Facebook, it's not you, it's me

I'm taking a break from Facebook and it might kill me.

It's not that I think Facebook is inherently bad, because I don't. In fact, I just read about how Christians should be on Facebook. If I were a normal person, my Facebook experience would be a little something like this:
"Oh look, Suzy is pregnant again! And John is posting his lunch! And Sally is posting some sort of acronym that I suspect is related to Crossfit! I am happy to know what all my friends are doing!"

But I'm not so normal, so instead my Facebook experience is more like that:
"Holy crap, Suzy's having another kid! Should I have another kid? No, probably not a good plan. Come on John! Do we all need to see a picture of your lunch? No we don't. Get a hobby. Hey Crossfit people! No one know what it means when you say you Rx'd a WOD! Can we not just talk in normal words? Or put your weird voodoo terms on a Crossfit site! Gahh!"

And maybe because my husband travels and my family lives on the other side of the country and I'm a little lonely, or maybe because I just need to find more to do, I am on Facebook a lot. It's on my phone, it's on my computer, and it's on my Kindle, so if I'm bored, I'm on. And then I turn into a crazy person who worries about the excruciating minutiae that people post. Does Mary have an eating disorder? She keeps posting about her diet. Why does Tommy say cryptic things like "worried." Worried about what? I must know. Someone else is posting another rabble-rousing article espousing the virtues of extended breastfeeding. Should I get involved? Will she hate me if she knows how long I breastfed (answer: not very).

And so I forced myself to take a Facebook break. To be honest, I miss it and I don't. I feel a bit like I'm missing everything that's going on. There might be a huge social media crisis happening RIGHT NOW and I'm missing it! I also miss "talking" to people. Because honestly, as sad as this may be, sometimes that's the only time in a day I talk to adults.

But I don't miss the drama. The intentional rabble-rousing posts about politics or attachment parenting, the endless Harlem shake videos, the pleas to vote for your baby in the Gerber cutest baby contests, and the pictures of your meals. So I think when I go back, I'll be on way less frequently. Hopefully once a day, lest I turn into crazy Facebook drama lady.

How much time do you spend on Facebook? Do you get caught up in the drama too?

My baby drank Windex and other things that should probably concern me

Yeah...so....New Baby drank Windex this morning. And not in the cute April Fool's Day trick where you fill up a Windex bottle with blue Gatorade. She had a gulp of the real deal.

It's pretty much all my fault, as are all child-related failures. She was a holy terror this morning (did I mention she just turned 2? That fact probably helps explain the rest of the story) and I left her in my bedroom to deal with Captain Destructo's bathroom issues. I also left the Windex and dusting polish that I had just finished using in my bedroom. After dealing with the potty, I forgot that New Toddler was unsupervised with cleaning products and threw a load of laundry in the washer. Upon returning to my room to change out of my stained sweats, I found her. On the bed. Holding a bottle of Windex with the top off. Sporting a blue mustache.

I promptly said the s-word. I try not to cuss, but I figured if anything warrants an s-bomb, it's when one of your kids drinks something with a skull and crossbones on the label. I grabbed my phone to call poison control, who pretty much said "meh." Not in those exact words, but it turns out a gulp of Windex won't really hurt. He informed me that I should watch for vomiting. I said "what do I do if she vomits?" and he said "take her to the doctor" in the same voice you would use when telling your 4 year old to get her shoes for the 17th time. She wasn't vomiting, and mostly seemed mad that I took her bottle of Windex away. I offered her milk and cookies and she took them. Okay, I thought. Drinking Windex is not the end of the world. We ended up at the gym later, and it occurred to me that I should warn the childcare providers that she may vomit Windex. Fortunately for all of us she never did.

Thinking back, I called poison control for Captain Destructo several times. Once when she sucked on the dispenser of some antibacterial soap and once when she licked a Chlorox wipe (it's starting to occur to me I should supervise my children better). In both instances, they just said to watch her for vomiting. She never got sick. I'm starting to think that all the warning labels on the back of cleaning products are a bunch of fear-mongering.

