Ewwwww

**Disclaimer:  This post is truly disgusting**

So, just had a pretty eventful shower/bedtime with the girls.  While I had the girls getting showered I could hear Ned, the dog, bark a few times.  Knowing that he had to go out, I rushed through showers and teeth brushing, wrapped each girl in her towel, handed them their pjs and ran downstairs to take Ned out.  Got there only to discover that Ned didn't feel like waiting - nice pile of poop waiting for me at the door - good times.  Ok, in fairness, he did bark a few times, so I grumbled at him a bit, cleaned up his mess and headed back up to the girls.  Ishy managed to get her pjs on and was being quiet in her room, so I was helping the Nibbs turn her nightgown around and tackle the nightly chore of blowdrying her hair.  While doing this (and practicing counting to 100) Ishy was noticeably absent - could only mean one thing.  Yup, she, too, decided that now would be a good time to poop - not on the potty where she was sitting 10 minutes before hand, but in her clean new pullup - good times.  So, off we go to get a new pullup and get her cleaned up.  Since it was bedtime, and to save myself a trip, I put the dirty pullup in the hallway by the stairs with the intentions of taking it out to the trash after both girls were in bed.  Ishy got her story and was kissed goodnight, then onto Nibbs' room.  While we were reading Ramona (she is LOVING these books, by the way!) I heard Ned's nails on the hallway floor.   Continued to read and then, all of a sudden, Mommy-intuition kicked in.  Ran into the hallway to discover the wonderful puggle was eating the dirty diaper!!!!  SOOOOOOO disgusting!!!  So now I am yelling and cursing at the dog and chasing him down the stairs....get to the bottom of the stairs and feel relief that he dropped the diaper.  As I start to collect the diaper and wipes I realize that the most important part is missing...yep, no poop in the diaper.  So. Freaking. Disgusting.  Dog is now locked in the kitchen with two huge bowls of water.  Ugh. This is just beyond gross.  Oh, and to make matters better - where was lovely hubby during this escapade?  Playing soccer.  Good times!!!

Music

Poor Niamh.  Seems she has inherited my musical abilities....or lack thereof!  The girls have been mad into the movie Annie for the past 3 months, and this totally warms my heart - it was my favorite when I was their age.  Anyway, they watch it in the car all the time with their headphones on, and I always know what parts they are at because they love to sing along.  Eilis has a decent voice - she can carry a tune and seems to have some musicality.  And then there is Niamh.  This poor child - this is all that I can say.  If she wasn't my child, I would ask her to stop singing - seriously, it's that bad!  Not only can she not carry a note, she has more confidence than anyone I've ever met, so she is tone deaf and LOUD!!!  As we were driving to our weekly pizza Friday with my family, she started belting out "tomorrow" - I thought the hubby was going to pee his pants.  I am treated to her "unique" rendition every morning while driving to school - talk about a wake up call at 6am!!!  So tonight as she's pretty much yelling "tomorrow" totally off tune, we both lost it.  Is it wrong to laugh at your child if they don't know you are laughing at them?!?!?!?  Now, I know I shouldn't tell her to stop singing, but seriously, this kid is going to start shattering the car windows if she keeps this up!!  Maybe it's time to invest in some piano lessons....anything has to be better than this :-)  So yeah, maybe I'm a bad mom because I laugh at my daughter and her nonexistent ability to sing, but I also admire her, and secretly wish that I still had the confidence to sing badly and sing loudly!

Farts...

So.  Whoever thought that farts were a "boy thing" was terribly wrong.  Lately, my girls seem to think that farts are the. most. hysterical. thing.... ever.  Ever since Eilis transitioned from a diaper to underwear (hallelujah!!!!!!) she is much more aware of the happenings down under.  I'm not sure if this is because of her heightened awareness, or if the sound isn't being quite so muffled as it was by her diaper, but this child is a gassy machine.  I swear, she can do this on cue.  If we are being serious and reading bedtime stories to the girls, she farts.  Laughter erupts.  Process of calming down starts again.  Whenever we are checking out at a register at the store, she vibrates and the girls giggle uncontrollably - notably we used the self-checkout line at BJs today.  But the worst one has got to be, without fail, Church.  Yep, just when she had finally conquered how to be somewhat quiet during Mass, she has realized that she has control of this bodily function and boy is she using this control.  She let two rip tonight during Mass.  Let me tell you just how mortifying this is.  First, she's sitting on MY LAP, so I am wondering, almost to the point of neurosis, that people think it was just me who couldn't control my colon.  Then, I try to focus on calming the girls down, who are starting to cause a scene - tonight this was during the Homily, of course.  Then there is the process of trying to calm down my hubby, who is quite possibly, worse than the girls.  And by this point, I've managed to get the giggles too.  How in the world can I not when I am watching the reactions of the people around me????  I have tried and tried and tried to explain to her that she should NOT do this in public, but she seems to be disagreeing with me.  Ah, the joys of girls.  I honestly thought this was NOT a path I would have to travel with my two girls, but it seems that yes, the fart is funny no matter what your sex is.  And I have to admit, at 31, I do still find her farting on command funny - after I get over the initial mortification!!!

