Shopping Rant

So... It's been a while.  I gave up on the blog.  I don't have much time to just sit down and write.  But I'm back.  And with good reason.  I have a rant to share with you.  First, let me recount that I have a 4-year-old, 2-year-old, and 15-month-old.  I HATE...actually ABHOR... going shopping with these children.  I stuff my purse full of suckers, candy, drinks, Goldfish, stickers, paper, pens, toys, junk, etc.  Yet, with all of these goodies, Isaac (my youngest) still won't stay sitting down in the seat of a shopping cart.  Miles and Carmen still fight.  And undoubtedly, at the end of the shopping trip someone is always crying.  Always.     
For Father's Day, I loaded up the children and drug them all to Macy's.  This was a big outing for us, because we NEVER go to department stores.  When we got to the store, I realized that I had forgotten the stroller. I had gone to the drama of loading  them all up, driving a good 30 minutes into town, and Father's Day was approaching...quickly.  I had to suck it up and take them in.  I have blocked much of this expedition out of my head.  It was so horrid.  The flashbacks that are shocking though my thoughts include: Carmen going up the escalator while Miles freaks out and refuses to go up...while I am holding Isaac.  A lady at a cosmetic counter nicely volunteered to hold Miles, since Carmen was screaming in terror/waiting on the 2nd floor. And then there's the memory of Miles running wildly through the store like he's never been in public before and rapidly tossing the men's dress shirts in the floor.  Dozens of men's dress shirts were in the air and covering the floor like a colorful snowstorm had hit Macy's.  And every time I put Isaac down in an attempt to catch Miles, he started screaming like his toenails were being ripped off.  Oh... And then there was the old lady who was terrified that Miles was going to jump down the escalator (yeah right) and she started trying to catch him (to his enjoyment). That's enough.  You get what I'm working with here.    
You understand that my children CAN NOT be on foot in the grocery store or when we are down to the last diaper in the diaper bag and MUST go to Target. You understand that I NEED on of those big, humongous carts that seats 3 kids.  It's not like I enjoy ramming that thing through the isles of the store.  I don't like banging into fellow shoppers as I turn the cart around because I forgot the baby shampoo a few isles back. I NEED that cart to maintain my sanity.  Yet...countless times, I go into the store and all of these carts are taken.  The first time this happened to me, I looked around as I walked through the store with my crew going absolutely nuts. EVERY person who had a large cart only had one child with them.  I guess kids think it's cool to ride in those things?  One woman who was leisurely strolling through the diapers with her one son in the super cart actually tried to start a conversation with me about the effectiveness of night-time diapers/potty training/pullups.  While her son was stretched out in relaxation mode, my children were rolling on the floor and climbing up the shelves, Spider-man style.  I felt like screaming at her.  I felt like hitting the Starbucks drink out her son's hand. But...instead, I mumbled out a few answers and collected my children in an effort to run for the door.     
I have noticed the trend of parents with ONE child snatching up all the huge carts in the following times I have gone to Target or the grocery store. Please consider these questions: Do you have one child?  Or if you have two children, is one of your children over the age of...say...11? Maybe you should back away from the humongous two/three seater carts and make your way to something a little smaller.  This will make your shopping experience a litter more peaceful, considering the pitiful mom of three next to you can wrangle her children in and run through the store with minimal destruction/screaming/drama. Thanks.

Big Boy Bed

 What? Was? I? Thinking? Carmen was just a little over two when we moved her to a toddler bed.  It really was quite uneventful.  She still acted like she was in the crib.  She would wake up in the morning and call for us to come get her.  She would not get out of the bed on her own, even after I explained many times that she could do so.  Life didn't change that much.  That's how it goes for all kids right? HA.  Miles "Wild Man" Calhoun had other plans.  That dude is up at all hours of the night.  Naps?  Why sleep when you can roam about the house?  

One day he kept popping out of his room at nap time.  I just kept putting him back in bed. Over and over.  Finally, I thought he was asleep.  I proceeded to put Isaac down for his nap.  I open the door and walk out in the hall.  Guess who is waiting for me? I put him back in his bed and walk downstairs to ponder 1)How to remain sane and 2)How I was going to get him to stay in his bed. I sat down on the couch and to my dismay I hear Isaac screaming.  I run back up to check on him and notice his door is open.  Yup.  Miles is in his room and lathering his lips with Vicks Babyrub.  I mean, half the jar was carelessly slathered around his mouth and oozing down his chin.  After a quick face wash and call to the Poison Control Center, I just gave up. 

