The maids came for the last time today, need I say more?

HA! Of course I’ll say more. Not only will I say more but I’ll curse that wretched Murphy and his ridiculous law.

So like I said, the maids came and the peasants rejoiced. The peasants also groused a little because the maids did not dust the picture frames but did a good enough job over all that the peasants won’t be calling the home office to chew their butts.

The peasants wallowed in cleanliness for 10 minutes and then flew out the door, broke the speed limit, and illegally parked to grab Tess a few minutes late (oops). Next we hit a local store that makes the peasants feel like unAmerican traitors when they shop there. With heads hung low, the peasants gathered more processed sugar then they consume in one entire year and purchased it for LOW! prices.

As penance for this shopping transgression, sprinkled with a smattering of that heinous Murphy’s law, the peasants arrived home to discover a massive mound of 115 lb American Bulldog vomit just inside the door.

The biggest peasant heaved, threatening to blow, and dialed the male peasant who owned this pukey pooch and therefore was 100% responsible for the vile pile.

Yes *gag* it’s on the new *gag gag* floor… oh god…. you’re HOW FAR away? aww poodle doodle, I’m going to have to *gag* clean h th th *gag burp* ohhh I don’t feel so good…”

And the peasants heaved but the peasants did not blow. The biggest peasant cussed, cursed and gagged her way through sanitizing the floor, ruing the fact that the pile was not on the tile where she could have merely tossed a towel over the chunks and left it for her husband.

I am a relatively low maintenance girl. Getting glammed up, for me, involves some anti poofiness hair garbage and maybe a tad of makeup (mascara and lip color). That’s it. No, really. Other then my brief stint during middle school (otherwise known as my Tammy Faye years) and my years doing theater/ theme park work (my Tammy Faye years part deux) I have shunned a daily, weekly, monthly, heck even yearly makeup routine.

:::::Confession time:::::

I STILL have the makeup I bought to wear my wedding day, and not because it has any sentimental value. I just could not stomach throwing out hundreds of dollars of unused makeup, especially knowing how many small woodland creatures were probably tortured to formulate said makeup. I know it’s no longer usable, we’re coming up on that seven year itch next February, but I just haven’t been able to do it. I may need an intervention.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Several times, over the past 5 years, I have considered seeking out a mild beauty routine. I have found myself standing in front of massive make up displays scared and speaking in tongues. Stand me in front of Wet N Wild and I can hang. Blue eye shadow, purple sparkly liner, and body glitter all became second nature when working the Mardi Gras parades. Real make up, the kind where you achieve this faux natural look has always befuddled me though.

The few times I have ventured to purchase base or cover up I have either wound up looking like the star of Kabuki theater or a victim of 80’s tanning bed mentality- neither is a desirable look. I also have dark circles under my eyes - a lovely combination of allergies and insomnia with a smattering of small children. I’ve tried those yellow correcting sticks and rather then blending away my circles, it acted like a blazing yellow beacon: LOOK! DARK CIRCLES HERE!!!

Are you sensing my trepidation over make up?

My mother has come to my rescue. During my trip she pulled me into her bathroom and did a quick demo of her makeup. “Look honey, it’s easy!” and it was! And I looked GOOD! And it didn’t feel like anything was there, I wasn’t itchy or sweaty or ready to claw my face off afterwards. It was good. It was so good my mom bought me the starter kit. It comes with a how to DVD so I should be ok right? RIGHT??

If this works out, I’m totally putting my mom on my mustache patrol list. Several of you out there have pinkie sworn to inform me (ie knock me upside the head) should I ever start sporting a noticeable ’stache. Getting me into and not hyperventilating over make up would surely earn her such a coveted position.

Tessa totally rocked out until she caught me recording her. I tried to act as casual as possible and even kept on singing - yes it is me singing and not some cat being tortured in my car. Speaking of ungodly noise, you may want to turn the volume down a bit.

