You know how they say that Moms must have eyes in the backs of their heads or a sixth sense when it comes to their children?

How they can almost predict to the second what their child is doing even from several rooms away?

And all it takes is a sound (or in many cases the lack of sound) that triggers this phenomena?

Well, personally, I don't think that is just a Mom thing.

Why is that you ask?

Because...

*crouching low and whispering*

I think my children are psychic.

No joke.

They always seem to know what is going on in this house and who it's happening to.

They can predict your every move and they always seem to know when Papa Bear and I have done something that we don't want them to know about.

Case and point:

I'm in the kitchen the other night. Cleaning. Cooking supper. The usual.

I've been in there about an hour at this point getting everything done and it's been kinda nice because the boys are playing quietly in the bedroom.

So I decide I'm gonna have a little snack to reward myself.

Nothing major, just a packet of fruit snacks.

I grab the packet out of the basket, look up and...

BOOM!!!

...there are 2 little sets of brown eyes looking at me from behind the baby gates on either side of my kitchen.
How they got there I don't know. They weren't there when I bent over to get the snacks.

They just magically appeared.

Ready and waiting to mooch my fruit snacks.

And this isn't the only occasion that my children have demonstrated their supernatural abilities.

(Although I have noticed that most of these skills surface when food is involved. But that might just be a coincidence.)

No, I've seen these skills on many occasions.

Like last week when Papa Bear took a bite out of a granola bar.

Cub #2 strolls in and Papa Bear stops chewing before he is seen.

He smiles down to Cub #2 as though nothing is amiss and...

BOOM

...Cub #2 starts clapping and whining for a bite of his own.

Just like that.

Now, mind you, Cub #2 is 14 months old. He isn't supposed to know these kinds of things.

(Side Note: We are teaching Cub #2 sign language and his version of the sign for more is to clap.)
Or how about the time when Cub #1 left his lunch plate on the table when he was "done" eating. (i.e. He had better things to do at the moment).

So after about an hour of it sitting there without him even coming into the room let along touching the food, I picked it up to clean.

Took the plate to the trash.

Opened the lid, threw in the half eaten mess and...

BOOM!!!

..."Mom, where's my plate. I wanna finish it now."

Never fails.

I don't know where they learned this trick or if it just comes naturally.

But I'm telling you. I need to have them tested.

Perhaps if I do and something comes of it they'll go grow up to work for high powered business execs who will rely on the talents  of my little Cubs completely in order to run his company.

Hey, a mom can dream.

Right?
 
 
It seems like every time I sign up for a new social media site I end up getting completely sucked into it.

So much so, I sometimes forget that I even have a real life.

*Que image of Mom looking at the computer with a blank stare and children making the house look like a war zone*

And since the purchase of my beloved smartphone, these obsessions have taken on a whole new form.

Let's look back at my history of social media as a prime example.

First, we had MySpace. The titan that started it all. I remember first getting a MySpace profile, I don't think I left that computer lab for a week! I was so hooked on stalking everyone I ever knew...eh, I mean, reuniting with old friends.

Next came Facebook, which stills has me checking in at least twice a day and religiously posting pictures of my kids. (Including ones they will kill me for upon reaching adulthood).

And that was closely followed by twitter. Which somehow has become my link to celebrity gossip, news, and all things "Me" related. I've even gotten a few tweets back from some people who'd never have noticed me otherwise, But I'm not into name dropping...

Now we have Pinterest.

Oh, Pinterest. 

How I loathe thee and love thee all at the same time. 
I'm a new member to pinterest. 

Even though I've CONSTANTLY seen people posting about their pins (and friends pins, and strangers pins, and well....pins), I've never really been interested in what it was all about.

I mean hello, I'm a little busy chasing my 1 year old around for the perfect update picture and rubbing elbows (or keyboards) with celebrities; even if it is only in my mind.

(I should point out here that I felt the same way about Facebook and Twitter when they first blew up and we all see where that left me).

