Mornings Suck

Hmm, how many times have I blogged about how horrible our weekday morning routine is? I don't know, and I don't care. This is my therapy. Spewing out the demons of the morning is quite possibly the only thing keeping me from having to get on mood calming drugs.

So, no, not every weekday morning is awful. I might get one really good morning maybe every 2-3 weeks. A morning where he turns off the TV the first time I ask him and without any crying, he walks out of the door not crying, and he doesn't hang on for dear life to me when I try to leave at daycare. Aw, those are good mornings. But then there are mornings like today. Mornings when I explain there is no time for an egg and a whole Jimmy because of choices he has made. Crying fits, manipulation, spankings, geeeeeeez. It gets really old. And Daddy NEVER has to deal with it. Not fair. This morning I told Doug via phone that I was going to hire someone to come get him ready in the mornings and take him to school. Yeah right. First of all, the credit card companies heard me and started yelling a reminder about how I have no extra money. Then I realized there wouldn't be anyone willing to take on the challenge.

The high point of the morning, BEFORE the crazy set in, was when he was telling me that yesterday (Dalton's) Duh brought cupcakes to "caycare." Side note: ELLIOTT IS SHARING, WITHOUT PROMPTING, DETAILS OF HIS DAYCARE LIFE!!!! Praise God, he is getting better! And he was trying to tell me what was on the cupcakes. And when on the FOURTH attempt I finally understood that the cupcakes had spider rings on them, he looked at me like, "Geez, I have the most dimwitted mother on the planet."

Life Lessons

Feeling badly about the state of your house? How about your mothering skills? Not a good friend and don't call like you need to? Well I have the answers to all the things weighing you down currently about your life. No, not therapy. Not even a suggestion to work on those things that are not up to par. No, no, that would be silly. The key to feeling better about your life is....to find people whose lives make you look like (a) the classiest person on the planet, (b) the best spouse/mother on the planet, (c) the most attractive person on the planet, or (d) the sanest person on the planet. And I have the answer for you, friends! Simply tune in to two shows:

• My Big Redneck Wedding on CMT
• Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew on VH1

Yep, simply tune in to a single episode of either show, and suddenly your life will be much better. After all, it's all relative, my friends.

Halloween Week

Much like "big school," daycare does a dress up week sometime in the fall. Whereas big school usually does it for homecoming, our daycare is doing it this week for Halloween. And in theory, it's a cute idea letting the kids dress up in differently themed outfits. The days this week are as follows:

• Monday -- Camouflage day
• Tuesday -- Tacky day
• Wednesday -- Pajama day
• Thursday -- Favorite sports team day
• Friday -- Costume day

So yesterday was no big deal b/c what little boy of a hunter daddy doesn't like to wear camo. But tacky day is a challenge for hard-headed 3 year olds. Corgan and Elliott (no report yet from Dalton's camp) both have very strong ideas about what they wear. So there were some unhappy children this morning, which is a shame since this is supposed to be fun.

I bet tomorrow will put me over the edge b/c I don't see Elliott agreeing to wear pajamas outside the house. I couldn't even convince him to buy new SUPERHERO pajamas on our shopping trip this weekend. After all, that's just not decent apparently.

Update: When Doug picked E up this afternoon, he called me. "Uh, Emily, Elliott has on two different shoes." I think my whole office heard me yell, "Well, duh, it's tacky day! Do you honestly think I would just give up and let him wear two different shoes?!" Then again...

Carl Wheezer is My Homeboy

A rundown of our weekend:

Friday
Shopping trip to Columbus with my parents to get E some long sleeve shirts. And dinner at Peking, naturally, where E became a cream cheese wonton bandit. That's a showdown to see: Grandmommy vs Elliott for cream cheese wontons. A very equally matched fight.

Saturday
Dalton's 3rd birthday party followed by a nap and a trip to Tupelo with Grandmommy, Aunt Penny and the girls. Dinner (and wine for those adults not driving!) at the Olive Garden. Only managed to make it to two stores, but several Christmas gifts were purchased.

