Mommy's Juice!: June 2013   

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

I Don't Want to Forget This

I started this blog for a majority of reasons but most importantly to:

A. Make people laugh (including myself!)
B. Tell the story of having a child with gastroschisis for other parents going through the same experience
C. Have a place where my special memories are stored because my memory is TOTAL CRAP

So today I hope you'll humor me as I make an attempt reflect on my life with a five and two year old and jot down only a handful of these special moments that I don't want to disappear from my alcohol damaged brain (thanks a lot college):

BFF's


- My children actually like to hold my hand. Okay, so one of them does. Jackson will hold my hand at every single opportunity given to him. He's my mamma's boy. The one that cuddles, that climbs in bed and snuggles as close to me as possible, that will randomly rub my back or scratch my arm then give me the biggest smile in the world when I notice what he's doing. Trey on the other hand.... the less physical contact the better. He's Mister "Independent 2-Year Old Who Honestly Believes He's Four"! He needs no help with anything. Last month Trey got the flu and was throwing up for three days. It was the first time in his short life that he didn't want me to leave his side. He would only sleep in my bed, only allow me to hold him, and cried "Mommy I want you," multiple times a day. I'd be a liar if I said I didn't enjoy every minute of it. Well, every minute minus the multiple projectile vomiting onto Mommy's lap incidents.

- The boys actually like each other. We are at such a fun stage right now where they have started to play with each other for hours at a time, without even realizing I'm in the room. Just last week they were in the bath together and I caught Jackson look over at Trey with the near amazement and say, "Trey, you are my best friend because you're my little brother." As I wiped a tear from my eye I cherished this moment, knowing that any day now they'll be beating the shit out of each other.

- My children are kind. Well, at moments. Like last week when we went out for pizza and Jackson insisted on playing one of those terrible games that cost a dollar for a chance to win a prize (otherwise known as a piece of junk). After a near breakdown in public I gave in and handed over four quarters with the stipulation that Jackson would only have one turn. Sure enough, one turn and he wins a ginormous pack of Smarties with a huge smile on his face. As we walked away from the money trap another young girl went up to take a try and lost immediately. After dinner Jackson continued to bug me for another dollar and chance at the game. When he had finally wore me down to the point of ordering another glass of wine for myself, I gave in and handed him what I SWORE would be the last four quarters. Again he played, again a winner. This time of a giant bag of disgusting Runts (the chewy ones, had they been the hard ones I'd replace disgusting with delicious). Walking back to our table after the big win Jackson stopped at the little girls table who had lost earlier and handed her the bag of candy. I'm not sure if I have ever been prouder of that young boy in my life! I'm storing this one for the day his 3rd grade teacher calls to tell me he's mooning all the girls in his class.

Monday, June 17, 2013

Never Trust a Psychic


Better yet, never visit one! If you do, I can promise you the visit will haunt you the rest of your life. I of course know this because in 1996 I spent five minutes with a complete stranger who somehow led to my sneaking out of the office the other day to pick up a pregnancy test, run to the hallway bathroom, pee on a stick, then sit there for five minutes certain I was about to see two lines appear.

In college a girlfriend and I rode way back into the Appalachian Mountains to visit the local psychic. For just $10 she would grant you three questions and word of mouth was she was pretty good at it. A junior in college at the time I was in a place where I had no idea what the future held. So I kept my questions general, looking for just a small glimpse into my wide open future.

Amazingly, I can't remember what I had for dinner last Thursday, but I can remember almost verbatim what she told me that day:

1. What will I chose as a career?
Her answer: You will start down a road in your career and quickly change directions. This change in direction will start the career you will continue for the rest of your life.
The result: Immediately after college I started working in the hospitality business, specifically in catering. Eleven years ago I moved into PR/Marketing position and haven't left since.
So far, so good!

2. How many children will I have?
Her answer: Two boys and a girl.
The result: Two boys down and a girl to go! Well at least that is what I still believe thanks to that day. Although my husband and I have no plans to add another child I am still convinced there is no birth control on the planet that will stop this from happening. Hence why I am hiding pregnancy test boxes in the bottom of the office trash can! Which by the way, was negative.
So far, I'm two/thirds of the way there!

3. When will I fall in love?
Her answer: You will fall in love three times in your life. The third will be your soul mate.
The result: Every single time my husband makes me angry I think to myself, "you're only number two buddy!"
So far, I haven't dumped him yet, but he better watch himself!

Do yourself a favor, save your $10. This is a torturous way to live!

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

No I Don't Sing in the Shower....

Seriously I don't! Only crazy people sing in showers. Or maybe super happy people, but I'm rarely super happy at 7am in the morning while trying to rush a shower before the kids finish breakfast and start to strangle each other.

I do however sing in my car when I'm alone. This is my super happy time. My time to myself. No kids in the back screaming for windows down, no husband sitting beside me bitching that I bought the cheap eggs. Just the radio blaring and me singing like Carrie Underwood. 


Okay, so maybe more like Elmo than Carrie. But who cares, I'm the only one who can hear me. Until summer that is. A few days ago I found myself pulling up to a stoplight with the windows down right at a VERY crucial moment in a Zac Brown Band song. So of course as I slow to a stop I have to hit my near yelling belt of the chorus, only to release I was stopping beside a car of teenage boys with their windows down who got the laugh of their life at my solo. 

To say I was embarrassed would be a great understatement. I thought about rolling my window up but that would only make me look more silly. Instead I laughed with them. Hell, it was hilarious! But I also learned a lesson, either roll the window up before stopping or do my very best to try and keep my inner rock star at bay until back into the 50 mile per hour zone.

Cool, new policies, all is good. Or so I thought until this morning. It was cool enough to where I had my windows up. Prime time for Mrs. Underwood to reveal herself. And today not only was she a fantastic singer, but man could she dance. It was during my stoplight shoulder shimmy shake that I look over to see one of the dad's from daycare just staring down at me from his giant truck, no doubt thinking, "her poor husband." Again I smiled and waved and laughed at myself. What else can a rock star do?