But despite all this (and a little voice in my head telling me not to because the house needed cleaning) I decide to see what all the fuss was about and made myself a profile.

Biggest. Mistake. Ever.

I don't know any substance in the world that can compare to the high you get when you log into pinterest!

And being able to look down at your phone when bored at the doctors office? It's all over at that point.

I wasn't even on it for an entire hour before I was hooked. 

I became a literal, pining psycho.
If you haven't had the privilege of discovering the thrill of pinterest, let me first ask, where the hell have you been?!

This is America. I thought even our rocks got internet access these days.

Next, let me place all judgements aside and introduce you:  http://pinterest.com/

HEY COME BACK, I'M NOT DONE YET!!!!!!!

See what I mean?

Addicting.
The positives? I've gotten some amazing new ideas for just about everything in my life.

From new outfit ideas (yes, my current wardrobe choices are now all from pinterest. Don't judge, it'll happen to you), to birthday decor.

Even meaningless fun stuff that is so truly and completely ingenious that you have to try them!

I mean really, who thought to use the top of a soda bottle for a chocolate-chip bag seal?! This person needs an award!

I'm sure eventually the newness of the site will wear off and I will be able to come back to my life and take care of my family properly.

But until then if you can't find me at work and I'm not answering my cell, then you will probably find me on pinterest.

Which leads me to the conclusion that they need to create an "IM" section so people can get a hold of you while you are successfully wasting your time on their site.

I wonder who I would have to talk to about that...

Don't be afraid to come check me out on Pinterest!
http://pinterest.com/kennyclaires/
 
 
I'm sure by now just about everyone has heard the term "the man cold".

I.e. the "I'm dying, please take care of me like I'm 4, I can't reach the remote and I'm stuck where I'm at for at least 2 days so can you hand me a soda and the chips", cold.

If you haven't, you've either been living under a rock or need to be examined by a professional. (My family doctor is great! Message me and I'll give you a number). 

My husband gets these "man colds". 

At least once a year he's couch-bound and whining like there is no tomorrow in store for him.

Pathetic really. 

Especially when he expects you to suddenly drop everything and become his mother.  
As if I don't already have 2 kids of my own I'm trying to care for and keep away from your sick butt. 

Well, I've recently come to realize that this is a trend with my husband. 

This dire need to throw himself into something and expect the entire world to follow suit. (Not to mention be happy about it).

About 2 weeks ago, after much urging, my husband decided to "start eating healthy." I.e. Papa Bear is on what I like to call the "Man Diet". 

A counting calories, eating only the portion limits on bags, no red meats and no food after 3:00pm diet.

Wonderful! (Truly). 

At this announcement I was thrilled that he had finally taken his health into consideration and I no longer had to worry about him having a heart attack at the age of 30. 

What I didn't realize at the time was that this meant he expected the rest of us to "start eating healthy" as well.

So, for the past 2 weeks I've been living in food Nazi hell. 

Not only has my husband been dictating to me what I can and cannot put on the weekly menu, he has been getting on my case if I decide to have a second turkey wrap at dinner time or if I put too many baked lays in my bowl to watch a movie.
Let me quickly point out here. 

I had a baby a year ago. 

I was on a diet all summer to lose the weight from having said baby with NO HELP from my husband. 

He still wanted Chinese food. 

He still went to McDonalds for dinner on friday nights.

He still wanted ME to make all his favorite fatty food dishes for HIM at supper, all the while knowing I was trying to watch what I ate. 

I was the one on the diet. I didn't expect him to alter his eating habits for me. So I had to control myself and eat only what I was supposed to not what my cravings were telling me to. 

During which time I got to enjoy watching him down a brownie after dinner. 

Not cool.
So now that it's his turn, he seems to think the entire household needs to jump on board and help him out. 

Heaven forbid he might be tempted by the bowl of ice-cream I gave my 4 year old or the bag of peanut M&M's I got myself on the first day of my period.

