So, you know how we all need great friends to go shopping with, or listen to us talk about how great The Hunger Games is or tell us how we aren't fat? And sometimes we need friends that can just let us vent and gripe and convince us we aren't alone? Well, I totally have awesome friends who have heard all about how I abandon my family for four days while I jumped on the Hunger Games bandwagon, and now I need someone to tell me I am not a crazy, crap mom.

Here is the thing, most days I really am disillusioned enough to think I have got my stuff together on this "mom of two" thing. The laundry is done, the house is clean, we have all showered and Alex doesn't look homeless and its 'll on a combined five hours of sleep. Most days I can really walk around with the confidence of a woman wearing white in a tampon commercial.

Then there are the days that I don't. Cause see, Alex is 3.

3.

Ugh.

For the most part, when we are out in public Alex's toddler-ness does't really phase me. Like when Alex (total example, this did not happen last week; after school; after getting both of the boys out in the rain) reaches for the ceramic piggy bank at the 'kids table' at Central Market and drops it on the ground a second before I can grab it from him, of course, shattering on the ground. Or almost flips out when I unjustly make him hold my hand in the parking lot causing everyone in a four block radius to stare. But that doesn't bother me. I am of the firm belief that if it isn't your kid acting out now, it will be eventually. It's just the odds. So I always try to give any other moms a smile when I see their kiddo being as all over the place as mine.

What gets me is at home. It's like we fight all.day.long. Not even kidding. I am constantly riding his little fanny about everything. Everything. Not to crawl in the dryer; to stop spitting; to stop feeding the dog raisins (that are poisonous). Nothing that seems out of line to get on to him about, but clearly is due to his horrific reaction. And while he was away last weekend with his grandparents and they reassured me he was polite and well behaved (so it might actually be working), at home it's enough to make me want to stab myself in the eye by 2pm.

Look, I know parenting and motherhood isn't about what the parent gets out of it and I'm down with that. But what kills me, is that while I read all these great and lovely blogs nary a ONE has anything but smiling siblings and family photos filled with toothy grins. Surely MY darling angel isn't the only one on the planet who tries to stuff toys up his baby brother's nose or throws a fit over getting dressed because, evidently, it will end his life? Can it really just be my sweet Alex that melts down every.time. I don't let him play in the car after I unbuckle him because it is hotter than the surface of the sun outside and I 'm sweating like a hog? Am I feeding him too much Red dye no. 2? Is this just normal? Is there a band of three year olds out there that conspire at night on the twitter feeds what the 'new' way to act out is?

I've tried time outs on the stairs, time outs in his room, taking toys away, ignoring and redirecting and nothing seems to phase him. The only thing I haven't tried is leaving him in the parking lot with a note tied to his shirt. I'm saving that one for later. What else can I be doing? I mean, other than look down at my sweet new baby and think, "Am I really in for three more years of this?"

Luke is really helpful and has saved my butt so many times. It's like the two of them have their own language and it's called "Oh-it's-dad-so-now-I-can-calm-down-and-be-normal-and-do-whatever-I-just-faught-with-mom-about-for-a-half-hour". And while at the end of the day the situation is resolved and we have moved past the unpleasantness, it always leaves me feeling completely inept and like I need Luke to step in and do my job.  Or have a cocktail at 9am.

So if you know of any 'warts and all' blogs, send them my way because sometimes misery loves company and sometimes we just need to know we aren't the only ones who hear "NO! Go, mommy, go!" before their toddler attempts to fling a dirty diaper at you.

The last couple weeks have been busy, to say the least. Alex has been home from school for a two week break that separates his regular school year from the summer session and it has been a long couple of weeks. Keeping Alex busy, juggling the new baby and thinking of things to do with increasingly hot days; the exhaustion has officially set in. The other night I attempted to refill my contact case with toothpaste.

As I mentioned, I am an idiot for thinking my first week home with the new baby I would start potty training. Alex is doing super great and while it was easier than I thought, I lost count how many times I attempted to call my doctor for a refill on my pain medication just to get through the week. Early on I felt less like I was potty training a toddler and more like I was babysitting a drunk sorority sister. Plus, reinforcing the phrase "No, it's not a good idea to touch your bottom" gets old.....then disturbing.

