Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Cole Watches Me Go Potty

During my pregnancy with Stella, the boys were extremely interested in my body.  Admittedly there was a lot to be in awe, and confusion, about during that time.  My swollen belly and breasts alone were frequent topics in the house. 

But, my need to pee about every 20 minutes, and my children's constant close proximity, brought on the question about why I am anatomically different than they are with such frequency that I barely thought about it when they mentioned it anymore.  But, now it's been six months since Stella arrived and the questions about my body have significantly dropped.  In fact, I don't think I've heard either child mention my "pachina" in a while. 

So today, I took Cole to the library and had to make a trip to the restroom.  He's very proud of his new ability to stand up and pee so of course he did that.  Then, it was my turn to go and....well, I won't sit down on a public toilet so I squatted. Bad move.

I guess Cole hadn't been paying attention in the public restroom for a while because he was infatuated with what was happening.  He immediately stuck his head around near my behind to see if he could see how the pee was "coming out of my bottom."

I quickly said it wasn't coming out of my bottom, which wasn't clear enough because he moved in front of me to check for my penis.  Seriously, so grateful it was an empty restroom.  He was very perplexed when he couldn't see my penis, so I stated again that mommy doesn't have a penis, I have a vagina.

He quickly moved back to his original theory that pee came out of mommy's bottom.   I know it sounds like this was the longest pee in history, but this all was actually really fast.  Cole can ask a lot of questions, very quickly.  He also wasn't really listening to any of my answers so he didn't have to waste time trying to process any information. 

I guess my pee was split into two streams or something like that....I am aware that this is much more information than you would ever want about my urine, but it's an important detail to explain what Cole says to me later. 

So he asks why I have two pees. I didn't really get it, I was done and I was ready for our "conversation" to be over.  We wrap things up, wash our hands and leave the restroom.

As we are passing the children's reference desk, surrounded by approximately 8 people, Cole decides he has figured out the reason why my pee was in two streams.  He shouts, literally shouts, because he really is very loud by nature and gets more loud when he's excited, which he apparently was about having figured this out.  "Mommy, why do you have TWO penises?" 

Dear God.  I swear I heard the sound of a record scratch, followed by complete silence.  The reference desk crowd half giggled, half stared in confused disgust. One of the disgusted was another mom of young kids (or had stolen young kids to accessorize her really well put together cold weather outfit) which made me want to tell Cole to go over and ask her how many penises she had. 

I'm not sure what I was thinking because I simply giggled and said, "Cole, I don't have two penises." 

Really?  I couldn't rephrase that to make it sound less like I was a transvestite?  I could say that I don't have a penis.  I could say that I have a vagina, not two penises.  I could say a lot of things that would make me sound a lot more normal, but I didn't choose those.

Oh well, sorry Carmel Public Libray. 

So, apparently Cole thought my two miniature penises, which come out of my bottom, shoot my pee in two streams.  This is just disturbing and of course drastically inaccurate. We'll have an overview of girl vs. boy parts later. He did recently ask me what boy nipples are for if he can't feed a baby and I didn't have a good answer.....but I recently read the answer in Parents magazine and never followed up with Cole.

I think I need a PowerPoint presentation put together to cover all this.  I wonder if that lady at the reference desk knows PowerPoint?

Friday, December 17, 2010

The Stella Report

Stella had her six month check-up on Tuesday and I have been asked by a few people about her stats.  I used to email the boys to family after each visit but the laziness and/or apathy that comes with the third child about these sorts of things, I just don't do it.  Sorry Stella.

Height is 26.5" - 75%
Weight is 17 lbs 2 oz - 75%
Head Cir is 43 cm - 45% (our kids were blessed with small heads for easier dressing)
Cute Factor is considered "amazing, remarkable and plain ridiculous" - 99%

She had three shots, during which I felt like I was personally betraying her trust and basically scaring her so much that the next time I lie her down on to change her diaper she is going to freak on me.  I hate shots.  Aiden and Cole were very excited about the circus band-aids she received and thought all her pain was definitely worth having those.  Of course.

Fun tips and commentary from the doctor during this visit...

 -Try to not put a tv in her room in the next few year.  Geez Doc, we'll try?  That's going to be tough.  My six month old baby keeps begging me to watch Keeping Up With the Kardashians and Kendra. How will she find her fashion compass and moral grounding with a tv?  What kind of a request is this?  Is this really a problem for people?

-Don't put your baby in a walker...EVER.  Actually took her out of this old school walked we have in our living room to bring her to the visit.  Advice noted and will take action after she stops loving it and giving me a moment without her in my arms.

