A Blessing?

Yesterday at Fred Meyer a woman saw me putting Kiki into the cart. She was walking with her daughter to their car. She says very loudly "oh look at her, she has one of those new baby things.". I was greatly confused. I looked at the carrier to see if I was missing something. Nope. Just an old ugly car seat. I look back at her for clarification. She then says "she must have got it on sale here. Such a blessing!".

Okay first off, you weirded me out and confused me. Secondly, a blessing? At that point in time I was not speaking to Will. He has been such a sick little monster and I was at my wits end. He had grabbed my chin as hard as he could and tried to shake my head. He wouldn't let me change his diaper. He wouldn't let me dress him. He wouldn't eat. I was going to Fred Meyer to get him milk and a fruit cup that I knew he would eat from. He has been driving me completely insane and I still have to take care of Kiki. I was fuming mad when this lady prances by talking about what a blessing.

Has she forgotten the incredible lack of sleep? The frustrating meal times they refuse to eat at? The thousands of nasty shits you clean up? The fights you endure just to get them to do anything? The nap times that go horribly wrong? The constant, incessant pleas to not hit/poke/ smack/poop on your sister talks? Did she completely forget the constant crying? The messes that don't go away? The incredible lack of space in your home due to a million toys? The constant need to be held? The fact that you can't go to the bathroom or shower in peace? The loads and loads of laundry you do? The millions of demands made on you every second of the day? Of course she forgot. You know why? Nature. That's right, nature. The same reason women have multiple children. Your body simply forgets all the vomit you threw up. It simplifies how much pain you were in during labor. It downgrades the trauma of birth. It makes you want to do it over again. Then, when your child laughs or smiles your heart just explodes with love that they could be the biggest asshole you ever met and you would literally call them a blessing. It's crazy but true.

Lucky for me my kids are not the biggest assholes I have ever met but they sure do test my sanity. They are blessings but they are also hellions. I will never be the woman talking to strangers in a parking lot about how lucky they are to have a baby. I will be the lady in the parking lot mumbling under my breath how fucking glad I am it's her and not me.

It's Never A Simple Trip

This week has been a bit torturous for me. I hate that it gets dark at 4. I hate that it's always wet and raining. I hate that I can't go anywhere because I am going to have to feed Kiki. I hate being shut up indoors because of it all. So today I said fuck it. Lets go. I am practicing going 1 week without spending any money. So we went to a place that was free, Kubota Gardens. It went well until I hung the phone up with my husband.

Will was walking and I had Kiki in the stroller. We were traveling a path. Somehow when I got off the phone that big wide path turned into a skinny trail. Will and I forged on. We were beginning to be a bit on the wet side. Will wanted to go back to the car. I was good with that and so we headed in a direction I thought would lead us to the car. Eventually it did but not without serious drama.

As we are traveling down this ultra skinny trail that the stroller barely navigates, all of a sudden there are rock steps. I have no choice but to take them. I hoist up this extremely heavy stroller and extremely carefully walk down the wet rocks. What joy. Then, Will panics. He insists I hold him. I can't. I literally can not get to him. I am wedged between bushes and rocks stuck behind a stroller. He is crying, snot pouring down his face and stomping his feet in frustration. I am doing my best to talk him down the rocks. I have my hand stretched out as far as I can get it. I am trying to tell him I just can't get him. He scares me real bad when he turns around. I realize I can't get him. I can't let the stroller go and I can't get back up. Thankfully he comes back and after some intense life coaching he climbs down the rocks. Backward. On his stomach. In the special overalls I bought for an adventure in a few weeks. He is now muddy and soaked. We have to climb down many more rocks before we are finally in the clear and can head to the car.

On our way out we encounter a bulldozer. Will loves a bulldozer and I decide to have a happy moment and we watch the bulldozer move a rock. He loves it. So much in fact he doesn't want to leave, even though he has rain running down his face. He wants the bulldozer to do it again. I tell him that it's off, that the guys were out of it and that it was done. He asks to go in. I tell him he needs a license to drive it and he is to young. Nothing works. I have to pick him up and carry him away.