Sunday
Cleaned up outside, nap, went to Big John's church's Halloween social. Much nicer hayride than that crazy work one! E drank too much tea, making nighttime less than fabulous for both him and me. At some point when I got back in the big bed, Priss kept making a play for my pillow when suddenly Carl Wheezer ran into the bedroom, flung himself cockily across my legs and looked back at Priss like, "She likes me more." As if I need another moody child to deal with.

Our Witness Protection Program Aliases

Lately Elliott has really been into "What's your name? What's Daddy's name?" and so forth. I can appreciate that developmentally this is a good thing that he is interested in people's other persona's other than simply Mami, Daddy, Grandmommy, Papi. But the game was getting ridiculous when I had to endure multiple times while he was out sick, "What's Aunt Penny's name? What's Carl Wheezer's name?" Thus began the new game of making up new names for each other. Last night he was P.J. O'Pooter Toodle (via Timmy Turner), Daddy was every male train off the Thomas series, and Carl Wheezer is now also known as Bob Smith.

The only thing that has blown his mind about this game is that Kitty's name is not Kitty -- he simply ignored me after I told him her full name -- and that Big John and Big Daddy (formerly D-Daddy) are both named John. He looked at me like I was smoking crack and might not ever believe anything I say again.

Carl Wheezer's Halloween Persona

Carl Wheezer apparently wants to be a vampire for Halloween. It's the only explanation for why he is so into scratching E and I so much lately. As E says, "Carl Wheezer make me bleeeed!" I'm coming to work looking like someone who doesn't know the proper technique or location for slitting her wrists. He's also into goth makeup and keeps stealing my eyebrow brush for his own amusement.

Sleep Time Revelations

So Friday began the great mattress hunt. Most of Saturday was devoted to it as well. Finally, Mom and I prevailed and brought home the new mattress set for Elliott's big boy bed. Then we went to Wal-Mart and bought all that other stuff like a mattress pad, body pillow, rail, etc. Then Erica and I hilariously put the rail together Saturday night. Do I know how to show my guests a good time or what?

So Saturday night Elliott and I climb into the new bed. Spanish lullabies playing, comfy bedding, stuffed animals, and then a whimper, "I want in you bed." But I talked him down, and he and I slept very well in the new bed. All night. Doug slept alone in the big bed. The next morning he was like, I thought you were going to leave him. Uh, cue excuses. Then comes Sunday night, and we let Elliott choose who he wanted to lay down with him. Daddy won the lottery. So here I go to the big bed alone. And it's cold without the 2 human heaters! Priss and I had to add a second comforter. So I'm watching my beloved HGTV, and I cannot go to sleep. It's like the hotel all over again. So about midnight Doug comes and gets in the bed. And I'm all like, what are you doing? And he's all like, "I thought the point was to get him to sleep and then sleep in our bed." Turns out, MAMI IS PART OF THE PROBLEM. I miss him being in the bed. Even not having enough room. Well, he fixed the issue for me. One hour after Doug left him, he woke up crying. And when I went in there to crawl in the bed with him, he pitifully and accusatorily said, "Daddy leave! DADDY LEAVE!" Like, how dare he leave me in my bed!

I bet I know who's going to win the coin toss of favor tonight!

Mother of the Millennium

So that manipulator of mine pushed me too far this morning. So I forced him to wear shorts. And when I left daycare, I suddenly realized it was cool out. So not only is he not wearing the jeans he cried to wear, but he doesn't have his jacket either.

When the red haze of anger and frustration flowed away, lots of mommy guilt was leftover. SIGH.

Alarm Clock for Sale

FSBO: Orange alarm clock, approximately 7 months old. Aligns well with frequency of your traditional radio/buzzer alarm clock and small children for an effective waking routine. Recently neutered. Answers to the name of Carl Wheezer.

Will sell or trade for mood altering drugs/sleeping pills.

Glory and Praise to Our God!

Not sure if that is the actual name of one of my favorite hymns, but that is the main line that sticks out in my head. This is what our family is singing today after the new "treatable with a pill" diagnosis of RTA yesterday:

Glory and praise to our God, who alone gives light to our days! Many are the blessings he bears to those who trust in his ways.

Thank you to all who have prayed for us.