-Need to give her a vitamin D dropper every day.  I can't remember to give myself my multi vitamin or do something as basic as shower, this will be a miracle if she ever receives it.

-He noted she on how beautiful she is, how amazing her eye lashes are and that he liked my hair.  He is clearly a very intelligent doctor that I will continue to listen to....might even hold off on that tv for Stella based purely on his request. 

In other Stella news, she kept me up all night screaming last night.  Sleep training has been rough and only periodically effective.  I'm sure our two day car trip to Indiana and two week stay at my parent's house will royally screw things up further...oh well.

She is not crawling  but can amazingly maneuver herself under a bed or dresser when in pursuit of an exciting object like a scrap of paper or a sock.  She sits very well all by herself.  She makes the most delightful squealing and cooing noises that I appreciate because I can interpret them however I please.  She also continues to be much more fun to dress than the boys, but despises having shirts or dresses pulled over her tiny head...what would happen if she had a huge head? 

She's cute.  She's Stella.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Clearly I'm Off My Game

I used to share dinners with my neighbors because I made too much. I made pillows and curtains for several rooms in my house.  I went to pilates or ran 3 or 4 miles at least 4 days a week.  I would spend a crazy amount of time thinking of thoughtful gifts for people.  I always volunteered at school functions.  I used to bake...often.  I could make my house look amazing in thirty minutes.  

This isn't me anymore though.  I would like to blame it all on Stella's arrival and the fact that having a baby instead of just two rowdy boys makes doing almost anything impossible, but that just isn't true.  I've apparently just lost it.  I have zero housewife game anymore.

Here is a list of the items just this week that are just proof that I've lost it.

1. I found a clump of some mystery food on my counter today and didn't even bother to wipe it up.  I actually forgot about it until just now.

2. I've been walking by the same basket of single socks without a mate, for about 2 weeks now. 

3. Last night I attended a book and ornament exchange party thrown by a girlfriend and idiotically brought a children's book because my brain is so narrowly focused to kids that it didn't even enter my mind that the books should be ones that someone over 5 would enjoy.  I am a pathetic woman.

4. A few weeks ago Aiden's teacher asked me to write a letter from Santa to him for his holiday party and I just didn't do it. Thought it sounded adorable, put it down... and never thought about it again. His teacher had to write a generic letter without any personal detail because I'm such a space. (Yes, I realize this most likely will not be the worst thing that happens to him, but it made me sad.)

5.  I spent 45 minutes looking for the tv remote tonight and then finally found it on a bookshelf, behind a chair, almost behind these random wooden statues we have....and no, the kids did not put it there.  I did it.  It made sense at the time, I think.

6.  As my children were sorting through their loot from their class Christmas parties I discovered that every other mother in their class had given all the kids some gift.  This did not even occur to me.  You should really hope Aiden and Cole aren't in your kids' class next year with Scrooge Dadidakis for a Mom.

7. I was summoned to jury duty.  Filled out my card with my exemption and now I have no clue where I put the card.  I will probably forget to continue my search for it and when I return from my Christmas holiday I will probably be arrested.  Can that happen?

I could continue but I just feel worse and worse that these are coming to me so quickly.

I think I am going to blame the holidays.  It's a crazy time of year and I feel like we've been celebrating something for months now.  I can't maintain this level of jolly cheer for much longer without something major falling apart in my care.

Packing for our trip to Indiana has about sent me over the edge.  My house is covered in stacks of clothing that I am planning to either pack, clean or attempt to put back in it's proper location, but most likely will just throw in the basket with the mismatched socks.

I am cautiously optimistic that with start of the new year I'll get myself back together and be organized and efficient again.  That is, if I'm not in jail. Seriously, what happens if you just skip out on jury duty?  I bet my lack of organization skills or attention to detail wouldn't really be that big of deal in the slammer.

I'm sure that card is somewhere though.  Probably equally as logical as the tv remote's location.  Perhaps I should check next to that clump of food or under that sock basket.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

24 Hour Disgusting

Last week I made my triumphant return to the gym.  Stella had hit the required six month point and I was very excited about the potential of two hours of childcare six days a week if I wanted it.  I will be the most fit and peaceful mom, EVER! 

After day one of dropping the kids at the childcare room I felt even better about things.  The girls in the room were crazy for Stella, because clearly they recognize the cutest baby on Earth when they see her, and the boys loved all the stuff to play with....nothing like a joyful drop off.

