Zombie Boogs

First of all- Happy Holidays to everyone!!!

Secondly, just thought I'd share that Boogs has been suspended from daycare because of his craving for human flesh. He has become a biter. My nephew says he has the T-virus and be careful, and indeed a Toddler Zombie Apocalypse would be the worst kind.

But I think he is free of the T-virus and is just using the biting as an outlet for his crabbiness since his dad has been kidnapped by Santa Clause and been forced to make toys 6 days a week. And what I mean, is he is a slave to retail so he hasn't been home and I have been extra crabby and tired.

Since Boogs got the boot, we had to find alternate daycare. Enters Uncle Tom, who happened to be available the week before and after Christmas. So now Boogs goes to Uncle Tom's every day. I thought this was a short term fix, allowing Boogs a little one on one attention that would calm his craving for human flesh. But I'm afraid it will backfire.

Now, when ever I talk to Boogs about going back to school his answer is always, "No, Uncle Tom's house." He likes going to Uncle Tom's so much I'm afraid he'll be like the homeless person committing minor infractions to be thrown into the big house for 3 meals and a bed. Only he'll bite some poor kid and Uncle Tom won't be available and then who knows what I'll do.

So that's what's up with the Sassy Family. Hope all is well with you-enjoy the holidays and your family!

Oh, and if you haven't visited Amazon.com for free holiday music downloads, do it now. There are a lot of really fun and cool bands on there.
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Daycare Woo Hoos!

Well y'all may know about many of my daycare woes, like here and perhaps the one I unpublished about Daycare Diva. And of course there was the crack about me always feeding them Chicken Nuggets.

This week Boogs started a new Preschool based Center. We were obviously nervous. Why wouldn't we be when Diva always notified us that Boogs spent a lot of time in time outs-other parents always commented that when they saw him, he was in time out. And when I'd ask every day how he'd done, she'd answer "...better..." in a high pitch inflection that suggested that he was barely better.

So imagine our surprise and joy when they told us that he was great! They like him even. That was one of my big complaints about the other place, I just didn't think Diva liked him. They said he is really good, very lovey and wonderfully social. They think he's so cute because he runs up to greet each parent when they come. He's doing beautifully! I couldn't be happier.

And Kiki. Well he is in love with preschool. We got him into the one right downtown three days a week. I've been stressing though. I kept him at Diva's for another two days just having faith that preschool would suddenly have an opening for him full time. On the days he went to Diva's, he was NOT happy. He wanted to go to school. So on Friday, when no spots for full time had opened up, I talked to Boogs's school to see if they could take Kiki other two days a week. They said sure.

But, Friday morning while I stared zombie-like at my computer screen, the Preschool Teacher called me.

Me- Blah blah, this is Sassy.
Teacher- Hi Sassy, this is Preschool Teacher. I'm calling to make your weekend.
Me- Really?? (expectant pause)
Teacher- I'm calling you to offer Kiki a full time spot!
Me-Really!! OMG, I'm SO happy!! Thank you!!
Teacher-Actually I bumped a couple other kids off the list since I knew how desparate your situation is.
Me- You are SO getting a good Christmas gift this year!

Then I called Jim and Kiki. Jim was happy and Kiki screamed "OH!" and threw his arms up into the air (according to Daycare Dad). Today is Saturday and he wants to know why he's not going to school. He's kind of pissed at me.

So everyone is happy, I'm way less stressed and all is right with the world.

Oh, and because Kspin triggered some thoughts on the topic, I'll post something tomorrow. Of course her post is much better than mine, mine isn't all exciting. Just something I found very interesting.
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Pre Kchaos

I guess its official... I'm old. I have a kid that goes School. Ok, its only preschool, but its still school.

Last night we went to the open house. The school he'll be going to is an older building without A/C ...many places up here don't really have A/C anyway, but the day was hot and muggy and sitting in a windowless auditorium doesn't make for happy kids.

The principal, who seemed to be trying hard to be interesting, made me want to slit my wrists. She would not.stop.talking.

I looked around at the other parents of mostly 3-7 year olds and thought to myself that this woman wasn't too perceptive about her audience. As evidenced by the fact that as soon as she paused and finished one section, nearly everyone stood to leave... but she wasn't quite done yet. We all left anyway.

Seriously though, I'm happy Kiki is in a school at all! Preschool enrollment has been a nightmare. I signed him up in May for a school that is near downtown and where Logan happens to go. I was 38 on the list, guess I waited too long. But the teacher assured me it'd be fine.

Logan's school wouldn't be able to tell me for sure if he got in until August 16, so they said. Suddenly it is the week before school starts and I STILL don't know. I call and get myself put on the list for the other school downtown. Central Grade School-I was 3rd on the waiting list.

Finally the teacher at Logan's school told me she didn't think she had any openings for him, but then Central Grade called me and offered me M, Tue, Th full days. I snapped them up in hopes of getting him a spot the other two days. Daycare Diva said she probably has room for him to go to her house the other two days till November.

I was going to have him go to the new Center Boogs is going to, but when I was there I saw a little bully on the playground and I decided I didn't want poor Kiki to have to figure out two hierarchies of bullies. I wanted him to just have to learn one. So I decided to keep him at Daycare Diva's till he can get full time Pre-K at Central. I think it is a good move and best for him, even if its not convenient for me.

