What $1.77 can buy

A 20 oz. Diet Coke and a foot long "line" of strawberry (ahem...pink) Laffy Taffy.

And we're off.  With Iree in the umbrella stroller, Maizie in her pink tennies, and me-trying to figure out how in the world to multi-task pushing the stroller, corralling Maizie, and balancing the purple bouncy ball that we've brought with us.  

Obstacle #1:  Managing children in a small gas station, with everything displayed at toddler eye-level.  For some reason, there is an old pleather covered chair taking up half of the 4 x 5 store, so Maizie has a place to stay.  This is where the $1.77 comes in.  I pay a grease covered mechanic with coins from a ziplock baggie.  

Obstacle #2:  The construction on the corner.  This has torn up the crosswalk.  Crossing Penn Ave. at any time of day is bad, including lunchtime.  I have no idea where all these people are going, but they are there nonetheless.  So we have to cross in the middle of the street, which is a bit freaky. 

Anyway, we keep walking.  We're going to "a field."  I have no plan, I just know that if I don't get away from baby-food covered walls we might not make it through the day.   The field is about 2 blocks away, which means it's a six hour walk, give or take .   

So we arrive at our destination, this little playgroundless park that is on the creek.  I pull out the purple ball and Maizie starts kicking.  We find a bench and eat our "snack."  Iris has some, too (of course), and we're sticky and off again.  Next stop, a footbridge that goes across the creek.  We toss in some leaves on one side and look down the other to watch float away.  And we're off as fast as that started.  I think I could do that all day, but whatever.  Further down the "park" are 4 tennis courts.  I can barely see Penn Ave. now, which scares me, because not only do we have to walk all the way back through the park but back home as well.  But what else are we going to do? 

So Maizie gets her purple ball and bounces it and kicks it all over the tennis courts.  I get Iree out of her stroller and she butt scoots around the tennis court, eating rocks and bugs and other natural objects (the original organic, right?).  Maizie is singing the same song over and over, a line of it is "A ball is fun for all!"  And I'm soaking up the last of the summer, the autumn leaves, and pretending I'm Ma Ingalls with a Diet Coke.  

Finally, we head back again, and of course we have to do everything that we did on the way out. So it's back over the footbridge, toss some leaves in, back through the park, listen for birds, count the squirrels, kick the ball, up the hill, and Maizie gets about two feet onto the sidewalk on Penn when she sits down like Lucy my late basset hound used to do.  So I pick her up on my right hip, push the stroller with my left hand, weave through the construction, and finally back home.

Two hours later.  (If you're a stay at home mom you'll understand how LONG two hours can seem some days, so it's a big deal.)

My point?  I liked being a mom today.  Because I decided to get out of my stuffy situation, out of myself, and actually go ENJOY my children, the time flew.  It was one of those rare days. And no, the dishes are not done.  The baby food is STILL on the wall (but I'll probably take care of that soon since Iris hasn't really been eating baby food for a few months...), and the laundry baskets aren't getting any emptier.  

My other point?  It was in that calmness and simplicity that we found joy.   No flashing toys or DVDs.  No expensive outing to the children's museum.  Not that those things don't have their place at times.  But it was each other that brought the peace and joy that I often long for.  

That and a nice cold Diet Coke.  

The Office

C'mon...I'm so bored!!!

I miss you Andy Bernard!!!

My Bad

Have you ever had a problem that you TOTALLY know is your fault?  

For example, not teaching your "infant" to sleep through the night?  And now she's 10 months old and you're exhausted.  

Oh boy...

But at the time it seemed like the right thing to do.  Don't let her cry b/c then Maizie will wake up, and a cranky toddler is so much worse than a tired momma.  Right? 

BUT WE WOULD BE DONE BY NOW!!!

Now, I have a little girl who is too big to sleep in our tiny room, who can't share a room with her sister, and who is sleeping in a pack-and-play in the basement.  And who is a REALLY loud and persistent crier. 

Ugh.

I must say, however, that she only wakes up once.  It's still annoying, though.

But she sure is cute.  

One small step for mankind, but one giant step for Maizie

FINALLY!  

After 9 months of being "potty" (pee only) trained-she can even get through the entire night, my big girl has pooped in a toilet.  Bittersweetly, I realize that it's because dad got involved.  All my cajoling, bribing, disciplining, whatever accomplished nothing.  But the day that daddy stepped in and told her that if she pooped in her diaper (at nap time) or in her undies, she would not be allowed to wear a pretty dress and would have to wear pants, she obliges.  These threatened pants are not just any pants, mind you.  A pair of red shorts and a black t-shirt.  You may be thinking, what's the big deal, but this is the girl who wakes up in the morning and says within the first few minutes "I love pink and purple."  "I just have to dance." "I need ballet slippers."  And who now introduces herself as "Pink Maizie Brown."  So, for the time being, pooping in the pot became more important than teaching Maizie that she can't have whatever she wants (currently in the form of clothing). So she held it, held it, held it as long as she could, and FINALLY, on the way home from Sam's Club we hear her crying b/c she couldn't hold it any longer.  So we stop at Wendy's and her and I dash in, sit her down, and out it comes.  And for all the times I thought she was just being a brat about not going, I realized how wrong I was, because she was SO excited.  And with her arms pumping up and down in cheerleader fashion she's exclaiming between giggles....

"It just slide right out!!!   I'm so big-cited!!!  

I'm SOOOO proud!!  

Let's tell Baby Iris!  I want my cash register!!  

I did it!!!  