Evidently my dog, Charlie, is suicidal as well. Grapes are poisonous to dogs and considering the amount of PB&J's and raisins he had swiped from wherever Alex had set them down, Charlie has been a little under the weather. At least this is my theory of why he hasn't been eating a ton lately. At first I thought he was just holding out, but after stepping in a pile of barf Charlie attempted to hide behind the pack & play in our bedroom, I am beginning to think otherwise. So between potty training Alex, a gassy Bennett & a sick dog I feel it's safe to assume I have cleaned up more messes than I should for not being a paid medical professional. Ah, motherhood.

But we have had some good times.

 So here is a less known fact about me....and one that will seem very random and maybe even make me seem a little sad. As in, will make my life seem a little sad....like, 'seeing a kid sitting alone in the cafeteria' sad,  not 'guessing who my mam is going to tell me just died' sad.

I am wicked excited for the Dallas premiere on TNT tonight.

Wicked.

Excited.

When Luke and I started dating 15 years ago, we were broke kids, dating in secret who had to keep a low profile, who got sucked in to watching hours and hours of Dallas re-runs on tv. To the point that when we adopted our first dog a month after we started dating, we named him Jock....after Jock Ewing the patriarch of the family (may they both rest in peace) because we thought it was a "tough, leathery name" worthy of a dog. Then, a few years in to our courtship we went to visit a friend that lived in Dallas and Luke surprised me with a visit to Southfork (which was actually kind of a let down, but that's neither here nor there).














So, yeah, I am excited. The show is a legend! Who shot JR?? Bobby and the Dream Season? Big, big stuff.





And our judgement of naming our dog after such a tough stud clearly was a good choice seeing as Jock was 14 1/2 when he finally went to Jesus.....or as we explained to Alex "went in to Witness Protection". What can I say? Explaining the concept of Heaven to a two year old didn't take.....but going in to Witness Relocation he totally got. We have since stopped watching so much Law & Order....just FYI.

You can see the resemblance.......

Gee, Jane, what have you been up to in the last year?? Not much really.

Blog, meet Bennett.....Bennett, this is the blog. (Basically, say hello to Uncle Tam & Katie).

Bennett James arrived three weeks early, on May 17th. After learning he had somehow wrapped the cord around his neck a zillion times, my normal weekly appointment ended with a mad dash home to pack my hospital bag and figuring out who could pick up Alex from Mother's Day Out. It was quite a hectic, but great, day. Bennet was perfect at 6 pounds and 12 ounces, 19 inches. Quite the difference from Alex who tipped the scale at 9 pounds 1 ounce. But God certainly blessed us with a strong baby who came a little early without any health complications or hold ups from going home on time.

Alex isn't sure what to think of Bennett yet. Don't be fooled by this picture. What you can't see are all the cookies I bribed him with to get ONE picture where Alex wasn't licking the baby or that he really isn't smiling as much as he is showing off the half eaten tortilla in his mouth. And he's not wearing pants....because I was the idiot who decided that the first week I was alone with both boys after a c-section, was the week I should potty train Alex.

Catching Up

So, my friend Katie was super sweet and gave me a major shout out on her blog the other day.

"Shout Out". Do people even say that anymore? Oh well. I am clearly not the snazziest dancer at the disco. And also cause I just said 'disco'.

Anyway. We have been pals for a while, and considering most of you know her (and follow me because of her) you know what a doll she is. Well, Katie knows me pretty well. So when she decided to post about me on the interwebs pressuring me to post, she knew I would fold like a cheap card table. So here we go.

The last couple weeks have been kinda big in my house. Alex, the "baby" turned two on June 8th.

TWO!

And Luke and I celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary on the 9th.

10 YEARS! (My lord, how old am I?? Don't answer. [32]).

And while I gazed down at my sweet, peanut-buttered angel, thinking "How could my baby be two?!", I realized I was the classic cliche of every parent. So, it got me thinking to some things that people don't tell you about being a parent. Such as:

**It really doesn't matter what you are doing with the baby, you will end up sticky.

Dressing the baby? Sticky.

Feeding the baby? Sticky.

Just finished a mammoth bath? That's right! Sticky!

