Reusable WHAT?!!

Another late-night internet surf led me to a site that sells, get this, reusable pads and tampons.
I'm so not kidding.
Apparently, for $12 you can get a flannel/cotton "holder" that has a nifty snap to wrap around the crotch of your panties. It has insertable pads made of cotton that you replace when they get "full" (I know it's so gross!). Apparently you are supposed to replace the inserts and not necessarily the holder, which makes me cringe. You can also buy "pad-panties," which are panties with a pad woven into the crotch. You just replce your underwear when you need to. They come in a variety of patterns, including leopard print. Woo hoo!
Now what gets me is that you have to wash them. They recommend by hand, so they last longer. They also recommend soaking them in cold water as soon as possible to avoid staining, i.e. throw them in the bathroom sink. Eeewww. I can only imagine James going to use the bathroom and coming out saying something like this:
"Um, babe, you uh, left your "thingies" in the sink, and uh, I don't think I can get them out by myself."
Or what if company came over and you forgot about them?? Aaahhh!!
They also include a matching carrier to store used inserts in if you happen to be out and have to change it. Can you imagine if you got pulled over and searched? The police would think you were going to the bridge to get rid of murder evidence!
Also on their site is two more items I found equally hilarious: reusable tampons and the Divacup (TM, or whatever mark I have to have here to avoid a lawsuit). The reusable tampon is actually a sea sponge harvested off the coast of some far away place. You scrunch it up and stick it in, easy as pie. About every three hours, you remove it and hold it under running water to clean it. Then you scrunch and stuff again. I wonder what you'd do if you were out and about and had to "empty" it? (I didn't see a carrier for the used tampons.)
"Hey Taryn, can you rinse this for me? Please? Come on, you have periods too. We're both women! Pleeeease?? Are you still there? TARYN! I need my tampon cleaned!!"
Now that's a close relative.
I don't think I could bring myself to use one of them, I mean I do watch SpongeBob..... it just wouldn't feel right....
And now for the Divacup. It is, literally, a coned cup that you encircle your cervix with to catch "menstrual products." Then you empty it when you think it's full.
First off, the picture shows this cup-cone in this girls' hand, and it is about as big as her palm! Both long and wide!! And it has a "stem" which is used to retrieve the cone-cup that is so long it looks as if you'd cut your labia when you sat down. Several commentors say you can't feel it at all, but come on people! You can't fool me! There is no way you can stick a Dixie cup up there and NOT feel it!!
Second, you're supposed to insert it so that it makes a suction on your cervix to keep it from coming out. You break the seal by pinching the stem. Ever been in a hurry and yanked a tampon out too quick? Can you imagine jerking your whole cervix out into the toilet? Yeah, no thanks.
Third, it's another one of those rinse-and-reuse products.
"Taryn! Can you dump my cup for me?"
Fourth, I ick when I see vast amounts of blood. I just could not dump a cupful in the toilet and not hurl.
And, to top it off, it has the word "diva" in it!! I just know I would feel super-sexy and powerful with a bucket in my vagina!
Their reasoning is that using the products saves money, which I guess it would because the products are supposed to last for years, and using them helps them appreciate their bodies' natural functions and knowing they're saving the world and not introducing "harsh, abraisive" compounds into their "divas." I don't know about you, but I don't appreciate this particular natural function. It's a pain and I can't wait for menopause. And Tampax has been good to me so far, so y'all can just keep that other crap!!

In The Lovin' Oven

First, some quotes from my beautiful children.
Caleb, in reference to a nativity scene: "Look Mimi, there's Jesus and his girlfriend!"
Lily, sitting outside as my sister and I drive up: "Hey friend, there's my mom and my babysitter."
Lily to Caleb after Taryn told them to quit being loud: "We'll do it after Taryn leaves."

