USAUSAUSA

August 10, 2012

Like every other person, I have been watching the Olympics every night. I know some people have complained about the whole prime time set up, but I love it. I have kids. I have limited time. We tried the whole,” It’s the OLYMPICS kids! Let’s leave the TV on all day and be patriotic and support our team!” It lasted about 3 hours and ended with me getting mad because people NEEDED STUFF while I was trying to focus. The nerve. And Scott running through the house shirtless with a machine gun firing in the air chant screaming, “USA USA USA.” If  we showed you a video of it, you would swear we were raising a terrorist.

Back to my point. As I have watched the incredible awesomeness of the competitors while eating my nightly dessert, I always inevitably turn to Mike and say, “I just… I can’t believe it. How do they work so hard for so many years for one thing?” It is truly amazing. I mean just the abs alone are feat. And I noticed in every interview the athletes always say, ” (insert sport) makes me happy. I LOVE it. I am so happy.” (the exception might be the Russian gymnasts that constantly look like they are about to cry.) It makes me happy that they are happy. To sacrifice so much you would hope you would sacrifice for something that enriches your life and truly brings happiness. Which made me think. Why do we so often make choices that lead us to an end result that will not make us happy? That won’t bring us joy or enrich our lives? Why do I have days that I make little choices that add up and at the end of the day I look back and go UGH? I know I am not perfect. I know I will always have those days. But it just has made me think about what does make me happy. What choices do I need to make everyday to achieve my personal “happiness”? What choices am I making that are pulling me away from where I want to be instead of bringing me closer? I have the same hours in a day as everyone else. We all get to choose how we use those hours.

 

These people make me pretty happy.

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Girls have Virginias

July 26, 2012

Soooo… It was an interesting night….

So far, my stance on sex ed has been on a need-to-know basis. If a question is asked, I answer it honestly. I have been asked, “Where do babies come out of your belly?” And I have answered. So far, no one has asked how a baby gets IN your belly. Last night, the boys were being boys and hiding a bouncy ball spasticly from each other while the other one guessed where it was, of course the it soon ended up hiding in underwear. They started yelling something about PP’s (our short cut for penis) then they just started full on yelling PENIS! PENIS! My mistake was intervening…

Me: Guys, penis isn’t a bad word, but it is a private word. It isn’t something that I want you to run around yelling because you are talking about your super private areas and we don’t talk about our private bodies with people that aren’t the 4 of us. Got it?

Boys: GOT IT!

Nate: Girls don’t have pp’s.

Me: Nope they don’t.

Scott: What do girls call their private areas?

Me: (deep breath, stay natural, deep breath) Girls call their private area vagina.

Silence

Nate: Girls have a VIRGINIA! That is so funny! It is like a VIRGINIA!

Scott: (cracking up) Oh man, virginia! VIRGINIA!!!!

Me: (having a deep internal battle, do I let it go? Because how hilarious is this?!) Guys, chill out. The word is vagina and it is also a private word, so please QUIT SCREAMING ABOUT IT!

I am sure this will be repeated in public sometime soon so put earmuffs on your kids if you frequent Target and Whole Foods.

Speaking of Virginias

Nate decided to turn into a 14 yr old girl for about 30 minutes. Some how in the bath tub, Scott’s eye got scratched and he was “going blind” so I quickly got both the kids out to ease the drama. To set the scene, No one was in trouble. I didn’t yell. I just said, “Time to get out.”

Nate: (laying on the ground with his head in his hands fake crying) I need a new family! No one in this family loves me. I am going to live with a family that likes me.

Me: Umm, Nate, what just happened here? No one is upset at you.

Nate: I want to live with a new mom and a new family. None of you love me. Everyone is mean to me. 

Me: I am so confused right now. What is going on? 

Nate: (fake whimpering)

Me: (time to change tactics) Nate, if you had a new mom, she wouldn’t know your secret handshake… I would be so sad if I didn’t have you.

Nate: (looking up with dramatic eyes) I can teach it to her (and I am not kidding he really said this…) DUH!

Me: Okay, well, I would love to read to you before you go to bed, but if you want to lay in my closet and be sad, that is up to you. PS, I hope you don’t go to a new family, we would be super sad.

Nate: Ughhhhhhh….. (comes out 10 minutes later and acted like nothing happened)

RANDOM.

I really hope he doesn’t start turning into a 14 yr old girl very often, because I was really excited to have boys and skip all that drama. 