But to be honest I sort of didn't want him at Central because I consider it to be the "rich school" ... I hate to say that I have one major prejudice, however unfair, about the rich. Here the "numbered streets" have the huge old Victorians and million dollar homes. This school is nestled amongst those numbered streets.

While at the open house, Jim admitted that while I was trying to figure out how old we were compared to other parents, he was trying to figure out which ones were the rich ones. lol. He said he overheard one woman saying, somewhat out of place, "Well we live on 6th street" in a conversation about pick up. He thought it seemed purposeful on her part, and the teacher didn't respond. Oh, and 6th street has probably THE most expensive homes. But I'm not worried about it anymore, the school seems really great and I liked his teacher a lot. I think it's because I went to a school with a good amount of rich kids and HATED EVERY SECOND OF IT.

A bonus of him going to Central is that one of his little girl friends from Diva's is going to be going there. She ran up to him last night and fearlessly took his hand in hers. They walked all the way to the preschool room hand in hand and chatting happily.

It was so sweet I had to snap a picture, while walking-so it's blurry.


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I Don't Think I Have This Mom Gig Down

Today I have two birthday parties to go to for the kids. These are honestly the first parties we've been invited to aside from Logan's. I don't even know what to do.

The parties have a time frame, like 11-1pm. Does that mean I go and stay the entire time or is it more like an open house? Are there organized activities? What if Boogs is the only 2 year old there, what if Kiki is the only boy? What if I don't know anyone and just stand around over dressed or under dressed.

Which comes to my big question, WHAT DO I WEAR?

Wow, I'm so clueless about stuff like this. Oh the pressure!
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The No Scream Parenting Method

And when I say scream, I'm talking about me not being that screaming woman. You know who she is...
....
Thats right. Harriet Olsen. Oh, the shudder I feel when I think that I may be like that woman. Her constant screaming and her poor hen pecked husband. I was always afraid of becoming her.

My Boogs is a challenge. He is strong willed, spirited, full of energy, emotional AND he's a tad behind in talking. Doesn't = pretty.

I find myself yelling at him constantly and angrily. I yell and he yells back, I yell louder, he yells louder and cries. It's hard to tell who the two-year-old is. That'd be him.

So after finally deciding that positive reward seems to work way better for him, in fact, punishment of any kind doesn't even make him blink. So we began a sticker chart with certain tasks and reward magnets. He seems to like that, but he was still being very challenging.

Finally, a few days ago, I decided I was going to go 2 weeks without raising my voice at him. And I don't know if its like a placebo effect, where I just imagine it- but it seems to be working. He seems to be less frustrated, and doing less naughty type things. But he's also easier to refocus to non-naughty activities. AND, for some reason, I just feel better and less pressure. Just knowing that I'm not allowed to yell at him seems to make things easier on me. I can't explain it- but maybe you can :)

Summer Camp Failures Part I

Well, it's time to interrupt my summer hiatus to make an announcement. My reputation as a not-so-together mom is fully intact.

I had hoped to make some minor improvements over the summer vacation and attempt to impress the teachers and parents at Logan's school come fall. However, that will not be happening and I have given up the dream.

Logan is attending a day camp this summer while I'm at work. The camp has very flexible guidelines, because it is summer after all. They have only a few requests for the parents. And try as I might, I don't do a very good job following through with them.

For instance, the Field Trip Shirt. This shirt is vital to trips off-site as it allows the camp counselors to identify children in their charge. Can you understand the importance? Because I can.

However, I am the mom who takes her son to camp on field trip day without the field trip shirt. Last week my child showed up in his olive green shirt. He did not blend in at all.

When we arrived I apologize to the counselor for my failure as a summer-camp mom. She nodded her head and kindly pointed out that not only was Logan wearing the wrong shirt, but the one he had on was backwards. Oh what a proud moment for me.

And you would think that experience would have taught me a lesson, but it didn't. Because two days later I did the exact same thing. Only his shirt was on the right way that time.

It seems you can't teach this old dog new tricks. Try as my poor husband might, what with his lists and reminder calls and prayers and all. You (and by "you" I mean my husband, the school, camp counselors and doctors offices) just have to embrace me for who I am and know that I do my very best every day.

Also? I make up for my shortcomings by bringing extra toppings on Ice Cream days. And really what's more important? An aqua blue matchy-match shirt or extra chocolate and carmel? That's right. We all know the truth, now don't we?
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Sugar and Beer. That's What I'm Talkin' 'Bout.

I haven't been into this here blawg lately. You see, it's summer. And I have other things to do that must take priority over writing random stories about my kid calling me Super Mean and my husband's very queer eye.

Like buying Logan sugar cereal for his first. time. evah. Well, not his FIRST first time. Sister Big saw to that a couple years ago when she gave him Cocoa Puffs for breakfast one morning. It was the best day of his life and he speaks of it often.

To celebrate the end of a hard year in kindergarten and his very first summer vacation, Logan wanted cereal that has a) sugar, and b) a toy. Because I am such a nice mom I complied.

However, I found the cereal with the least amount of sugar sold at the grocery store. And, I made the house rule that he must wash it down with a couple slices of bacon. I don't want the kid to bounce off the walls after all.

