I am a yogi

The definition of yogi is "one who practices yoga".  Or, in other circles, "An American baseball player, born 1925".  Today, I'm writing about the former.  I'll most likely never write about the latter (no offense, Yogi).

Obviously, there is a lot of information out there about yoga.  And I'm sure most of it is true.  Even if it is on the Internet.  I believe yoga is whatever you want it to be.  For me, it's a way to challenge myself physically, while helping me find ways to reduce my stress level.  While I understand there's an "awareness of your inner self" component, I had never, um, been aware.

I've been practicing yoga religiously since that first class I took 2 years ago.   I can now say with conviction that yoga is my thing.  It's challenging and relaxing at the same time.  It's exactly what someone like me needs. 

While I practice regularly at home, I like to take classes.  About a year ago, I found a yoga studio I truly love.  I go with friends, I go alone.  I just go.  I go to class with a few friends every Saturday morning.  It's early, but that's what's so great about it.  We come, we see, we conquer.  And then go for Starbucks after.  Bliss. 

Anyway, my studio partnered with some others in the area to put on this free yoga event last night.  So, my SIL and I decided we'd go.  Along with several hundreds of our closest yogi friends.  When would we have the chance again to practice outside the Rock Hall for free?

It was everything I had hoped for.  I know I'm totally drinking the Kool-Aid here, but I don't care.  We started out in shavasana, looking up at the stars.  My SIL and I were all, "Yeah, this is the coolest."  I closed my eyes and listened to the world around me.  I heard crickets and traffic and the wind blowing.  I got the goosebumps.  I was aware.

At one point in the evening, our instructor referred to us as yogis.  Before this night, I just thought of myself as someone who practices yoga.  But something switched on inside me (again, the Kool-Aid) and I agreed with her.  I am a yogi.

The rest of the class was similar to what we do.  Aside from me taking pictures of the crowd while in downward dog.  Details.  It was an event I'll have a hard time forgetting.  Even with my terrible memory.

I am a yogi.              

How I spent my summer vacation

I just had to tell my 8-year-old niece to be aware of her lady bits.  At.  All.  Times.

What is this world coming to?

And so marks the end of another fun summer!  School starts in 2 days, which means we have 2 days to cram as much fun into their little systems as can be allowed without a search warrant.

First stop?  The dentist!  Yaaaaaay!!

Okay, this was probably the crappiest thing I could've done to my boys this summer.  But, they'll thank me for it someday. 

The other night, I synced my phone to the computer, moving about 300 pictures from my phone to the computer.  And then I looked at the pictures.

You know what?  It was a pretty fun summer.  Go me!

I mean, yeah, we had some crappy weather and some lazy days, but we did do stuff.  I have pictures of the kids:

at the zoo
at the beach
at the pool
in DC 
on a scavenger hunt at the nature center
at the beach (again)
on a hike, feeding ducks
at the water park
putt-putting
running through Target like crazy people
at the zoo (again) (and again)
on the slip-n-slide
eating ice cream
on a day trip to Put-in-Bay (an island on Lake Erie about 3 miles off the mainland)
an African safari!

It was a fun summer.  They might not remember it, but I sure will.  It will keep me warm on those cold lonely nights at the old folks' home.

But now we must look ahead.  School supplies have been bought (and are sitting in a pile on my dining room table).  The 5-year-old has Kindergarten orientation Wednesday, but school technically starts for him on Friday.

Sigh.  I'm going to have a hard time letting go of that one.  He's my youngest.  And, to me, he's still a baby.  It probably has to do with the fact that he can't say his Rs properly and would still prefer I wipe his ass (let's face it, I'm better at it).  And while he has a great Kindergarten teacher, she's. not. me.

So, yeah.  This sucks.

But?  I am looking forward to my Twilight marathon!    

Coolest Mom in the World!

Remember when I told you about my history with Super Mario Bros?  Well, the Coolest Mom in the World strikes again!

Picture it: 
It is morning.  Our Wednesday visitor shows up before my children wake.  We chat for about a half hour (he's a talker, that one; cracks me up).  I ask if he wants to play Wii.

Turns out the kids' new (old) game to play is Super Mario Bros (again).  Yay!  I know this game!

We turn it on.  He plays a round.  I tell him my history with the game.  How I've beaten the game.

