I'm Not Feeding my Children Anymore.

All right Zoo fans.  Name one hobby that I truly love.  Writing - yes, but that's not the one I'm talking about.

Cooking.  How many bajillions of Wordless Wednesday's have been dedicated to food creations?  How many times have I blogged about baking or cooking or creating new meals?  I really do love to cook.  And of corse I'll continue to cook.  I'm just not feeding my family any more.

See there's a difference between cooking and feeding my family.  Cooking involves chopping, dicing, fileting, sauteeing, broasting, marinading, grilling, and searing.  Cooking means savoring aromas of fresh herbs, breathing in the sharpness of onions and garlics, and tuning in to the sizzle of the butter in a hot skillet.  Cooking can be done slowly while sipping a glass of wine and nibbling on the scraps of hard cheese that fall by the wayside of the cutting board.  The Three Tenors can keep you company in the kitchen and coax smoothness out of the sharpest combinations.  Cooking is relaxing and comforting.

Then I remove my lovingly prepared meal and I place it on the dining room table amidst the bouquets and neat place settings.  I call the family to the table.  This is where it goes from cooking a lovely meal to feeding my brood.

"But I don't like peppers." 

"These aren't the kind of noodles I like."
"You know I don't eat squash."

"Can I have a drink to wash this down?"

"I'm going to pretend to be a race car at the table now."
"Yeah, well, I'm going to scream all through dinner."
"Is it time for dessert yet?"
"Mom!  He's looking at me!"

I've decided that I'm not feeding them any more.  I will cook and they can come and get it.  But I will not be present.  I'm going to be out on the deck with Pavoratti.  Who cares if it's still 96 degrees at 9 PM?  At least I'll be able to dine.

If the Reincarnation Thing Works Out...

My children are in for a world of trouble.

Now I don't believe in reincarnation. I think you get one shot at life and you had better make the most of it and make the biggest impact while you are here because you aren't coming back around. But let's just pretend for a minute that I DO get to come back around.

Orangutan should probably hope that I come back as a fish. Then I will be limited to water and won't be able to invade her personal space every minute of every day. When I come back as her child (because I would totally do that to her) I will beg for food constantly from about .26 nanometers away. I will hang on every body part every chance I get. I will repeat myself 12 times for every request and I will only have one volume setting - EXTREMELY LOUD!!

Rhino is in for an even better life when I come back as his child. He's praying I come back as something inanimate like a rock. When I get back to him I am going to throw myself on the floor and scream constantly. I will only speak in whine and I will dissolve into a puddle of misery if the dog even looks at me funny. I will also be prone to random fits of aggravation like pinching, kicking, swatting, hair pulling, and name calling, all of which will be conducted on the run. Sprint by annoyance, if you will.

But I'm saving my best for Marmie I think. She hopes I come back as royalty because then I will have to mind my manners and use perpetual decorum. No way, baby girl! I will burp at all the inoportune times. I will randomly run squealing through the grocery store. I will just stop and spin in circles in the middle of every parking lot. I will have limitless curiosity. Oh, and I definitely plan to be devoid of all notions of cleanliness. I will not put away any toys; I will color on everything (including any pets and myself) except the coloring books and construction paper. And I will be insane!

Wait. Now that I think about it, I might not have to come back after all. I can just keep plotting until I'm about 82 and then move in with them for 4 months at a time! I'll rotate homes and work my magic!

Forget the Mother's Curse! I'm going for the Mother's Revenge!!

Talk me Down People!

I mean it! Send the intervention team because I am teetering here!

Yesterday the Rhino had a less than stellar day at R.A.T. And when I say "less than stellar" I'm really saying he lost his ever lovin' mind. We won't get into the nitty gritty details but the bottom line is that military school is looking like a real possibility. When I referred to his punishment as "solitary confinement" yesterday I was being kind.

Once I calmed down (close to midnight last night) I worked with his teacher to devise a behavior chart and reward system which we launched today. This week there are cool underpants and ice cream hanging in the balance. Don't think about that too much; it's gross. But now I have to devise some rewards for going forward.

Lion put some time at the driving range on the block since Rhino seems to have an affinity for golf. And we always have good ole Monkey Joe's and Chucky Cheeze that we can put up for bids (although I would rather have bamboo shoved under my fingernails). But even that is only 4 weeks' worth of rewards.