Finally the car is in sight. Will falls and scrapes his knees. Did I mention he is wearing special overalls that are intended for a special adventure in a few weeks? There luckily is no damage. Kiki is hungry so I put Will in the front seat, grab Kiki out of her seat and head to the drivers side. It's gloriously empty in the parking lot. I whip out a boob to feed her and Will gets the passenger seat covered in mud from his shoes and clothes. We are looking at birds when all the sudden, one after the other, 3 Parks and Recreation vehicles roll up. Where do they park? Why, right in front of the car that has a huge boob hanging out and a toddler in the front seat. I cover up as best I can and hope I don't catch any of them looking at us. So life goes on. I can smell Kiki took a poop in her diaper but decide to change her when we get home. Right as I am concluding that thought she lets it all out. It's a horrible rumble sound full of wetness. It was the sound of "oh no mom, you are gonna change me and I am going to make damn sure of it". She left me no choice. I hauled her out to change her. I laid her down on the one small bit of space I had in my trunk. It was filthy. I had a blanket but didn't want to risk getting it pooped or peed on. Her other blanket had been soaked by the rain so I really needed this blanket to be usable. Wise choice. Poop got everywhere. She pooped through her onesie, up her back, down her pants and through her thick warm suit. Wow. The poop had actually gone down her pants. So far down in fact I thought she hadn't got poop on her pants until it was on my hands. I looked down inside the pants and saw it. Impressive. So I strip her down and get into the diaper bag to look for clothes. I got nothing but 2 pair of pants. No onesie, nothing warm, just 2 pair of pants. I bitch myself out as I dressed her again hoping she didn't freeze from a lack of clothing.

Will in the meantime had squashed a squeezie over the center console and the passenger seat. He has been sick and barely eating. I had put the squeezie in a cup holder in the console to protect it but also encourage him to eat it. Nope. Somehow he magically squashed it over the car and his overalls. Those overalls I am convinced are doing to burn before the special adventure occurs. I put Kiki in her seat. I put Will, who mind you has crawled into the backseat and wedged himself between the seat and the car seats, into his seat. I have a pile of wipes and a nasty diaper in the back and I get another pile of wipes in the front seat cleaning up squeezie. We head out. Oh and it decides to stop raining and bear some sun. Thanks Seattle weather, I will just drive my cold, wet kids home now.

Anybody that has ever been to that garden knows you have to go through the roughest, toughest part of town. The Seattle murder rate is up because of that part of town. Well, not long after leaving Kiki loses it. She is HUNGRY. I just fed her! I refuse to stop. Refuse. As a matter of fact I am pretty sure I pulled up to a red light next to a restaurant where a dad was shot in the head in front of his kids and father and killed a few months ago from a bullet not meant for him. Sorry girl, you gotta wait. She manages to get herself under control and we do make it home alive.

I just wish that things could go a little smoother you know? Does it really have to be like this every time? It apparently does and that's why I write about it. Dairies are nasty places.

