National Squirrel Day

Did you know that January 21st is National Squirrel Day? Me neither. At least until last week. Just in case you had a rough day, read ahead to feel a whole lot better about yourself. Compared to me, you are amazing. My hubby had to go out of town for work. I was keeping the home fires burning with our three kiddos. Not so bad. Morning one of my endeavor, my oldest runs upstairs to tell me she is pretty sure some animal just fell through the chimney into the fireplace. WHAT?????????????????????? If you know my at all you are aware of my DEEP fear of birds. Lovely creatures. But they terrify me. Mostly because they seem to always fly into my hair. So I am thinking some nasty bird is now trapped in my fireplace, ready to sprint out (into my hair) at any given moment. It could have bird flu or SARS or anyone of those gross bird illnesses you hear about. Dramatic much? The other option is a squirrel. Less scary to me than a bird, but faster, sneakier and more hyper. I cautiously poke the fireplace screen, hoping against hope that my daughter was wrong and that it was just the wind. Fail! As soon as I touched the metal slidey thing (as you can see I am well versed in fireplace part terminology), there is confirmed movement. Craptastic. So I corrale all the little people into a bedroom upstairs and call in reinforcements. I would love to write this from the perspective of a Mom Hero who single-handedly captured the squirrel, thus saving her family from potential rabies, and also kindly releasing said squirrel back into its natural habitat. Peace love recycle and all that. However the truth is a bit less glamorous. I has my poor neighbor hunt down that squirrel like a pair of Torri Burch shoes 75% off. What did I do? Cowered on the stairs almost sucking my thumb. The thought of a rodent being in my house was not THAT big of a deal. The thought of a rodent jumping out at me from any location at any moment...B-I-G deal. It camped out in the fireplace while we were home making noise, so we set a Have a Heart trap with some peanut butter apple slices and got out of dodge. When we got back from our errands, a lamp was knocked off the console table, a red apple on the kitchen counter looked like someone exploded it with a bottle rocket, and the trap was empty. As in completely empty. No apple slices. Hmmmmmm. Apparently, just like you need to close your flue after you use the fireplace, you also need to make sure the trap is set. Oops! So we go back outside for round two. Squirrel will not come out if he knows we are even on the front porch. I cannot say that I blame him. We are a rowdy bunch. Oh, I should also mention that I had invited a few of my girlfriends over to hangout that night. At this point I am debating whether I need to tell them that a squirrel may or may not jump on their face during our evening together. I go about my evening, vacuuming up squirrel poo and picking up all the things he got into while partying in my den. Imagine my surprise when I pull the trashcan out to empty the Dyson and OMG there is my friend Squirrel. RIGHT THERE. Words came out if my mouth I am not proud of, but I was freaking out. The kids were in another room, thankfully. They would have gotten in big trouble for repeating my squirrel discovery language. Neighbor comes back over, makes a pathway with furniture, umbrellas, and a bucket and scares the squirrel out of the cabinet and into the trap. Where was I? Yep, halfway up the stairs. Good to know I can depend on myself in a time of parenting crisis. If you were curious, squirrels can have awesome diarrhea when they are trapped and scared. That was fun to clean up, too. But at least the drama was over. My neighbor earned his Good Samaritan badge, I was rodent free, and my friends could safely chat without fear of rabid animals lurking near. I am now an obsessive flue checker. Happy National Squirrel Day folks!

Magic Baby Powers

My two year old has magic powers. Forget unicorns. She does not even need a horn to do her tricks. If she closes her eyes, she becomes invisible so that even though I am telling her NOT to climb up onto the countertop for the 40,000 time, I cannot actually see her. Because she has her eyes closed. Magic. Likewise, when she walks backwards it does not count as disobedience. Because when you walk backwards no one can tell that you are moving. OOOOOHHHHHHHHH! Look out Leprechans! My two year old has some magic on you. I can be right in the middle of telling her NOT to go upstairs and she just steps back a few spaces. And to me she just looks like an angel with a sparkling halo, feet firmly planted just where they were. Because backwards is not real. Oh the joys of toddler magic. Another one of her little secrets is that if she lays down on the floor, of say, the car, you cannot see her. Yep, she vanished into this air. So when I call for her to get out of the truck. Or ask her to come wash her hands and she just DROPS to the floor like a tornado drill, amazingly she can do whatever she wants. Because I cannot even see her. She is gone. Crazy, huh. I think the next time I have to pass through the perfume section of the mall I will do waking backwards with my eyes closed before I fall to the floor.

