Ah, the fresh smell of Ozone

As you can see from the pictures, the children started out very civilized in their Sunday best, only it was Saturday and we were headed out to go shopping - a sacred family event, of course. Chloe was pondering on, oh, I don't know, things like string theory, wormholes, and just who/what this ultimate observer is anyway. Ya know, your everyday basic ponderings on the theoretical sciences.

Chloe says to herself,

"Hmmm, I wonder if Steven Hawking got that email about my breakthrough on time machines."

Just the night before she said,

"No, I don't want to read Good Night Moon! Gosh mommy, brush up on your conceptual foundations of quantum physics, already!"

Me with eyes open widely and nothing else to say, "Okaaay."

And in the picture below that, Libby is wondering when I'm going to take that damn foo-foo bow off of her head.

Well, we headed off to shop at the all-mighty Sam's Club. (No, there's not a Cosco nearby, darn-it.) Alan and I, in the spirit of Memorial Day weekend, purchased two huge maroon (Gig Em Aggies! whoop!) beach- chair loungers with the ever so crucial drink holders, that are not on one, but on both arms!

We idealized laying side by side, the wind in our hair, the lush trees at our feet and gazing up high in the sky at the exotic birds that fly by our deck. Wow, what a view! Wow, what a margarita! Another? Of course, I'll have another. Got any tiny umbrellas too?

Crack! Here came the dark rolling clouds and we instantly scattered like teenagers at a busted house party.

Well, it did take a little vocal prompting (okay, nagging) to convince Chloe to get off of daddy's lounger that she had stolen earlier after he went to make us more drinks. But Daddy was happy to stand on the deck and let Chloe relax excitedly on the lounger. That is, until this fast-moving, water-producing storm showed up. (Libby was inside napping at this point) (Chloe nap? Never.)

Somewhat giddy at this point, we hurriedly swooped everything up and rushed inside. Thundering loudly. Big heavy rain drops. Ah, the smell.

We went to the lower level and before we knew it, somewhere between the x and y margarita, we had let Chloe get virtually naked and start rain dancing out on the deck. Instantly, her civilized ways went feral . Oh, what a feral exhibit. Little feral one. Our little feral child. Queen to all the docile, cultured domestics turned beastly, savage bruts.

Again, I say feral.

Super Nanny! Where are you?!

Forget the terrible two's - that's mere child's play. The three's are up there with root canals, Ted Bundy, and blue cheese sprinkles. (yeah, I hate blue cheese; utterly revolting.)

Today started out pretty well. I did feel a little sleep deprived so I made coffee and all was well in mommy land. I was so inspired by Folgers Gourmet Selections that this post was originally going to be an "Ode to the Coffee Bean". Because, frankly, where would we be without the coffee bean, people?

I started feeling confident about finishing the laundry and maybe even sneaking in a Winsor Pilate's video (which is almost a necessity after a c-section) and, besides, getting on a regular workout schedule again is a personal goal of mine. Oh yeah, I have kids under the age of five so forget any personal goals or hygiene for that matter. Instead, Chloe decided to use toilet paper as streamers and screamed at the top of her lungs because she wanted golden, not dark, raisins. Oh yeah, she also wants to go to Sesame Street to see Elmo, right NOW. And wants to go for a ride on a dolphin's back in the ocean with Ariel. Verruca Salt syndrome? Nah. It's called being three, I think.

We do have plenty of play dates, if you're wondering. She gets more than enough social interaction and, although sometimes exhausting, I pretend play with her daily. I guess this behavior is just a function of being Three?

If I remember correctly from child development classes, it's also the fact that past desires have consistently been fulfilled so she thinks that ANYTHING is possible. (Hence, the I Dream of Jeannie bottle idea I had around five; I think that was the age. I truly thought that if I rubbed on this bottle that a Genie would certainly come out. A very lucid memory.)

She's already ahead of me, she wants to slide, virtually fly, up and down the banister - she explained to me that she had a dream that me, her, and her daddy where all flying up and down the stair banister and when she woke-up she was ready and determined to make this happen. Ah, her first flying dream; she was amazed. I was amazed that she was telling me her dream and she wasn't quite three at the time. Any who, omg, I just typed any who - I don't ever say that - ewe.

Well, I guess this too shall pass. But in the mean time, I think I'll warm-up another cup of coffee and get Mr. Chicken (the time-out egg- timer) cranked and ready to roll!

Sticker Fetish=Future Tattoos?

Sugar and Spice and Everything Strife

Let the Games Begin!

A Gold Medal Performance

Okay, about the two children thing; Some days I think this is a piece of cake and other days I think,

"Oh my God, what have I done?"