I was commiserating with a friend this morning about the whole deal. In the process of conversation we started talking about our attempts to get some speech therapy for the little guy. Yeah, he's a mess; but he's ours. My pal suggested that maybe if we can get the speech going he'll feel like he's in control of something else and his behavior will start to settle down.

My brain said "hmmm, give him something else to control." And this is where the intervention comes in because the next thing that went through my brain was, "What if I get him a small pet that is his responsibility? His thing to control!"

In an ideal situation, the security dog doesn't eat the new small pet. In an ideal situation Rhino feels a responsibility for his new pal and he feeds it and helps clean the cage and takes care of it. In an ideal situation the girls don't get jealous and demand their own "responsibilities" which (knowing my luck) could lead to more "little responsibilities."

This Zoo is not conducive to "ideal situations."

This is a bad idea, right? I really shouldn't do this. I should just stick to ice cream and M&M's and Happy Meals. Talk me down friends because in my desperation not to be known at the mother of the school lunatic, the idea of a George and Gladys is appealing to me right now.

I should probably go eat. It has to be the low blood sugar talking.

Happy Mother's Day!!

What? You didn't get a card? So sorry. I didn't get one either but I'll tell you what I DID get. Two children off to school!

Woo Hoo!!

Don't get me wrong. I got a little twinge when my boy went to class and hung up his backpack like a big kid. And I was incredibly proud when my girl found her name tag and sat at her table sweetly.

But let me tell you about walking into my house and hearing......

It brought a tear to my eye. Nothing. Yes, Marmie is still home with me but she was revelling too. She stretched out as big as she could get on the couch while she watched whatever cartoons SHE wanted to watch. Then she just walked in a big circle all around the livingroom. When Lion asked her why, she said it was "because I can." She got to have both beaters and the spoon and the bowl when the cookies were baking. She got to pick a movie and watch it from start to finish. She choose her own lunch. And she got to decide when she wanted to go for a nap.

I am cleaning the house and it's staying clean. I get to work out without anyone hanging off my leg in Warrior 3. I can eat an entire lunch without anyone calling me to break up a fight.

And now you understand why THIS is my Mother's Day! I'm so gleeful I rewrote "Leavin' on a Jet Plane." I won't subject you to my singing but I think you know the tune enough to sing it for yourself and truly appreciate it.

So here's to you my Back to School mom-pals. Enjoy your day!!

"They're Leavin on the School Bus."

All their bags are packed.
They're ready to go.
I will not throw them out the door.
Can't wait to wake them up to say "Good-Bye!"

Now the clothes are pressed.
The shoes are shined.
The alarms are set.
And ready to chime.
Already I'm so giddy I could fly!

So kiss me and smile for me.
Quick say "Cheese!" before I flee.
God bless ya, teach but I really gotta go.

They're leavin' on the school bus.

The quiet's setting in.
Finally the warring's at an end.
The summer has been real fun.
Sorry kids but now it's done.

It's back to school - the truest Mother's Day!

The truest Mother's Day!

Dear Fellow Homeowners,

When you are preparing your home for the market (because you probably won't die in the house you're in) you will probably do some painting. Take a moment as you complete each room and label the leftover paint according to the room it belongs to. Please also note the color and store where the paint was purchased and leave it behind. The future homeowners will kiss the ground you walk on.

"Why" you ask? Because when their 4 year old takes a black wide tip Sharpie and creates a mural of blood curdling proportions on two walls they will be able to locate the necessary paint to repair the damage quickly and easily. This will not only spare your homeowner the pain of snatching themselves bald, but may also save the life of the 4 year old in question.

This has been your public service announcement for today. Thank you and happy home ownership!

And the Crown Goes to...

Princess Badditude!

I thought I had at least 7 more years. I thought I could make it until she was at least 12. I don't think I could have been more incorrect.

In the last week, Orangutan has taken on the nastiest attitude ever. A friend of mine warned me that it's a five year old thing but I'm wondering. Ugly!

Please make your bed.

"But you know I can't make it by myself." And then she'll wait until I turn to do something else and slip out of her room altogether leaving the bed unmade. When I call her out on it, I get argument, excuses, eye rolls, stomping feet and heaving sighs. OVER HER BED!!

Please clean up the playroom.