Fashion Rules According to Motherhood

There was a time when I based my clothing purchases on how stylish they were. On how good my butt looked in those jeans. On how well the cut of the jacket showed off all those sit ups I did each night. Now I buy clothes based on how many pockets they have. There is nothing more frustrating that standing at the checkout counter and having to dig through my mom purse trying to find my Kroger Plus card or keys while wrestling a two year old and keeping a safe eye on my other two darlings. Enter the hoodie. My new Best Friend. I can stick my keys, cell phone, and debit card in all those glorious pockets and still have room for a shopping list. It is heaven, I tell ya, heaven. My husband has a similar parenting infatuation with the cargo pant (camo at that), but I tried to explain that after delivering 3 children these ole birthing hips do not need the added puff of 40,000 pockets, convenient though they be. So if you ever run into my husband/mother/in laws looking for that perfect gift, send them to the unibomber aisle and tell them to get me a hoodie. It is the next best thing (and way cheaper) to having an additional arm surgically attached. I looked into it, trust me.

Diapers and wipes, and lotion Oh MY

We have talked about how many diapers you will go through. And wipes. I love to shop as much as the next girl, but when it involves a 20 minute loading of the car, taking a baby out in the cold, and lugging a carseat around my enthusiasm wanes. One suggestion is buying diapers online. True, it does not work for that moment when you are down to the last one and you FREAK OUT wondering just how much poo and pee a diaper can hold. But for all the other times when you see what your stash is getting a little low, head over to www.diapers.com. Type in the code ALLI1367 and save $10 off your first order. They have very competitive prices and email coupons all the time (if you opt for them). Amazon and other sites sell diapers ,too. So what makes Diapers.com the beesknees (is that even how you spell that?)... they carry every baby product pretty much every made for great prices and ship it fast right to your cute little door step. And the kicker is that they are a family of companies like www.soap.com (for soap, lotions, bathing stuff) and www.yoyo.com (for toys and seriously cute stuff), and last but not least www.wag.com for your pets. Did I mention they are all linked together? So four stores with one cart. And coupons apply to any of them. Hello easy. Personally, I would rather save my babysitting for a day of shipping for me. When I can hit the dressing room or actually think about what I am buying. For diapers and all other booty related items, I say they are just a click away.

A Grocery Store Confession

Forgive me Cashier, for I have sinned. Sort of. Yesterday the kids and I went to the grocery store. Big surprise there. And as we are checking out the wow-you-are-super-nice-and-helpful man at Trader Joe's is scanning my goods and bagging them all while whistling and smiling and doing that Trader Joe's thing they do. Hi, my name is Allison and I am addicted to Trader Joe's. As I am watching him in his happy process, I am slightly embarrassed at the three opened boxes of cereal bars. One for each kid. Before you freak out, they did not eat the whole box. But let us just say there may or may not have been an empty foil wrapper in each cardboard container. Just sayin. But, hey, you gotta do what cha gotta do. I mean, what is better for the public good, three really hungry kids in the middle of a grocery store or an open container (not the naughty adult term thank you very much although a little Mommy Cocktail would make shopping with three kids a bit less stressful)? I laugh at how much we eat just to make it through the store. Some people go to the store at a certain time because they know the samples are out. Not us. We make our own sample party. Only our samples we pay for so Clark Howard is not as proud. Boo. Unloading the cart is like an episode of Scooby Doo. Oh look, Velma, a banana peel. And some cracker crumbs. And, gasp, I see something shiny and metallic. No, not a projector for a fake ghost. Just an organic granola bar. Sorry Scoob. Sometimes I feel like I should buy one sacrifice item. You know, the box of __________ the kids can munch on while we are shopping. That would save me from checking out with seven already opened half empty items. I get stressed at night worrying that when I get to heaven God is going to ask me about all the bananas my kids ate before checking out that technically I never paid for. I should probably seek some counseling for that. I am hoping I at least get some props for variety. Here, have a cracker, now a banana, here is a slice of pastrami from the deli counter, and yes! a cookie from the bakery. It is like a movable feast.

