More alcohol and less boobs!

This week I had a mom-cation, well I guess it was more like the mom version of spring break but with more alcohol and less boobs. Friday Shane and I were very irresponsible and played hookey from work. Technically I didn't have a shift booked and one of the co-founders from his company was getting married so everyone had the day off. Whatever though, close enough. We took our time getting dressed up, I actually shaved my legs past the knee and washed my hair with real shampoo and conditioner (the kind you let sit for five minutes not the 2-in-1 bubble gum scented kind!) I put on makeup and an outfit resembling something I might have worn pre parenthood. We got a babysitter and dropped of the kids two full hours before the ceremony. It was the quietest my car has been in three years! We didn't even turn on the radio.

Our first stop was a child-free lunch. We didn't have a lot of time and we just wanted to be quiet so we got fast food and ate in the car ALONE! It was heavenly! No toddlers screeching for fries, no spilt drinks, no crying because the toys are not the same in both kids meals... simple silence, and maybe a few death threats because my husband chews louder than a toddler whose band-aid doesn't have the right character.

After our mostly peaceful lunch we were off to the ceremony, a beautiful, intimate, catholic mass to celebrate some lovely people I barely know. We followed this up by pre-gaming and splitting appys with a few of the other co-founders from my husbands company. Finally it was party time! We flashed back to our days pre parenthood and lived it up. After a few bottles of wine, a couple rounds at the photo booth, some terrible dancing, and amazing food, we ubered home and collapsed into bed with the blissful knowledge that we could nurse our hangovers the next day in a child free environment.

Poopy dinosaurs and amusement parks

"Mom, Little Foot pooping! Little Foot should poop on the potty mom." Yes this was the sentence my toddler loudly proclaimed today in the middle of a very long line at the theme park. He loves the land before time movies and all things dinosaur related so it's not a surprise to anyone that knows us when there is some form a dinosaur accompanying us on any outing. We are also attempting to potty train. You need to understand we have been attempting this for almost a year. Isaac is doing pretty well with it and really doesn't mind actually using a toilet these days, in fact he seems to have developed that normal human preference of not sitting in a pee soaked diaper or a pile of his own feces. He still had the occasional accident and is absolutely terrified of public toilets - I can't say I blame him public bathrooms are nightmare fuel for germaphobes like me. Don't laugh, I hate germs that don't belong to me or come from someone I am directly related to (my house might be in a constant state of disarray but you can find a bottle of hand sanitizer in every room sometimes multiple bottles).

Anyway back on track here, yes Little Foot (the stuffed dinosaur) was pretend pooping on my head and Isaac was most definitely troubled by this dark turn of his imagination. I would like to pretend that I was mortified by this loud declaration about the function of ones bowels, hell even being slightly humiliated would probably be normal. For me it was a proud mama moment because my it meant my sweet little boy was one step closer to wiping his own butt. #blessed #joysofmotherhood

Hobo at my Woody!

This was the latest crisis to strike our household. One of the most precious members of our family... Woody was eaten by the large wolf/bear that we keep as a dog. Since we adopted Hobo there have been many sippy cup and toy casualties, I even lost my favourite pair of jeans to his vicious baby teeth. Poor Woody though, he was a very treasured member of the family. Even though there hasn't been a toy story movie in ages at least not since my kids have been born, Isaac has become really obsessed with Woody and Buzz.

As I watched the tears streaming down those sweet, chunky, toddler cheeks, I couldn't resist promising a trip to the toy store. It also might have had to do with the fact that I had just finished a twelve hour shift and the drive home had taken over an hour. I was exhausted and not capable of telling my baby that Woody was ok without a hand.

After a full nights rest and a cold cup of coffee the demands for the toy store wore me down enough that I gave in and fulfilled my promise. There was no way I was paying thirty buck at the disney store for an action figure that would probably be forgotten in a week so I decided on Value Village. They always have toy story things.