We also decided to let Logan stay up a little later at night. My thinking was that he would sleep in a little later in the morning. Which has long been a dream of mine. And apparently a stupid one. The kid's awake at 6:30 am on the dot. Each and every single day.

Which is why I celebrate summer in my own way. Sitting on my front porch with my husband. Drinking beer. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.
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In Which My Son Offends Me

Today was Logan's last day of school. A day he has been looking forward to and dreading in equal measures.

He's done with having to listen to his teacher explain the importance of reading and writing and arithmetic all day long, and yet he gets a little nervous when there is a change-a-coming.

Because what if it doesn't meet his expectations? That's when I usually say,

"Wow. That's a big, fat bummer sweet pea."

After all, I am nothing if not a loving and supportive mother.

As soon as I sat down at my desk this morning, my cell phone rang. I went to silence it until I looked on the display and saw that it was my kid's school. Crap. That's almost never good. So I answered the phone with fear in my heart. What.did.he.do?

The secretary was calling to tell me she had to cut some gum out of Logan's hair. When I asked her how it got there, she told me she didn't know. She went on to explain that my darling child...my sweet precious baby boy, refused to spill it. She asked him three times. Three times he sat mute.

I have always heard that in negotiations, the first person to speak loses. I always lose. Not my boy. He didn't speak a word, so the secretary asked Logan,

"You're not going to tell me?" and Logan simply replied,

"No."

It was not a proud moment for me. Of course I was embarrassed by his lack of respect. So I called my husband. Tom was going to pick him up and I wanted to let him know that Logan needed a little chat about respecting those in authority. Oh, and P.S: Where the heck did the gum come from?

When Tom picked him up, Logan confessed that he was chewing gum when he went to bed last night. Which isn't a horrible thing except for the fact that it means nobody had the kid brush his hair this morning. And by "nobody" I mean Tom. He had the day off and was the one to help Logan get ready for school.

When I questioned Tom about it, he admitted that he didn't remember seeing Logan brush his hair, nor did he tell him to do so.

Fabulous. Yet again I look like White Trash Mom. Thanks doll. A great way to end the school year.

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In Which I Offend My Son.

Logan and his buddies have recently developed a passion for Pokemon cards. They like to trade them with each other at recess and during Latch Key (Don't get me started. It's an awful name for a great after school program.). I am fairly certain they don't have a clear understanding which cards are more valuable. They just figure that the higher the number on the card, the better that card is. And they may be right.

I went on the Pokemon website to try to understand and make sure my kid was making an even trade. Because I'm a girl and I just don't get it. When I was growing up, I was playing barbies, shooting marbles or riding my bike. I didn't trade anything.

Except when my friend Lori and I tried to pretend we were Ponch and Jon on CHiPS and give each other "five" while riding each other's bike. We crashed in the middle of the street and crawled to the side crying like baby girls. We never traded bikes again. (I am quite certain anyone under the age of 35 is thoroughly confused by the Ponch and Jon reference. That was some good TV back in the 70's. They don't make it like that anymore.)

After five minutes on the official Pokemon Trading Card site, I wanted to shoot myself in the head. It was all very confusing and I decided to just let Logan run with it. I would be no help to him.

But he's just not very good at it. One day he started out with 17 cards and when I picked him up after school he somehow magically had 26. When I asked him about it, Logan told me he asked his friends for "free" cards and they gave them to him. Suckers.

I told him not to do that though. Mostly because I'm afraid of getting a phone call from an irate parent accusing Logan of taking advantage of her kid. Those cards are $6.00 a pack. For ten cards.

I don't need to be worrying about that kind of stuff. I've got enough stress being the mom who always forgets to donate money for the end of the year gifts. And the Christmas gifts. And the Teacher Appreciation gifts. And the Volunteer gifts. The list goes on and on.

A few days later Logan left for school with 56 cards. He returned with 21. Again, not a stellar day in his card trading career.

I tried to explain to him how the object is to trade one card for another card. An even trade. You get one, your friend gets one. To which my kindergartner angrily replied,

"What do you thiiiink? That I'm a pre-schooler???!!"

Yeah, that's exactly what I think. Now go get mommy a drink.

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QOTD

Quote of the Day:

Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children and no theories. - John Wilmot

Discuss amongst yourselves.


What are some totally wrong ideas you had about child rearing. I'll answer in the comments tonight.




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Mean Kids Suck: Part Aaaaaggghhhhh!

Blog post is a fr\e-run, Yeah I'm with you folks   who wants to keep watching the thesame episode ofRoss and Rachel break up?  Clearly, they were on a break.  Of sorts. hateHaving gone through all that just to say:   The following  this a post I wrote a couple years ago but sister tSassy and I and I decided it's time to relaunch the old blawg and this is our way of doing it. Lazy,though it may be. I ass I assure you there  will be plenty of new posts on here to bring you up-to-date on my recovery from that bastard (pardon my coarse language) stroke I had and sister Sassy's new family members and the book she recently published!  You could say would been a hare bit busy uphere in the great North. My intention after catching yall upon the excitement of our lives is to go back toWhat I've always loved to write aboutried:  Tori Spelling movies, Hallmark movies, parenting and some Jesus  I'll also throw in some posts  abouts my passion for running It's a fairly new obsession, which makes a couple of my friends roll their eyes CLEANout of their heads at meThey are full of love for me but they hate the whole running thing while sitting cozy on the couch

I think I might be having an heart attack. Or I am just all nerved up because I am so angry at a bunch of fifth grade girls who think it's OK to pick on a kindergartner. My kindergartner to be exact.