"I didn't play with any of this stuff. I'm not cleaning it." This is the part of the story where I find the attitude adjuster and apply it liberally to sensitive areas.

Dinner's ready!

"Mom, you know I don't do peas." Well you do if you don't have teeth, sister. They mush!

What IS this?! The last two weeks have been perpetual arguments, wails, crying, tears, gnashing of teeth, and hair pulling. And that's just me trying to get her to do anything that isn't her idea.

I hate that I have become that mother that is counting down the days til school starts but that's me. All me. And I say it's because she's bored with me and if she can go to school she'll be able to interact again and she'll have a better attitude in general.

We all know it's because I won't have to hear it all day, every day. I'll be limited to a few hours every evening. I'm not terribly worried about her pulling this at school. She knows better. Be ugly to Mom and that's one thing. Sass anyone outside of the family and I will light you up little girl!

My hope is that the rumor I heard about 7-10 being good years is true. I think I can refrain from sending her to the convent for a couple more years.

Mother Mortification 101

Brought to you by the experts at Zoo Suburbia.

Where do I even start? We had orientation for school today. Did I mention that they go back to school in 4 days? (Insert giggles of glee here. But more on that later.) Orientation meant taking two bags of supplies and three children through a maze of PTA booths, car rider assignments, and two different classrooms while filling out form upon form and trying very hard not to lose anyone. Is it any wonder I popped some preemtive Excedrine on my way out the door?

We got to school just fine and parked in BFE of course because even though it was only for kindergarten and pre-k, there were still cars out the wazoo parked on every available parking surface and some grassy surfaces. This meant that the exhibits had to try to hang on to one another while I lugged the two supply bags across a crowded parking lot dodging cars still pulling in and not losing any shoes (don't ask - the girls have issues).

I made a judgement call as soon as we got in the building. Everyone was streaming to the right to go do the PTA/cafeteria thing in the cafeteria. Ahh, but I know where Rhino's class is because he's in the same class O was in last year. So we stopped there first. Dropped off our supplies, did our paperwork thing, signed up for all the volunteer stuff, wrote the e-mail down about 17 times and gave Mrs. F our hugs. We'll be back when we get the car rider number. And off we went.

Then it was time to face the cafeteria which I just knew was going to be the first place I lost a child. Paid up my PTA dues (which I have never attended mind you!), passed by the cafeteria ladies becasue we pack our lunches and then hit the classroom assignments for Orangutan. Really?! Of four teachers with names like Smith and Brown and Jones, O ends up in the class with the teacher whose name has 11 letters and which I cannot (even know having shaken her delightful little hand) pronounce. She's Mrs. M to me. I'll try but I make no promises.

So it's off to Mrs. M's class. We pass our supplies off to Mrs. K (the assistant teacher) and start making the paperwork rounds - again! More volunteering (Lion this time - he's going to love me!), more e-mail, more, more, more. Meet Mrs. M and then we are off!

One more stop on our way out the door to get this year's spirit wear (school T-shirts). I have, in all this forming and moving and shuffling, yet to lose a child. I stopped at the spirit wear table and lost all three in 15 seconds. I kid you not! Oh good! There's O. Where's your brother? Perfect he's right there. So where is Marmie? No Marmie. Don't panic. It's a crowded school. No one is going to let her get away. Don't panic. WHERE'S MY MARMIE!!!!

Oh look! There she is. In the arms of the new principal nursing a fat lip and smelling like a garbage truck. Fantastic. Just fantastic. She made a break for it and in the process tripped over someone and did a face plant right in front of the new principal. Her lip was split and she had thrown a stinky shoe all while making a mess in her diaper. Did I say "fantastic?" So I retrieved her from the principal and made my introduction and tried not to look like a totally inept parent. And by now I had lost the other two again. The preemtive Excedrine didn't stand a chance.

I felt like I couldn't get out of the school fast enough. I made it within 15 yards of the livestock trailer before we ran into parents we knew from last year. So I made of VERY quick small talk and by now had lost Rhino yet again.

It took all my focus, energy and determination to put the car in reverse instead of drive. The tree didn't deserve to be punished for my blossoming migraine.

Is it Monday yet?

Poor Rhino.

Middle children, consider this a tribute to your childhood.