Ewwwwww

Here scrub your brain with a Levi picture

and one of birthday girl Tessa hanging round.

My husband’s word of the day, most recently, has been turd.When The Hubster dropped the “T” word into several sentences, Tessa most heartily agreed with him. It must have been his gusto that moved her because it certainly wasn’t what he said. We asked Tessa what the word turd means. According to the word guru herself

A turd is an indigenous dangerous creature that bites.

She’ll be 4 tomorrow folks.

For the last two weeks the Jaws attacks music has been droning in the background of my brain. Dun nuh dun nuh dun nuh dun nuh… This Thursday will find me driving off for a 4 day trip to grandma’s house, just me and three kids. Duh nuh, duh nuh. The last time such a feat was undertaken it was me and two kids. One nasty hurricane later my short trip turned into a 9 day single parenting hell. While I am looking forward to spending time with my mom (especially the part where we get to go to IKEA! together because it’s fun to go with someone as starry eyed about it as you are), but I’m really DREADING parenting away from home part.

I’m open to advice, actually I’m BEGGING for advice.

***Warning if talk of bathroom matters offends you at all, you should skip this post and just click straight over to oo and ahh at pictures of Levi***

Dear Tessa,

Do you remember when we went to the fair and the ride operator would ask you to remain seated until the ride came to a full and complete stop? I need you to apply this to the toilet. I am quite tired of mopping up pee floods because you hopped up mid stream. I am grossed out by scrubbing errant soft serve from the seat and sides of the toilet because you could not sit still until you were absolutely positive that you were done and the contraction of your abdominal muscles as you vaulted from the toilet was just the thing that straggler turd needed to break free and explode out into the world.

much love,

Mama

~*~**~*~**~*~*~*~

Dear Levi,

I know how satisfying the sounds of velcro ripping is. For someone as tiny as you, it’s the sounds of accomplishment but that sound recently has brought me to my knees. I have found myself scrubbing the floor of nearly every room you’ve occupied over the last week as your trick dejour is “the disappearing diaper!” If you are hanging out only in your diaper I can expect the diaper to be whipped of your bum in a a flash but recently you’ve started fishing around in your onesie and then pulling your diaper out the leg hole like it’s one of those magic scarves that just APPEARS! and seems miles long. You were particularly gleeful when you pulled this trick in the grocery store the other day. I, on the other hand, while momentarily amused, was horrified when you peed all over the inside of our car while I tried to rediaper you. Let’s just keep the diapie on mmm kay son? Thanks.

much love,

Mama

and for those of you that braved these letters you should still click here to see pictures of Levi. He’s trying out some adorable wittle bittle mister man shoes, totally squeal-worthy.

I remember middle school as the most turbulent chunk of my public schooling. Who ever came up with the idea to take all the kids wobbling on the cusp of hormonal overload and caging them up on the same campus, must truly have a sadistic streak. 6-8 grade is a time where you are too cool for baby stuff and not old enough to do a blessed thing There is nothing to do but rail against all authority and dominate those weaker then you. I have been preparing myself to help my children deal with this eventuality. I have not, however, prepared myself to deal with my children’s middle school offering hormonal birth control without specific parental consent.

King Middle School in Portland, Maine offers a free student clinic where middle schoolers can receive basic health care. Parents sign a consent form allowing the students to receive services but the form does not clearly define what services are available to the students. The ambiguity of the form is now an issue as the school board approved a measure that makes hormonal birth control available to the middle school students through the health clinic without specific consent from parents.

What parent would want to deny their child care for basic ailments, especially if they are among the millions of Americans who live without health insurance? None that I know and so many will sign the consent form without even realizing that it allows the school to prescribe and provide hormonal birth control in the form of pills and patches to their 11-13 year old daughters.