Logan was at the bus stop and I was sitting at the end of our driveway waiting for him to be picked up so I could head to work. I was drinking my coffee and picking at my nail polish when I looked up and saw Logan kicking all the girls. Kicking them.

I was horrified and started shouting at him to stop. Then the bus came and I drove to work wondering how I had managed to raise a bully when I'm just a big old wimp myself.

When I picked Logan up later that day he told me the girls were calling him names and he didn't like it. It made sense to his 5 1/2 year old brain that the way to shut. them. up. was to kick them in the shins. And while it worked, I had to explain to him that I don't think kicking girls is cool. Even if they're obnoxious fifth graders who think it's OK to pick on a small child.

I want Logan to always defend himself, but I put an end to the kicking. I told him that if they start saying mean things again to just get in their faces and tell them to knock it off. Tell them they can't call him names. I also told him that girls can sometimes suck.

I certainly don't think all girls are mean. I was one of the nice ones. I hated watching the mean girls make fun of people, and whisper in front of others, and laugh when someone made a mistake. Why do they act that way? A friend of mine has a theory that mean girls have mean moms.

I told Logan I was going to wait with him at the bus stop the next morning. He begged me to not do that. He wanted to handle the situation all on his own. He didn't want his mama fighting his battle.

When he walked up to the bus stop the next day I was ready. If those girls did one single thing that seemed out of line, I was going to have a little chat with them. But they didn't do anything. As a matter of fact they were very nice and all the kids talked and laughed while they waited for the bus.

That night when I was putting Logan to bed I asked him about it. He said,
"I asked God to make them be nice. And he did."

Hmph. Alrighty then. Why hadn't I thought of that?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
OK. And in completely and totally unrelated -but-oh-so-freaking-happy news, Jenny Garth has signed on to reprise her role as Kelly Taylor on the new 90210.

Dude. I don't care if this makes you think less of me. This is some of the best news I have heard in a long time. Shut up.




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Mommy Moonwalk: My Armstrong Moment

The other day in the store I felt like the "Bad Mommy". The one that seems to be constantly yelling at her kids. Riding them for doing every little small thing. I really don't want to be that mom.

I was in the store and I had Boogs strapped down in the stroller because he is UNCONTROLLABLE. He's loud, he grabs stuff and he flings himself about. He is very different from Kiki at that age.

We don't believe in spanking. I just don't like the message is sends and I'm also afraid if I opened that door I wouldn't be able to close it. I think it would be a mistake. Not that I would go all out crazy violent, but that I think I could easily lose control and lash out physically in anger and not at all in the correct way, if there is one. Who knows. And you spankers out there, don't you take offense. I'm not saying anything against you.

So I don't have that immediate -pop you in the mouth/hand/butt- fix to get them to behave. I do time outs and I will also pack up their crap and make them leave fun places if need be.

When Kiki threw a fit one day we were supposed to go to the playland to meet HB, I threatened him that he would have to stay home. He defiantly did whatever I told him not to and I was left to contemplate spending the afternoon in my home, bored as hell and crazy-like.

Don't write checks your butt can't cash. That's one of JimmyEW's favorite sayings. So finally I told Kiki that his misbehavior wasn't going to ruin the fun that Boogs and I had been planning and that he was going to go but sit in time out for awhile while the other kids played.

I think that was more torture than staying home. He had to go and watch what he couldn't do because he had been naughty.

But Boogs, he's 2 and naughty and has no real concern for his personal safety. I still haven't figured out what will work with him. But last night I had a sort of break through. At least I hope it is.

Boogs wanted to get on Aunt HB's lawn mower. He managed to climb on and I took him off, screaming and kicking the whole way. He complained loudly about my decision. I set him down, told him no, had uncle Tom tell him no, then went back to play. He proceeded to jabber at me like an angry squirrel, pointing to the mower and yelling at me when i told him no. But, he didn't try to get back on.

On small step for Boogs, one giant leap for Sassykind

I call this photo "Car-Jacked!"

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Mean Kids Suck

Logan and I have a ritual every evening on our drive home from school. I ask him what he did at school that day and he proceeds to crab at me from the back seat. (It's very enjoyable.)

I tell him he has to talk to me about two things he learned in class and what he liked most at recess. I also explain to him that if he doesn't answer me, he can go straight to bed when he gets home, because I don't play that game. He sighs loudly and answers my questions. Then we begin having a real conversation.

I love that. Not so much having to pull his teeth to get him to chat with me, but the actual conversation that follows. I learn a lot about him and his day during these car rides.

For instance, Logan's classmate Kayla is a big girl. Lately she has been getting teased a lot and called "fat". Plus, not many kids want to play with her. This broke my heart and we talked about how bad that must make her feel. How "fat" can be such an ugly word. And how Logan needs to make sure he says something nice to her every day. That's his job as my kid. He asked if he could just say "Hi" to her in the morning and I agreed that it would be good enough.

The next day Logan informed me that he told his buddies I said it wasn't nice to use the "F" word. (I had a minor panic attack until I realized he meant "fat".)

