two seconds

Two seconds. Practically the speed of light.

When they are "loose" I can't take my eyes off them for more than two seconds. We have baby gates and cabinet door locks and deadbolts and outlet covers. We have done our due diligence when it comes to toddler proofing our house. But the lure of the kitchen table and chairs is clearly much to tempting. They look at the top of the kitchen table as though it were Everest. And me, I am the unrelenting weather keeping them from the summit. Everest takes weeks if not months to climb. The kitchen table takes two seconds.

Now you may ask, what do they do when they get on the table? Answer, they just sit. The accomplishment of making it to the top is enough entertainment. That is until they find the napkins or place mats. Who doesn't like snacking on a paper napkin or wiping your snotty noise on a place mat?

Is it a big deal that they get on the table? No.

Are they causing any harm? Other than the poor trees that died for the napkins, No.

But with two of them on the table at once, the odds of one falling off and cracking their head open is drastically increased. And while I am the first one to go with the theory that they would probably never get on the table again, falling off a table is a bit extreme.

An unlikely lookout, she takes pride in tattling on her brothers. So when I have to use the little girls room, she's on duty. She takes her hall monitor job very seriously and she's actually pretty good at it, which scares me.

If you have ever timed yourself, two seconds is about as long as it takes to unbutton your pants. It takes much longer to actually "use" the little girls room. My timing is crutial. Like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible crutial. Mess it up and I might pee my pants. By the end of the night, I have pulled out all the stops - passing off all the distractions I can find. Remote controls, hats, bags and tupperwear. A girls gotta do, what a girls gotta do.

Some of you may ask, where is he? Can't he watch the gremlins while you use the facilities? Well of course he could. But a full work load for the last few months has almost turned me into a single parent. Except, this is like being a single parent with a ghost who leaves socks on the ground inches from the laundry basket and dishes in the sink. The last couple of weeks have been hard. Really hard. And I try to keep my moments to myself, or at least out of the sight of the kids. But I am not perfect.

On a particularly hard day, I lost it. She was in a mood and they clearly sensed my weakness. At 5:30pm I was ready for them to go to bed. I knew it would be a very long hour and half. By 6:15pm I was cracking. After a marathon list of questions from her, I asked her to watch her brothers while I slipped away. Within seconds she was whining and they were sprinting for the table. I yelled "Two seconds! Can I have two seconds?" Of course it did no good. Her bantering continued and they relented on their ascent. 7pm was so very far away.

Yesterday morning during the madness of getting ready, an act that truly does resemble herding cats, she was busy hoarding books into a box. The purpose of doing so? Only she knows.
I said, "Okay. It's your turn to get dressed."
"We have to get you dressed, so that we can go. Mommy has to go to work and don't you want to go play?"
She let out a huge sigh (she gets that from me). "Mommy, can I have two seconds? I'm really busy."
It took everything I had to not smile......and cry.
Shoot me now.


It needs to come home with me

It had been sometime since I had visited the red bulls-eye mecca. I love/hate that place. Go in with a goal of three things. Leave with a cart full of impulse buys. Damn you Target.

The dollar racks caught me right as I walked in the door. She ran over to the racks with determination. She didn't know it, but the racks were calling to her....just like they call to me. Of course I found $10 worth of crap that the mommy kids HAD to have. My rationalization....it's only a dollar. What's the harm. Plus, I don't have to "round down" the price when he asks how much it costs.

I snapped myself out of the dollar high and headed back to the shoes department - the entire purpose of walking into this place.

Stay focused.

Stupid me, I took the long way around which put me right by the home decor...crap. Thankfully the boys (one buckled in the seat and the other loose in the basket - hold your judgments - what was I supposed to do? those stupid two seated crazy limo cards are a recipe for disaster) decided to play "who can grab at the fragile stuff the fastest." I hightailed it out of home decor and made it to the shoes unscathed.

I refrained from gagging at the sequin covered mary-janes and the action figure sneakers. Really? Where are all the regular shoes? As I was cursing the red bulls-eye for not having what I came here for, she came over with a rolling backpack. Not just any rolling backpack - this was a princess rolling back pack. Pink with princesses and a complete piece of junk.
"What do you have?"
"A pack-pack."
"Yeah? What are you going to do with that?"
She looked up at me "It NEEDS to come home with me."
And with complete elation I wanted to crouch down and say "I know! Stuff talks to you right? The stuff you absolutely love. It talks to you! It happens to me too."

But like a good mom role model, I told her that we could not get it today. Maybe another day. Then I went on to tell her, and show her, that it was not made very well and would fall apart. That 26 bucks for that piece of junk was a joke. We would get her a good rolling back pack (sans princesses - thank god) from Pottery Barn. They were way cuter and better quality. She wanted nothing to do with my speech and had already begun to pack her pack-pack with shoes from the rack. Clearly she had her heart set on the backpack....I had to hold back from saying "I know sister. Parting with an item is hard."

I am still not sure how it worked, but I managed to convince her that the back pack was not meant to be. We put it away and said good bye. She patted the backpack and said "I see you soon. You come home with me soon."

It occurred to me as we were driving home and she was chatting about her beloved "pack-pack", that while a bird & the bees conversation is required, clearly a discussion on parting with super awesome Target bounty would come first.


It happened

I knew it would happen eventually but I figured I'd be older....like 40...40ish.
In fact, I did not even know that it happened. The actual "happening" occurred sometime ago and I just realized it.

It was a Thursday morning. I know that because I remember being exhausted which contributed to my self loathing. The gal sitting next to me was probably 30ish....my age. We were sitting next to each other and she bent over in her chair to grab something from her purse. The way she jolted when she dove down caused me to glance over. There it was in plain sight. Her Victoria's Secret thong underwear. I know that because I have the same pair. At the moment I saw the top of her thong peaking out the top of her pants it hit me. I no longer wore thongs. I no longer wore cute underwear. I wore.....drum roll...comfortable underwear! Shit. Seriously? When did this happen? Comfortable underwear?

I started to sweat realizing that I couldn't remember the last time I wore sexy underwear...actually the last time I really felt sexy. Her we go....so what's next? Only practical shoes? Short hair because it's easier? Mom Jeans? I know that I am still young and I look young and I definetly still act young. But seriously? I have always preached that I was not going to let "that" happen. Now, don't get me wrong I did not go from thong to granny panties that could be used as a schrug. But am I on that path? Is this how it goes? Is this the progression of underwear?

I decided to run home (cause I guess I had nothing else to do) and fix this situation. I quickly changed from my black panties to a thong. Did I immediately feel my youth was back? Hell no. Did I feel sexier....uh, let's not go there. I threw my pants back on and walked back out the door with my head held high. I slid into the driver's seat and woop....the thong was certainly back (for those of you who have or do wear thongs you know what I mean). Okay......Quick adjustment and I drove away.

The day transpired as usual. While putting her to bed, I bent down to pick up something and she was behind me. My baggy sweats (sexy) had slipped down so the inevitable thong peek was in full effect. She said to me "Mommy what happen to your panties? Are they broken?"
Of course I laughed. How could  I not?
"No, they are not broken. But thank you for noticing."
"Your welcome." She replied and jumped into bed.

The thongs are out of retirement. The panties are in the bull pen and it's only a matter of time before they will be back in the game.