Going Green

I have not written in FOR.ever. Partly because my sleeps all day does not know how to walk baby has magically transformed into a one afternoon nap climbs on everything pens and scissors are fun toddler. So my down time has taken a huge nose dive. Not that staying home with her is not worth it. But between Pinterest and taking care of the house/husband/kids, who has time to blog? Part of my Pinterest addiction is legit. Fine, so it is the smallest part. But I AM really working on some things around the house. My husband and I believe that although a home should be a warm and happy place where the family can party on and not feel like there is virtual plastic covers on all the furniture, we also ascribe to the rule that the kids and their stuff should not dominate the house. Hence the basement. When we bought our house I envisioned it as a glorious playroom for our five years from now family. Instead it turned out to be my husband's home office and mancave. I do not even attempt to take away the mancave. I firmly believe that a happy marriage has a space where a man can be a man and I do not have to know what goes on. Burping. Flatulence. And all sorts of scatological goodies or sporting events that he can enjoy. Alone. While I watch Jamie Oliver or Nate Berkus. Upstairs. We have plenty of time together and I love him more today than when we met. (except for that time he asked me to faux finish my daughter's room). Faux is a four letter word. But I digress. So his office is down there. And the other half is our adult space. Where watch Hawaii Five O and Parks and Recreation. And Whitney. Oh my! It is a kid free zone and we want it to be a sophisticated place we can relax. No primary colors. No musical toys. No team decor either. What is the problem, woman? Green carpet. Gasp. The room came with green carpet. And I do not mean green like good for the environment. I mean green like holy seventies time warp Batman. And I am at a loss. I have three kids and I want to have at least one more. Maybe two. Maybe. But I NEED this adult getaway. Right now it is the place where all our hand me down furniture goes to die. We have recently added a few newer pieces, but now I need to finish it out. Yikes. Calling on any ideas for what in tarnation to do with a room with green carpet. I should point out that we have a partial basement. Long narrow. Drop ceilings. Awkward soffett. The one below is similar. But I HAVE GREEN CARPET.

Coper Coper Crime Stopper

Some things I think should be illegal: 1. Smoking in the car. With a kid. Really? Anyone should be able to pull you over, slap you open handed, hug your child, and send you on your way. You wouldn't want me popping my ebola boils in YOUR face, so why would you subject your sweet little child to CANCEROUS second hand smoke? You are the BUTT in this story. Just saying. 2. Blaring your inappropriate music with every window in your car rolled down.Personally, I am not into music with lyrics like " (*&$ P$E*&(* #)(*$&!!" Just not my style. And even if I do rock out to the occasional booty tune when my kids are NOT in the car, I certainly do not subject others to my musical mayhem but turning the volume up so loud the MIR space station can catch my jam. If there are more "radio edits" happening than actual lyrics, I beg you to ROLL UP THE WINDOW or TURN DOWN THE VOLUME. I am sure you are a fabulous person, really, but I just don't have the energy to explain the my kid's Sunday School teacher why he keeps calling all the girls _itches. Not happenin. 3. Library fines on kids books. Okay, maybe this shouldn't be illegal, but let's be real. You should be celebrating the fact that I even read to my kids. Hello, we could be watching t.v. all day like other kids. And I cannot keep up with half the stuff we actually OWN, much less something I borrowed from someone else. Yikes. I mean, I brought the book back to you one year month late. Do you need to charge me for that? I should get a gold star for finding it under the couch!!!!! Do you have any idea how many crumbs it was buried under? It's a miracle, really. 4. Rompers. For any age. Sure, they are cute. But unless you have a catheter for some reason, not the most practical of garments. You are begging for your child to wet her pants. Begging. 5. Shoes that do weird things. What do you mean? Fine, I'll tell you. Exhibit A...those shoes that light up. Do you WANT a seizure? Or maybe you LIKE it when your kid is either running or stomping repeatedly in the store just to see his cool shoes light up. Sure, they are helpful at night. But having a toddler run. at night. in the dark. is stupid. or maybe I should say unsafe. So what good are those light up shoes, really? Exhibit B...those shoes, no wait, roller blades. Have you ever had a kid go roller on you? It will mess with your mind. All of a sudden he is walking right in front of you and then BAM, he rolls.this.close.to.you. because his roller-speed totally caught you off guard. And then you feel dumb for not anticipating his move. I mean, it is totally normal for someone to be casually walking and then sprout wheels. Totally.