I was surfing the 'net a couple of nights ago, and I came across a site promoting safe sex. Now I'm all for safe sex, in fact I think when girls turn 12 they should be on government ordered birth control until they turn 25. That woulda kept me out of a whole lot of trouble. But this site was soooo funny! I could not stop laughing! They recommend making and carrying a "safe sex kit," which contains:

12 Male condoms, in a variety of shapes, sizes, flavors and textures
12 Female condoms
1 Bottle of water based lubricant
10 pairs of latex gloves
5 dental dams, or if you can't find them,
1 Roll of saran wrap
1 tube of aloe vera gel.

Oh boy!
First of all, can you imagine carrying this stuff in your purse (or should I say suitcase) and trying to look sexy at a party or a bar?? I thought the current trend was to not have hardly anything on, i.e. Paris Hilton.
Second, they recommend that the gloves be put on before any hand-to-genital contact is made. Don't you know that feels sexy! But who knows, it may be your thing.....
Third, SARAN WRAP?? You've got to be kidding me!! They recommend this be used to "seal the genital area" before mouth-to-genital contact. Woo hoo, wrap my box in saran and let's go to town!!
Fourth, you know those saran wrap covers with elastic in them that you snap around a watermelon or whatever? Would those work? Or maybe a shower cap? It's the same thing right?
Fifth, aloe vera gel, suggested by this site in case all that latex and plastic wrap makes you "chap up or break out in a rash."
Sixth, can you imagine your one night stand going well after you whip out all this crap?
"Oh, I hope you don't mind, I brought along some protection for us to use. Yeah, that suitcase right there, could you hand it to me? Watch your back, lift with your legs, there you go. What should we use first? Oh, you want to touch me? Ok, well here's some gloves... you're allergic to latex? That's ok, I have rubber and lamb skin as well. Here's a dental dam for when you decide to kiss me. And, um, what "size" are you? I have ten different sized condoms, cause a girl never knows what to expect huh? I saved the best part for last! Here's the saran wrap for when... hey! Where are you going? I already paid for this room you arsehole!!"

Man, I wish I was single so that I could conduct an experiment. I could write a book on my findings and make millions!! I love the internet.

Accidental Martha Stewart

I just folded a tree skirt. Go figure.
That's all I have for now!

Christmas Hounds

Christmas. A lovely time of year. Until you grow up and move out and have kids. Let me explain. My parents always had hordes of boxes of Chrismas stuff. I mean every ornament from every school year or VBS semester for all three of us kids, 300 feet of lights, 50 regular ornaments that came from who knows where (you know those ones you see every year?), and that effin gaudy multi-colored doubles-as-a-disco-ball star. Who designs this stuff?? Ah, I digress.
So every year since I was born (I assume) we hauled out all this stuff and put it on the poor pine tree that happened to befall the Guenther house. Bring Sally up. Took a good two hours or so. And then there's mom's other Christmas stuff, which consisted of another 5 or 6 boxes. You know, the thirty candles even though we're not Jewish, fifteen sno-globes, three nativity scenes, those painted houses in communities, and a boat-load of other Christmas knick-knacks. Our living room always looked like Saint Nick himself, and all his holiday glory, blew up coming down from our chimney. Poor dad, hauling that stuff in and out year after year. Although looking back it was cool seeing all of it set up and all that happy crap, but in the midst of those 16 years I made a decision.
I was never. Ever. EVER gonna have that much STUFF for ANY holiday.
AND, I refuse to set my tree up until at least the first week of December.
First, I am a sort of neat freak. I like stuff tidy and clean, albeit my definition of tidy and clean varies drastically from most people's. It's kinda hard to explain, but one pet peeve is forty boxes of Christmas stuff that follows you from house to house throughout your adult life and gets left to your kids when you die.
Second, to me it just feels weird to put up your tree before Thanksgiving. One holiday at a time please! I don't understand it but some people like that kind of thing and hey if that's your cup of tea, I'll be your lemon. (Aunt Terri you're still cool though!)
SO, I have one small plastic box of Christmas stuff.
Just the basics.
This year, on top of only having that one box of stuff, I commited the cardinal sin of Christmas: not putting the tree up the minute the clock struck December 1st. And believe me, mom hasn't let me live it down. Apparently once you have kids the rule is you have to put up your tree on December 1st and retain said tree until at least New Years. If you don't they sic the hounds on you.
"You haven't put your tree up? OH MY GOSH, why?? You just have to put your tree up, the kids will love it. What? A MINI tree?? Is that legal? What do you mean you have no room in your apartment? If you move the corner table and t.v. and loveseat there's plenty of room! I simply cannot believe you haven't set up that tree....."
Ugh.
It gets worse. If your mom can't convince you, she gets her mom to help. If that doesn't work, they pull out the big arsenal: getting the kids involved. And that's just not fair when they get the kids going before noon on 12-1. It's not.
SO. I put up the tree last night. Yes, it is a mini tree and yes I have had to replace every ornament at least three times in the last 24 hours. And they plug it in by themselves if I'm not in the room. Mom says they would only pull the bottom ornaments off of a big tree, but I don't think so. Not my kids. They're sinister. Plotting to knock a big shiny reflective tree down and thoroughly examine every piece of evidence is NOT out of their league.
So there. I have my tree up. And you bet your boots it's coming down on the 26th.