We drove into the city and battled the parking lot. We headed straight for the toy section and immediately found three different Buzz Lightyear dolls but there was not one single Woody to be had. We managed to leave will a cart overflowing with crap we didn't need (including cowboy hats, a roaring dinosaur, Anna and Elsa dolls, and so much more) but poor Isaac is still sad about his lack of a Woody.

As an act of protest Isaac decided that we all needed to watch Toy Story several times this evening to make up for our failure as parents.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz.... or lack there of.

Something has changed. I don't know what, and I don't know if it will last. Something is different. I am not sure what it is. This morning was hard the kids were up during the night and sleep did not last long enough. Still I woke up energised and different. Maybe my brain finally broke...

I took the dog for a run... ok fine a jog.... whatever it might have been a brisk walkish kind of thing. I was wearing workout gear though so it counts. It was just Hobo and I, we needed to get out, to breathe the fresh mountain air, take in the sunshine.

I came home to the baby throwing cereal on the floor, Shane half paying attention to her and half working on his computer, and the toddler snoozing away comfortably in his bed. The house was scheduled to be shown in a few hours and we had a lot to do to get it in order. I helped sleeping beauty arise from his intense slumber and bribed him with a smoothie for sustenance since the thought of chewing offended his senses so greatly.

Between Shane, his dad, and myself we managed to make things somewhat presentable and less cesspool resemble a house. This led to the point of us now having to vacate the premises and entertain two toddlers and dog for the better part of two hours.

I had the sudden brilliant idea of hair cuts, and although it went over like a lead balloon it was agreed too. After a ton of bribery and a colossal amount of shrieking Isaac looked less like an orphaned ragga muffin and more like a little gentleman. (I said he looked like it, not he acted like it.)

We followed this up by traversing to the dog park. We had just bought Zoey her very own tricycle and Isaac was dying to show her how to "peddle peddle, but not in the river Zozo." In an insane moment of cuteness that made my heart melt Isaac had tried to help Shane put the tricycle together. It took five times longer but I'm pretty sure it prevented a lot of cursing.

Now we are home and nap time has finally come. What the hell am I doing writing?! Clearly I should be sle....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

milky marathon of madness

This morning I woke up to an air raid siren from the bottom of my stairs. It took me a minute to wake up and remember where I was and that I indeed had birthed not one but two tiny minions ad that it was probably one of them that was making such a racket. The toddler had figured out the child lock on his bedroom door. Ninety percent of the adults that visit our house can not figure out how to work these stupid doorknob covers but at nearly three years old the toddler has got it down. After scrounging around the bedroom floor for a pair of pants (my father-in-law is staying with us so clothes are mandatory at least for the adults), I bounded down the stairs and scooped up the quivering ball of mucous I fondly call my son. We made it all the way upstairs and into my room before the baby woke up crying. Despite my best efforts it was time for the day to begin.

The toddler demanded chocolate milk and the baby was yelling for her "baba". I dragged my sleep deprived butt to the fridge, if only I can get the milk sorted I might be able to make a cup of coffee so I could fully wake up. Ah glorious coffee, life blood of parents around the world. That sweet universal language of caffeine. I felt renewed with this promise of sustenance and with a sudden surge of adrenaline driven strength I tore open the fridge door....

Devastation! That is the only word I can think of to describe how I felt at discovering the empty milk container. Not even enough to pour in a cup of coffee. In an act of desperation I checked the freezer for a long forgotten bag of pumped breast milk. There was none. A new plan, a walk to the corner store.

I pulled the wagon out of the garage, loaded the baby and diaper bag in it. Strapped the dog around my waist and battled the toddler out the door. Forty-five minutes and three hundred dandelions in my pocket later we made it the three blocks to the store. I battled the wagon inside and managed to buy milk, bananas, and some candy so the toddler might ride in the wagon on the way home. It was wishful thinking he had to walk and examine every rock.

It was fine we made it home. The walk was kind of enjoyable, it was warm out and the kids were happy. Once we got inside and settled Isaac declared he was absolutely starving and needed and peanut butter/banana sandwich. I was so happy, this was an easy thing to make, both kids would eat it, and I had just bought bananas. That is when I discovered we were out of bread....