Day two drop off went equally well, but a few minutes into my run  I saw the girl from the childcare room heading straight for my treadmill.  I did think momentarily about pretending to not be able to hear her over my Kanye West, but she looked serious so I decided to hear her out....despite that this was clashing with my goal to become a fit and peaceful mommy image.

"Your middle kid is naked in the bathroom, freaking out and won't let us help him."

Umm...this sounded odd, but it's Cole and well, it's Cole. 

I walked into the little kid potty (love those by the way) to find Cole sitting on the miniature potty with his face in his hands, pants and underwear in a pile next to him.  After I asked him if he was ok he looked at me and what he said made me want to cry.

"Mommy, someone said I'm disgusting."

I seriously teared up, while simultaneously wanting to beat some one's ass. 

I've never heard Cole say that word. It sounded gigantic and awkward coming out of his little slurred speech mouth. The fact that he felt sad about it told me he definitely had heard it from someone that was truly grossed out by something. 

Yes, he had pooped.  But as far as poop goes, this was as good at it gets in the feces world of parenting.  Solid and pretty normal smelly.  Had someone really told my child that he was disgusting over this?  Other than the fact that it was just simply cruel, that person really has a low tolerance for gross and I feel like they should swing by my house for a day of disgusting.

I, of course, immediately told him he wasn't disgusting.  I started talking about how everyone poops.  I described what poop is, how it is just part of how our body works, how it smells and isn't fun but it's just the process.  I felt like I had too much poop knowledge during this discussion. He kept talking about how we don't talk about poop. 

He wouldn't answer me as to who told him he was disgusting.  I immediately flashed to me screaming at the girl that had some to get me.  She had told me he was "naked" and that wasn't the case. She had seemed perturbed, but I'd only met her for 5 minutes, maybe that's just how she is because she has to work with little kids all day.  She did say he was freaking out and when I got there he was just embarrassed, sitting on the potty.  So was it her?

I don't know.  I don't know and it is really frustrating because I would really like to speak to that person.  It could have been Aiden though for all I know.  Or that really sickly looking child that I overheard telling another kid she couldn't share her toys because her mom told her to stay away from everyone because she was sick...thanks mom of the sick girl.  It could have been something Cole saw at school.  I didn't have nearly enough evidence to go yell at a girl I barely know.  So, for that day I did nothing. 

I made sure Cole felt ok about me leaving to workout again and I left him.  He genuinely seemed fine and when I picked him up, he was.  That girl was no where to be found though the rest of our visit. I immediately assumed she was hiding from me and Cole's poop. 

So after days of thinking about how to approach this I decided to be calm and only speak to what I know is true.  I am such a good and mature person!  Right?  I had to watch out for my kid, but I couldn't just freak out on the employees, right?  I didn't want them all hating me and my kids.  Oh crap, my incessant need for people to like me should not be any part of this.  

First, I told Aiden and Cole that if they ever feel like they are uncomfortable they should ask for someone to go get me. Next, I told the girls in the childcare room what had happened.  I didn't accuse or place blame, but I did let them know that someone had embarrassed my little boy and he felt pretty rotten about it.  I asked that they always come get me if one of my kids needs me or if they don't want to handle something one of them does (like poop.)  THE girl was there and she acted shocked and in disbelief as I described what happened.  Perhaps a little over dramatic?  I'm watching her.

Did I do the right thing?  I tend to be very non confrontational and I hate creating a big stir. Damn my compulsion for every one's approval.   I also tend to not be really over-protective of my kids.  (I don't perceive myself to be over protective, but not sure I would be an objective judge of this anyway.)  But shouldn't I get a little confrontational and a little protective if I feel like my kid might have been shamed for pooping at 24 Hour Fitness? 

Cole seems fine.  We haven't had any mention of the incident since.  Think he'll need therapy about pooping in future years?

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Toy Trouble

This weekend we took the boys to Target to spend their allowance savings.  We matched what they had saved and told them they could spend the money on whatever they want. I hate this idea.Yes, the idea of teaching them that if they save a little of what they are given each week it will grow is nice, but letting my kids pick out whatever they want is horrible....especially after they have been watching Star Wars and have attended a Star Wars birthday party.

I usually am in charge of all toy purchases.  I am with them 24/7 and can pick a toy that they would find amusing pretty easily....unfortunately there is nothing I know more about than my kids.  (I am totally never getting a job after I'm done with this gig, I have no skills beyond Aiden, Cole and Stella anymore.)