Have You Missed Me?

I know, I know. I'm horrible!! I keep my audience waiting SSOO LONG between posts! The holidays kept me pretty busy. We went to my dad's side of the family in San Marcos. You want to talk about straight up torture, try riding in a car with a 5 and 2 year old for FFOOUURR HOURS. Yes, I forgot the Benadryl. No, they didn't take a nap. And no, we don't have any of that fancy-schmancy DVD players with personal ear phones or game boys or what not. We had to keep ourselves occupied the old fashioned way: playing who-threw-the-cookie, refill the sippy cup, search for the Happy Meal toy or crayons, read the same book twenty times, the next town is such and such, the next town is still such and such, no we're not to such and such town yet, etc.
My aunt and uncle have a huge porch, and in the midst of choking on blankets of smoke and swagging down a couple of alcoholic beverages we managed to have a few good laughes. Like when Caleb drank out of the porch fountain/dog water. Or the time he started humping the dog (don't ask, I don't know; an isolated incident I might add). We ate burned marshmallows and all that happy stuff. Weather was nice. Other than that I don't have any funny tales to relate to my fab audience. Sorry! Blame the kids, they're the funny ones.

My Attept At Rapping

"Aunt Flo"

Aint Flo, Aint Flo
You gotsta go
You been here too long
Get yo'sef up out my doe
Get out my garden you hoe
Yo ways is shady
Yo tactics is low
Better replace yo face
Befo' you wind up on de flo'
You'sa curse on my purse
Eatin all my money
You think it's funny
But Imma change yo pace
Send you thru that doe
Aint Flo Aint Flo
You gotsta Go!!!

(To the tune of "Do You Ears Hang Low")

Do yo string hang low
Do it drag on de flo'
Is it super is it reg
Do it get wrapped around yo toe
Do yo kids call it baby seeds
Can you use it to stop sink leaks
Do yo string hang low?

Bubble Trouble 2

Fact:
27.7 ounces of dandruff shampoo will produce approximately 4.8 billion bubbles. It will also turn the bath water a curious cerulean blue.

Fact:
Feeding your cat name brand cat food does not alter the amount of fecal matter she produces in a day. Instead, it gives it a shrimp smell on top of the already nostril burning odor. So now I am paying top dollar for shrimpy cat shat.

Fact:
Failing to wash your hands before using the bathroom after you've applied IcyHot to your back will make certain areas icy and hot.

P.S.
Why do I always get the retarded buggy when I go to Wal-Mart? Is this a sign? If you hear a-squeakin, I'm on my way.

Bubble Trouble

Ah, bathtime. A time to relax and enjoy the internet while the kids lovingly fill the bathroom floor with four inches of water. The other night I went in the bathroom because I heard an excess of giggling. Hmmm.....
They had poured not one, not two, but THREE almost- full bottles of shampoo into the bathtub. There were bubbles. Everywhere. I almost couldn't see my kids! On the floor, on the toilet, in the cat food. What to do? I rinsed them off as best as I could and let the bubbles dissipate (evaporate? pop? what do they do?) overnight.