Another day, I thought everyone was asleep or resting.  And then I hear a door slam. I hang my head in dread of seeing a little smirking boy standing in the hall.  But as I shuffle up the steps, I see nothing.  I notice Carmen's door is open....yet, I see no one.  Slightly panicked, I run around the house.  And then I get to our Master bathroom.  I see Miles standing outside of the toilet room spraying some Scrubbing Bubbles into the room.  I hear squealing and see Carmen sitting on the pot. The spray was going all over her. He must have seen Carmen get up and go to the bathroom.  He followed her in, climbed up on our sink and got the cleaner. He then commenced to spraying her with it while she was going to the bathroom and couldn't move.   

Part of me wants to grab some nails and a hammer and pound the front back on the crib so that it will never, never be removed.  He can just sleep in that crib forever.  But another side of me feels like maybe that would be regression.  Maybe in some unknown manner, we are getting somewhere.  Maybe he has to explore his freedom  before STAYS in his bed.  So for now, the toddler bed remains.  Lord give me strength. It's going to be another loooooong night.   

Sleep

I slept 3.5 hours last night.... and that is with the help of my husband.  Why?  My children are infected with the Plague.  Let me tell you about the happenings of our evening.  First of all... my 2 year-old is getting better from this prolonged illness,  with the exception of the volcanic eruption of diarrhea he has every morning.  We had stripped his bed of his stuffed animals, bumper, crib toys, etc.  I figured since his sleeping arrangement was so different anyway, why not make the step from a crib to a toddler bed.  It's not like I could get any less sleep because my baby, Isaac, also has this virus.  However, molten lava is not coming out of his bottom.  He is seeming in perfect health... until he gets into bed.  And then he coughs.  And coughs.  And coughs.   

At about 11:30 last night I decide that I need to go to bed.  I take my shower.  (Obviously, I can't shower while the children awake.  The house would either be burned down or I would be taking someone to the ER when I got out.) As soon as I got out, I hear it.  The flimy, violent cough.  Followed by a cry, then a scream and finally angry babbling. Isaac's up.  I go in and rock him, change his diaper a few times, wrestle with him until 2 am.  I finally decide I just need to give up, so I put him in his crib.  He fusses for a while and finally drifts off to sleep.  I pass out shortly after.  Then I hear Paul (the hubs) jump out of bed and say, "That's Miles!" (The two year old.) I suppose he was roaming about.  Eventually, he comes back to bed and I have 3 blissful hours of uninterrupted sleep.  And then at 5:30 the coughing starts up....followed by screaming.  I am getting up to go get him... And then Miles shuffles in.  I pick him up and carry him to his room.  I put him on the floor for a diaper change and realize that MY shirt is soaked.  I take his pants off and the molten lava is covering his legs.  It has poured down to his toes.  Not only is it covering him... but as I look down at my clothes, I realize it is all over me as well. Paul comes to the rescue and sticks Miles in the shower while I get up Isaac.  Our day begins.  

The Start

I post on Facebook waaaay too much about my kids.  I have actually been deleting Facebook "friends" based on how annoyed I think they are with my posts.  I mean, how many times can a hip, single person read about poop, vomit and disaster among children. I have started doing people a favor and deleting them if I presume they are completely annoyed by my posts, but too polite to delete me.  I figure this blog will be a resource to curb my Facebook posting enthusiasm.  

I love my children.  I love being around them.  I love when we can all spend time together.  And I love the wonderful, funny and sometimes... horrific memories that are yielded from rearing these wild and crazy kids. Being a mom of a 4 year-old, 2 year-old and 10 month old brings an aspect of adventure to my life. When I venture out in public with my crew, many strangers stop and exclaim, "You really have your hands full, huh?"  I usually laugh politely...well, sometimes hysterically (depending on my children's behavior) and agree that I, in fact, do have "my hands full." I'm creating this blog to share what the cliche "having your hands full" is really all about!