One of the saddest parts of this story is that I'm on a self-imposed Facebook fast, which is a different story for a different day. You know what's Facebook gold? A status discussing the various cleaning products your children have ingested. If I'm lucky, she'll drink something else at the end of the month and I'll have something to talk about.

So, how about you out there? What's the weirdest thing your kids have eaten?

Helping Others

Do you ever look around and think "what am I doing with my life?"

I've been doing a lot of that lately.

God's been stirring something in me for a few months now. I'm not an unhappy person. I consider myself blessed beyond belief. 10 years ago, I could never imagined having a life as wonderful as mine is now.

And yet.

What am I doing with it? I mean, really, when I am gone from this world, when I am standing before Jesus in eternity and we're looking back over my life, He's going to say "welp, you had a beautiful family and some nice stuff. Great."

I have a burning desire lately to serve more. To do more for His kingdom. To do as Jesus said and love widows and orphans, and feed the hungry and clothe the naked and visit the imprisoned. To be His hands and feet. I've been praying that He will show me how. For the past few weeks I've been hearing Him say "Go, sell your possesions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven." Ok, I thought. Just sell my stuff? And then I'm good? This anxious, uncomfortable feeling that permanently resides just under my sternum will go away? I can totally do that. Here you go, poor people! Here's my old clothes I don't want anymore. Good thing there's an Old Navy right here next to Goodwill so I can get new stuff!

Through a friend of a friend, I heard about the book 7 by Jen Hatmaker. And oh my goodness is all I can say. It totally has opened my eyes to the wastefulness in my life and my children's lives. People are starving in the world, even in our city, and I'm throwing away perfectly good food because no one feels like eating it. Children are dying of exposure and I'm buying myself new shoes because I'm bored with my old ones. People are being abused, being sold into slavery and I'm on Facebook. This book has simultaneously rocked my world and scared me to death because I'm pretty sure I have to make some big changes. And I'm scared to death of big changes.

So what does this all mean for me? I'm not sure. I'm pretty sure I'm going to go through our stuffed-to-the-gills house and donate lots and lots of stuff. I'm pretty sure I will be selling books and movies and giving money to the poor. I'm pretty sure that I have to take a Facebook hiatus (gulp). I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a babysitter so I can work with Girls on the Run, and I'm pretty sure that I will run my first marathon in October for Team Hope. But beyond that I'm not sure and I'm hoping you all can help.

How do I open my girls' eyes to the world outside of themselves? How can I get them involved with feeding the hungry and helping the poor? What do those of you with young kids do to involve them in missions?

In Which I'm a Terrible Mother

It's been a crappy afternoon. Coming off a busy morning of Bible study that left me feeling "meh" and the kids incredibly high strung and talking/babbling a mile a minute, I was hoping for a peaceful afternoon. But, for whatever reason, New Baby decided on a super short nap and I found myself staring at the clock at 2:15 and wondering what the heck I was going to do for the next 6 hours. The idea of staying home made all of us antsy, so I decided we would go to the playground and library.

And that's when the afternoon went from crappy to awful.

We got to the library, whereupon I realized I have never really taught my kids the Rules Of The Library. Namely, it is frowned upon to run through the library and scream like Corn Children. Also, I realized that the vibe of the library at 10 AM, when we usually go, is totally different than it is around 3. Specifically, people give you and your Corn Children dirty looks when they run around screaming at 3 PM. Add to that the fact that Captain Destructo almost got smashed in the automatic doors and New Baby was stinking up the joint with her rank diaper, we got the heck out of the library as fast as we could and moved next door to the playground.

Because I am the master of foresight and planning, I chose the playground that has recently added adult workout equipment. Because, you know, adults work out at the playground all the time. Of course, both girls made a beeline for the chest press machine and the way-too-big plyometric benches. Nevermind the swings, climbing toys, and slides that were right next to them. I informed them that we needed to stay on the playground. They whined. I said they would stay on the playground or we would go home. They went to the playground for about 30 seconds and went back to the workout area. I repeated my warning. They repeated their whining. I realized I would have to actually follow through with my threat, gathered up 60 pounds of whining children, and left.