Don't get me wrong. 

I have no problem putting healthier ingredients into my meals. I don't mind buying healthier snacks. Nor do I mind learning the healthier ways to cook for my family. 

What I do mind is being told what to do. 

I enjoy drinking Pepsi on a daily basis. 

After having to wake up all night with a teething 11 month old and dealing with a bratty 4 year old starting at 7:00am, I think I deserve it. 

So, dude, lay off.

I'm very happy you've made this decision and I support you 100%, but I did my time. I'm ready to get back to enjoying food again. 

So I'll buy your fat free this and low calorie that. I'll even continue going on walks with you. 

But if I decide that I want to also grab myself some cookies, I'd much rather have them with milk than a lecture. 
 
 
I swear its like a game for them.

A small way to get their jollies in their sad, I-live-only-for-my-children, mom jeaned lives.

All I want to do is take my son to preschool. 

To drop him off with-out getting hit by a bus, and to leave in a timely manner so I can get my baby home for his morning nap BEFORE he decides to let the whole neighborhood know he is unhappy and tired. 

But no. 

That is just not possible when your child attends school with the children of the Mini-van Moms. 

(Yes, I do see the similarity to the "Children of the Corn" movie title. Honestly, it's practically the same thing).
Now, before I go any farther, let me be clear. I don't hate anyone who drives a mini-van. 

I have some great friends who happen to be mini-van drivers. As a child my parents always drove a mini-van. My mother-in-law drives a mini-van (Ok. Bad example). 

The point is, I'm not trying to say that every single person alive who drives a mini-van should be stoned in the street. (Although, I may agree that your sanity is in question if you think a minivan is a suitable vehicle. Just my opinion).

What I'm getting at is that this particular set of Mini-van Moms are ruthless.

They find a sick pleasure in punishing those of us who aren't part of their little coffee drinking, fashion-less, I-can't-stop-procreating group. 
Not that I want this to turn into a giant "bitch-fest" post, but try as I might to avoid them, I somehow always manage to (literally) get squished between them.

I'm not sure if it's because they've forgotten what it's like to have to actually OPEN a car door to get out, or because they truly have no idea how to drive that boat they think is so freaking wonderful. 

But NONE of these Moms can seem to properly park their over-sized vehicles. 

I can't tell you how frustrating it is to try and get into the car and not have enough room to unlock the door. Let alone open it and put a baby in his car seat.

So I have to wait, in the cold, with a baby for these moms to finish their coffees and their long talks about what happened yesterday on Days of Our Lives or the newest location change for their toilet paper rack (I'm just guessing).

I've even attempted to change my parking habits and park in bum-duck-Egypt to avoid this morning annoyance. 

To no avail. 

They still find me.

Up until now I've been nice; I smile when they get back and politely ask them to not park so close next time. I try to laugh when they take it as a minor occurrence and let it roll off their backs.

Needless to say, I'm tired of it.  

I know they're in just as much of a hurry as I am (probably more since they can't seem to stop having children, therefore making more work for themselves before school) but your multiple children issue is, in my mind, no excuse for not knowing how to park your monstrous car. 

It takes 2 seconds to correct an improperly parked vehicle. 2 seconds....maybe 3. 

I think if you've been able to handle little Tommy's screaming, little Cindy's humming, and the twin's arguing this long, you can handle it for 2 (maybe 3) more seconds.

So fix your damn van. 

If not, then the next time you come back to your over-sized boat-on-wheels you're going to find this taped just above the 6 inch dent I'm going to leave in your sliding door...
Seriously. They're already ordered.

To further prove my point, I took the time to look up other instances of Mini-van Mom syndrome. Enjoy. 

P.S. #2 looks eerily like my mother-in-laws van. I may have to do more research on that one....
 
 
As a mother of 2 I'm often faced with the many viruses and illnesses that my cubs bring home from their worldly adventures. 