PS Vagina is a super creepy word and so are all the other words to use instead of vagina so feel free to just start saying Virginia because I definitely will be. 

Never a dull moment. Ever.

Crazyville

July 22, 2011

I had my first kindergarten panic attack last night. Okay, panic attack is a strong word (or two). I had my first kindergarten stress out.

As the the school year is getting closer to beginning, I am feeling overwhelmed with what needs to be done or ordered or picked up or attended or signed up for. I was lying in bed stressing out that I didn’t know if they started soccer in kindergarten or not and if so, how do I sign up and did I miss the sign up and why haven’t I received any info about it and I ordered uniform shirts last week, why aren’t they here yet, what if they get here and don’t fit and I don’t have time to order more before school, and what about tennis shoes, are they allowed and if so, does it matter the color? AND why even after I unsubscribe, do people keep spamming me?! 

And then Nate woke up with fever at 1 am as I was finally falling asleep. As I have mentioned previously, Nate being sick is so so so not fun. Like really not fun. (I am really mad at myself for letting the nurse talk me into 3 vaccinations instead of my usual limit of 2. I blame her. Okay, I blame me. Holy Nuts, I really want to blame someone else.) Tack on to that, through a series of unfortunate events between myself, Scott and Nate, we have had 6 doctor visits in the last two weeks. With 2 more scheduled for next week, put that in your co-pay pipe and smoke it. This entire paragraph is has nothing to do with my story, I just felt like whining and now I will never mention it again. Mike has been out of town all week so I haven’t had anyone around to tell me to TACP (oh yea, I am bringing back Take A Chill Pill). Since he is out of town, I attended my first official new school event solo. I am convinced that is where my freak out began. New school, new people, walking in… alone (well, with a five year old that immediately ditched me to play with kids… some wing man ;)) I spiraled from there.

Mike comes home tonight. I miss my real wingman and I really need someone that loves me to talk me down. I hope he reads this so he can mentally prepare himself to walk into Crazyville.

Fried Egg and Boy Mom

July 17, 2011

We tried to fry an egg on the street this week. It didn’t work, but we had fun watching it and discussing how IF it does fry, how will we peel it off the ground and eat it with out eating gravel. 

I “learned” how to sew. For my birthday, I asked for a sewing machine and a weekly sewing lesson from my mom. My mom is letting me use her old machine and after my first lesson I decided to attempt my first project. Project Sundress. I sewed the armholes shut. TWICE. I will embrace my seam ripper and forge ahead. 

 We also had this gem of a convo in the car:

(we had been talking about job’s and working and why I don’t go to work and Mike said, “Your mom is a very hard worker. Staying at home and taking care of our family is the hardest job around.”)

Nate: When I get to be a grown up and I have babies, I want to be a mom at home too. Because mom’s at home work really hard.

Scott: You can’t be a mom. You’re a boy. 

Nate: When I grow up I want to be a mom.

Scott: You are always a boy. When you grow you will be a dad.

Me (attempting to be pc): Well, maybe when Nate grows up he will be a dad that stays at home with his kids.

Scott: If Nate stays at home instead of working, his family won’t have any money. And then they won’t have food and clothes (and a million other things)

Me: Wellll, maybe Nate will stay at home and be a dad and Nate’s wife will go to work.

Stunned Silence (we obviously have a super diverse group of friends that embrace all sorts of different lifestyles)

Mike: NO NO NO… The boys in our family go to work. Boys, do you hear me? Lyon boys go to work. There is nothing wrong with other dads staying at home, but you will work. 

Scott and Nate: YEA!

Mike: Repeat after me…. WHEN I GROW UP, I WILL GO TO WORK. I WILL WORK HARD. I AM A LYON AND I WILL WORK.

Scott and Nate from the back seat: I WILL WORK! WOOHOO! I AM A LYON BOY! 

Let the brain washing begin.

PS I also figured out how to use my instagram app. I am obsessed.

My Business Gun

June 11, 2011

Ooooohhh the conversations I get to over hear as a mom are the best. Nate has gotten very into pretending and his conversations with himself are alone hilarious, but when Scott gets in on the pretend play it gets even funnier. This is from two days ago….

Apparently, Scott was the dad and Nate was the baby… Please join me in prayer that Scott’s parenting skills improve.

Scott: OH, hi baby.

Nate: Hi Dad.

Scott: Okay, baby, I am going to do business now. You stay in the tent.

