Austin-isms

I am afraid that if I don't start writing these down, my horrible memory will erase them from my mind forever. Here is just a random sampling of things that have been uttered out of my five-year old's mouth over the years.

Anatomy
"Boys have penises and girls have chinas."

Sickness
After watching Austin helplessly become incapable of holding in diarrhea before he made it from the kids' bathtub to the pot and seeing it literally spew out onto the bathroom floor, I had scooped him up and rushed him into my shower (older brother Owen was still in the bath dry-heaving at what he just witnessed). Post floor clean-up, I poked my head into my shower to check up on him. He was kicking more liquid poop down the drain when he looked up at me and declared, "My butt won't stop pooping!"

Intervention
My precious Austin informed my dad awhile ago that "You (grandpa) are addicted to cigarettes." And then he added without a beat, "Just like Lydia (a preschool classmate) is addicted to lying." I am happy to say my dad quit smoking after that confrontation.

Drinking
He also informed my husband's grandmother that "Alcohol makes you crazy. Mommy doesn't drink too many adult drinks or she could drive into the creek (behind our house)."

Politics
He also bragged to the same ultra-conservative grandmother that "Mommy voted for Obama and daddy didn't."

Punishment
In one of their nightly bedtime debates, I overheard big brother Owen say that he wanted Austin to stop talking or he would tell on him and Austin would get a spanking. Austin fessed up "Mommy's spankings don't even hurt."

Sibling Love
I had asked both boys to go through their shared bedroom and pick up anything they wanted to give away...basically all of the things they didn't play with anymore. I thought this would keep them occupied while I tried picking up around the house too. Jaycee had to have been only 3 months old at the time. Things got mysteriously quiet and, next thing I know, Austin is giggling and waddling down the hall holding Jaycee's dangling noodle body underneath her arm pits in front of him. I say "Austin, put her down! Give her to me!" And he replies, "We can give this to Goodwill!"

Should I Be Proud or Ashamed of Myself?

I do not keep my house as clean as my mom keeps her house. I do not keep my house as clean as my mother-in-law keeps her house. I do keep my house picked up; however, I rarely deep clean. Ryan and I have an understanding. Neither of us want to be embarrassed if friends or relatives happen to pop in. So, we hide our clutter in closets and corners and force ourselves to deep clean about once a year...you know, the kind of cleaning that makes a person sweat. Moving furniture, wiping down floors and walls, doing 13 tons of laundry and actually folding and putting it away. And every time I succumb to this kind of personal torture, I wonder: How on earth can people do this crap regularly?

Tomorrow is our big third of July party. This is the fourth year we've hosted this shin-dig and our family looks forward to it every year. This is the first time I've been smart enough to take a week off from work to spend some quality time with the kiddos and fit in some pre-party cleaning.

I was actually wiping down our wood floors today (after my mid-morning nap of course!) and I couldn't believe the amount of dirt and grime I collected. My routine went like this: vacuum, clorox wipes, disgusted look, gag reflux, wet rag, repeat. I kept thinking about all of my mom friends who will be visiting our house tomorrow with their little cruiser babies. Every time I felt like throwing in the towel, I would imagine one of their little darlings pulling my hair out of their mouth...a rare treat that they found in a special spot on my floor.

I was pretty proud of the work I had done when something dawned on me: Jaycee, my almost nine-month old, has been crawling and scooting on this same floor for the past two months. My pride turned to shame. Why is it that I am obsessed with cleaning floors for my friends' children but am perfectly OK with letting my own brood swiffer up the same surfaces with their tongues, bellies, and backsides?

No matter what the motivation, I am still glad this place is clean now. On a side note, I asked Austin, my five-year old, to help vacuum and all I could hear from the other room were these sounds: vvrrrroooom, ffuuttt, giggle giggle, tiny wimper, repeat. When I turned around the corner, I saw this scene. Jaycee, the human swiffer, is now as shiny as our wood floors.

For the Record

Melissa = Team Kate

Heidi = Team Jon

I think we can all agree that in this situation - TSIB!!