Him (wide eyed):  You've beaten this game??
Me (solemnly):  Yes.  Yes, I did.
Him:  Whoa!

Yes, that's right.  I'm amazing because I've beaten a Nintendo game.  I can die happy now.

Then I play a round for him.  I'm dodging mushroom guys left and right!  I'm getting extra lives he doesn't know exist!  I'm getting 5,000 points just by jumping the flag correctly! 

I.  Rock.  It. 

The kid is enthralled.  I love this kid.  My kids don't think I'm nearly as cool.  They usually roll their eyes any time I try to show off my awesomeness.  Not this kid.  He is immensely impressed. 

I think I'd like to keep him as one of my own.  I'm pretty sure his mom won't mind.

Finally, my lazy ones come down the stairs.  They go to the basement, as usual.  Our visitor tells them what I have just accomplished.  (To be fair, I only got to somewhere in the 5th level, but still.  They haven't gotten that far.)

I'm upstairs in the kitchen, listening to his tale.  A lot of "She did this!" and "She did that!"  They were all, "She did?!"  It?  Was fantastic. 

I wonder if they give you a tiara for Coolest Mom or is it just a T-shirt?

Playing house

Yesterday, while I was evoking arthritis in the fingers making friendship bracelets, the kids abandoned me and went outside to play in the rain.  As I was intent on (read:  could not stop) the task at hand, I paid little to no attention to them.

Finally, I looked up to relieve the neck cramp I'd gotten from being hunched over for 8 hours straight and saw the children outside, struggling with a full bucket of soapy water.  They were lugging it over to the play set.  Also with a stack full of (clean white) washcloths.  In the 8-year-old's defense, I believe I granted permission, but what do I know?  I was trying not to mess up my bracelet.

What were they doing, you ask?

Cleaning their play set. 

They have been playing "Little House on the Prairie" for days now and the play set has become their log cabin.  So, they washed it, like any good adult does (not this adult, but hey, whatever).  It was so adorable, I had to stop my bracelet-making (which was going horribly wrong anyway) to watch.  The awesome neighbors' kids were over, too.  Imagine a 2-year-old with a dirty (yet soapy) towel, washing down a slide. 

A.Dor.Able.  

8-year-old:  I never knew it was this fun to clean.
Me:  Oh?  If you're looking for something to clean...
8-year-old:  I mean, with water and stuff. 

If they're this excited about cleaning, I'll give them things to clean.  With water even!  They have a perfectly cleanable bathroom upstairs just waiting for them.

Hey, kids?  Where'd you go?

One reason I don't have girls

I always assumed I'd have girls.  Or, at least one girl.  Someone to play Barbies with, someone whose nails I could paint, someone whose hair I could French braid (I can do a wicked French braid).  Someone to play dress up with.

(Okay, I admit I played dress up with the 8-year-old when he was 6 months old.  He looked... like a boy in a dress.  It wasn't as much fun as I thought it'd be.  [And, don't tell him I did that.])

So, God had other plans for me.  He gave me the boys, he gave my brother the girls.  I find it quite amusing that my brother has all girls.  Beautiful, beautiful girls.  My brother, in his youth, was quite mean to the girls.  He's a good looking guy and all the girls liked him.  And he was kind of a dick to all of them.  In return, he liked the one girl who was a dick to him.  Go figure.

Anyway, at least I have my nieces to play dress up with and French braid their hair.  I am fortunate enough to spend a lot of time with my nieces during the week and indulge my inner girlie girl.

Today, friendship bracelets were on the agenda.  Remember these things?



They were all the rage when I was a kid.  I remember I spent an entire summer making these with my friends.  They, like us, were pretty awesome.  So, I got a little excited when I told her we could make these.

And then I tried to remember how to make them.

My niece has a Friendship Bracelet KIT.  A kit.  When I was a kid, we'd just go up to the local craft store and buy tons of different colored thread and make up our own designs.  Nowadays, kids can't think on their own, so you have to tell them, in detail, how to do everything.  What could come in this kit other than the thread, I thought.

Instructions!

As with most instructions, I felt I was reading Chinese.  What the hello is a number 4 knot?  I consulted our good friend, YouTube.  Okay, now I knew what a number 4 knot.  Back to the instructions.

Make a backwards number 4 knot.