Get My Kid Sick And You Are Dead To Me

It goes without saying, if your kids are sick, do NOT take them around other kids. Don't fucking do it. I don't care that you may not socialize much, or are perhaps from the boonies, or your husband is an A- Hole, or you are related to me. If your kids are sick, stay home. Stay. Home.
This week we get to deal with a sick boy. Our perky, sweet boy is tired, listless, extremely hot and as of tonight vomiting. Not cool. This has caused great stress in me. I can't handle Will and a 3 month old Kiki. James stayed home Monday and Tuesday to help deal. He is the one taking the temperatures and dosing the medicine. I found out yesterday he decided to stop giving him the medicine. I flipped. I put Will down for his nap and James gave me a cold bottle of milk. I flipped. Looking back, yes, it makes sense but not at the moment. I had to go back and make another bottle of milk when the cold one failed. I made a Dr.'s appt. that James took him to. He was told to keep up with the medicine. Will came home chipper, we thought he was getting better. He woke up this morning feeling good. As the morning progressed though he got worse. He has no appetite. All he wants is Apple Juice. I gave him some medicine. That was hard. He hates the stuff. Fights you the whole way through. I had Kiki swinging so I took medicated Will and a piece of turkey to the couch. Within 2 bites he passed out on me. Practically sitting up, slumped over the side of me. It was magical. He has never ever done that. I let him sleep awhile, then just laid him on a pillow on the couch. He slept a little bit before company came and woke him up.
About 45 minutes later he slept again for maybe an hour. We played for awhile then I went stir crazy. It stresses me out staying with these two inside all day. Kiki has decided to have an allergy to something and looks as though she has been bitten by fleas. I feel like I am constantly nursing her, he won't eat, I change diapers one after the other, I am doing laundry, cleaning the kitchen, having one cry then another cry, doing projects and coming to terms with the fact my husband will not be home until late. I bailed. Packed everyone into the car and went to see my dad. Will fell asleep in the car. He stayed on my parents couch the whole time we were there. He slept the whole way back.
Back at home the whole family was in the kitchen about to eat when Will threw up on James. Now, I would just like to point out that I had Kiki, James had Will. We prepared dinner one handed. It was difficult but we did it. When it was all ready to eat, Will puked on James. James put Will down on the floor to deal with his vomit soaked self and that's when Will puked on the kitchen floor. I still had Kiki in my arms and I got down on Wills level to let him know puking was okay. He sees Kiki puke all the time and we told him that's what he did, only on a grander scale. He was cool since we were cool. He just wanted a hug so I hugged him. Since James was still gone getting cleaned up I laid Kiki down on a nasty kitchen rug to take Wills vomited soaked clothes off. James came back though and relieved me of my duties. I texted my mom and asked if we should call the Dr. She recommended Pedialite. I looked it up on Pinterest and made some from scratch. He hated it. He did want some cheese though.
My poor husband has to be up at 5 to be to work at 6. He stays all day because he is also going to school. He studies at work. He doesn't get home most week nights until after 7. He also goes in everyday on the weekend to work and study. Having a sick Will throws a huge wrench into his ability to do all that. Even with happy kids he is running on next to nothing. So think about that when you want to go have your sick kids playing with another kid. It's not just the kid that gets sick, the whole family gets their ass kicked.

Fatty

Ever since moving to Lynnwood I have loathed squirrels. I am very close to poisoning them but we have a dog and she would eat the poison and die herself. So those squirrels get to live another day. Our neighbors have a BB gun and will randomly walk outside onto their deck and go pop-pop-pop like crazy. I like this but I realize they are most likely scaring the squirrels into my yard.
You see, they eat my pumpkins. I have been trying to grow pumpkins for over 3 years now. The first year we moved in the middle of growing and my plant died. The second year the squirrels started macking on the buds. They just took 1 bite but it was enough to kill the pubescent pumpkin. This year I built a mondo squirrel proof cage, 7 months pregnant mind you. It kept out the squirrels but it also kept out the bees. None of the flowers were pollinated and nothing grew.
We have had a squirrel living in our ceiling as well. He resides just above our dining room. He would scratch and scratch and scratch like crazy. It drove us crazy. We would whack the ceiling scaring it temporarily but it always came back. Always. We finally figured out where it was entering the house and we blocked the entrance with some heavy duty fire logs. It worked temporarily. That squirrel worked and worked on those logs until he moved them enough to get back into his domain. James finally went up there and nailed the entrance hole shut. We didn't care if he was sealed up in the hole, although we really hoped he wasn't. Chaos ensued for a couple days when he realized he was blocked out. To this day he keeps checking on it, trying to get in.
When I hear him scratching around up there I go out and scare the crap out of it. I bang a piece of wood underneath him on the deck roof and he goes clambering across the roof. One time he full on leapt off the roof flying. I laughed so hard. Another time, he got me. I took Will out. We hit the roof with the wood and heard him scurry across the deck roof only to run back and jump onto the house roof. After he was gone we started to poke around on the deck. That fucker came tearing ass back, only this time he was scurrying along the deck railing. It was 9am and I let out a scream. I was mostly scared it would attack Will or me. He ran off and I started to laugh hysterically. I never scream and reliving the moment was hilarious.
Our adventures with this squirrel have dubbed him fatty. He now visits us daily because, against our will, we are feeding him. I bought a bag of birdseed to do a Pinterest (fail) project with Will. The leftover birdseed bag was punctured by Fatty I am sure. The spilling bag was put into a bucket. This bucket rests on a shelf in the greenhouse. Fatty visits it many times a day for long periods of time. I now get excited when he is there. I let Will know and he runs over to the sliding glass door and yells "Faddy!". I simply love hearing him say that. We then try and scare him but it hardly works. It's extremely fun. Once he sees us he leaves his buffet and scurries around the deck. He knocks over the watering cans and scares himself. He tries to be coy and climb up the back of the greenhouse shelves although the front shelves are easier and just as accessible. Will and I laugh and just keep calling him fatty. Everything he does we say aloud. "Fatty is climbing the shelves", "fatty is getting fat", "fatty knocked over the can", "fatty is leaving", "bye-bye fatty". It's entertaining but I still hate him.
James and I want to torture him more. We have thought about hiding the food, moving it, putting a fake squirrel in the bucket, having something pop out while he is eating. I might just lace the area with cayenne pepper. I read it was a good deterrent to them eating plants. Poor fatty. Perhaps he will just get so fat that it kills him. Then I would be quite satisfied.