Three!!

Well, my baby girl "Ishy" turned three today and it is such a bittersweet moment!  Since her emergency C-section, due date birth, this child has given us a major run for our money!  She is so sweet and kind, so hyper and stubborn, really she is my Jekyl and Hyde girl!  She makes life interesting and fun - she has the most contagious laugh you will ever hear, and she is a girl who knows what she wants, how to get what she wants, and what to do to get what she wants immediately!  While this may be tough to deal with as her mother, I am confident that these personality traits will serve her well in the future.  I know that I am raising a girl who is going to make a difference in this world - she doesn't accept no for an answer - and while that's tough dealing with trying not to give her cookies at dinner time, who knows where this will take her in the future.....  Three seems to have hit me hard today - I marvel at the things she has done - albeit in her own time - such as sitting, rolling, walking, talking, potty training, making friends, etc - she has mastered all of these skills (some of which I really didn't think would ever happen - didn't walk until 21 months and just potty trained 2 weeks ago!!)  My baby turning three has the hubby and I playing with the word three.....as in do we want to do the 3 kids thing??  We actually sat after dinner and talked about this - we tend to talk around it a lot, but I was somewhat surprised that we are both getting "baby fever" as we watch our baby grow in leaps and bounds.  However, timing isn't great, money isn't great, yada yada yada.  Will we ever add a "three" to our clan?  I hope so...but I honestly don't have the answer to that question.... and while we're talking about three....my Ishy has told me and everyone else all day that she is four - wonder what that means!??!?!?!?!

The Great Laundry Standoff...

So, in the nearly 6 years that the hubby and I have been married (and living together 2 years on top of that) he has NEVER fully completed a load of laundry.  It's starting to bug me.  He is a plumber and his clothes are usually pretty disgusting.  I don't clean his clothes - he leaves them all over the house and I draw the line and hunting down dirty clothes to wash.  He seems to manage ok with this deal - I take care of the girls' clothes and my own - and I also purchase all of the clothes he needs, so I do take care of him, I swear!  So, he will wait until he has no clothes left, collect a few things - never a full load, and will just leave dirty clothes in plain sight, and throw some things in the washer.  He'll leave it there for about two days, or whatever it takes to get the nice mildew-y smell, and then toss it into the dryer.  Usually it is 5am when he decides to toss it in the dryer, so he's playing a dangerous game waiting for dry clothes so he can get to work on time.  So he chooses one of his two options:  he'll either throw in the bare minimum to dry, leaving the rest of the clothes in the washer to continue to work on their fragrance; or he'll throw everything in and wear his clothes damp to work; I kid you not.  And once my darling hubby has clothes on his back - dry or not - he considers his job done.  Laundry is now done and stays in the washer or dryer until he runs it through either again or I get sick of it/need the machines and toss it in a pile on the table next to the machines.  So, after 8-ish years of this, you can imagine that it's getting on my nerves.  A lot.  It's kind of like that episode from "Everybody Loves Raymond" where they ignore the suitcase on the staircase because neither wants to give in and put it away.  Hubby and I seem to be doing that with his laundry.  Until tonight.  I had finally had enough when I went to collect my clothes from the line only to realize he had brought my clothes in but left them in a ball on the floor of the garage (also our laundry room).  Enough is enough - his clothes are now outside.  Yep, his boxers, socks, tee-shirts, jeans, etc are all out front of the garage door in the alley way.  Juvenile of me.....yes.  Does it feel good?  You have no idea :-)  Can't wait until he discovers my newest maneuver in the laundry standoff!!

Judgement.

So, I live in a neighborhood where about 80% of the moms on my street stay at home with their kids.  I don't.  I drag my kids out of the house at the ungodly hour of 6:15 am - usually with the little one LOUDLY protesting - and I generally yell back.  Anyway, the moms have a little group and it seems they rotate from house to house, with the kids all running around, happily playing and very comfortable with each other.  Do they judge me?  Probably not.  But in my mind I firmly believe that they think I am not a good mom.  So tonight they are all out enjoying the beautiful weather and I'm trying to keep the girls from killing each other as the hubby has decided that dinnertime is the PERFECT time to install a ceiling fan in the kitchen.  So, after trying to put the girls off, they really start to revolt and demand dinner.  Left with few options, I decided to head to McDonalds.  The girls were thrilled.  However, as I pulled up out front of the house with two happy meal boxes in hand, I felt an incredible sense of guilt.  Would they all silently judge me as I walked past with the forbidden fast food?  Would they comment to each other that 7pm
 is too late to feed young children dinner?  As I sat in the car annoyed at myself for caring so much what others think, I tried to convince myself that it's ok to feed the kids McDs.  It really is.  Just not every night, right??  So now I'm positive that they are wondering why I am sitting in my car, turned off, by myself.  I bit the bullet, filled my hands with the forbidden fruit, put my head down and speed raced into the door.  The local moms may not be impressed with my fine dining for the night, but two little girls sure were thrilled, and really, isn't that what it's all about?