Welcome To The World

We want to welcome two new readers. Maxwell Eugene Evans was born June 11 to mama Abby Evans (loyal reader and commenter... we LOVE commenters!). He was 8 lbs. 15 oz. and I've already gotten to meet him. He's adorable and looks just like his older brother, big hands and all! Abby - if you send me a photo, I'll post it here.

Presley Jean Hayes made a very sudden, early appearance on June 21 to mama Whitney Hayes. She was 7 weeks early and weighed only 4 lbs. 11 oz. She is still in the NICU, but a fighter and getting stronger everyday.

That Mom

I am officially that mom. You know, the mom I saw other women being and swore I would never become. It's all good and easy to coach from the sidelines, but when you're faced with a tantrum or breaking point, it's a whole new ball game. I became a mom at 28, so I had the advantage of watching many of my friends and family members parent their children. I have looked into their mommy book and highlighted the things I would do and crossed out those I swore I would never do. But, moms are only human. And we have breaking points too. 

When Cambria was colicky in the early days, I would have sat her in front of the TV with a bowl full of french fries covered in chocolate WAY past her bedtime if it would have helped. Yesterday on Father's Day, I took Cambria to the grocery store with me so that Ryan could have some quiet time. After the 10th person didn't say "hi" or wave back at her, she had a melt down. She started screaming "hi" and yelling at the top of her lungs. I tried all the tough mom routines, but the only thing that she decided would calm her down was my grocery list, which we've tried before and has ended in me holding the pieces together to see what I still need to get. So, I did it. I said I would never do it. I made fun of the moms who do it. I grabbed a box of crackers and gave her one after another until we checked out, when I had to shyly hand them to the cashier and explain why they were open. I swear Cambria was smiling during that conversation. 

This next that mom moment I have photo proof of. Ryan was at the CWS and I was on bedtime duty. All I wanted was to finish loading the dishwasher before we headed to bed (that's right, I said "we" - Ryan had been at the CWS all day and I was exhausted). Cambria wanted to help...

I just needed 3 more minutes, so I gave her a wooden spoon and a bowl. I had heard rumors that babies liked this. She did...

for about 30 seconds. I had to think fast. I needed 2 more minutes out of a very tired baby. Without thinking, I opened the refrigerator door so she could play with the condiments in the bottom shelf. I know - I was desperate, but it has been proven to work before. I turned after 20 seconds to see this. Still with the spoon in her hand.

Yes, yes. I am that mom. And yes, I grabbed the camera instead of the baby. You're welcome. :) 

TSIB,

M

You're Rich, You're Stylish, Big Whoop, I'm Awesome

So, I will admit that it has taken me so long to publish a new post that I had to think about what our password was just to get into this thing. My apologies. I did have an excuse, though. My husband and I just returned from a trip to Seattle. It was for my work (exciting world of health insurance), but we extended our stay to make it a mini-vacation as well.

Here are my thoughts on Seattle. It was freakin' fabulous. As compared to Omaha, there were more hills, more stores, more style, more gay men, more culture, more seafood. Here is what was lacking: no Woodard kids. That's right...I missed my little brood. Granted, their tiny faces never even crossed my mind in the first 48 hours of the trip, but after that, I did miss the mayhem that only they can give me.

As I walked the downtown streets with my husband (a lot, what an excellenct city for exercise), I kept noticing all of the business types in their designer shades and high-priced labels. We stayed at a fancy-smancy hotel and it took all of my power to keep my poker face on. You know, the face that reads, "No need to stare at me, I've totally stayed at 5-star hotels before."

After I got over the adjustment of not being in the Midwest anymore, I started to think about how much I meant to my kids and how much they mean to me. And that naturally gave me a little confidence check. As I passed by all of the skinny, well-dressed, completely put-together people, I kept thinking to myself, "Sure, your jeans cost $300, but I know how to multi-task with the best of them. Oh, and what's this stain on my shoulder? It's my daughter's spit-up. Deal with it." And then I shimmied my hips a little like I was on the mommy cat walk.

So, to all the moms out there...we may need to sacrifice our bodies, freedom, and money for our children, but nothing (nothing!) replaces the feeling of coming home to people who believe the world revolves around you. That's right, skinny biotches, add that to my list of accomplishments.

-H

Well...

First birthday parties suck.