Color Coded Pre-schoolers

How cute could this get?
Lily has a friend in her class who is autistic, her name is Mallory*. I was asking Lily about her yesterday because I was curious if Lily had noticed if Mallory was different or not. She has noticed. "What makes her different?"
"Her brain."
"Her brain? How?"
"It's a rainbow."
"Really? What color is my brain?"
"Well... I think green."
"Really? Not rainbow?"
"No, only Mallory is rainbow."
"Everyone's brain is a solid color, and Mallory's is a rainbow?"
"Yeah."
I swear. I have psychological genes in that pool.
* Not her real name. Blame HIPPA.

To Whom The Bell Tolls

I'm telling you. They're out there. There's a whole big conspiracy with snipers watching our every move. They calculate, contemplate, evaluate, and bait. They're sneaky. You never know who they are, where they are or who they'll corrupt to get information about you. It could be your best friend. It could be your mom......
They call themselves OPERATION BLUE BELL.
I have long since speculated that they existed. My wariness was confirmed yesterday in the ice cream isle, where, mixed in with the chocolate chip cookie dough and dutch chocolate was a new flavor:
FRENCH VANILLA CAPPUCCINO.
How else could anyone put together my two ultimate favorite treats, ice cream and coffee?? I ask you, how was I supposed to resist this delectable temptation when I was caught totally and completely off guard?? There I was, just roaming around the bread isle and what happens to pop out at me but the stack of this new flavor of delight that was suspiciously pulled forward much further than the other stacks?? How did it get that way?? How did it wind up in my freezer?? It walked?? Yeah right.
Women of the world, we must pull together in order to beat these sabotagers of diets! Be on the look out! Keep your eyes open! Warn your friends!! They're everywhere!!!!

P.S.
After extensive research, I have found the name of this monstrocity misleading. It does not give you energy, no matter how much you consume. Fight!!

Abusing Fat People

I went to McDonald's today and of course I had to go to the bathroom. Something about drinking 112 oz of water a day. I feel like a coffee filter trying to hold back a waterfall. Anyways, so here I go, get in the stall, plop down. Then I see my reflection in the metal door. Shooop, pee stops. Have you ever looked at yourself in a reflective stall door? How unflattering! Maybe it's the way your pants around your knees widen your stomach pooch, or how the toilet paper dispenser distorts the size of your boobs and arms, I dunno. But I got to thinking, almost every place I go to has reflective doors! The worst is Olive Garden, I think they wave the metal a little to really freak you out (thank you DQ for having wooden doors).
Is this a conspiracy? "How can we really mess with their minds? Put mirrors in the stalls!" This is some kind of abuse I'm certain. Emotional I think. And have you ever tried not looking at yourself while you wipe? HOW GROSS. It's like some sick part of you is like "Hey I always wondered what I looked like while I wiped...." and you can't help but look! And then you're even more grossed out! I guess I'll have to start closing my eyes when I have to use a reflective stall.

Dietician Disaster

I'm tired of being fat. So I went to see a dietician, because obviously my diet of blizzards and fries isn't working. Plus, it's free (thank you Tricare). So here I go. My daughter was in school but I had to take Caleb, which was going okay until he realized I was going to be talking for a LONG time (more than 3 minutes). So he starts getting ancy and the diet guy goes and gets a chair that spins, and it has wheels! Kudos! So I put Caleb in it and away he spins.
About ten minutes of non-stop spinning later Caleb gets up, comes to me and BUUUULLLLHHHH all over this guy's carpet. Chocolate milk and pop tarts everywhere. Lovely.
Can someone explain to me WHY children move from place to place while they throw up?? Do they like running and puking at the same time? They obviously don't understand the concept that staying in one place while upchucking makes only one spot to clean, and not four or five.
So here Caleb is, hurling on the floor and moving from spot to spot between heaves. I think I counted four puddles and two streaks, where he hurled in mid-walk. This gets grosser and grosser! As I grab a trash can and try to corner Caleb (which only makes him run faster and vomit more) the diet guy is being no help at all, just sitting there watching the show. When Caleb was done, you know what he said?
"Do you think he needs a glass of water?"
What?? The kid just got done throwing up everywhere! Do you need one more puddle to make the stains symmetrical? Do you like seeing kids puke? What kind of freak are you? In the end it turns out he has a two year old so he's kinda used to the unexpected happening and he was totally understanding. Except for the water thing, good grief!
Now I remember why I get a babysitter for my appointments.