It's D Day

Diagnosis Day, that is. A day that has been over 10 months in the making. Well, actually, I guess it has been 1 year in the making. It was about a year ago that I finally sent him for a physical after so many people kept saying, "how did Doug lose all that weight?" Uh, accidentally? And I accidentally replied to Doug last night, "Yes, I'm nervous too." Total freak out from Doug. Twice last night. Apparently I am not allowed to be nervous about today. Apparently I am to play the role of supportive wife/cheerleader. I guess he would appreciate all the "it's going to be fine" comments. I, on the other hand, have to imagine the worst so that whatever it is isn't that bad. I hope. No, change that, I PRAY. So that is what I'm asking for again today: your prayers. My specific prayer is for a diagnosis that includes and explains all the things that have been going on with him, but in an easily treatable way.

Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers at 4 pm. Lift us up, my dear friends.

The Won't Versus Want List

The males in my life are once again conspiring to drive me to the loony bin. Most of our current struggles can be broken down into won't versus want. Such as:

• Elliott won't go in the potty. I want him to.
• Elliott won't sleep in his bed. I want him to.
• Elliott won't listen. I want him to.
• Elliott won't mind. I want him to.
• Carl Wheezer won't leave Priss alone. I want him to.
• Carl Wheezer won't stop annoying us in our sleep. I want him to.
• Doug won't stop drinking out of the tea pitcher. I want him to.
• Doug won't close the blankety-blank kitchen cabinet. I want him to.

Believe me, I could go on and on and on. They are driving me nutso-nutso. And I was already halfway there all by myself.

Dr. Roboto

Hotel cable may suck, but being in another city allows you to see local commercials you wouldn't be privy to at home -- such as a commercial for a teaching hospital here, with a ROBOTIC doctor. The robot doc is actually a mechanism for allowing a distant doc to have access to ongoing cases and offer his/her expert opinion. That's cool and all, but DUDE, the robot doctor is life-sized, has a computer monitor for its head which features the not present doc's face, and the dang thing is wearing a lab coat! It is one of the funniest things I've ever seen. I was laughing out loud all alone in my room. I'm sure it will not translate 1% as funny as it actually was, but I had to record it for prosperity.

Happy Friday!

I DON'T Heart Louisville

Ok, so I've travelled a good bit in my little career. And mainly my trips go smoothly. If I have delays it's usually on the return trip. I have only not gotten my luggage once, and that was on the return trip. I have, though, TWICE now, been through ATL when there was a lot of raining going on. No, I didn't have to walk out to a podunk plane and get wet, but my LUGGAGE DID! So, wet underwear, wet pajamas, fun stuff. Some delays yesterday but not too bad. But I did almost have a claustrophobic panic attack on the flight from ATL to Louisville. Classic elements present: hot on plane, had to wait on plane a long time (and w/o air) and the stupid bitch in front of my reclined her seat, taking up my much needed breathing room. I was actually doing breathing excersises trying not to freak out. Oh yeah, and cussing that stupid bitch in manic tones in my head.

So I got to Louisville, ordered some room service, and tried to get my night on the right track. My computer didn't want to cooperate, and hotel cable SUCKS. I am way too caught up on the news now. That and Dog the Bounty Hunter.

So I get up this morning and I'm in the shower and I'm taking extra care to make sure I get all my mascara off. So I'm staring at the white washcloth and the water pressure goes a little crazy. Nothing too weird, probaby someone else nearbye has just started their shower. But then I look down (wait, forgot to mention the drain wasn't working properly so I have it wedged open with a soap cardboard box) and the WATER IS THE COLOR OF TEA. I actually started thinking I was hallucinating. I'm staring at the dirty water, and now I realize there is SEDIMENT from the water in the bottom of the tub. And then, SIGH, I look at the washcloth that just seconds ago had been white. WHITE NO MORE. At this point I thought I was on a bad drug trip, which is odd considering I've never done drugs in my life. In a panic, and with conditioner in my hair, I turn off the water. Stand. Think. Turn on sink water. Also dirty with sediment. Keep in mind I have not washed my body yet. So I lathered up outside the shower. Turn shower back on, looks cleaner, jump in and rinse off super fast. Can't drink my highly coveted coffee b/c it's been made with dirt water. Had to brush my teeth with Fiji water.