It's so hard being a kid sometimes. I remember getting picked on when I was little. To this day I can remember how bad it felt when Jim Arvidson called me a bucked tooth beaver. I'm sure he doesn't even remember the incident, since it happened in the first grade. But I sure do remember. It stuck with me forever.

And I remember when the kids would make fun of Melanie because her family was poor. And Henry because he was so skinny. And Rich because he was a little different.

My friend Amanda's son is going through some self-image issues himself. He hates his school picture and says he's ugly. No matter how much his mama tells him different, it doesn't change the way he sees himself.

Is this just a rite of passage and something each child must struggle through?

Did everyone go through this? Even the kids who seemed to have it all together with the rich family, nice cars, great clothes, good grades and always got picked first during gym class?

Tell me your experiences when you were a child. Did you get picked on? Did you pick on other kids?

If you have children, how do you help them deal with self-image issues? How do you teach them to ignore the taunts of classmates?

And if your kid is a bully, what the heck do you do with that?


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Undercooked Babies

This weekend I'm going to be doing a 6 mile walk for the March of Babies, previously known as The March of Dime's Walk American. I'm sure you are familiar with this organization, its all about keeping babies in the oven long enough to cook and keeping them well if they pop out too soon.

For some reason, women in our society have huge rates of pre-term labor and complications as compared to other industrialized countries.

rate of preterm birth in the United States far exceeds the rate in other industrialized countries: 12.3% in 20033 compared with 7.7% in 2003 in Canada,4 7.9% in 2003 in Australia,5 6.2% in France in 1998,6 7.4% in the Netherlands in 1999,6 6–7% in 2001 in New Zealand,7 7.3% in 2000 in Scotland,6 and 6.4% in 2000 in Sweden.

Suggestions as to why often go along with certain risk factors but some camps feel that there is a pretty strong link between our lack of medical benefits and preterm births. I read in one article abstract that France cut their preterm birth rate in half over 15 years in part due to increased maternity leave. However, I can't link to that article unless I want to pay $30, so you'll just have to take my word for it.

You might be wondering why I'm showing pictures of Kiki throughout this post...well, it's because I experienced a very scary pregnancy with him.

Let me say first, if you're currently pregnant with your first child stop reading, I don't want to scare you. ...ok, you gone yet? Now that the new-moms to be are happily worrying if they should name their baby Apple or Coco, I'll tell a quick tale about my pregnancy and the birth of Mighty Kiki (his nickname).

All was well in Sassyland, no problems to mention aside from the chronic puking that occurred early on. I think I was around 26, so not too old, no real risk factors. But around week 34 or 35 (sorry, it's kind of a blur) I noticed some swelling. Every women gets swollen during pregnancy, I'd heard stories about rings and shoes not fitting...so I wasn't alarmed. I just elevated my feet and didn't think about too much, even though I knew HB had swelling while pregnant and had been put on bedrest a few different times . I'm invincible, right?

Then, one day while in a meeting at work I thought I was going to pass out. I excused myself and immediately went to the couch in the Developmentally Disable classroom and laid on my left side. Thankfully there were no clients in there at the time.

My wonderful boss got the blood pressure cuff and checked me. She was alarmed. I don't remember the number, but she was on meds for high blood pressure so if she was alarmed, I should be alarmed.

I called my OB with my blood pressure numbers and she told me to have JimmyEW pick me up immediately and take me to the hospital. She was ordering a stress test. Kiki was ok in utero but she put me on bedrest and noted that I was suddenly measuring small. She told me that my baby would probably have to spend some time in the NICU.

I was terrified. She ordered stress tests every three days to keep a close eye on him. Kiki always passed each stress test and I was at ease for that day and usually the next, but the day after that, the day before my next stress test, that was always the worst. Thank god for the fetal heart doppler we had or I would have been a mess.

I was so afraid he'd die in utero, something I was sure would break me if it happened. I would pray to God and to Kiki that he poke a hole if he got in trouble so we could know to get him out.

When I was at week 36 I went to my appointment and my blood pressure wouldn't go down, I had no protein in my urine so my OB hospitalized for monitoring. While I was in the hospital I felt a little pop and started leaking fluid, Kiki poked a hole.

Through the next day nothing much happened, they gave me pitocin, the bane of all laboring women, to try to help the labor along. Then my water completely broke and I was in a world of hurt. I asked for an epidural, they gave me one and then everything went downhill from there. My blood pressure dropped really low, Kiki's heart rate plummeted, JimmyEW nearly passed out he was so scared. The doctor called for a c-section STAT and I was wheeled out.

They cut me open and pulled him out in what seemed like a matter of minutes. JimmyEW and I waiting for our baby...I began to cry and say "I don't hear him crying, why isn't he crying." They took him to a little table and the nurses began massaging him and using a little bag to try to get him to breath. Finally...finally he cried.

He was 4 lbs 12 oz and 18 inches long. See the photo of him below.

He spent 2 weeks in the NICU, mostly for being stubborn and not eating, but he finally came home. When all was said and done, the bill came to over $23,000!! Thank god I paid extra for some great PPO insurance and I didn't have to pay a cent. Nothing! Not even a co-pay. Wish I had that insurance now...

Clearly he's healthy now, in fact he is playing his first soccer game ever after my walk. He did get hit with RSV as a toddler, but other than that he's smart, polite and beautiful. He says and does things like:

Making Valentines Day cards for God...no clue where he got that idea.