You're Upset About WHAT?!!

While the husbands are away, the wives will.... panic, aparently.
So now we're down to the final four months or so of our husband's deployment. Yee Haw!! Our unit leaders have collaberated with the "higher ups" to have a re-integration meeting, which I guess is supposed to tell us what to expect when our honeys get back and how to re-integrate him back into our lives. Their slogan is "You Don't Have To Do This Alone!" or "Please Don't Go It Alone!" Interesting slogan from someone who jerked our boys out of our lives in the first place. The key elements of Family Member Reintegration Briefings are:
A. Reunion Briefings
(Namely, how to hug one another and say we missed you.)
B. PTSD/Combat Stress Awareness
(They have combat stress now? Wait till we get home to the children....)
C. Suicide Awareness
(If they haven't done it while being overseas, away from family and friends and thrust into a life of sand, gunfire and hot hot hot heat, why would they do it now??)
D. Veterans Benefits
(Thanks guys, I already did the research. Basically veterans might get help in buying a house. Maybe.)
E. Troop and Family Counseling Services
("I'm just finding it SOO HARD to let my husband cook, clean, take the trash out, pay bills, take the kids to school, share my bed, rub my feet....")
F. Military One Source
(And our husbands returning to America would change a national website how?)
G. TRICARE and United Concordia Benefits
(From what I understood, once you get back your benefits DROP. Simple as that.)
(UPDATE: Benefits can be extended for up to 180 days if your soldier has been deployed more then 30 consecutive days. WOOHOO!!)
Oh gosh. I think I may have to miss this meeting.

Sister Sense

My sister recently commented on my "Cold Cold go away" blog entry. She said "you're not getting old, you just need to get out and have some fun." I would like to reply.
The following is a schedule of my days of the week:
7 a.m.- 3 p.m.-- feed, clothe, send to school, fight with and clean after kids
3 p.m.-9 p.m.-- feed, fight with, bathe and clean after kids, work, pick up kids, put kids to bed
9 p.m.-7 a.m.-- sleep, wake up, get more water for kids, sleep, wake up to one or both kids in bed with me, sleep, wake up, get into Lily's bed, sleep, wake up, put kids back in their beds, sleep
Sometimes I squeeze in church or computer time. Now here is a simulated "night out" for me:
Spend three days juggling work schedule with babysitting schedule to see which set of grandparents will volunteer to babysit during my evening out.
Drop kids off.
Take shower.
Try to find something nice to wear, remember I've gained 10 pounds, and cry.
Pick out the usual jeans and shirt.
Spend 20 minutes trying to decide where to go without leaving a 10 mile radius of my kids, because inevitably they will sense I am trying to have fun and want to come home early.
Decide to go out to eat.
Try to find someone to eat with.
Friends are either working or taking care of their kids, in-laws and/or parents are babysitting or recovering from such.
Decide I didn't really want to go anywhere anyway.
Put on shorts and T-shirt.
Surf Ebay or MSN.
Get bored and go to babysitter's house to watch their t.v. and/or visit.
The End.
So you see, I try to have fun, but until James gets back, I really can't!