Kinda needless to say I got 1/2 off my room bill.

An Amazing Child

I'm trying to compose the perfect dictionary definition for Elliott. Some items to include would be beautiful, smart, intent, intelligent, moody, hard-headed, strong-willed, funny, emotional, introverted, and loving. He is a complex little man with MANY emotions and many very set ideas about his life and routine. Due to some of the adjustments issues he's had, I am making sure to overly appreciate small victories with him. For instance, last night, when I was again explaining to him about my trip, I asked him if he was going to miss me. And the little rat teased me and told me no and just laughed and laughed. I mean, I guess I should be thankful I had to travel as much as I did in the past 2.5 years because I think he's learning that Mami does come back. Maybe it's even good for his abandonment issues. I leave, but I always come back. Another new thing we are loving at our house is his newest statement: "I love you SO MUCH!" accompanied by a big hug, kiss and "Um, UM!" hugging sound. Can you hear my heart shattering into millions of pieces?

The smart little bugger just about has both Llama Llama books memorized, even down to the same voice inflections I use. Doug sat and watched in amazement last night. Of course, Doug is only allowed to read If You Give a Pig a Pancake because Daddy is a little lacking in the dramatic department. Whereas Elliott is not, sometimes to our detriment. In giving my mom instructions for daycare duty the next two mornings, I had to make sure she knew, "If he requests marshmallows for breakfast, make sure you give him 3 in his bowl. And if you can't decipher which Jimmy he wants to watch, just call me." I'm thinking I might should add abnormally demanding to his definition.

There's Something Wrong with My Brain

Holy crap! I just remembered, as I was fulfilling my morning need to read people.com, that I dreamed about Nick Jonas last night (that would be the youngest of the 3 Jonas Brothers, a Disney-esque boy band, for all you out of touch peeps out there). And following some dream conversation where someone had not had the cojones to do so, I just walked right up to him and said, "So are you dating Selena Gomez or what?" And then after having a perfectly normal conversation with him, I walked away triumphant that not only had a I solved the Miley/Nick/Selena love triangle (Selena was overzealous with his friendly affection and then he was forced to dump Miley and start dating her), but I had done so without looking like a crazy nutso fan.

I am now completely freaked out by my subconscious mind. I feel the need to go read something adult like cnn.com.

That's Not Beer in That Cooler!

Conversation overheard in the wee hours of the morning on Broad Street last night:

Did you remember to pee in the jug? Yes. You didn't drink anything did you? NO.

No, that conversation did not occur at a house containing 80-year-olds but rather a late 20's wife and mid 30's husband. And let me just tell you, 24 hour urine collection and after midnight fasting does not a happy Doug make. Though it's not like it slowed him down much. He just toted his cooler into the woods with him to hang deer stands. That's right, Doug, make sure those priorities are in order.

It's pretty amusing that our trips to the doc in Tupelo are the closest thing to a date we've had in a long time. Ok, not amusing, P-A-T-H-E-T-I-C. But we did enjoy our post doc visit to IHOP. I'm sending in my recommendation to them for a slight change in slogan. Instead of "Come Hungry. Leave Happy" it should either be "Come Hungry, Leave Hurling" from too much food or "Come Hungry, Leave Your Wallet." That bill was way too high for breakfast! Oh well, E and I will eat the leftovers for supper tonight. But then I might get interrogated about where I went today. He's already suspicious.

Elliott's Current Thoughts on Expanding the Family

I'm not sure what combination of food, lesson and play was on the agenda yesterday at daycare, but I would like to kindly ask them never to do it again. Elliott and Dalton were on a switch last night that alternated between super-dooper hyper and not minding emotional. Half the night was really good, half the night was really bad. I was really proud to see some breakthroughs in Elliott: sitting nicely looking at a book with Dalton, getting up from supper and going to play in Dalton's room ALL BY HIMSELF, and hugging Erica at the end of the night. All big things for Elliott. But the best part of the night by far came when Erica was quizzing them about siblings, just for the fun of it. Apparently my dear friend has become a masochist. Here is how it went down:

Erica: Dalton, do you want a baby brother or a baby sister?
Dalton: Baby sister.
Erica: You don't want a baby brother?
Dalton: No, a baby sister.
Erica: Elliott, do you want a baby brother or sister?
Elliott, after barely sparing a glance her way before going back to his toy:
No...........I have Carl Wheezer.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried!