The Best Thanksgiving EVER

It really was. James and I got to host it which is a rare treat.  James' sister and her fam were supposed to come to Washington from NY but due to extremely dramatic circumstances that trip was abandoned.  James mom, Diana, had bought concert tickets, tons of toys and made huge preparations for the visit.  It suddenly came crashing down.  I offered our place so she didn't have to be at her house bummed that the east coasters were absent.
The party attendees quickly grew.  We had Diana, Bob, Catie, Toby, Renae, Dave, Jackson, Babette and us four.  Then I found out Babettes niece, her boyfriend and his son were coming. This morning my mom called frantic about my step moms niece, her husband and their 2 kids were coming.  I just said let them.  So now we are at 19 people.  Wow.  The day went almost without a hitch. Diana, who had the turkey of course had a car that wouldn't start on an island.  James talked her through it and they made it.  James was a little upset I wouldn't let him grill veggies but later he admitted we didn't need them after all.  Strangers ate amazing food with strangers.  Kids played and played.  No one fought.  Nothing burned.  Did I mention the food was epic? It was sooooo gooood.  I hardly ever say things like that.  It was awesome.  We were all full and having a great time and then the weirdest thing happened.  A midget walked in our door and up our stairs.  He said hello.  He looked around and his cheery expression seemed to dissipate.  He asked if this was Wilsons place.  I said no, it isn't but you are welcome anyway.  As he walked back down the stairs to leave he mumbled that this house looked just like Wilsons place.  He was gone.  I nearly wet my pants.  It was so surreal.  We still can't wrap our heads around it.  We know our neighbors pretty well and don't know a Wilson. It was a killer addition to our killer Thanksgiving. I know I sound like a bitch for calling him a midget and laughing.  I am sorry.  I don't call him a little person because it sounds like a lost child walked into my house.  I would have laughed no matter what size the person was that walked in and did that.

More Yeast Infections Than A Prostitute

My poor Kiki is wracked with yeast infections. Everywhere but where you would expect them. It's a full time job keeping her clean and medicated. I feed her to well. She is covered in rolls. The rolls are the problem. Milk gets in every crevice and rots, causing the infections. She also spends 0 amount of time naked. I have her covered up, all the time. It's cold and wet here, she can't be naked. She gets easily cold anyway considering there isn't much to her. My poor baby girl. She loves getting her diaper changed because for a few minutes she gets to be free. Her neck seems to be my biggest enemy. For starters, she doesn't have one. It's just rolls and folds. Secret stashes and rotters of spilled milk. She is so good at holding her neck up, I can't get her to loll her head back to clean her up. I just look like I am choking her trying to clean her and medicate her. She got one horrible spot on her thigh. Just as that was healing one appeared on the back of her knee. They appear in these places that don't get much oxygen. Will has started to panic when I medicate her. He knows its medicine but he doesn't understand why it doesn't go in her mouth. That's the medicine he knows. He sees me putting it on her in all these different spots. He panics because he thinks I am doing it wrong. He also wants some medicine too. I don't give him any out of fear of what it will do to him. He had an infection once and I think it's because I used designer shower wash on him when he was 9 months old.