Nate: Okay daddy.

Scott: Oh, woops, I forgot my business gun. Now baby…. Don’t leave the tent while I am gone. Look at me! Don’t leave the tent while I am gone!

Nate: OKAY!

Scott: (exits tent and turns back around) DON’T LEAVE THE TENT! I’VE GOT MY EYE ON YOU BABY!

Nate: (silence)

Scott: Baby?

Nate: What?

Scott: Stay in the tent.

(Scott starts faux shooting and apparently taking care of his business with business gun)

Scott: You are a bad baby.

Nate: (fake crying)

Scott: You are now in time out FOREVER!

Nate: (fake cry) Okay daddy. I am so sorry.

THE END

Are you reading this wondering why I was letting Scott talk like that to Nate? Well, firstly, I was curious how the scene would play out. Secondly, they were getting along. NEVER interrupt a happy play session. Never. ever.

Kinda Happy Kinda Sad

May 19, 2011

Me: Scott, how do you feel about school almost being out?

Scott: Well, I am kinda happy and I am kinda sad. I am happy because I will get to do lots of fun stuff with you and Nate. I am sad because I will miss my friends.

Me: Me too buddy. I am kinda happy and kinda sad.

It is surreal that tomorrow is his last day of preschool. Forever. I am so excited for summer. I love summer anyway, but this summer feels extra special because in August everything changes. I am kinda happy about the changes and kinda sad. Not to get all Lifetime movieish, but I just want to soak it all in this summer. I don’t want to rush any where. I want to read books all morning, go on adventures in the afternoon, eat dinner as a family, play outside past bedtime and go to bed tired. I feel pretty lucky that those are my main goals for the summer.

I made this list randomly the other day as a things-to-do-when-we-feel-like-we-have-nothing-to-do days. I am on the fence about camping. I could be talked into it….maybe. Same with #4. I KID. I think church has been on my to do list for about 3 yrs. I like to just keep it there constantly taunting me than to actually do something about .

Lastly, this is the most hilarious paragraph to ever be written. I crack up every time I read it to the kids.

Drunk Sick

May 4, 2011

Enter into a party underway and find the following:

1. The Fun Drunk

2. The Sweet Huggy Mellow Drunk

3. The Angry Drunk

4. The Insecure Needy Drunk (you know, that girl crying in a corner)

5. The Drunk That Keeps Talking about How Drunk They Are

6. The Drunk that Denies They are Drunk

7. The Drunk that Starts Spelling Stuff (you know who you are)

8. The Lazy Drunk (that guy sitting in the corner with glazed eyes watching everyone)

9. The Drunk that Tries to Make Out with Everyone

I have decided that sick people fall into the exact same categories (with the exception of #1 and #9). I used to be the sick person that lived in denial. “I’m not sick, I just have a 103.9 degree fever and my throat hurts. I am just gonna work through it.” Now, I have realized that being sick is the only time I actually have the excuse to do as little as p0ssible so I have moved on to #8. I turn on the TV with out guilt. Let my kids eat what they want, leave dinner and every household chore to Mike and lay in bed watching Hulu as much as I can. I only get sick about once or twice a year so might as well get caught up on all the random shows I never watch.

My kids are sick this week.

Scott is the sweet precious angel sick kid that lays on the couch wrapped up in a blanket that says stuff like, “(sniffle, sniffle) Mom, do you think I can watch a show since I can’t move my legs very well?” and “I would give you a kiss Mom, but I don’t want to spread my germs to you.” He is the sick kid that you want to pamper and let eat ice cream for dinner. He’s a #2.

Nate is a #3 with a little bit of #4 thrown in to make sure you can never get anything done. He screams and hits and throws stuff if you don’t bring him what he wants. He wants you to read but wants to watch TV and play on the ipod at the same time and when you quit ready since he isn’t really listening he has a freak out (this is where the hitting and screaming enters). He wants everything and nothing and the second you make the oatmeal he asked you for he is screaming at you that he wanted GRANOLA AND MILK and when you give him the granola and milk (after you explained that it will hurt his throat but he insisted upon anyway) he will start screaming at you that his throat hurts and he wants YOGURT, when you get him the yogurt, he will dump it in the granola and milk and on the floor and then scream that he wants more, when you say “No, you just wasted an entire container.” he will hit you. He is the sick kid that you have to force yourself to feel sorry for.

Gotta go Angry Sick Kid is attacking Sleepy Sick Kid.