I often pick a toy by whether they would like it, whether or not I feel like they will like it for longer than a few days, and factor in the annoyance of the toy to the purchase.  Apparently my boys do not have the same thought process. 

Cole bought a fantastic Playmobil police station, successfully meeting all my criteria.  He is so smart. Aiden abandoned my wishes and he didn't even pretend to care about my happiness.  He has made his desire to have no part in my happiness very clear given the way he has used his toys since we got home.

Yes, Aiden selected a two sided, spinning Star Wars sword.  It lights up.  It makes laser sounds.  It spins.   It creates intergalactic hell in my house.

Aiden doesn't believe in sharing it with Cole unless he can beat the crap out of him while using it.  Cole spends a large portion of the day on the floor crying when Aiden refuses his requests to play with it.  The last few mornings Aiden and Cole have wanted to start fighting with it the moment they wake up...at 6:30.  Did I mention the sword spits in to two separate swords? Ugh.

Even when they are playing with it together, the sound of the swords clashing and their annoying dialogue/fights about who is Dark (they refuse to believe me that it is Darth) Vader and who is Luke Skywalker make me want to light the sword on fire and make the boys sit and watch it burn. 

To add to the annoyance of Aiden's choices, his other purchase was a nerf gun.  A few months back Aiden shot a dart at my face when I asked him to come read stories for bed.  Things escalated to crazy rather quickly and, well, long story short, all of Aiden's nerf guns ended up in the outside trash bin (which he was at one point hysterically crying and climbing into to try to retrieve them, it was a sad situation.) 

So, needless to say, Aiden was very excited to get a nerf gun again....and I have threatened him with his life if he shoots it anywhere near me.  So far he's only shot Cole.  But I've already found the darts all over the place. 

I have contemplated hiding the sword and the gun tonight and claiming that the Elf on the Shelf took them to the North Pole with him and forgot them.  I'm trying to resist the temptation to smash the sword now instead of doing it during a dramatic freak out in front of the boys. I don't think I could handle Aiden's sadness though if his sword were this quickly destroyed.  Maybe I should go ahead and throw the gun in the trash can so I can eliminate at least one of these annoying play things?

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Shoe Explosion

I just freaked out on my boys about putting on their shoes.  I mean, FREAKED out. (No physical action of course.) My throat hurt after I yelled.  It sounds so ridiculous.  Isn't this the way it goes though? You think you are normal, emotionally stable, and then someone refuses to find and put on their light-up spider man shoes while someone else whines about possession of a boat and next thing you know you're screaming and retreating to your bedroom to cry on the floor.  Please say this isn't just me. 

I actually went into my room and laid down to cry for a few minutes. It felt good, but it also felt very weak.  I felt like I was at the mercy of two little boys rather than the one in charge.  I know I shouldn't have screamed.  I know I should have stopped crying and just walked back in to calmly discuss the situation, but I just couldn't right away. I needed my moment of insanity to help me feel sane again.  I held Stella and just cried.  She found it amusing, which only worried me further...even the baby is working against me.

I had been feeling a lot better about our discipline and behavior strategies around here recently while reading my new book on how to talk to my kids.  I felt more calm and in control, and less likely to explode at a moments notice.  But the last few days have been emotionally draining for a myriad of reasons and there is little doubt in my mind that my children have felt and  been at the mercy of my emotional frailness.  This new book is all about explaining and identifying feelings, but today I couldn't handle going through a 10 step process to get Cole to put on his damn shoes so we could leave. I think my screams and tears adequately described my feelings for them.  Mommy is freaking mad, and so very frustrated it makes her cry.

Yesterday Aiden spilled a giant mug of hot cocoa all over Cole and the floor.  Aiden didn't make a move to clean it up because he was watching a movie.  Instead of going to get a towel (which he definitely knows how to do,) he periodically called my name to come to him....while I was trying to feed Stella in the kitchen. When I finally could get to him, he didn't even look away from the movie, he simply said, "it spilled," while pointing to the table.Then he was so bold as to ask me if I could get a towel and some more hot cocoa for him.  The only thing that could have made it worse would have been if he slapped my ass after telling me what to do.  Who raised this kid? 

I want more logic and reason than my children are equipped to understand right now.  I want them to know that treating me like their slave is not ok, without having to be the one to teach them this.  It doesn't work like that though, I am painfully aware of this.  If I want them to be respectful, kind and, well, not freak out when things go wrong I should probably step up the example I am setting.  I do like to think though that seeing me affected by their apathy and disrespect is not all bad.....perhaps a little compassion will come along with their future need for serious therapy? 