Game Time!!

Lately, in my house, game time has been around 4 am - jealous, aren't you?!?!?  We put Eilis into a "big girl bed" this summer - and boy hasn't that been fun!  For the first month and a half I had to lie with her while she fell asleep - we had visitors so this was easier (or so I reasoned!).  Once the visitors were gone we went the baby gate route - as in put it at her door since she can open her own door, and let her cry until she gave in.  She did this for about 4 days, and then finally she now goes to bed in her bed without protest.  However, she just doesn't seem to want to stay there.  So, most nights we get a visit around 3 or 4 am.  The door creaks open, her little ponytail can be seen bobbing in the light from the hall, she climbs up onto the hope chest and then launches herself into the bed - doesn't matter where she lands, or how hard for that matter!  Since she is small, it shouldn't matter that she is added to the bed.  However, we already have Ned as a bedfellow as well.  Ned is our 30 pound puggle who, at night, becomes our 500 pound elephant.  I swear, this dog gets bigger and heavier while in our bed (hmmmm...maybe that explains my weight gain over the past 5 years - maybe there is something in our bed??)  So with Ned the puggle/elephant, Gary the dead sleeper who loves to stretch, Eilis who has to be touching me, my nights have not been much fun.  So my new game is musical beds - good times, huh?!  Both girls have queen sized beds, so some nights I'll go and cuddle with Niamh - but she is a sleeper like her Daddy, so this doesn't usually last.  Lately I've been winding up in Eilis' room.  I have to admit, those pillow pets are pretty comfy - must remind Santa to get a few more this year!!  So as I settle in with my cow and bunny pillow pets, my ladybug quilt, a hard plastic rainbow bright doll that has to be in the bed, and the godforsaken waterbaby that goes everywhere with us, I realize that I am NOT enjoying this round of musical beds and wonder - would it just be easier to buy a King-size bed??!?!?

Lasts...

As a mom, I focus a lot on the concept of "firsts."  First kick felt, first birthday, first tooth, first steps, first day at school, first time with stitches, and the list goes on and on.  Last night Niamh fell asleep while watching her new favorite movie, "Annie."  As I carried her up the stairs I realized that my baby is no longer a baby, and she's actually quite heavy!  My mind began to wander and I began to wonder if, 20 years from now, I'll be able to remember the absolute last time I will carry her in my arms.  Made me start to think about the concept of "lasts."  For every joyous first, there is a last, not nearly as celebrated, not as easy to recall, but it surely does exist.  There are so many lasts that my girls have already had, and I cannot recall the date, the moment when I last fed them a bottle, the last time I changed a diaper (though Eilis still has me with these), the last time I felt them move in me before they were born, the last time I had to interpret what they were saying for others.  As I think of all of the firsts they still have in front of them: first day of "real" school, first time a friend calls the house, first sleepover with a friend, first date (yikes), first school dance, first kiss....  I also think of all of the lasts that will pass us by, not as celebrated, but certainly just as meaningful.  The last time I tuck them in to bed, the last time they need me to drive them places, the last time I buckle them in a carseat, the last time they interrupt me in the shower/potty (though I really DON'T think I'll miss this one), the last time they hold my hand in the mall, the last time I'm allowed to choose their clothes, the last time they sit in my lap.....  Firsts are exciting and milestones of growing up.....  I'm really not sure how I feel about all of these lasts that go along with them!!  All I know is they make me sadder to think about than all of the new, exciting firsts they have in front of them!

I AM Important..... right?