Random Thoughts

I discovered the other day that I do not own a fly swatter. But a spatula works just fine.
Conversation between Taryn and I while shopping the other day:
Me: "I dunno, I don't think that bottle will look good in my kitchen."
T: "What bottle?"
M: "The one I just bought.... didn't I?"
T: "Didn't you?"
M: "Didn't I?"
T: "Did you?"
M: "Did you?"
T: "I bought that something or other."
M: "I thought so."
Then we proceeded to Burke's Outlet. Don't ask, I don't even know. Reminds me of half my conversations with Mom. But she is getting better.
Note to Zac: Yes, baby poop can be green. It may also be yellow, orange-ish and sometimes blue, if you get the combination of food right. And yes, they will be fine.
I'm decorating my apartment so it won't look so..... undecorated. I'm aiming for a European look in my kitchen, a "woodsy" look in my living room, and a leaf/water look in my bathroom. I can't figure out a theme for my room. Chaos seems to be working though.

Ghost Pounds

Alas, my career at DQ has caught up with me, to the tune of 10-15 pounds. I'm scared to actually jump on a scale, so I'm guesstimating using the tightness of my once flattering jeans. But I have not gained ordinary pounds, oh no. That would be too simple. I have gained ghost pounds, those that move from your stomach to your hips to your thighs. Example: My jeans do not fit because I cannot squeeze my thighs into them. Then, my bras don't fit cause the straps and band are too tight (too bad I haven't gained boob pounds....). And then, my shirts don't fit cause my pooch sticks out! It's like no matter what cute outfit I try to wear, I can't because those ghost pounds appear. Funny, when I'm wearing my everyday house clothes my thighs and tummy fit fine.... Then I go to work and Kathy is like "Well I don't buy new clothes, that way I have to lose weight to wear the ones I have." Nice concept, too bad it doesn't work for me. I enjoy breathing and not looking like a slab of salami squeezed in a tube top. Which reminds me, Lily said my legs looked like sausage the other day. Grrr.

More Baby!!!

More Zayden!! Such a cutie pie!!

X-ray Mishap

I hurt my back again, surprise suprise. Shooting pains, you know. So I went to the doctor, and I don't think he was certified. It was a different doc from the one I had seen before. He didn't exactly tell me what was wrong, just gave me meds and set me up with physical rehab, which is okay cause that's what I wanted. Gimme pills!! Yeah!! Then he sent me off to get some x-rays done. Cool. So the guy tells me to take off my shirt and bra and put on one of those high dollar, extra luxuriant blue paper robes. Man I felt sexy in that. As I undressed, I realized that two of my piercings were going to be in the way of the x-ray rays (??). While I won't tell you what body parts I am speaking of, I will tell you that there are two and they are at chest level.
So, crap, I gotta get these out. Let me explain how this piece of jewelry works..... The above is a picture of a captive bead ring, commonly used for such piercings as I have. On the bead are two teeny tiny indentions that you have to magically line up with the ring for it to snap into place and stay put via tension. Changing them takes about, oh, an hour. And I have five minutes to remove them before the technician gets suspicious.
First I try to pull the ends apart to release the ball. No go. So I apply more muscle, and one hand slips, jerking my body part sideways under my armpit. OUCH. Don't want to do that again. Then I try to pull one side up while pushing the other side down, bending the metal slightly and releasing the ball, because now I don't care if they break or warp while I get them off cause this stuff HURTS. That method doesn't work either, though my hands didn't slip. WHEW. Then I try to wedge my tooth inbetween the ball and ring. Yes, I had my body part up to my mouth and yes I did look funny, and no it didn't work. Now my body parts are aching and probably almost bleeding, and the tech is knocking on the door saying I don't have to disrobe completely, all I need is my bra and shirt off. Grrr.
I finally get them off by using a credit card instead of my teeth to pop the stupid stinking little ball out of it's socket. I walk out holding my parts and after signing a waiver stating I AM DEFINATELY AND TO MY KNOWLEDGE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY NOT PREGNANT, I am contorted and twisted and zapped and finally released back into the world. Uuuuggghhhh.
(Photo borrowed from www.bodyartforms.com)

Cold, Cold, Go Away!!!