Ugh.  I don't remember it being this hard.  My bracelet looks like dreadlocks on a white person.  Just a tangled mess that no amount of conditioner will help.  Just, no.  Give me an epic Lego battle any day.  Let's blow fake shit up.  Why can't we just make normal braided bracelets?

I can even French braid it!              

A rainy day at our house

So, that muthafucka Mother Nature screwed me again yesterday.  I had all kinds of fun outdoor activities planned for us.  Instead, the skies opened and vomited rain all over my fun.

Pretty picture?  Imagine how I felt.

We started off the day with a failed science experiment I got from my good friend, Pinterest.  In theory, it should've worked.  I understood the science behind it.  I explained the science behind it.  The kids were excited to help.  But, after it didn't do what I said it would do, they quickly lost (P)interest.  So much for that. 

Then came the rain.  At first, it consisted of a few big fat drops.  Those?  Are fun.  I pushed (with force) cajoled the children into staying outside during this period.  These kids are turning into pansies.  I mean, who doesn't have fond memories of playing in the rain?

After some time, they realized the error of their ways and I thoroughly enjoyed watching them (from the safety of the front porch [there comes an age when getting wet isn't fun anymore, mIright?]) ride their bikes, splashing through puddles.

The weather, of course, got worse, so we had to come inside.  That meant 5 obnoxiously loud (I love them individually, but, altogether?  They are loud.) children were running amok through the house.

My solution?

A movie.

You bet I did.  In my defense, I had 5 children running amok in the house.  Enough said.

And then came the fun part.  After the movie was over and the young one went down for a nap, I made the older kids do homework.

Heh.

I bet Mother Nature will think twice next time about messing up my children's day.     



 

It's the final countdown

So, we're 2 weeks away from the first day of school.  What the what happened to our summer??  Remember when I had all these big ideas for the Hap Hap Happiest Summer.  Ever?  Yeeeaahh... next time I promise something idiotic like that, I'll have to check the summer weather forecast.  While we've had some superfun days, with the rain and cooler temperatures, it hasn't been the summer of our dreams. 

But, what's done is done.  And now we have to switch gears and get into back-to-school mode.  We'll still play hard, but we'll have to work hard, too.  Remember when the principal said our kids get stupid over summer?  Well, I'm not letting that happen, nosiree.  I've been playing on Pinterest researching ideas to get the kids back to thinking.  Math games!  Writing prompts!  Science scavenger hunts! 

I?  Am awesome.

And?  Someday, they'll thank me.  Right now?  Notsomuch.

I'll admit I am secretly looking forward to the kids going back to school.  With the 5-year-old starting Kindergarten (all-day!), I'll have several hours to myself during the day for the first time in 9 years.  I won't even know what to do with all this free time.

I can do any and all of the following:

1.  Run.  Every.  Single.  Morning. 
2.  Write a blog post daily.
3.  Clean behind the refrigerator and stove.
4.  Rearrange my sock drawer according to color and use.
5.  Read an entire book in a day.
6.  Get a haircut.  And color!
7.  Make a delicious, well-balanced meal, using nothing processed or packaged.

What I most likely will do:

1.  Watch all 5 of the Twilight movies in a day.
2.  Rush around, tidying up the house, removing all traces of the snacks I've eaten over the course of the day.
3.  Shower.
4.  Make pasta for dinner.  With a bag of carrots as a vegetable.
5.  After helping with homework and putting the children to bed, complain about how tired I am.

It's going to be great!

   

A battle between good and lazy

You guys?  Parenting is hard.  I love them both so much, sometimes I think my hugs will pop their heads clean off.  And, of course, I worry all the time that we're doing a terrible job and, someday, it's all going to come back and bite us in the ass.   

We have good days, bad days and Epic Fail days around my house.  It's a slippery slope we're on every single day.  Who knows what kind of humans we're molding?  A day can change everything.  They're either going to cure cancer and, in honor, name the cure after us or blame us for everything wrong in their lives, put us in a dilapidated nursing home and NEVER.  SEE.  US.  AGAIN.  Or... you know, something in the middle.  The most we can hope for is that they turn out to be a better version of us.

And maybe they'll visit me at a (bright, happy) nursing home on Mother's Day.

Yesterday, the planets aligned and we had one of those days where, if Parenting were a class, I would've gotten an A.

Okay, A-/B+.

It started off like any other day.  We woke, we ate, we watched TV played enriching games to stimulate their brilliant minds.  My brother was in town this weekend, so we invited the family over for brunch.