In these less than perfect economic times, teachers seem to have turned into the "bad guy."  Seems every time I read an article about education or teachers, it's followed by at least 20 comments from parents bashing teachers about what a lousy job we do, anyone can do it, we have cushy hours, etc.  Add to that the increasing numbers of people who seem to be homeschooling their children and I must admit that sadly, I seem to be developing a bit of a complex about my chosen profession.  The more I teach, the more I see the connection between motherhood and teaching.  Being a mother can be an incredibly thank- less job.  Little ones demanding sippies to be filled, fights to be broken up, noses needing to be wiped and the list goes on and on and on.  But beyond all of the thank-less moments of motherhood come the amazing moments.  The moments when your little one gives you a cuddle and says "I love you" and you smile eventhough she is covered in chocolate.  Or when she grabs you by the legs so you can protect her, or when she reaches for your hand "just because."  Or when your girls are playing house together, and you realize that they are being loving and caring, and they are mimicking you.  I'm starting to see teaching in this way.  The thank-less jobs of writing numerous letters of recommendation on your own time, being cheery every day regardless of how you are really feeling, always lending an ear to listen even if it is taking up your lunch period, and on and on.  But the moments are there when you realize that education and teachers are vital to the development of the future.  When a student comes to you and thanks you for challenging him, you smile and feel proud.  When you see your "kids" (because they are all your kids) at graduation, you tear up knowing you made a difference.  When a student stays in contact through college and beyond, you know you were not only needed, but you helped.  These are the things about education that go un-noticed.  These are the reasons why we do it.  These are the reasons why kids need teachers - it takes a village and a teacher is another vital member of that village.  No matter how difficult being a mother is, I wouldn't change it for anything in the world.  And I feel the same way about teaching.  I love my job, but I am so saddened to see that not everyone sees the value of a teacher.  Day in and day out I do so much more than simply "teach" 150 teenagers a day.  I am a sounding board for their hopes and dreams, I am an adult they can confide in when there is no one else to turn to, I am a role model to them of the result of hard work and dedication.  I am tough on them when they need it, but always compassionate and putting their best interests first, no matter what.  I truly believe that I am NOT the exception to the rule, but I am what you will find in most teachers.  Why aren't we celebrated?  Why are we looked upon as people who chose teaching because it is "easy?"  Why do so many view our jobs and believe not only can they do it, but they can do it better than we can?  Sure, we are flawed, but a good teacher acknowledges his/her flaws and works to improve - the same way a mother knows when her patience are running out and locks herself in the bathroom for 5 minutes peace and "composure" time (please don't tell me I'm the only one who's ever done that!)  I long for a day when teaching will be a profession that is respected and acknowledged as important, because it really, truly is.  Teaching is not for everyone, neither is motherhood.  But those of us who choose teaching are special - because in all honesty, teaching has chosen us.  So as I try to navigate these choppy waters that have become the life of a teacher in a shaky economic time, I need to remind myself that I am making a difference and that I AM important.

**I know a lot of this post is rambling, but having been back at school for 2 weeks and being exposed to a lot of press lately bashing teachers, I have a lot of feelings stored up on the topic :-)

Am I really cut out for this??

Well, after the summer I've had, spending a LOT of time with my kids, I decided to jump into the blogosphere - yeah, I know, a little late to this trend - but I'm always late!!  What made me finally delve into this world?  My little stunt I pulled tonight made me realize that I am NOT the world's best mom.  Nope, not even close.  I try, don't get me wrong, but I tend to make mistakes - a lot of them!  Nothing that's going to harm my kids too much (I hope), but yeah, I mess up.  Tonight I decided to make a treat for the girls while they were at the playground with their Dad (amazing, they left without me!)  While I should have thrown a party, napped, done laundry, showered, etc, I decided to make brownies.  Feeling like a great mom I quickly followed the directions on the box - yes, it IS baking if it comes from the box - honestly, I have NO IDEA how you bake without a box.  But anyway, just as I put the brownies into the oven the girls ran in, telling me all about their adventures on the slides and how Daddy told them to be rude (great, will have to deal with that one later!)  35 minutes later, after telling the girls they would have brownies if they were good, I checked on them.  Hmmm, why did they rise so much?  Oh well, guess they'll just be extra chewy.  Stuck a knife in them to see if they were done - cause I just never have toothpicks in the house, as the box states.  They were clean, but just didn't seem to be the right consistency.  Still trying to figure this out, my daughters are dancing around me desperate to have a brownie.  Now, they were still hot so I told them no, and began cleaning the mess of making them.  That was when I finally saw the box and realized what I had done.  Yep, I used cake mix and thought I was making brownies.  When I realized this, I tried to sell the girls on cake.  Too bad I didn't have any icing.  Dry cake is practically a brownie anyway, right??  Eilis (almost 3) broke down into tears demanding a brownie (I still don't think she's actually ever HAD a brownie and knows what she was demanding), while Niamh (5) asked me a million and 8 questions, such as "why'd you lie Mom?"  "can you make the brownies now?"  "Can we have the cake?"  "Why didn't you look at the box - see the picture - that's a cake" and so on.  Off to bed they went without their brownies/cake - I promised they can have some in the morning.  In the meantime I found some chocolate icing, iced the cake and shared a piece with the hubby.  Afterwards I realized the eggs I used were 4 days past their expiration date.  So far, neither of us have any signs of food poisoning.  Guess I'll have to keep you posted on that one!!!

And this is just one of the MANY experiences that I seem to have, quite often, that makes me wonder, am I really cut out for this???