Being a mother hen to Boogs, often chasing him around trying to put socks on his feet.

And super funny, like when I said I smelled like a boy because I used Jimmy's deodorant his reply was, "mama, you smell like poop?"

And one interesting tid bit about him is that I swear there is a face in his ultrasound picture. Not his face(eye roll), but a woman with long white hair. Freaky, huh? I got his picture and stared at that woman's face for 3 days before I finally asked someone else to look at it, my boss. I didn't show her where, I just said..."do you see something weird in this general area". She saw it right away and spooked her a bit too, but the face is there crisp and clear. I like to think it is his angel.

So, please understand what I'm about to do...it's a shameless ask for support for the March of Dimes. As I mentioned earlier, we're walking this Saturday and every dollar helps. I just thought I'd take a minute to explain why this cause is important to me. If you feel so inspired to give, click on the little badge to the right and you can donate directly through March of Dimes. If not, no worries. If there is one thing I know, I'm great at the Sell, but I suck at the Close.

Enough Already Mom!

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Slacker Moms Anonymous

Hi...My name is Sassy...and I'm a slacker mom.

I don't mean slacker in that I like to watch Oprah while eating Bon Bons and ignoring all my duties in life...which I do anyway... but like how I don't plan things until the last minute.

Take this beautiful little guy... my Boogs. He gets the shaft all the time. He is the second after all, so there is just more to take care of. Sometimes the special little things we did with Kiki just get over looked. Sad face.

But he knows I love him. He knows that I love the smell of his sweaty baby feet. Today I took off his socks and then he painstakenly repositioned himself so his feet were in reach. He lifted them to my nose without my prompting. He knows what his mama loves.

So I'm sure he knows that even though I didn't spend tons of time planning his 2nd birthday party, I love him. He doesn't know that I spent almost no time planning his party...or he might just change his mind about me.

In my defense, I was sort of waiting to see if we were going to be moving into a house (which hasn't happened btw). Having a super fun kids birthday party is no fun when everyone has to sit on each other for lack of space. And because it snowed on the beautiful day of April 12th, outside was out of the question. So we held Birthday Bash #2 at the BK playland.

Since I hadn't sent out any invites because I wasn't sure what was going to be happening, I resorted to the biggest, lamest, slacker mom move of all time. I hung up, on the back of the Daycare Diva's door by the sign in sheet, a hastily made Birthday sign up written on scrap paper! And I did it 4 days before the event. As you can guess, none of the daycare buds showed.

It wasn't a total wash. A friend from church showed with her son, HB and Logan came with Big Mama Jean and cousin Bree and Ms. Chic with her boyfriend graced us for a little bit. But the best part, the reason I'm happy I'm a slacker, is because I happened to run into a couple that I used to live by but had lost touch with. And, get this, they have two boys too! One is 4 months older than Kiki, one is 4 months younger than Boogs. Being a loser mom made it all worth it to reconnect. If I'd planned a proper party at the local kids gym or something, I may never have run into them.

And you know what? Boogs didn't care his shindig was on the fly. Just look at him here, see how happy he is!

The little time I did have, I used to make it special for him. That morning we made his favorite breakfast, then we dropped off Kiki so we could have some special Boogs time. That probably meant more to him than anything else that day.

...Well, except the Muppets Season 2 of course. We definitely took a backseat to that. When he opened that gift it caused some problems since he wanted to watch it right then and there in BK. We tried distraction, that didn't work and hiding it from him only caused him to spend a good 10 minutes crawling around the dirty floor trying to locate it. Wow, does he love his Kermit.

At his party he got a cookie cake, he got to play with his friends, and he got presents! What could be better than that? To a two year old, that is heaven I think.

So sure, I didn't spend a bunch of money on throwing a huge party at a fancy place with a clown and such. But he's two, he doesn't care, so I don't even feel bad.

Now I do sort of feel bad that he hasn't had any pictures taken since August. And that none of his Aunts and Uncles got copies of those pictures.

So, what is the worst slacker mom or dad thing you've done? Am I the only slacker out there? I know I'm not because my friend from church told me about this book Confessions of a Slacker Mom

She said she would let me borrow it. It was funny because she said she thought about mentioning it to me before but she didn't want to offend. Lol! So I think I may be checking out this book and taking notes and trying to not be such a slacker mom.

If you want to read other bloggers complaining about the pressure to throw a really great birthday party, check out Suburban Turmoil she came up with a pretty interesting birthday party for her four-year-old.

Well, I have to stop being such a slacker and fold some laundry, but in the mean time for your viewing pleasure, a picture of Kiki and Boogs enjoying one of the gifts Boogs got. Muppet Show Season 2. It MUST be danced to.

Sorry for the badly dressed Kiki and Boogs. Honestly, its not a slacker mom thing there. They just both had accidents at daycare and came home in wet or mismatched clothing. I had nothing to do with it. I swear!

8-week check in located above this post.

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Caption This! Saint Seester WINS!

**nudge, nudge** Watch, watch. She's going to tell us another story about what life was like when SHE was a kid... "

Name this Shot, originally uploaded by Sister Sassy 919.