This time last year I was gearing up for Orangutan to join O.A.T. (Orangutan Academic Training for those who forgot) and I was all sentimental about my baby growing up. I got teary several times before the first day of O.A.T. even got here. I went out and rounded up school supplies well in advance, made lists of things that needed to be done, assembled multiple outfits for her to choose from for her first day and even walked her through the routine several times.

It's that time again. In two weeks not only will we be back in O.A.T. but this time we have R.A.T. (Rhino Academic Training) too! And how am I handling this? I'm counting down the days, minutes and seconds. I haven't even tried to do any supply shopping yet. The tears of sentiment have been replaced with nervous giggles of glee and his clothes have been laid out for two weeks with no options or room for deviation.

If they are lucky I might hit the brakes and slow down in the carpool lane before I scream "TUCK AND ROLL!" and shove them out the van door wise guy style. Maybe the new principal can catch their backpacks.

But let's get back to Rhino. If I was a good mother I would be just as sentimental about his first day of school as I was for O's. And you know I'll be all teary and weepy for Marmie's first day because she really IS the baby. When she goes to school I go back to work though so the tears could be multipurpose. But poor Rhino.

He's the middle guy. He can't beat anyone up or retaliate if something happens to him because the other two are girls. He isn't the biggest one in the family so he doesn't get all the cool new firsts. He isn't the little one so he still doesn't get away with murder like she does. And in all honesty he probably gets blamed for a lot of things that he had nothing to do with.

So this is me pledging to try harder in the next two weeks to keep the giggles to a minimum and muster up some sentiment for my boy. After all he is my ONLY boy and it IS his first day of school too.

Maybe I'll get him some knee and elbow pads to break his toss from the van.

Proof that We're Doing Okay!

Sometimes even moms need a little encouragement to know that they are doing okay. We don't get regular performance evaluations like other careers, you know! Unless you count the dinnertime feedback we get about green veggies.

This morning Lion was getting ready for the hunt and I was tidying up the Den. Through the sliding glass door I watched Rhino slip into the screen porch and scoop up a riding toy. When he did, he bumped a loose panel on the side of the hot tub base and it fell over. Poor little guy froze in his tracks.

He peeked out onto the porch, and then looked back at the panel on the floor. Back out on the porch and back at the panel. Then he slipped back out the door and very carefully and quietly closed the door. I, of course, was laughing hysterically at the whole thing because he had no idea I had seen him. And it goes without saying that I recounted the whole incident for Lion.

"Did you say anything to him yet?"
No. Are you going to get him or am I?
"I'll get him!"

And just as Lion was about to pull the big "Gotcha!" (because he's the one who didn't put the panel on right in the first place) Rhino came around the corner. He looked like he was about to cry but was trying to be brave.

"Ummm, Mom? I have to tell you something. I think I might have broken something."
Where buddy? (This is me laughing in my poor son's face!)
"Out there." I really thought he was going to cry!

Lion and I scooped him up and reassured him that he hadn't broken it at all.

But it just goes to show you. You have no idea if the lessons are getting all the way through those little heads and suddenly they bring it back to you.

Of course in about 10 more years he's going to start lying through his teeth . But until then I'll just revel in the fact that I did ok so far!

Tuesday Tribute: Here's to You "Normal."

If you've been reading the Zoo for a while you know that I seldom play very many memes here. Most of that finds it's way over to The Bowl. But today there was one that I couldn't resist. Jay at Halftime Lessons and Deb at Dirty Socks and Pizza are the host of Tuesday Tribute. It's a weekly opportunity to bow to someone or something other than our ginormous egos.

This is my first time playing along but I have read quite a few of the tributes in the past. Let's see if I can do the meme justice. My Tribute to "Normal."

Welcome to My Norm!

There's a dino in the dining room
And a pick up in the tub.
There's a martian on the ceiling fan
And an ape under the rug.

A watermelon's sprouted

Underneath the bathroom sink.
And something quite unknown
Is making such a stink.

I saw a walrus hiding

In the pillows on mom's bed.

She hasn't found my toad yet

Or I'd probably be dead.

My little sister just ate dirt.

The big one flushed the phone.

I think I should try hiding

Until my Dad gets home.

I think my mom is losing it.

She's about to blow her stack.

'Cause she may have just discovered

She's standing in dog yack.

I'm pretty sure at other homes

This scene might make you squirm.

But around these parts my mom would say...

Welcome to my Norm.