**You will constantly look like a commercial in the making for dandruff shampoo.

This is mainly because when you hold the baby, he will wipe his nose on you. No biggie. After that messiness of the actual birth, who cares?? Except, when the baby is a year and a half old and still insists on using your shoulder as a handkerchief, leaving the checker at register 7 "reminding" you of the Randall's Sunday ad that, would you believe it??, has Selsun Blue half off! And when the baby has just eaten goldfish? Even better. And by 'better' I mean 'worse'.

**Your Pre-Baby List of "I'll Never ____" 's will disappear quicker than your former modesty.

Wait, "Former Modesty" you ask? Why are you no longer modest? Because once 15 different people have collectively seen your junk in a six hour time frame, and you aren't getting paid for it, walls have gone down. And if that's not enough, when another 20 people are tending to your lady-bits with mechanic-like precision, walls don't just come down; they are bulldozed. Like for a while. A very long while.

So, let me give you some examples of my Pre-Baby "I'' Never____" 's:

** "I'll never over exaggerate my husband's height by 6 inches when people repeatedly comment on how 'big' my son is when he is really just tall and people are jerks." (Yeah, I do that.)

** "I'll never examine another kiddo's diaper because the mom is worried he is sick." (Yup. On a play date today I totally did this with out hesitation or judgement. Cause we are moms, and we need to stick together and need support one another. And in her defense, she was right. His poop was oily.)

** "I'll never be as obsessed with poop like those other crazy mothers." (Yeah, you will be because babies and their poop is about as important as food and air.)

** "I'll never let my child watch TV before they are two because it makes them stupid or antisocial or whatever." (You are going to go insane. In fact, let me know when your kid is born so I can set up some Vegas style bets on when you finally crack. This could pay for college.)

** "I'll never feed my child crap like that mother. I mean, have you read the childhood obesity statistics?" (It would not shock me if, at any given time, Alex crapped an actual, whole, goldfish. He's two. That's all he eats. Cause he's two.)

I could go on and on with this list....maybe I will make it a weekly thing. But this is for you Katie (and Aja, and Aunt Angie).

Now go enjoy some goldfish!

jane

Fine. It's About The Oprah.

Yeah, it is about The Oprah....but not like you think.

And I have to say, this is going to be long cause much like Festivus, I have a grievance to air.

So everyone knows today was the last show of The Oprah. And while everyone has been feeding her ego for the last year (or 40) about how she is so great and helped all those abused kids and gives many monies to needy people who live in Lack of Money Land, I have another tale to tell. And it is one of horror and smashed dreams and nobody got a car.

So let's retrace our steps back to that very day.

Three of my college pals and I got tickets to the show. Super fun. We talked and planned and booked our tickets. Yay!

Then the show got cancelled. So we had to change all our tickets, flight/hotel whatever. (FYI, The Oprah doesn't pay for all those change fees, our broke-ass right--out-of-college-butts did).

So anyway, we are scheduled to appear on the Monday before Thanksgiving. We have so much fun planning the trip and are super excited to go.

So we get there. And here is what some people don't know: The Oprah, when she started in Chicago, was aired at 9am. So, she told us that day, that she continued to honor that time slot that even to this day, and even though she is on at 4pm anywhere from Tuttle to Thailand, she is on at 9 am in Chi-Town.

Why does this matter, you ask? Well, because when you go to see The Oprah, you have to get there at 5am. Yeah, not kidding. And since she tapes two shows a day, and you don't know which taping you get in to, you get there at 5am to stand in line. Because like Penny Beer Night, first come, first serve.

But we get in....and what is this???? We get escorted by some lady to the front row???? Yeah we did. This must be good, right?? There were even little "reserved" signs on our seats!

Then they bring out the people who "warm up the audience". And that means "threaten the audience that if you aren't animated enough there are people waiting in the lobby who didn't get in and will lick dog poop if I ask them because then they will be on The Oprah and you won't be". Not kidding. I can have people email you to back this up.

So we are getting warmed up and even do a fake "The Oprah Walks In". Now I should mention that I was on the end of the front row and in the warm up, I shake fake Oprah's hand. It was way intrusive, even with Fake Oprah.