I have no issue with the schools educating children about safe sex, passing out condoms, offering counseling, and I think it would be fantastic if the clinic offered gynecological exams as a standard service. I do take issue with the clinic offering hormonal birth control not only to children at such a young age but to children who’s parents do not have to be informed that their child is obtaining a prescription for drugs that may cause health problems.

Hormonal birth control and it’s use has been tied to breast cancer, cervical cancer, liver tumors, diabetes, blood clots, mood disorders, weight issues and more. Is it responsible and reasonable to assume that all parents would allow their children to take such medication? Shouldn’t this service require a separate consent form which discusses exactly what pills and patches are being offered and the associated risks?

At 11 I had zero concept of family health history. I have an inherited clotting disorder, not something that they routinely test for unless and until you suffer from a blood clot or present with pregnancy complications. At 11 I could have waltzed into this center, received a BASIC check up and a script to begin hormonal birth control. I could die from that. My girls could die from that. They very well may have my clotting disorder. There is no reason for me to get them tested now, it should not affect them. I will get them tested should they ever be interested in birth control pills… oh but wait! Under Portland Maine’s new clinic policy, I wouldn’t even KNOW.

Imagine finding their lifeless body and rushing off to the hospital

“Ma’am, does your child take any medications?”

“Why no, nothing!!”

(actually she does, I just don’t know it. Oh, and it can cause life threatening complications)

What are your thoughts on this issue. To me, it just smacks of irresponsibility.

Tessa started preschool yesterday and the rigorous morning routine for two kids with two different destinations with inflexible drop off times within 20 minutes of each other is whooping my tush. I had grand ideas about CLEANING! and NAPPING! while Tessa was LEARNING! under the watchful 4 teachers per 1 kid gaze of her new schooling enviornment. HA! No such luck.

I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, worried that I would not hear the alarm clock. Mira was nearly 3 hours late for school on Monday when I slept through the alarm. Justifiable paranoia I say! Instead I dragged my poky butt around the house and picked up all the toys that I could easily grab with my toes. I have pretty impressive toe skills and managed to clean a fair bit without having to bend down. I do have to say that the new Learning Curve playtown people are not very toe grabbing friendly. They all have such big noggins that you have to try and grip the body. It took a good 6 or 7 tries before I got the hang of it.

I did manage to sweep, swiffer, and wipe up the front room. I felt obliged to do this since it is where Levi spends a good portion of his floor time. It’s pretty embarrassing when the neighbor stops over to squeeze the baby and finds 8 or 9 fistfuls of dog fur clinging to his belly and knees. I also started a load of laundry which I promptly forgot about (pretty much until right this moment… D’oh!) I stared at my kitchen for awhile but could not get the oompff to clean up until much later in the day. Instead I took Levi out for a bit of sun. It was a pretty exciting half hour.

Levi captured the elusive mouth monster

and had a little 80’s moment where he crawled like an Egyptian

Then, off in the distance

Levi spied a caveman.

he was pretty jazzed

I was a little jazzed about catching a great pic of him

(no that is not a booger under his nose, it’s left over flaky skin from a scabby nose booboo)

All in all it was an ok yet almost totally unproductive day. Maybe tomorrow I will hear that chorus of angels sing for the few hours that I’m down to one kid… who am I kidding? The only thing that’ll be singing to me is my washing machine and dishwasher. I actually miss her A LOT when she’s gone, even if it is nice to pee without worrying about what’s being deconstructed or colored on.

Levi has been a busy little boy, acquiring new skills faster then I can keep up. This weekend, Levi mastered the art of sitting up on his own, he has also started crawling. Of course, he does not like to admit that he is crawling so you have to leave the room, return and then act shocked when he’s all the way across it jamming a screw driver in a yet to be baby proofed socket.

I captured him sitting up and started to get all excited when it seemed he was actually going to crawl (and that I might even get it on film!) Alas, he chose to barf instead. You should be glad I finally figured out how to do a little crude editing because really, as fascinating as it was to watch him barf on film, it was still pretty gross.