Colds that have them coughing all over my newly scoured house, flus that have me running to find where on earth they have hidden the bucket (this time) before it's too late. 

But recently I've had to deal with the worst virus I've ever encountered.

One that was so massive it has not only had me down for almost 2 1/2 months but it pretty much took away any access I've had to the outside world.

What kind of virus, you ask, could do so much damage for such an extended period of time? 

A computer virus.

Not just any computer virus.

Oh no. Because that would be an easy fix and as anyone who knows me could tell you, my life has no easy fixes. 

No, my computer somehow obtained a Trojan virus with spyware. 

And not just one... 

...but TWO.

Now, I'm not the most technically minded of women. I didn't realize exactly what this meant for my poor desktop friend, until my friend was no more. (I also didn't realize how close of friends we were. But we wont open that can of worms.)
But apparently, with a Trojan virus, it will completely take over your computer. 

We're talking in-bed itself in any file it can, take it over, and pretty much laugh at you when you attempt to do anything with that file. 

AND, not only that, but it can multiply itself within other files on your computer. 

Essentially staging a hostile take-over and making you a sad, lonely, and bored, computer-less person, i.e. me the last 2 1/2 months. 
After this lengthy explanation as to why I've been absent from my blogging obligations, you may be wondering what I've been doing to get myself through this though time. 

So, let me tell you. I have become the cleaning Nazi. 

Now, I've always kept a pretty clean house. There may have been a few extra toys laying about or a pile of papers I'd yet to find a place for, but my house was always visitor ready. 

Until recently.

Recently my house has been spotless. Including my children. There wasn't a cluttered surface, a sticky finger-print, an unfolded t-shirt, or an unmade bed with-in 20 foot of my house. 

I'm amazed by how much I was able to get (and to keep) done once there wasn't the distraction of a social life taking up the hours of my day. 

Unfortunately for both my family and my home, the computer is back and so is my morning coffee, pop-tart, and Facebook breakfast. 

The dishes will just have to wait until later. 

 
 
Do you remember the board game from years ago called 'Don't Wake Daddy?' 
Where the object of the game was to sneak into the kitchen, steal a snack, and, in the process, not make a sound that would wake up daddy?

Now, mind you, I never had the chance to play this game as a child. My mother thought it would inspire us to actually try sneaking into the kitchen without permission (as if we needed a game to be inspired).

But I can vividly remember the commercial.

I can remember the excitement I felt when seeing it.  The jingle that played (and that I always sang along to), how I'd get so nervous for the kids who were making a break for that kitchen. I can even recall being mad at the little girl in the end who said "by Parker Brothers" too loudly.

Well, this week, I find myself being reminded of this game and I find that after all these years I finally get a chance to play it.

But in my grown up version, I'm not trying keep daddy from waking, I'm trying to keep baby from waking.

You see, recently its come to my attention that my 8 month old son will only sleep for long periods of time if his bedroom door is open.

WIIIIIIIIIIIIIDE OPEN.
_
I'm not sure why this is.....probably because I'm is Mommy and he knows it makes my life harder.

Whatever the reason, I can't shut the door at night without him waking up.

It could be open for hours and he'll sleep wonderfully but THE SECOND you close the door that pathetic, ear splitting wail can be heard across town.

So last night (this is where my connection to the 90s board game comes in), as I'm heading for bed I catch myself tiptoeing past my child's bedroom.

I'm not talking about just a quiet step down the hall here. I'm telling you, this walk looked like something straight from a cartoon.

Arched back, bent knees, hands out for balance....everything.

Every step was perfectly placed. Every sound earned a glare. And every coo from my beautiful children had me whipping my head around so fast I worried about whiplash.

All the while the jingle from that blasted commercial was on repeat in my head.

♪ ♫ "Shhhh....Don't. Wake. Baby."♫ ♪

I'm not sure when I started playing this challenging (and sometimes deadly) late night game.

