Take that suckas!

Now I need to focus on potty training Luca because he can't attend said school until he stops crapping in his pants. Did I fail to mention that in the beginning? Yeah...fully potty trained in order to attend.

I swear to all that's holy if this kid doesn't potty train and I just completed my own mini-Ironman for him, I'm gonna be hotter than Hades! Or I could look at the bright side and think of it as my way of burning off that entire sleeve of Oreos I ate last night!

I think I have a problem.

This was a full sleeve of cookies when I started.

Clearly I am a hippopotamus.

Why I get no love...a list.

So in the last week I've had at least a handful of people tell me that they read my blog and love it. Thank you. But I'm mad at you.

Why?

Because you don't leave me any comments. You're lurking. Stalking. A peeping Tom. At least have the decency to peek in my window, see me naked, and say, "hey Ame, your fat ass need to lose a few pounds." At least it's something!

So in honor of my no love leaving blog readers, I've composed a list of why I feel as if I get no love. Without further ado...

1. I curse too much. My answer to that? Fucking deal with it.

2. I refer to my kids as Satan's children. So they aren't really Satan's kid. They are Big Poppa's. But they certainly act like Satan's kids most days. And if you have kids, you can relate. And if you are all about loving God and not Satan, well, then just replace Satan for Judas. (And yes, I needed to ask Big Poppa who another "villain" type guy from the Bible was. His response, "from the New Testament?" Christ. God bless his heart. And he's still giving me a hard time that Judas is still not being used in the right context. Sweet Jesus.)

3. I use too many of these: "..." You know how people grossly overuse that certain punctuation mark. I think its called an ellipsis. Yeah, color me guilty. I love me some ellipsis...

4. I drink too much. But that would just be a crazy, silly excuse for not commenting. Therapy is WAY more expensive then a $20 bottle of Baileys. Duh.

5. My kids are so cute that they knock you out of your chairs rendering you unconscious and therefore unable to leave a comment.

Yeah. I like that last one. I'm gonna go with it. So in an effort to not knock you unconscious with their adorableness, I will omit pics of the kids in this post. Hopefully that will encourage you to comment.

You don't have to tell me your life story. I probably won't read it anyway (I kid, I kid). Just give me a HOLLER or ask a question! Whatevuh...I'm an OPEN book!

I fought the devil and the devil won.

The devil, in this case, is Wegmans Buffalo Wing Cheddar Spread. I tried to stay away but well, it didn't work.

I'm weak in its presence. I can't stay away. It's like heaven on a cracker! Most people prefer to eat it warm or hot which technically is how its supposed to be consumed. But I've never really been a technical kind of gal so I just eat it as is. I think God sent it to me to brighten my days a little. Well, either God or the fine culinary Wegmans Gods. Same diff. Either way, I thank them for such an honorable contribution to the world of fine foods.

And ps - no, we will not be discussing the amounts of cheese, milk, mayonnaise, eggs, salt and butter it contains. Actually, I think the ingredient list should read: "Deliciousness." Nor will we be discussing that in a single 2 tbsp. serving there are 12 grams of fat and 130 calories. What I WOULD like to point out is that 10% of that itty bitty serving is calcium. And 4% is vitamin A. That's like, an assload of calcium and vitamin A!

So actually, I'm doing my body some good by eating 30 servings. Which in turn means there is no need to workout today, right? HA! Take that Jillian Michaels!

Sweet, sweet exam room.

Never in a million years did I think I'd ever speak those words. But today, it was all I could think and subsequently whisper to myself as we were escorted back to exam room #4. I've always liked the number 4.

Taking a kid to the doctor is never fun. They learn pretty quickly that doctors are the enemy. My kids are no different. Luca has gotten better about having his ears and nose and throat checked. Avery...not so much. She loses her ever loving mind as soon as the doctor and that little tiny light come within 5 feet of her. So much so that I have to physically restrain her. And let me tell you...homegirl is strong.

Anyway, I had the brilliant idea to schedule the kids ENT appointments together. And to take them by myself. You think I would have learned from the last time I had this stroke of genius, but alas, that was not the case. Apparently I hallucinated and thought my kids had gotten more patient and calm as they've entered toddlerhood. (Are we noting the sarcasm here? Good. I'll continue.)

We were called back relatively quickly considering the place was mobbed. Luca was an absolute saint (WTF????) as he had pictures of his eardrums taken and a hearing test (props to the old lollipop trick). Then we were sent back to the waiting room. Fuck. I thought we were in the clear. This waiting room was huge and of course my children go in opposite directions. Avery in her waddle walking "new-ness" just a waddle away from slamming her head on one of the 1,000 things that weren't child proofed. And Luca. Sweet Luca who is in the full blown phase of saying "NO" and just not giving a shit what I tell him to do and doing whatever the f he pleases. This was good times, folks. And I swear to God everyone was staring at me in all my no makeup, hair falling out, fat clothes glory.

We get called back to exam room #4 and all I could think was, "thank you God...they'll be contained." I used to hate that containment especially because their piercing screams and whines echo in there. Not good for Mama's eardrums! But I actually was relieved to get them back there and locked in a room. Even if said room had a trash bin of biohazard waste sitting on the floor. If it didn't kill the kid before then mine would surely be fine, right?!

We finally leave with Avery screaming bloody murder and everyone, again, staring at me. And my hair was so much worse this time. We Luca even got a compliment as we were leaving. Get this...about how well behaved he was. My kid?! Hells! Take that, judgers!

So what you ask was the most logical thing to do after a traumatic experience for them me? Inhale a McDonalds extra value meal. Duh. Oh and I threw a couple nuggets back at Luke. Not Avery though. WHAT?! She was already sound asleep from screaming so hard. I think.

"You can find me in the club..."

"...sippy full of milk..."

Back and ready for a new year of blogging!

My hope is to get back to my light hearted blog of days past. Things have been super busy as I'm sure you all (the whole 2 of you that actually read this blog) can relate.

So on that note, let's discuss my New Years Resolutions!

1. To get Luca to stop saying "oh shit" all.day.long. I might not be as worried about him saying it if he weren't using it in the proper context. Unfortunately, he is. And it's so freaking hard not to laugh at him.

2. To get Avery sleeping in until a more appropriate hour. Say, 6am? That's not too much to ask, right?

3. Oh and while we're on Avery...to break her bottle obsession. Homegirl loves her some bottles. She was ready to be done with them a couple months ago but her GI doctor wouldn't let me stop because of this special formula she's on. Well, now she's hooked. And gets royally pissed when you hand her a sippy instead of her beloved bottle.

4. Drink more wine. Hello, my kids are 14 months apart...this is a crucial one for my sanity!

5. Complete the 30 day Shred. Even though Jillian Michaels and her stupid plank positions can suck my butt.

6. Quit the SAHM gig. While I love being home with my kids, I've been on a couple interviews recently and it re-ignited something. I think I'm ready to venture back out into the working world. Plus the money would be so clutch right now.

7. Get my new car and say peace out to the stupid one I have now. Well, say peace out and hand it over to Big Poppa.

8. See my bestest friend, Porno Bean, some more. I miss her. She doesn't even read this blog so I'm not trying to earn brownie points. I just miss her and want to see her more.

9. Stop eating ice cream after I've worked out. Kind of counteractive, no?

10. Marry my iPhone. It seriously rocks my world.

Happy New Year, ya'll!!!