Sorry for the boring post. Its Sunday and I have a gazillion things to do. But later today or tonight I'll post about how I'm a slacker mom. This picture is really funny, so I thought I'd have a little name this shot/caption contest. Winner will the linked to and will earn the respect of your peers :). Contest will close Tuesday night, because JimmyEW works awfully late Monday and won't get to look until Tuesday night anyway...oh, did I mention he'll be the judge?

If you want something more fun to read, scroll down and read how I'm a big clumsy dork.

He's Leavin' on a Jet Plane

Well, not really on a jet plane. But in a red Subaru. My 5 year old son is spending spring break downstate with his grandma. He made the plans himself. He figured if he couldn't go to Disney, anywhere was better than here. Because, apparently, we bore him.

So my husband and I are going to sit back, relax and have date night every night while he's gone. But I am sure going to miss him. He's my love-bug.
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The Amazing Nap!

It is amazing what a good nap will do for you. Simply amazing! I feel (and I know I've read there is a connection) there is a relationship between lack of sleep and depression. I especially think its huge for post partum depression. I saw this play out in me when I was a stay home mom in Chicago after Boogs was born. I was depressed in general, because life was pretty sucky, but on days I was tired I was miserable. Just miserable.

Well, I've been tired the last couple of days, really tired. And I've been really on edge with the kids and crabby in general. I've even had a low sneaking suggestion of depression creeping up my shoulder. And I look at JimmyEW and apologize for being harsh, critical, crabby and what have you, then just shake my head and tell him I don't know why. I suggest one thing or another, but nothing concrete. I was in a funk. Then today I took a glorious nap. Sweet beautiful nap of maybe an hour and a half. And I'm feeling good, energized, happy and like I'm not a monster mom anymore. Not to mention that I woke up and found a beautiful email from kspin, who I adore, in my email. Go read her amazing blog!

So now I feel good and happy in spite of the odor of a poopy diaper assaulting my nose. I'm taking the boys for a short walk in the brisk cold and then making cookies! What are you doing today?

I leave you a picture of my boys for your viewing pleasure. No offense to Reepicheep for stealing his memorial post.

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Working Parent VS Stay Home Parent

Picture above pretty much sums up my weekend

I know this can be a touchy topic for some, but this isn't what you think. Just keep reading. Ok, I've done both. I'm currently a working mom and I was a Stay Home Mom (SAHM) for a year. And let me tell you it is SO much harder, at least for me, to be a stay home parent. I mean, working full time has a lot of struggles, don't get me wrong. But working almost seems like a vacation sometimes. Now granted I don't do grueling work that requires me to be on my feet 8 hours a day, so please keep in mind I'm just speaking for myself, a woman who works an office type job. This is just the difference between the two worlds as I experienced it.

When you stay home you have someone hanging on you every second of every minute of every hour of every day looking to you to meet all of their needs. It is exhausting to be utterly responsible for every whim and desire of a little one.

And I don't fall all over myself spoiling them and giving them whatever they want. But I do fall all over myself mediating arguments, wiping noses, getting them dressed and undressed, trying to keep them occupied with something other than the TV in my small condo, keeping them out of the puddles and getting them to and from the car with both boots still on. They demand constant attention and if you have kids like mine they are very loud and rambunctious from daybreak until they talk themselves to sleep at night (which Kiki does).

And let me say that my kids are very good kids, I get nothing but glowing reports from daycare, but they have tons of energy and they wear.me.out. I don't care how many people work under you, how much you're responsible for how many deadlines you have. They cannot be more demanding than two young kids. And at least you can go to the bathroom whenever you want to without little eyes prying or hands trying to open the door.

Now obviously I'm not a stay home mom anymore, but every other weekend I feel like one in the sense I'm mostly on my own that entire weekend. JimmyEW works from when they get up, till time for me to go to bed and is gone the next morning before sunrise. I know its grueling for him, (if you want to feel sorry for him instead of me you can read about his working weekends here). But staying home is exhausting for me in a whole different way.

And this is why its so exhausting. Kiki talks ALL.THE.TIME. and when he isn't talking or singing he's meowing...or cock-a-doodle-do-ing. God love him. And Boogs, well, he's two. Need I say more? Not old enough to talk well, too young to do a lot on his own, but wanting to be just like Kiki or Daddy and do everything. Usually the outcome is him going slack and screaming on the floor.

I deal with his freak outs in stride but it was way more fun last weekend at the mall when I became the lady people look at and whisper "she should spank that kid". If you'd been in our little mall you would have witnessed me walking with a big smile on my face and a screaming kicking two year old flung over my shoulder. As he screamed, I laughed and just said over and over in a sing song voice, "I Love you, I Love You."

They probably thought I was terribly permissive but oh well, I really didn't care what people thought. He was mad we were leaving the play place and we had to leave, so since I'm bigger I exerted my will on him. I am the Queen Mother after all.

On weekends like these, when I find myself awash in the stress and chaos of the being locked alone with them all day, I have a little trick to keep me sane and I'm going to share it with you.

This is my iPod, the best Mothers Day gift EVER! Thank god for this little gadget. I don't totally plug in and ignore the kids, I always have one ear bud out, but I play my calming soothing music and it helps keep me sane. I'm able to listen to the sweet sounds of Regina Spektor and sing along while meeting my children's demanding needs. And my NPR podcasts allow me to have a little adult companionship when I crave and need it most. So iPod+Stressed Sassy=Happy.