Fast forward 2 hours, I was cleaning up a wholesome and delicious dinner (where New Baby ate 2 containers of applesauce), still stewing over my crappy day, missing my husband, and listening to sounds of shrieking from Captain Destructo's room, and I did this.
"WHAT IS THE PROBLEEEEEEEEM?!"

Yeah. I'm awesome. And then I realized that I was yelling, actually yelling, at a 1 year old and a 3 year old for fighting over a toy. (If you wondered, the story I got was Captain D was trying to do New Baby's hair and she wouldn't let her.) I know they're good kids. Seriously, I was a teacher. I know bad kids. I just wish I could be more patient and calm and Michelle Duggar-like, who, by the way, probably doesn't respond to stress by hiding in her pantry and eating bagfuls handfuls of candy corn. Not that I do that.

But, in the spirit of teaching them forgiveness, I told them I was sorry and spent the next 20 minutes letting Captain Destucto pull brush my hair. And now we're watching Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and praying for a better tomorrow.

What, me worry?

I am totally the queen of worry. I worry the kids will get picked on, get sick, get hurt, even get bug bites (West Nile is killing people in Texas. Like I need another thing down here that could kill us). After New Baby's latest pediatrician visit, I realized I should start worrying about the fact that she doesn't talk.

I guess that's not entirely accurate. I have been keeping a running tally of all the words she's ever said. At 18 months, she has said 14 words at least one time. But most days, she says "Ma" for Mama, "Ma" for Molly (Captain Destructo's real name. Your mind is blown, I know), duck, ball, and book. Occasionally we'll get an Elmo or an Abby. And yes, I realize that 1/3 of her words are Sesame Street characters. I have video of Captain Destructo on her 2nd birthday where she says "the hat fall down on my face." So yeah, there is a bit of disparity there. If things stay the way they are now, on New Baby's 2nd birthday she will be emitting a series of grunts and blowing raspberries, doing a close impersonation of the Tasmanian Devil.

Like most people who worry, I google. And when I google I found that if your child is not meeting language milestones, you should may need to start thinking about autism. I really don't think she's there. Girlfriend can make animal noises like no one's business, as well as point to body parts, and she does that thing where she points to things just to share it with us (I used to know the name for that before I became a stay at home mom and my brain turned to mush). So if she's not meeting language milestones, and she's most likely not autistic, then (a) do I need to worry and (b) what do I do to help her? I have a total vision of her in her cap and gown, holding up her diploma and yelling "Ma! Book!"

Going to chase a roll of Tums with a glass of wine.

Open Letter to Pinterest

Dear Pinterest,
First of all, thank you for finally sending me an invitation to your super-exclusive website! I love flashbacks to high school, waiting to be invited to prom. Secondly, thank you for the hours of brainless entertainment you have provided me with. Seriously, I think my head almost exploded with excitement the first time I figured out how to create my own boards. And the pins! All of the pins. I've got stuff for the kids, recipes, pictures of Ryan Gosling saying "hey girl." The fun never ends. Thank you for the giant time waster you are, Pinterest, because my hubby's gone a lot, I've got 2 little kids, and goodness knows I can waste some time!

But, let's be real for a bit here, Pinterest. I'm not going to make DIY vintage inspired onesies for New Baby. I'm just not. Nor am I going to decoupage my kids their very own tea set. Also? When people say decoupage I'm not really sure what they mean. And when I see all these pins of ordinary moms doing this super fancy crafty stuff I start to feel like a loser mom. And then when I read about people making DIY finger paint, and then actually using said DIY finger paints without losing their minds or ruining their house, I start to really feel inferior. And I'm not sure I need a website to do that, you know?