While one starts screaming, (usually Chloe) the other starts at it like they're in fierce competition, like they're training for the Whine Olympics which makes mommy want to train for the Wine Olympics. Jeez, not a moment of silence and certainly no shower for mommy. (Luckily, I do rush into the bathroom, usually with baby in tow and attached, and do the one-handed-triple Lightfoot deodorant roll-on technique (1) which I've perfected at this point - hey, speaking of, maybe this should be a new Olympic sport- After all, I get more and more agile everyday and keep breaking my own record. I'd definitely get the gold people.

Okay, so it's official, I really must be insane because, in spite of all of this unabashed, ear-piercing balling, I've been in battle with my ovaries over a third child - my ovies nag at me every once in awhile like they're whispering (2) (English 101 people- personification)

"Have a third child."

I respond,

"No, please leave me alone. This is too weird; talking ovaries?"

ovies respond, in unison, in their little Oompa-Loompa voices,

"We're ready when you are. Come on, embrace the chaos."

Well, I've chalked this up, not to psychosis yet, but to an overload of hormones. I'm sure this urge to perpetuate my genes will grow more and more silent as Libby and Chloe get older and even more demanding. At least, lets hope. Otherwise a new sport will be on the rise and the Ovulation Olympics will soon be born with a bang! (no pun intended)

Oh, my poor, poor husband.


1.) Patent Pending

2.) No, my ovaries don't really talk to me and I don't see dead people or anything. Well, maybe the latter. I have gazed upon the dead staring back at me while executing the one-handed- triple Lightfoot roll-on technique while assuring Chloe that she'll get her precious juice while trying to walk in a manner so that Libby doesn't feel as if she's nursing on the high seas.

Playtime!

Biker Chick

Hi y'all! It's me, Chloe Bea. I turned three years old a few weeks ago and Mommy and Daddy surprised me with a new bike! Daddy picked it out all by himself. Good job Daddy! I love it (as you can see in the pictures - I'm doing the Toyota jump-I'm so excited.) I haven't learned to ride it yet but I'm working on it. I'm also sporting my absolute favorite new shoes that my Aunt Sissy got for me. Last time I was at the park I saw a boy with the exact same shoes in a different color and I kept repeating to him over and over

"Hey, your shoes! I have those Mickey Mouse shoes, too!"

but he just looked at me blankly so I pointed at him and said,

"Run! A scary dinosaur! He's going to eat us!"

Girly-Girls Dishin'

Hi. It's me, Elizabeth Claire (a.k.a. Libby). These are my latest pictures; aren't I adorable? That's me and my sis, Chloe, hanging-out in her bed. And above that is me surrounded by a bunch of poofy pink stuff. And mommy just had to put that big bow in my hair and dress me up in a sun dress. I guess I'd better get used to this frilly girly-girl stuff because today my big sister put a crown on me and dressed me up as a butterfly princess and, of course, she was the kitty-kat princess. Prrrrr. ( But Mommy forgot to get pictures of this. Shame on you, Mommy!) I also got to hang-out in my big sister's room. This was where she crowned me The Butterfly Princess of all the land. What did we do, you ask? Oh, just your everyday gossip between princesses. We dished, y'all. It was great bonding time.

A Milky Haiku

Libby will not sleep

she is wanting more booby

sleep does elude me


(Hey, it is about nature- the booby)

Little Miss Bossy Pants

My three year old little munchkin, C, is so incredibly bossy that I told my husband yesterday that we need to have yet another kid just so she can direct her overwhelming bossy energy at someone other than us. (1) Well, he wasn't too keen on the idea considering that we have a seven week old. I guess our dogs will keep her busy doing as she commands for now; Although, they may not live up to her ever so demanding high standards.

"Dance Chuy ! Dance!"

She says in her tiny little munchkin voice to our eight pound chihuahua who thinks he's a cat.

"I'm sure Chuy would dance if he knew how to, Chloe, but doggies don't understand how to dance." I try to explain. (2)

"Mommy, tell Chuy to dance." she persists.

She says it with a certainty that I can somehow make this happen, like the time a thunderstorm was rolling our way as we were coming home from our fav Mexican restaurant.(3) As we pulled into our neighborhood, the sky lit up with a lightening bolt and then another. Chloe squealed with delight and then she waited for about a nanosecond and said

"D0 it again mommy!"