I think because I had my stint as a SAHM I am able to see how much of a better mother I am now than I was before. Because of this I get to bypass one of the biggest symptoms Working Moms have. Working Mom Guilt. Just read Sister HB's posts. I have none of that.

Sometimes when they're sick I have it, but for the most part I know they are well cared for and are having fun with two people who love them (Daycare Diva and Daddy) and when I get to chit chat, play with pictures and write blog articles in my email when I should be pretending to work. Sure I'd love to work less hours, but I really do need a full time job and high paying jobs working part time are few and far between. So, until I become a Rock Star in...something...and find myself independently wealthy, I am content.

In Summary (my 9th grade English teacher would be so proud of that transition!), my two carrier monkeys are part of why I lean toward crazy. Many days I marvel at myself for the level of patience I have with them. Mostly because I'm on the inside screaming "LEAVE ME ALONE FOR A MOMENT", but I am curiously able to remain relatively calm during my crabby moments. And when I don't, a few minutes later I'm always apologizing for being crabby and telling them I love them no matter what. Even when I'm mad and even after they have a French Fry throwing game in the car. I tell them no matter what I love them, and I think they believe me or else they'd stop being naughty.

So (oh crap, I guess Mrs. Bargo would've failed me for messing up that transition!) as much as we talk about the struggles of being a working mom, I truly truly appreciate and respect those that stay home because I couldn't hack it. If you want to read a blog of a truly amazing stay home mom that I've know and admired for four years, visit Melz Midnight Brew. She's cute, spunky and has a gaggle of adorable children she cares for daily! Or you can visit my Sister 7.

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Playground Politics

This weekend I took the boys to a Playland at a popular fast food restaurant. I was meeting a good friend of mine and we figured since her grandkids are older and her house is not crazy-proofed, that meeting at a play-place would be the smartest and most relaxing way to catch up. I was right...for a time.

As it got closer and closer to lunch more and more kids started coming. Kiki is fine in these places. Although he's small, he's quick and strong and can navigate his way around well. Boogs on the other hand is littler and new to the world of play structures.

So when a little boy (probably around 3) decided it was fun to block my Boogs while he was trying to go through the tunnel, I started feeling the anxiety. The helpless feeling you get when you know that your kids are 10 feet above your head and the only way to get to them is to climb through a maze of tunnels and mesh netting made for someone under four feet.

Usually Jimmy is with us and because he's tall and very skinny he can slither up and extract any stuck child. I, on the other hand, would be afraid of collapsing the whole thing or getting my butt stuck in some area too small for me.

This little Orange Shirt kid was blocking Boogs, laying along the mesh tunnel so Boogs wouldn't be able to get by without stepping on him. I went over and asked Orange Shirt nicely to please let him by. But God love Boogs, he already powered through, stepping on the kid and screeching his irritation. Altercation avoided.

However as the boys did their last round before leaving, the spit hit the fan. About 10 kids were on their way to the slide and little Orange shirt was up there too. Suddenly I hear Boogs yelling and the line stops. Kids start piling up but I can't see what's happening through the tube. I only hear Boogs yelling angrily. I start to panic, I yell at Kiki to go help Boogs, so he back-tracks to where his brother is and out of my sight in the tube.

Then I hear him start to yell and cry. Ok, I'm in freak out mama mode now. I'm angry and scared and jumping to all sorts of conclusions about Orange Shirt, and afraid that Boogs won't be able to keep his cool and will end up biting. Because in my mind little Orange Shirt trouble-maker is blocking the way again.

I yell out "Who is the kid with the orange stripped shirt!" No one says anything. Parents start hovering, my kids are screaming. I hear another start to cry. I stand on a stool and start banging on the tube yelling for everyone to GO DOWN THE SLIDE. More crying, no one coming down and I was like "Screw this, I'm going up!". I head up the slide meeting Boogs on his way down looking clearly pissed off and upset. Kiki comes right after, quite unhappy...and guess who was next. Orange Shirt, who was no doubt crying from disappointment that his victims got away. I gathered up both kids and we left right after that.

But it makes me think again about that happy balance at the playground. The fine line between push over and bully that can set up how your children act the rest of their life. What do you do when your child is riding the little airplane and another child wants a turn? Or if your kids arrives at the same time to the last swing? What happens if there is another kid who is taking away a toy that your child is playing with? ugh! That balance between sharing and doormat is a hard line to play, don't you think? And I sure don't want to set my kids up to be passive push overs, but I also don't want them to think the world owes them everything. So what's a parent to do?

I suppose there is always compromise. Each kid taking turns for a few minutes each, sharing. But then who gets to go first? And what if your kid was first and you want him to go first and the other child starts complaining. Absent parent/nanny is chatting off somewhere and you can whisper fiercely at the child to stop being a spoiled brat because he was second, but then you'd look quite horrible for fighting with a little kid.

I do know how not to handle the play-land bullies. And that's by getting into a fistfight with another mom at Chuck E. Cheese during a birthday party. That's what these freaky moms did when their 9 and 13 year old sons argued over an arcade game . In.Sane.

Well at least I know I'm not alone as evidenced by Le Binky Bitch's post from yesterday. Go check out her crazy play land tale after sharing your own experiences with me.
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