I'm so big-cited!!!  Baby Iris is so big-cited!!  

Let's call [Blue's Clues'] Steve!" 

(aka Jason)

Now I know it's not over, but at least it's coming along.  

I'm just praying that we don't have to drive to Wendy's every time she has to go.

Just another week.

Oh, the things that I never dreamed of...Last night, Maiz was in the bathtub grunting and, um, farting (I'm sorry if you say "fluff" in your house, but it's my blog, so please deal).  We were like, "Do you need to poop?  Why don't you sit on the potty?"  

NOTE:  Maizie is entirely "potty" trained.  Yes, potty only.  She has yet to go numero dos in the potty.  No matter what type of bribing, cajoling, lawyering, or bargaining I do, she refuses.  She'll be ten before she does it, I think.

Anyway, she decided to "try," which was more than she's done before.  We, of course, didn't think she'd do it until she calls "I did it!!!"

Um, hmmm...

"I pooped and it's in the potty!" "I get my cash register!"  (The stakes for pooping are high).  

I will say is that it was very large AND in her potty.

Picked up and placed there by her.

Gotta love it.  

IN other news, here's what happened at McDonald's today.  We (me, my baby bag-it's like another toddler, Iris, and Maizie) are going in the door, and while I'm trying to "herd cats" inside, I open the door right into Maizie's forehead.  She is knocked on the floor and is "silent screaming," so I figure I have 10-12 seconds before I'm noticed (when she finally takes a breath and REALLY screams).  Of course, people are waiting to get out, and those McDonald's foyers are so huge, not to mention that they could cook their fries in there it's so hot, and we're all on the floor.  I somehow manage to get everyone (baby bag 

included) inside and to the counter. 

"Hi, she just hit her head and I need some ice."

They hand me a cup.

"Um, more like an ice pack."

But, the minute she hears ice pack (by this time my 12 seconds have passed and she's screaming like a banshee), she squirms off the counter and onto the floor and starts running around the McDonald's, flinging herself into retirees booths.  It was like a strange game show. 

"Owie....OWWWWW...I don't wanna ice pack!  AHHHHH!!!  OWWW!!!"

And EVERYONE is staring at us.  And NO ONE is helping.  And if I were to blink I would cry.

Finally, a frail old lady offers to hold fat, grumpy Iris 

while I calm Crazy down.  And I think, this can't possibly end well.  And over the hunched shoulder of the lady (VERY sweet, though), I see a ma

n bring a high chair.  

And then a McDonald's employee (female, and I am assuming mother), brings out an ice cream cone.  And the nice old lady stayed with them while I ordered. 

So it ended okay.

Here's the damages.  Check out her forehead.  

Maizie...Brown?

I was explaining to Maizie that she has a long name...that she has a first name, a middle name, and a last name, too.  

"Well...whaaat is it?"  With those big blue-gray eyes.

"It's Maizie Daniele Brown.  Maizie Brown." 

Pause

Staring at me.

Brow furrowing.

"No...mom...it isn't.  I'm not Maizie Brown." 

(I could have predicted what was coming next.)

"I'm just Maizie PINK."

Core Foods

So I've succumbed to peer pressure and have changed my eating habits. It's funny that peer pressure would cause me to eat vegetables, but people, it's intense. 

Anyway, I'm following the Weight Watchers Core program, and if you know what that is, you can gasp in disbelief.  If you don't know what it is, I'll sum it up for you. Spinach, oatmeal, hard-boiled eggs, and popcorn.  Of course, there's more to it than that.  But you get the picture.  All "whole" foods, no breads, processed foods or, um, chocolate.  I can have whole wheat noodles and as much aspartame as I want.  And I'm struggling terribly with envy.

See, my husband is the person that the artist who first drew stick figures was thinking about.  The man can eat whatever, and I mean, whatever he wants.  He is so supportive, though, and follows the plan with me, mostly.  When it gets inconvenient, he gives in to things like Butter Burgers and gummy bears.  Not what I would be eating if eating caused no consequences, but whatever.  

But I finally think he gets it.  He said to me, "I have never had to think about anything that I put into my mouth before, and it totally sucks."   I have never thought about not thinking about it. Everything I eat is thought about.  Whether it's good thoughts or guilt thoughts.  Everything. It's been that way as long as I can remember.  And I am so sick of it.  I'm so tired of food being a big deal.  I would love to just be done with it.  I can't help but wonder why I struggle so bad with this!  

To paraphrase Dr. Phil (yes, I really like him, so bear with me for a moment), "there has got to be some payoff for the behavior to continue."  As destructive as my fat behavior is, I am getting some payoff to continuing to do it after all these years. I could get deeply into this, but know that the bottom line is simple.  It feels good.  

And isn't that always a payoff? It feels good to do whatever I want, whenever I want, with no regard to how it's hurting others or how it is self-destructive.  And especially no regard to God's parameters and HIS view on the issues, I mean, he is invisible and he will forgive me...right?  

So, this is why I am eating so much oatmeal and popcorn.  Because it matters so much less than me obeying God.  How in the world can I expect my daughters to exhibit self control when their mom totally does whatever she wants?  It is probably as hard for Maizie to sit on her blanket for thirty minutes as it is for me to say "no thanks" to food that isn't really fueling me.  She's two!  She has a physical need to be running around like crazy, and yet I'm teaching her that she must be still once in a while. And while I'm manning the timer, I'm chomping on cookies and guzzling Diet Coke like a Pharisee.  But please note, the Diet Coke will be the last thing to go, okay?