While we were busy getting the food together, the boys started fighting over The Blanket.  This is the coveted blanket in our house.  Everyone wants it.  So, last Christmas, I bought us another Blanket to end the fighting.  Unfortunately, my little monsters took the second blanket to the basement and now there's only one on the main floor.

Me (to 8-year-old):  Go downstairs and get the red one.
Him:  NO.
Me:  Uh, yes.
Him:  NO.  No, no, no, no, no!

Oh, I wasn't having any of that shit this morning.

Me:  Either go downstairs and get the blanket or go to your room.
Him:  (nothing.)

Then the husband stepped in.

I love my darling husband.  Really, I do.  But, he has a tendency to, um, overpromise and underdeliver on threats.  For example, he'll say things like, "Do it or you're grounded for a month."  And then let the kid off the hook an hour later because it's haaaaaarrrd to enforce punishments.

Now, it's no secret I lazy parent.  I love my boys more than anything, but I admit I have a hard time staying engaged.  There's only so many Epic Battles Mommy can have a day.  Aaaand Mommy likes her Facebook and Pinterest.

I'm all for extreme punishments when warranted.  You intentionally cut your little brother with a shiv you've made out of a Lego piece?  You get points for creativity, but you're grounded (and may require possible stint with a child psychologist for anger management).  But, grounded for a month for not doing me a favor?  Probably not.  

Anyway, the husband stepped in and grounded the 8-year-old.  For the entire day.  Mostly because the 8-year-old kept talking back.

(finger wagging) Oh no, he di'n't.

So, fine.  Kid was grounded for the day.  And guess what?  We enforced it!  All!  Day!  (fist pump!) He was allowed to eat (and even then, it was only bread and water, damit), but he stayed in his room all day.  I even made him start on continue his summer homework!  Of course, this probably wasn't a good idea in retrospect (hence, the B+ grade I've given myself), because I don't want him to associate homework with punishment.  But, he likes to write (love that about him!), so I had him write about his favorite summer day.

Surprisingly, he didn't pick this day.

At 5:00, we let him have his freedom, as promised.  Lately, I've been trying to instill the idea of "good choices".  After talking it over, he agreed that he probably made a poor decision by not helping me out and would do it differently if he could.

Score:  Good Parenting 1, Lazy Parenting 0.

While Kid #1 was in prison, I invited Kid #2 to take a bike ride with me.  My 5-year-old has worn the training wheels on his bike to the metal.  To add to that, he doesn't even use them.  Every once in a while, you'll hear the metal scrape of those wheels as he rides.

Me (to 5-year-old):  Let's take the training wheels off.
Him:  No.
(side note:  why was everything a no today?!)
Me:  Yes.  Let's just try it.  If you don't like it, we'll put them back on.  (Read:  We are NEVER putting them back on.)
Him (after thinking for a minute):  Okay.

Enter husband (because I don't know how to use tools).  He took the wheels off, pushed the 5-year-old to get him going and off went the 5-year-old into the wild blue yonder!

Me:  Wait!  Come back!

We took a ride around the block.  The kid is a natural.  He strut around the house like a rooster, telling everyone, "I can wide a two wheelew."

Score:  Good Parenting 2, Lazy Parenting 0.

Today, on the other hand, started off good.  We played a couple math games (no, really!) and several rounds of Uno, but then it all fell to shit because I?  Touched the computer.

Now, the children are running amok and I'm too engrossed in my story here to bother with it.

5-year-old:  Mom, can I have some milk?
Me (distracted):  Sure.  You're big enough to lug the 2-gallon jug off the top shelf of the fridge, right?  And then pour into a cup, right?  No?  Well, be creative.

So:

1.  5-year-old (in PJs too small for him) loudly dragging kitchen chair across the room to fridge (me giving him the stink eye for interrupting my train of thought).
2.  Can't open fridge door because chair is in the way.
3.  Pulls back chair.
4.  Opens fridge door.
5.  Pushes chair back.
6.  Grabs 2-gallon jug of milk.
7.  Drops 2-gallon jug of milk.
8.  2 gallons of milk everywhere.

Okay, that's not what really happened.  However, I've been in front of the computer a while and it's awfully quiet around here.  I should go looking for them...

Score:  Good Parenting 0, Lazy Parenting 1,000,001