I did eventually pull it together.  I came out and apologized to the boys for freaking out and calmly explained that I needed their cooperation.  We then all traveled to the gym where I got to run while Eminen, Dr. Dre and Kanye West blasted expletive lyrics in my ears to a steady beat as I ran on the treadmill.  It was beyond therapeutic, 100% essential to my ability to deal with the rest of this day. I think I might even be able to make it until bedtime without crying on my bedroom floor again...I think. 

Saturday, December 4, 2010

A Family Meeting

I just returned from a birthday party for one of Aiden's friends to find a very messy house.  Shoes were all over, lunch plates were on still on the table, a dirty spoon was on the floor and there were random snotty tissues from my bedroom floor all the way back to the very dirty kitchen.  I felt on fire with anger.  Here's why...

Ten minutes prior to my departure with Aiden for the party, I had a quick and joyful family meeting to ask everyone's cooperation with keeping the house picked up since our cleaning woman, Maribel, had been here the day before.  I simply reminded everyone that we all love how the house looks after Maribel leaves and I'd love their help to keep it that way.  Calm and direct, just like my new child behavior book claims I need to be.  I stated my expectations, asked for help and felt like one of the cartoon examples of how to approach a problem straight out of the book.  Clearly, I am awesome.

Unfortunately, clearly the rest of my family is not.  I had left Alex with Cole and the baby for 3 hours and the house was wrecked.  I am pretty positive Aiden was responsible for the tissue trail, so even though he was with me, he managed to do damage to our plan to keep the house picked up.  I even stepped in a small pile of spit up on the floor of the hallway which I feel confident in saying was from Stella.  What the hell? !?!?

I primarily blame Alex for turning into a child himself when left alone on the weekends for any duration of time.  Not only had he not picked up the lunch dishes and bottle, but he had also taken the kids to Academy to purchase Cole some sort of play shotgun (it comes with shotgun shells and all,).....and also happened to purchase a remote control helicopter which the boys wouldn't even begin to be able to control at this point.  He says it's for the family.  The boxes to this ridiculous toys were all over the dining room table. 
Immediately after I arrived home was the beginning of rest time.  Stella went down for a nap, which immediately erased any trace of annoyance I had at her for spitting on the floor.  Aiden, Cole and Alex laid down on the guest bed to watch Star Wars...because they all felt tired.  Meanwhile, I stormed around, loudly picking up everyone else's stuff.  I wanted to fly "the family's" new helicopter into the ceiling fan and then hit Alex with the toy shotgun.  How could they all lie there while I picked snot covered tissue off the floor and flushed their urine down the toilet....seriously, what is going on with the boys and not flushing?  How can they want to push and pull on every other button and lever but they can't flush the toilet to save their life? 

I felt like my mental picture of my mother when I was young, oh I hate it when that happens.  I felt like a martyr picking everything up while all the boys rested and watched a movie they love. I hated the way I was putting the dishes in the dishwasher so that each time I put another dish in it would clang loudly against another one...hoping one of them would notice my rage and want to come soothe me....pathetic.  I hated that I didn't just walk in to the room where they were, press pause and ask for their help.  That was the mature and healthy thing to do, but instead I mumbled curses about me being a slave, felt sympathy for Aiden and Cole's future wives and plotted about how I would passive aggressively retaliate against Alex.  Oh, so like my mother...and probably a million other wives and mothers around the world. Crap!

They were the ones I was mad at, but I was punishing myself.  Unfortunately I came to this semi-healthy conclusion at the end of my cleaning spree when all the work was done. I feel like I should commend myself for coming to the conclusion at all though, right?  I quickly called family meeting number two for the day and just said I was disappointed, I didn't like doing all the clean up and I wouldn't do it again.  Simple enough, right?  And they were all apologetic and kind.  They were respectful and asked if there was anything else they could do.  Of course they were.  They are my family. 

So why didn't I do that at first? When am I going to mature enough to know that I can't expect something I don't ask for?  When am I going to realize that my kids and husband are going to make a huge freakin mess, often and if that is the worst of my problems then I should drop to my knees and praise the Lord?  Ugh...I hate feeling disappointed in my emotions. 

Honestly, I'll probably do this again. I'll probably do it another 100 times, at least, before my kids are grown and out of my house.  But today, I vow to do better.  I vow to stop and and stay calm. I vow to not clean up if I don't want to clean up, ask for help if I need it and never, ever do work as a way to punish someone else...it seems there has got to be something more fun like shopping or overeating. 

