Why Do the Rules Keep Changing?

Okay- so about a month ago, I posted THIS about my daughter. We got up early on picture day, curled her hair and then she refused to smile for the photographer.

Thankfully, the company has a policy where if you don't like the picture, you can send them back on picture re-take day and they will try again. Knowing this day was coming, I took Zoe shopping. I told her she was going to take her pictures again and I was going to let her choose whatever outfit she wanted to wear for pictures. She was extremely excited about this and happily picked out a dress and matching tights. She has asked to wear that outfit every day since we brought it home.

This morning, picture re-take day arrived. I pulled her outfit from the closet anticipating her excitement when she learned that today was the day she would get to wear her new outfit to school. We had even already discussed her hair and I agreed NOT to curl it again, but to only put a little bit of curl in the ends. She doesn't like it curly.

And then she stumbled in the kitchen and announced she didn't like her outfit.

The rest of the morning was filled with this:

How can I effectively parent when she keeps changing the stinking rules!!???

(I will be sure and update you when I get these pictures back- it should be interesting!)

**linking up with Wordful Wednesday @ parenting BY dummies.

The Wardrobe Malfunction A.K.A Mommy's an Idiot

I sincerely hope that people don't look at my kids and think I am a terrible and neglectful mom. I do worry about these things and I try to keep my kids presentable most of the time. But, the truth is that sometimes I have those moments when I am just mortified and wonder what other people must think of me.

Every morning, I put clothes out for Noah and Zoe to wear to school. They both get dressed and I usually give Zoe the once-over to check her shoes. She tends to put them on backwards. She has gone to school and spent the entire day with her shoes on backwards. I was embarrassed then; but not nearly as embarrassed as I was today.

I picked Zoe up from school and we had our usual race down the sidewalk in front of the school. Just like any other day, I was winning until the last minute when Zoe managed to squeak by me and claim a victory for herself. And just like any other day, I then congratulated her and picked her up to put her in the van. As I buckled her in her car seat, something odd caught my eye-a rough seam. I did a double-take.

Astounded, I asked, "Zoe? Did you take your pants off at school today?"

"No?" she replied, somewhat perplexed.

"Were your pants like this all day at school?"

"Yeah, my just put them on at home and wear-ed them ALL day!" she proclaimed proudly.



Oh yeah.. I really did that. She wore her pants inside out all day long. Hurray for me!

S-E-X

Every night, our bedtime routine is the same. Everyone, including the dog, walks Noah into his room and tells him good night. I give him a kiss and Zoe climbs up in his bed so she can give him a kiss (and have an excuse to be in his loft bed which she loves). Then, we go to Zoe's room and have to kiss Zoe and various different stuffed animals and wish them all good night.

Last night, Zoe climbed up on Noah's bed to kiss him good night and, like every night, Noah tried to push her away because he doesn't like her kissing him. Except last night, Noah started saying, "No sex, Zoe! NO SEX!! "

I was stunned.

ME: (casually) What did you say?

NOAH: I said, "No sex!"

ME: What does that mean?

NOAH: That's odd. YOU don't know what sex means?

ME: Yes, I know what sex means. I've just never heard you use that word before and was wondering if you knew what it meant.

NOAH: Umm.. YEAH.. it means kissing in bed.

ME: (silently thanking all that is holy that was what he thought it meant) And where did you hear about that?

NOAH: I just know it.

ME: Well, someone had to have said that word or told you what it meant.

NOAH: Nope. I just know it. Kissing in bed.

ME: Well, I just want to say that there is nothing wrong with your three-year-old sister kissing you good night.

NOAH: Okay. You know what else??

ME: (bracing for "what else") What?

NOAH: It smells like poop in here. I think the dog farted! (collapsing in a fit of giggles)

Today I am thankful for:

1. The short attention span of a seven-year-old.

2. The naivete of a seven-year-old.

And most importantly for:

3. The fact that potty humor trumps cool new words that get a rise out of your mother any day.

It's Time for School to Start (I'm an Awesome Mom)

School starts here on Tuesday. Apparently, not too soon, because just today I surpassed my summer tolerance level.

First a little backstory: My husband works twelve hour shifts, from seven p.m to seven a.m. Therefore, he sleeps during the day and I have to try and keep the kids from waking him up. We live in a 1200 square foot one-level home, so it isn't always an easy task. And, yes, I do take them out of the house, but it just isn't realistic to take them somewhere every day, I have stuff I have to do around the house too.

Today I had an errand I had to run and I managed to get the kids fed and dressed, but when I went to get dressed, it all fell apart. I am not a high maintenance person. It normally takes me ten to fifteen minutes to get ready. Today it took me three hours. Seriously. Every time I went in the bathroom to get ready, someone was screaming/fighting/yelling/knocking on the door/insisting they were hungry right now/insisting they had to use the bathroom right now. We also only have one bathroom. I kept having to shush them and appease them and explain over and over (AND OVER) again that their father was very tired and sleeping and could they PLEASE NOT STAND RIGHT OUTSIDE THE BEDROOM DOOR AND YELL AND SCREAM!??

So... my blood pressure was rising and my tolerance level was lowering.

Finally, I turned the television on childrens' shows, hoped it would occupy them for a few minutes and headed back to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Less than five minutes later, I heard screaming again. From both children. Right outside the bathroom door (which is six inches to the right of our bedroom door). I opened the door and the two of them were in the hallway right outside the door rolling around and fighting.

I grabbed Zoe's hand, dragged her in her room, hissed through gritted teeth, " TIME OUT- DON'T COME OUT UNTIL I TELL YOU!!!" and shut her door only to hear her (of course) collapse in a fit. I then turned to Noah who was staring smugly at me like he thought only Zoe was getting into trouble, grabbed his hand and dragged him to the living room, opened the front door and shoved him outside. This time hissing through gritted teeth, " IT IS A BEAUTIFUL DAY OUTSIDE, GO OUTSIDE ALREADY!!!". He stared back at me with wide eyes and then pouted and stomped off.

I finished getting ready in the bathroom and was walking around the living room and kitchen packing the diaper bag and I kept seeing Noah staring through the glass storm door at me. I must have still had an angry look on my face because he kept walking away. A few minutes later, I heard the front door open and I glared around the corner at him and he said, "Mommy, can I please get my shoes now?"

Ooops. I'm sure shoes would help.

And I'm wondering when my Awesome Parenting Award will arrive in the mail.