The Runaway

Will gave me two heart attacks within minutes. We went to Whole Foods because, too much on my mind me, forgot hamburger buns at Fred Meyer. He begged to not ride in a cart and I obliged, thinking we were only going to be getting one thing. Wrong! I remembered I had to get a to go cup so we walked over to the espresso bar. I am holding the cart with Kiki in it and Will is next to me. I am looking at the mugs and then look down to Will. He is GONE. I call out his name. Nothing. I venture out from the bar looking for my boy. Nowhere. I call out his name louder while suffering my panic attack. I let go of the cart to go find him. I remember I can't do that. I can't leave one child to go find another. I am in full panic mode. My knees are shaking, I am about to scream his name, I can't see anything and then he totters up holding an apple. That boy is smart. Super smart. He knows when we are close to home. He can build a train out of his toys. He knows in Whole Foods where to score free fruit. The espresso bar is right by the fruit wagon and he walked over, by himself, to snag a piece. Idiot. I only say that in absolute anger. I want to teach him he can't leave my side. People will steal him. He needs to be wary of all men. He shouldn't talk to strangers. No matter what people say to him from inside their cars, do not go near them. He is still to young to get it. He is still living in blissful ness. He doesn't know bad exists in the world. If I told him it did, he still wouldn't get it.
So he is back, I can relax and continue on. I see a table in front of me with cider. I decide to get him some. I pump some out, nothing. I pump again, nothing. I turn back to Will. He is gone again. I panic all over again. I think someone saw this the first time and snatched him up. But no, he comes back again this time with a banana. I can't handle it anymore. I make him help me push the cart and tell him he can't let go no matter what.
We finally check out and even though I have only purchased three things the cashier asks me if I want help out. I laugh confused and say no. She says she only asked because she can tell I have my hands full. I must look so frazzled and disconnected when I am out with these two children.

My Boy Is Prettier Than Your Boy

Hate to say it but its true. Will is a hit with people. When he puts on makeup he is magnified with prettiness.
I keep two tubes of lipstick in the car, one on each door. They come in handy. Today they came in especially handy. Often, I am a single mom in charge of two very pretty beings. One of those beings gets hungry a lot and is very vocal about it. She happened to lose her cool on our way to Costco in the pouring rain two days before Thanksgiving. The place was packed and thank my lucky stars I found a spot next to the cart return. I virtually refuse to park anywhere else but next to a cart return. So, knowing this would be a good 10-20 minute event I let Will get out of his car seat and play in the passenger seat. He was having a great time playing with buttons, starting the engine, moving and touching everything he could reach. Then, voila, he found my secret stash of passenger lipstick. He opens it, he rolls it up, he puts it on and he loves it. He tries to get me to try but I refuse, letting him know I already have some on. I am actually horrified at the idea of what I would look like after he was done with me. So he plays on, putting lipstick on his lips, rolling it up and down and then he tries to put it on the seat. I stop him there. I draw the line at putting it on the car. So what it may have lead in it, so what it may have animal products in it, so what it was most likely made in China, so what he is a boy putting on makeup? He is occupied and allowing me to feed his sister while cooped up in a small space. I take it from him. I put it away. He balls his pretty eyes out. He actually got more lipstick on the car during his crying. He was sobbing into center console, getting pretty lip marks and tears all over it. That's when I realize he isn't causing harm and I give him back a tube of my least favorite color. He lights right back up. He dries his pretty tears and resumes playing which was pretending the head rest was a phone.