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Day Ten: Get Me A Job...

Alex thinks I should get a job.  Go ahead, ask it..."doing what?!?!?"  I think the most disturbing part of this idea is that every one of my friends that I have discussed this with has asked me that question, with the intonation that says they can not even imagine what I would be paid to do.  Thanks for the vote of confidence people. Ugh, I have become unqualified for anything that doesn't involve poop or tantrums during my 5 years out of the workforce. My brain is mush.

Like a lot of people right now, this economy is not making things easy for our family.  With a husband in the homebuilding industry, our income has changed dramatically over the last few years.  Unforutnately it has taken us a while to truly change our spending habits.  So now, money is tight....more like absent.  So I shouldn't have been surprised when Alex walked into our bedroom the other night and suggested I get a job.

I must admit that my first feeling was a little bit of panic.  This panic was driven by a few things.  I would like to say that my first thought was that I didn't want to have my children in daycare of any kind, or that if I worked during non traditional business hours we would have zero time together as a family, but the truth is that I immediately thought it sounded like a lot of, well....work.  When would I drop the boys at preshcool and head to Target with Stella? When would I stand in front of the mirror with Stella and watch her giggle at herself?  When would I get to cuddle with Cole and Aiden and watch Bug's Life?  Who would help Aiden start to read or be patient with him when he cries because he can't remember a word?  Most importantly, when would I sit and drink Starbucks with Amity while our kids play together and we pretend they aren't here? 

I don't know how working moms handle it all.  I feel like I need all of those amazing moments with my kids, (and with my Starbucks and friends,) just to get through all the ultra challenging moments in between.  The steady rhythm of chaos around here makes me want to knock my head against my wall, but add an employer to the mix and I might be pushed over the edge.  My constant 24-7 dedication to helping these little people learn how to function in the world confidently and productively is a daunting task...how do I do that and function for someone else that expects me to perform?  I can barely get dinner together as it is, would we ever eat if I worked? Would we have clean clothes or dishes?

Honestly, I think we have decided that full time work probably wouldn't make financial sense, so that leaves us with part-time employment.  Alex has a vision of me working one or two nights a week and weekends in an amazing commission based job where I would max out comissions to adequately supplement our household income and be home in time to chat before bed. I'm not sure this job exists.  If you are familiar with a job like this though, please let me know....perhaps I should also make it clear that I'm just not interested in any type of prostitution or illegal acts of any kind, I'm just not that exciting. 

Right now I feel like I'll be at Blockbuster video working the 8 to midnight shift with acne infested teen boys that drink mass quantities of pop and make stupid jokes when pretty girls come in the door.  This would be both amusing and pathetically sad.  A small part of me is excited at the idea of doing something outside of here, but logistically and emotionally I feel it might be a nightmare.  I'm determined to keep a good attitude about it, at least periodically, as long as we feel the income helps. 

I'm writing as if I actually have a job though, there still is that small problem of finding a job that would want me.  I might soon be the drive thru woman at Taco Cabana.  Perhaps I could work at Starbucks and bring my children, and Amity, to work with me? If I could get a job at Target I would actually be very excited about hanging out there even more than I do.  I could just leave my kids in the toy or sporting goods section and daycare wouldn't be a problem.  Stella could probably even just hang out in the Bjorn on me while I price checked and asked people if they were finding everything ok. The downside would be having to wear a red shirt all the time, but I could push through that, I look good in red. 

Here are my top three most wanted jobs:

1. Famous Author
2. Famous Model
3. Famous Tral Lawyer

I feel it is important to point out that by famous I mean more noteworthy in my field than celebrity, US Weekly sort of famous.  I feel like these three positions sound fun and I would be really good at them if I just had the qualitficaitons.  I plan on dedicating the next few weeks to making my resume sound more suited to these types of positions.  It could happen, right?

So, if you have a job, like a trial lawyer position or something, and you think...Leslie would be perfect for this!....please let me know.  Don't bother forwarding me any day care job openings though, I realize it might seem like I would be qualified for that type of position but a bunch of stangers kids that are in a large group of other children all day, every day sounds like a nightmare to take care of to me.  I would rather eat beans and cereal every night to cut costs. 

Please come rent a video from me at Blockbuster or order a double bean and cheese burrito from me at Taco Cabana....I don't think I'm smart enough to get that Starbucks barista job anymore, the kids have taken over most of my brain.  I'd never be able to figure out all those drinks.  There might be a few snags in the top three list so....seriously, when is the economy turning around?