My heart melted; she wanted mommy to make the sky light up with lightening bolts. I, of course, reluctantly explained that mommy can't control the weather. (4) Why reluctantly you ask? Well, as a parent ...no...... as a mommy I wish I could stay that end-all be-all that C saw through her eyes at that moment and control her world forever. But as a parent I knew that I couldn't take credit for the miraculous light show in the sky. Besides, I couldn't bare to send her off to kindergarten someday telling her classmates and teachers that mommy makes the sky light-up. What would the other parents think? Uni bomber? Or even worse, that I lied to my child. Oh well, I've come leaps and bounds from controlling the lightening bolts, let me tell you. Now I don't even have control of the living room - toys everywhere- much less the heavens. Captain of the control boat has officially declared mutiny! Full on mutiny, I tell you! (5)

Just last weekend my husband and I overheard Chloe's conversation with our 6 year old little neighbor boy, Chris.(6) She was out on our deck eating the proverbial peanut butta jelly sandwich and talking this poor kid to death! He couldn't get a word in as C was telling him to go get his dog and then she had to go get her dogs. Then she pointed out to him that she has not one but two dogs. She also pointed out so eloquently that

"Your dog can't talk!"

as if to imply somehow that her dogs can talk. Aah, already the master at maintaining a little bit of mystery with the fellas. You go! Okay, I'm back now.... where were we? Oh yeah, then little miss bossy pants demands to know where Chris's daddy is.

She says,

"Where's you daddy? Is he in your house?"

Um, this must have been a rhetorical question because without any time for Chris to respond, C yells,

"Daddy come out here!" to her own daddy.

And as my husband kindly follows her demands almost before he could put one foot down on the deck C looks at Chris and says,

"Chris, say hi to daddy!"

Well, my husband really liked this. He plans to use this phrase again in about eleven/twelve years - well probably, in his mind, he thinks he can keep this little phrase in his back pocket for the next..say.. fifteen to twenty years. (Sorry honey, C will probably be dating before she's twenty something.) But he plans to say it in a Dirty Hairy tone while clutching a shot gun. 

Little miss bossy pants is about to wake up from her nap and start the bossing so I'd better get her juice cup ready, if not, I have a sneaking suspicion that it will be the plank for me!




1.) Okay, I know, I know that's NO good reason to bring another child into the world.

2.) Excluding those creepy animals I've seen on America's Funniest Home Videos which has, so cleverly, been changed to AFV.

3.) Yeah, this was back when Chloe actually ate food.

4.) Jeez, I wish I could control the weather come January in the Northeast!

5.) For those of you who don't know, the Captain I'm referring to used to be me, well, no I'd say that I was co-captain (have to be pc) my hubby, of course, was captain, but no longer, my friends!

6.) Okay so we were eavesdropping. Give us a break, we weren't invading the poor little boy's privacy because it was more like a soliloquy anyway!

Green Blogger- But Feel'in cooler already!

Hopefully I won't bore everyone to death and maybe one or two of you might actually read my blog. Looking forward to finally being a Blogger. That's me to left about six weeks ago looking quite jolly and round.

Wow! I already feel cool! Let me tell you, it's a good thing to get some cool back into your life after two kids and the ever-so-practical mini-van. Yeah, the whole mini-van image is just so uncool...We all know this... but another element...no more cool music either. It seems that all the kid movies and music came with the mini-van in a sweet little kid-friendly package- just a given, right? These days we listen to Little People CD's and The Little Mermaid Soundtrack and I find I'm singing Ariel's ballad throughout the day now instead of something like

"Will the real Slim Shady please stand up...please stand up..." or

"Say Ho, yeah you. Can I ask you a question? You like to f*@#?" (Just a little Too Short from back in the day)

Aaaahhh, It's nice to reminiscence about the long lost days of humming gangsta rap instead of The Little Mermaid whining about wanting to have human legs! (1) Get over it Ariel! All the fish in the sea aren't good enough for you?! If you ask me she's a bit of a mer-slut! You can take all of your whining and complaining about wanting to be human and..... Well, I didn't realize I had such animosity for Ariel- I think we need to take a break and listen to Sarah Lynn, Sonia Lee, Michael, and Eddie for next few days and let me cool down a bit, don't you think? Well, I've finally come full circle, after examining my choice of music these days- I’m feeling a little uncool at the moment. Maybe the Happy Feet soundtrack would be a nice compromise for the mini-van cd player - I think that just might satisfy Chloe and seep at least a little cool back into my world. (2) Happy Feet it is! I'm officially Blogging! Woooohoooo!!!

1.) Okay, okay so Eminem and Too Short aren't technically what one would call your authentic "Gangsta Rap" that's all I could think of, okay, cut me some slack already!

2.) I don't think the baby has big opinions about music yet, although she does get a little more bright-eyed when I sneak in the occasional BB King song. I see her through the baby-in-sight mirror, she perks up and flails her tini arms about as if she's been trying say something all along; almost as if she's trying, with all her might, to start a fire in an effort to send up a smoke signal so she can finally say,

"Yes! this is what I've been trying to tell you lady! The thrill is gone! Gone, I say!"

Maybe this means I should stop breastfeeding now.