I have a cold
I'm feeling old
Nose is red and running
Head feels all funny.
Eyes are watering
Ears itch and are bothering
Can't stop sneezing
I think I'm wheezing.
I look like crap
Can't take a nap
Cause my nostrils need new plumbing.
Everything tastes weird
Still I have gained 10 pounds, as I feared.
I have a cold
I'm feeling old
And now my story is all told.

Alejandra's All Over Again!!

My kids are pretty good for the most part. Do you know why? Because they save it up and dump it on me all in one day! Two weeks ago was one of those days. I think it was a Saturday, who knows. I had battled with them all day over the flavor of kool-aid I made, who's drinking out of whose cup, I had the toy first, mom rewind Bob the Builder NOW, I'm hungry, she hit me, I have to potty, can you go with me, can we get dressed now, I want to go outside, will it rain today, is lunch ready yet?, I can't find my cup, I can't find my other shoe and I HAVE TO WEAR DORA SHOES TODAY, I don't wanna change my diaper I like it hanging to my knees, can I get on the computer, what are you reading?, can you read to me, no not that one this one, NOOOO!!! I want this one, mom where are you going?, is the macaroni and cheese on fire?
And I had to go to Wal-Mart. I thought the trip would be calming. Nooo, never that easy. We get there and first I have to battle Lily to get in the cart because she runs off. There's one screaming and crying at me. Then she finds something off the shelves and hits Caleb with it, then denies it. Now I have two screaming, crying children, and I haven't even made it past the door greeter. I snatch the thing away from Lily, who yells that she wants it back, tell her no and she shouldn't hit her brother, she knows better, and walk to the clothing section. I start looking at clothes for church and they start in with the "Can we go to the toys, I want to see the toys, mom I need to go to the toys NOW, MOM CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" I tell them if they straighten up we can go by the toy aisle. I meander a couple of racks away, and I hear screaming. Wonderful. Caleb has a shirt on a hanger and is hitting Lily, who is screaming for mommy. A lady stops and asks Lily where her mommy is, and she points to where I am, and I wave and say "Be there in a sec."
To make a long story short, I didn't buy any clothes. I didn't get past the clothing section. I had to wheel my wailing kids between customers at the check-outs who are staring and whispering to the car, where I toss them in and turn up the radio to drown out the "I THOUGHT WE WERE GONNA SEE THE TOYS YOU SAID WE COULD GO SEE THE TOYS WAIT!! WAIT!!" I'm in no mood to cook dinner, so I drive to DQ.
To anyone considering having children, don't until you take mine in public. Then see if you really want kids. We get into the restaurant in three or four pieces, and Caleb goes right to the gumball machine (why do they put those there??). Lily has to go potty and runs to the bathrooms. While I'm looking over the menu and Caleb attempts to break into the gumball machine, Lily comes up to me holding out her hands and saying "Look Mom!! They got pink soap!!" Back to the bathroom. When we get out, Caleb is up front asking strangers for quarters. I tell them to get two booster seats and sit down while I order. I hear them fighting over the seats. I go corral them into a booth, and go BACK to the counter. This time I get to order and almost get our drinks when I see them crawling around under the table. By the time our food gets to us, we've spilled 42oz of coke on the table and floor, chewed up two ginormous wads of gum and thrown them somewhere, and shredded four napkins. After eating three fries and half a chicken strip each, they're ready to go. And not just in one way.
When Caleb goes number 2, he performs what I call the "poop dance". He sticks his butt out, leans over, gets on his tippy toes and runs circles around any stationary object, while scrunching up his face and shreiking. Sometimes he throws in a jump or two. As the process progresses, he makes more noise and runs faster. I know, it's funny but whatever works, right? So he's done and gets off his booster seat and starts dancing, running between customers at the counter and making stops at the gumball machine. Of course, Lily has to chime in "Mom, I think he's pooping!!" So I leave my food, gather the kids and head home, where I lay in bed and cry. Boy I'm glad I got my tubes tied.