But I do know that every night I get to experience the same emotions my childhood self did when watching a television advertisement for a board game.

Right down to the pride and the high five given when you've successfully made it past daddy without stepping on a thing.

And people say the there's no thrill in being a stay at home mom.

 
 
While I was going through the check-out line at my local grocery store this weekend, I just happened (Ok, ok. I troll those tabloids like I'm getting paid for it) to notice this...
Now, usually, I try not to get too upset by what these tabloids say. I may troll them but I know that the majority of what they contain is rumor and hog-wash. But for some reason this really bothered me.

In my own life and the lives of most of my friends I'm all for taking the easiest (cheapest) road when it comes to baby things. After all, even the cutest little outfit and blanket set is just going to get covered in poop and spit up on the first time you put it on anyway.
_So why pay more than you have to for it?

But come on. These women have both worked their asses off (literally and figuratively speaking) to have this kind of money. Why are we judging them because they wanna spend some (or lots) on their kids?

Granted, the article itself was written in a happy, up-beat tone; but the way it read to me was almost like it was trying to make us readers gasp in horror at the amount of money these ladies have wrapped up in baby things.

So what?

Us "normal people" may not have upwards of $10,000 to spend on crib bedding and nursery decor but you can bet your butt that if I did my baby's bedroom would look like it belonged in Buckingham Palace. 
And honestly? I would probably have it completely redone for every stage my baby went through (baby, toddler, etc).

I take my hat off to both of them.

They are only doing what every other parent in the world would love to do; blow billions of dollars on their children.

 
 
Over the last week I have learned a valuable lesson...we would NEVER get back our security deposit if my husband were in charge of cleaning. 

I never knew how fast a man and 2 young cubs could trash a house. You think a Fraternity party can get ugly? Nah. Swing open the door to my den and you'd think for sure that we hibernated through a killer party.

*Que explosion sound effects*  
A good friend once referred to this "messy man syndrome" as a tornado. Well, my Papa bear is exactly that type of tornado, he leaves little pieces of himself everywhere in his path. And (always the great role model) he has proceeded in teaching my boys this same art of mess making...which they have already perfected.

I wonder what would happen if I staged a strike? I picture it being exactly like the movie "Moms on Strike". Just a lot more confusion and a few messy diapers thrown in.

However, I can't dis dear ol' Papa Bear completely. When he decides to step up, the man can step up! You should see my bathroom, WOO HOO! I walked in and could LITERALLY hear the Halleluiah Chorus. The smell of Pine Sol was never so lovely...
The point I'm trying to make is that if it weren't for constantly going along behind everyone's back and picking up (Usually the items that were just picked up 5 mins ago...), this place would look like the day after a great kegger....minus the booze and naked women.

It's all good though. In the depths of my closet are some markers and a piece of poster board. If my dishes don't get done tonight, this may not end well...

 
 
As a stay at home mother of 2 young cubs I've found that the most stimulating conversation I get these days pertains to what I'm making for lunch or which toys to take into the bathtub.

So when I find an opportunity, which isn't often, to use words longer than four or five letters in length, I jump....mostly onto facebook (no judgements please, we all have our vices).

_Unfortunately for me (and for thousands of other mothers who attempt to keep the peace in their families) facebook isn't the greatest place to vent about your mother-in-laws' annoying habits or to express your true feelings about a good friends' new baby-daddy....all things I will get into on future posts, I promise you.

Therefore, I came here.

A space all my own. Where I can (attempt) to drown out all the screaming, the crying, and the never ending questions for at least one day a week. ( And don't let me forget the jumping in and out of my chair every 30 seconds because somebody needs me. Again, another topic for another post.)
I hope you'll find my future posts to be entertaining and consider sticking around each week as I lay my life out there in my own words. It's not something I'm used to doing but I figure if my friends can find my stories fun to listen to then others may find them interesting to read.

Lord knows, with all the things that happen in this house on a daily basis I have plenty of material to write about.