My Lonely Girl

I feel terrible for Keely. She honestly gets the least attention. I have always heard its the opposite way. A baby comes along and child #1 gets forgotten about. That is not the case here.
Will, by no fault of his own just gets more attention. I have to feed him at the kitchen table which requires me to either leave Kiki sleeping in bed or feed her and put her in her swing. Breakfast always takes forever. He is a painfully slow eater and you have to coax him into eating every bite. Then he talks. I will be feeding Keely and Will has to be next to us. I had to stop feeding her in the comfy awesome chair because Will insists on being next to us. He won't play on his own, he plays on us. I now sit on the big couch where even there it's a battle to get him to not climb on the one space her head is. It always blows my mind. The couch has all this empty space where he can climb up but he chooses to go where her head is and there is no room. I am a constant shot nerve. Constant. So even in our one perfect bonding moment I am focused on him. I am talking to him and acknowledging him all the while trying to keep her safe. I can't put her on her toy too often because I am scared Will will step on her or kick her or spit on her or "poop" on her. It's a freaking non stop battle. He also loves her play mat and insists on being in it with her, preferably without her. So what do I do? I feed her quickly and put her in her swing so I can get some peace. Even then I have to keep telling Will to not poke her, to not put her swing down, to not play the music and to just leave her alone.
When we go shopping the poor dear has to ride in the basket. Her car seat won't clip on to the front and so she gets put in the back. Meanwhile Will rides up front and once again gets all the attention. It breaks my heart. I miss my girl. The only time we get to hang out is at night when I put her to bed. She's sleeping. The few moments in the day I can give her my attention she lights up. It's the sweetest, cutest thing. She smiles so big when she realizes she is being played with. I wish so much I could do more for her.
She does love Will though and vice versa. She loves to watch him and lights up when he gets in her face. He loves to be with her and wants her to play with him. Soon, very soon they will be great pals. It's going so slow though and I am wracked with guilt and stress. I do get to be with her, she is not completely forgotten. Raising these two is hard work. I honestly don't know how single moms do it.

Owls In The Family

I hate to think of myself as a bandwagon jumper. I look like one though. I have officially caught the owl bug. Hear me out though and see my reasons.
Early in our relationship my husband told me about a fond memory he has of his mom. When he was a tiny, she would take him outside and they would talk to the owl that lived in a tree in their backyard. It was touching. I clung to that story always knowing that owls were poignant for those two. Over the years owl things have popped up. I had the opportunity to photograph some owls and we gave Diana (James' mom) a picture. We gave her an owl soap dish once for Christmas. I make fine art cards and have discovered Pinterest. Through Pinterest I discovered hand embroidery. They had some cute owl designs. I pinned a few, realized I could make a series for Diana and that's where the tiny flame grew into a fiery flame. All of a sudden I am looking for owl designs. I am obsessed. Pin pin pin. Owls owls owls. Then the ultimate happens. Will, Keely and I have been going to the arboretum every Monday for two months now. A few weeks ago I let Will lead us. A very cute couple passed us at one point. We caught up to them 10 minutes later. They were staring at a tree. I thought they were on acid the way they were looking at it. They did not look like the acid taking couple though. As we passed the woman told me there was an owl in the tree. I was floored. I am a city girl. The only owls I have ever seen in my life were in captivity. Sure enough the owl flies into the bare tree branches and I snap a pic. I was so excited showing it to Will. He was so excited to see a bird. The couple was mesmerized. We all were like "What is this bird doing in the wild??". I told the woman very excitedly "you never see this". She gave me an odd look, like I was right and how could that be. We watched and followed the owl. At one point it swooped the couple and they bailed. Will and I left soon after. I told everyone about it for days. Sometimes I accidentally told them twice.
Today being Monday, we went back for our picture. James went with us. I had to leave him and Will behind as I hauled ass with Kiki to get to our tree before all light was gone. As I huffed and puffed and walked and stared I saw the owl again. It took everything I had to not freak out with excitement. I told the gentleman in front of me that above him was an owl but he somehow did not hear me. I got a pic of the owl, ran over got my pic of the tree and ran back to the owl. By now Will and James were coming and I tried to tell James about the owl through sign language. He clearly did not understand me and started whooping it up and making dramatic gestures. I was scared the owl would fly off. Instead he stared down at me. Fully taking in my baby and my bright pink jacket. That owl knows who I am now, for sure. The boys made it and I was able to quiet them down quickly enough to see the owl and not scare it off. James this time was the one to show Will the owl and Will promptly went "whoo whoo". We were pumped. In all my years of going to the arboretum, those days we saw the owl are by far the coolest days.
That is why I am on the owl kick. I have a legit reason to be cool.