So the show starts....The Oprah walks down the little hallway and smiling and fake waving all the while coming closer and closer to me. What do I do? Approach The Oprah and invade her space? Give up the chance to shake The Oprah's hand? Just stand there hoping The Oprah wants to shake my hand?

Yeah, I did. I invaded The Oprah's space. I shook her hand. I shook her dry, cracked, haggard little hand.

And it was at that moment, we were wronged.

It was the worst.show.of.all.time.

ALL.TIME.

Cause see here is the deal, we got there so early and made it in to the first taping.

Great, right?

Nope.

How could it be bad?? It was. Wanna know why?

Well, remember that show "After the Show"? where The Oprah hung out with her guests for, like a half hour after the show (get it?....get it? "After the Show"). Yeah, we watched clips that weren't even good enough to show on the second rate "After the Show". The entire show was based on out-takes from "After the Show".

So while we were watching clips of past shows of Kirstie Alley and rabbits in her kitchen and hearing about the miso bean paste that Gwyneth Paltrow likes and other bits that didn't make the crappy re-run show, the other group for the second taping, were loaded on to buses and shipped off with a box lunch to watch an exclusive screening of The Aviator then got to chat with the entire cast.

Our show was so bad, Oprah didn't even change her clothes before the second taping. Yeah, that bad.

We were wronged!

Wronged, I tell you!

I can tell you, in the end, The Oprah was either going to get a hand shake from me, or an angry fist in the air. One or the other.

WRONGED!!!

And if you even made it through this whole rant, be sure to comment and I will send you any book from The Oprah's book club, cause you deserve a reward. And, much like I wish there was a "sarcastic" font, I also wish there was an "angry/look at me getting flustered/The Oprah wronged me" font. Cause I would have used it.

Although, I will say, I can understand why the show sucked so bad. I mean, the taping right before ours had been Favorite Things, so everyone was probably tired.

Jerks.

An Open Letter

Dear Lady Who Stopped Me In the Parking Garage At the Galleria,

Hi. It's me.

So, first I should say "thanks". You were flattering, really. I mean, when I am walking by someone in the parking garage and they attempt to ask me for something, my first instinct is to garble out some nonsense words that end in 'o' (you know, so don't sound like I am cold hearted, but just way fluent in spanish) and keep walking to my car clutching my Auntie Anne's pretzel a little tighter.

But you.....you....you seemed different. Yes, it is a big city, but who starts to beg in the garage under Neimen's at 11 am? And you seemed younger and I could actually see your feet and you weren't carrying any sort of baggage with you. All strong points. But when you stopped, and covered your phone, halting your conversation, I just figured you were lost. So as long as you didn't need to know how to make a shank out of food court cutlery, then I could do my part.

But here is where you went tragically wrong. Look, I know you are a career person, so I will get to the chase because I am sure you are busy "marketing".

1. Don't ever stop someone in the parking garage and ask "what they do for a living?". It's 11am. I am at the mall. On a Tuesday. I don't do anything.

2. Really not a good idea to follow up the "what do you do?" question by the reinforcing statement that "I look so professional". First, I admit I had just gotten my hairs did by spaghetti arms and was looking spiffy, but the flip-flops should have given it away. And elastic is still elastic, even if it comes from Saks.*

3. I believe I heard you clearly that you work in "marketing" for Mary Kay? And you want to give me your card? So we can have lunch sometime? Just to talk? Cause I look so professional? (If you don't even get this you have way bigger problems that that horrid eyeshadow. Yeah, I did.).

4. This isn't really something you did wrong per se, just something I think you should be aware of since it threw you for a loop at the time. Other people can lie to save ourselves hours and hours of mind-numbing seminars, just as easily as you can lie that you do 'marketing' for Mary Kay. And in case there are any doubts, I don't really sell Arbonne.

Yeah, so thanks for the "I looked cute and stuff". I'm sure the makers of Cheap Flip-Flops will be thrilled at their new professional gain in the foot ware community.

*In all honesty, I didn't look all "fresh-haired". Man, when old Spaghetti Arms finished giving me the fourth conditioning treatment I requested to help reverse the environmental damage, I got up from the chair and walked in to a wall. OK, 'walked' is generous. "Stumbled in to the wall having to grab on to some strange old lady to keep from falling over" is more like it. Judge away. I regret nothing.