And here's my second beef with you, Pinterest. I can't stand the health and fitness section anymore. Like a bad relationship, it started out great with the helpful suggestions on how to breathe when running, and simple ab exercises to do when watching TV (not that I do them. But for sure they're pinned.). But then the more I browsed that section, the more it felt like fodder for bad body image. I don't need to see a 90 lb girl standing around in a sports bra with a caption that says "inspiration" or "motivation." And when I see super cute teenage girls that I know pinning these posters, I start to feel sad. And also bad about myself. Again, not sure I need a website to do that.

So, pinterest, it seems you and I have a love/hate relationship. Because as much as you drive me nuts, I am totally in love with some of the tasty nuggets (literally) that I've found. Like Reese's Peanut Butter Banana bread (yes, this is a thing!). Also, 3 magic words: cake. batter. truffles. Which is maybe why I don't look like the skinny chicks on your fitness section.

See you soon, love.
Mama

Tales from the Pool

Maybe it's due to all the rain that's making South Texas feel more like Seattle, or maybe it's because my sweet husband has been in Germany all week, but the kids and I have been super stir crazy all week. So yesterday afternoon, when the sun finally came out, I announced we were going to spend the afternoon at the pool. And I am still trying to recover.

Our pool is part of our gym, and is actually pretty nice. It's got a huge wade in area that flows into the deeper adult pool. The girls love it so it's a treat for them to get to go. Here's a blow by blow account of our afternoon.By the way, it's important to note that New Baby thinks she's Michael Phelps and likes to plunge into the water, and Captain Destructo thinks she's the Wicked Witch of the West and will melt if water gets on her face.

3:00-Arrive at pool. I attempt to keep the girls from sprinting into the water while I spray them down with sunscreen. (Sidenote: I read somewhere that the aerosol sunscreens are dangerous because kids can inhale them. Guess what? I'm spraying them down anyway. It's way easier to spray them down while they attempt to squirm away then it would be to pin them down and smear lotion all over them.)

3:02-I release the hounds and they sprint (well, New Baby waddles) straight into the water. I stare longingly at the single people sipping drinks and napping on the chairs as I follow the kids in.

3:05-Captain Destructo announces she has to go pee pee. She asks loudly (in front of the lifeguard) if she can pee in the water. Because the lifeguard is awaiting my answer, I say no and shlep all of us to the potty. New Baby is borderline hysterical that I am taking her out of the pool, and is practicing her stiff as a board trick.

3:10-Return to the water. Both kids sprint back into the water and ignore my cries of "walk!" (Former lifeguard here.) New Baby immediately walks out over her head. I pull her up and put her in the shallow area. She walks back out. Repeats this for the next few minutes. Meanwhile, Captain Destructo is yelling "it's a bird, it's a plane, it's SUPER MOLLY!!!" and plunging headfirst into 12 inches of water.

3:15-Captain Destructo has to go pee pee again. Repeat process.

3:30-Captain Destructo finds a friend who is very, very interested in sticking her fingers in New Baby's face. Friend's mother is attempting to stop her and Friend is ignoring her. I never quite know my role in these situations, but eventually get sick of fingers in New Baby's face and tell Friend to go find her mommy. Her mommy tells me "sorry! She loves babies." Well, then! Feel free to poke my baby's eyes! As long as she loves babies.

3:40-I realize my C section scar is showing. Awesome. How long has it been showing? Seriously, why is there not a store called "Appropriate Swimsuits for 30 Somethings"?

4:00-Adult swim. Hysterical shrieks from both kids ensues. The snack bar is inexplicably closed so I attempt to distract them with an old granola bar I find in my purse.

4:15-Adult swim over. Stampede of children into the water.

4:17-Captain Destructo has to go pee pee.

4:30-We are playing in a shallow part. New Baby is picking up someone's goggles and handing them to me over and over. Captain Destructo has announced she's looking for Ariel. Both kids are drinking the water. A lifeguard is staring intently at New Baby and walks over to me while saying "ma'am, she's drinking the water." I try to cover up my lack of concern and say "ok, thank you." What am I supposed to do about that? Muzzle?

4:45-I've had enough fun and both kids are starting to look like Tan Mom's kid, so we call it a day. I wonder, not for the first time, why they don't serve margaritas at the snack bar.