Bath Time Will Traumatize You

When we had Will he got baths all the time. With Keely... It's another story. Lets go way back; back to when I was a kid. I used to go to my aunts house where she had five kids. She used to bathe them frequently as well. Often one of the cousins would poop in the bath. I always remembered that and when I had Will I was prepared for poop in the bath. He never pooped, not once. He didn't poop in the bath until after Keely was born.
I walked into the kitchen one day to find him finger painting the kitchen counter with green food dye. I whisked him quickly into the bath. He loves the bath and was stoked to be in it. This all happened before 10am and Will usually has a morning poop. Well this particular morning he had his morning poop in the bath. It thoroughly freaked him out. He started shaking and crying and scrambled to get out. My frustration was I had a green kitchen to clean, a bathtub full of toys to disinfect and a highly upset toddler. That particular day was not my day.
Now lets jump to Keely and the bath. That girl starts wailing like she is freezing to death as soon as she is out of the water. This goes on until you can get her small body in clothes and her mouth on the boob. It's draining. I don't have a chance to dry off or get clothes on. I am usually by myself, as in James is still at work doing homework. I have to get Will dressed, Kiki dressed, disregard myself and keep my sanity. Thankfully on a particular bath day James was home. I was in the bath with Will and Keely having a pleasant time when James spots poop. He says "Keely pooped". Will loses it again. He is thoroughly freaked out, demands to be taken out immediately and I am left alone to deal with a bath full of baby poop and two bodies covered in it. So, I drain the tub, heave myself up holding Kiki, turn on the shower, rinse us and the tub walls, soap myself and get us out. Then the blood curdling screams begin. I dry her off and gently as possible dress her tiny body. Then sopping wet, naked and freezing I climb into bed and nurse her. My brain is fried. I have had to clean a poopy tub now twice in a matter of weeks.
So Keely doesn't get the baths Will used to get. It's too traumatizing for her and I. Will too it sounds like.

Poop

Momma poop. Dada poop. Gamma poop. Horse poop. Willie poop. Kiki poop. Lady poop. Car poop. Everything with Will poops. EVERYTHING. He talks about it constantly and everywhere he goes. I am trying very hard not to get humiliated by it when he does this in public. At Target. In front of people. Who look at me. The other day as I am trying to pick out what squeezies he isn't going to eat anyway, he blurts out "Willie poop". I look at him honestly curious and respond "Oh you did, did you?". He responds "Ya". I know then that he didn't poop. The woman just beyond us tells me he is so cute. I just want to condescendingly ask "Really?". So we move on to the next thing on our list. It's batteries, in the electronic area. Lots more people here than the baby food aisle and he starts repeating "Momma poop. Momma poop.". I secretly want to die but I go with it. I am not going to tell him to stop. Most people are parents and have gone through what I am currently embroiled in. I know it's a kid thing, all kids do it and telling him to stop isn't going to solve problems. He is entertained. He doesn't think he is being bad, he is not trying to be bad and he is just practicing what he is currently learning. Kids really are sponges. It's shocking what he knows from day to day. So I go with it. He laughs and smiles and enjoys his forced shopping cart sitting while I whip around. Eventually he moves on to other things and the moment passes but the memory of humiliation burns on. I love my kids!

Welcome To The Dairy

This blog should have started 2 years ago. But things have greatly advanced in two years. I can now blog while breast feeding. It's quite awesome. I have no clue if this blogger app was available while I nursed my son Will. He is the inspiration for this blog but now my daughter Keely gets to get it going.
I of course am the dairy. Open 24/7. I take my boobs everywhere I go and keep them as full as possible. I only nurse Kiki (Keely) but Will likes to sometimes feed her as well. We try to have constant adventures but really we don't have to try. With 2 kids our days are bound to be eventful. We have James, our hard working dad aka poppy, aka dada. He works a lot and is in school so for the most part it's just me and the kidlets. We have a lot of support, both of our parents are pretty close and we have aunts nearby. Too much stuff happens and I forget little things. I need to chronicle the stories for later reference, or blackmail, or just to show other moms that all kids are crazy and raising them is crazy. Crazy Fun!!! Oh, I am also a professional photographer so I have killer pics of my kids. I m not a professional writer so this blog will be filled with run on sentences, swear words, ramblings, misspelled words, poor punctuation, in cohesiveness but it will have awesome pictures. There, now on with the stories about Poop.