I'm So Dizzy My Head is Spinning

When you read this title, make sure you sing it like the retro song. You should know which one I'm talking about, unless your parents were not former hippies like mine. Well, my dad was anyway.

My amazing grandmother raised eight children. EIGHT. And through the years when I'd say, "Gram, how did you do it??!" she would always give me that certain Grandma look that only someone who has seen it knows. Part smile, part bewilderment, part shrug, part lit up eyes. And somewhere in this story I usually get told about how the nuns always said how well behaved the children were. And then Grandma says, "I guess it was better that they behaved well outside the house." As of this afternoon, I 100% understand this sentiment.

When Doug picked up Elliott today, his teacher said, "Elliott did not want to mind today. This is very unlike him. He usually minds." Ok, yay for all days between end of adjustment period (I feel as if the world's longest footnote should be inserted here) and this afternoon. BOO as of this afternoon. I actually had to say to him over the phone, "As your punishment, you will not be allowed to watch Jimmy today. You have to mind at daycare...and at home." Little bit of hopefulness there.

And to think I spent a large part of my day worrying about his sleep habits and how I was going to get him transitioned into his bed. CURVE BALL. Cue dizzyness. The album cover for that song pretty much visualizes my brain right now. And now I have thrown down the challenge for anyone interested to go out and find that image.

Elliottisms

Elliott wasn't much on talking until he was nearly 2. And as I predicted, when he did start talking it was really funny to hear some of the things he said/says. Lately he seems to have kicked it up another notch, and I just have to capture some of the hilarious things he says. I will consider this a dynamic list and will update it from time to time.

• I in a grouchy mood at caycare.
  
  
• What we eatin' tonight?
  
  
• I WANT GRANDMOMMY! (Said in tears when mad at Doug and I)
  
  
• Carl Wheezer is our cat. He is orange.
  
  
• He's a baby? (Referring to Carl Wheezer)
  
  
• Just OOONE more Jimmy.
  
  
• You comin' with me? (When he's told he's going somewhere, and he feels the need to confirm that we're actually going with him)
  
  
• HIS NAME is Big Daddy! (Trying to win an argument with me about what his grandfather's name is)
  
  
• Caycare closed? (EVERY SINGLE MORNING)
  
  
• Donut shop closed?
  
  
• My daddy pick me up? (EVERY SINGLE MORNING)
  
  
• There's CVS! Dalton's mommy works at CVS!
  
  
• Go away, mosquitoes!
  
  
• I good.
  
  
• Monster get me? No monsters get my baby.
  
  
• Whatsa matter, meow-meow?
  

It's Fall, Y'all!

Ok, so calendar dates that announce the beginning of fall mean nothing to me. To me, fall is announced by the slightly cooler mornings and nights, pumpkins and Indian corn for sale at grocery stores, and holy crap! the special seasonal baking aisle going up at Wal-Mart! I love that aisle. Just the sight of it makes me incredibly happy.

This love story with fall has not always been the case for me. Formerly, fall signified the closing of my beloved summer vacation, the beginning of my hated school year, and the prelude to dreaded winter. Not to mention death to trees. But now, having to no longer suffer through school, I can appreciate fall for its good qualities. Cooler temperatures. Beautiful foliage. Fun decorations. And the starting line to three super great holidays. But as I was marveling in the wonderfulness of fall last night, I realized my mistake. I forgot that fall still does signify bad things: THE BEGINNING OF DEER SEASON. Today is the first day of October, and the first day of bow season. I am wearing black in mourning. Today marks the first day of this year's hunting widow season. I let it sneak up on me. You would think that after 8 years I would be on top of my game and not be caught off guard by the opening of this dreaded season. But alas, I failed myself this year. Now I will have no help painting the bedroom, organizing the shop, weeding the front flower beds. All time must now be focused on deer.

I hate fall.