A Mother's Sleep

For the briefest of moments last night I thought about blogging about how nice it was this weekend to get some nice, deep, restful sleep. Then I went to bed.

What is it about becoming a mother that totally destroys your sleep?

It starts in pregnancy when you can't get comfortable no matter how you position the pillows or which side you lay on. Even before the belly shows up you wake up to morning sickness which makes you dread going to sleep in the first place.

Then you give birth and we all know what sleeping with a newborn is like. You hear every sigh, every squeak and every whimper. That's not terribly restful sleep either.

Now in my case I had my children back to back so I have stayed in newborn sleep mode for four and a half years. All the children are sleeping through the night now so what do I do? I switch beds and rooms and roomates and disrupt the whole thing. So we're back to broken sleep.

Friday we had a really busy day of being outside and running and playing and carrying on so everyone slept like the dead. Saturday we had a similar night. So it's not a surprise that as I laid down last night I was thinking that maybe the end was in sight. Maybe I would get to go back to sleeping through the night in a deep and comfortable sleep in my own bed.

Nope. 1:30 AM Orangutan calls me into their room to tell me that Marmoset woke her up by singing. Marmie looked up at me and said, "You sing too Mama?" So I ended up laying down with her until she started to drift off. Once all was quiet again I went back to my bed and snuggled in.

3:30 AM Rhino taps me on the nose and tells me that Marmoset is trying to climb into his bed. I check all the beds and she is sound asleep in hers. When I got back to my bed to tell Rhino that he was dreaming he was sound asleep sprawled all over my pillows and wadded up in the blankets.

6:45 AM Orangutan calls me from her bed that she's ready to get up and get ready for school.

And another night is lost to being a mother.

A Mother's Legacy

L.M. Lion and I were watching West Wing (thank you Bravo syndication) the other week and they were talking about the President's legacy. What would his legacy be? How would people remember his time as president.

Of course it went into my brain and I chewed on it and worked it around and I started to wonder. Political officials and celebrities and "big" people aren't the only ones with legacies. Parents definitely have a legacy - a pretty big one if you ask me. But you don't have to have children to have a legacy. Normal people (because parenting is NOT normal - we've established that here at Zoo Suburbia) have a legacy too. I of course was wondering what my legacy would be. I mean, I'm not much more than a mom. Yeah, yeah. Wife, daughter, sister, friend. But my main title in life and the name I go by most often is Mom.

I know what my mother's legacy (so far) is. My mother gave me the gift of cooking. One of my first memories of our "new" house - the house I grew up in - was pulling a chair up to the counter and helping to make a birthday cake. Cooking is so much a part of me now that I have a whole shelf on the bookcase dedicated to cookbooks, the most important one being a copy of the one my mother used to teach me to cook.

My mother also took on the painful task of teaching me how to sew. I say painful because I was not the most patient of students, would get frustrated easily and probably left more porjects unfinished in her sewing cabinet than I actually finished. But now I have a skill that allows me to make my own dresses, skirts, gauchos, capris and who knows what for the kids. Advanced skills? No but enough to make my children happy.

Probably the biggest legacy my mother has given me is how to pray. There is a generally held consensus in our family is if Mom is praying, get out of the way. Something is going to happen. And I try. I try to pray sincerely and powerfully like my mother.

So now I am setting out on my own parenting journey trying to leave a legacy of my own. I will never know what my legacy is but I certainly hope that I can pass at least the lessons that my mother passed to me. After all, who has a more powerful legacy than a mother?

Mom Tip #65: Sometimes our Job just Stinks.

I'm not talking about the smells. Eau de poop and barf is definitely not one of the highlights of being a mom. Just the same there are so many other aspects of our job that stink that the smells really just act as a little whipped cream and cherry on top of all the other odor.

The hours stink. We are up at the butt crack of dawn (no offense to any Dawns in my audience - I'm sure your butt crack is adorable) and really have to hit the ground running. We can say that we sit in the quiet and savor our fabulous coffee, but chances are that if someone were to put a hidden camera in our house, they would find that we have the coffee in one hand and we are picking out clothes or washing dishes with the other.

But I got sidetracked (SURPRISE!). We cover the whole day working inside and outside our home and then we clock out (or not) and we head home (or not) to fold laundry, feed small and large mouths, bathe people, read stories, tuck in and call it a night. But we don't call it a night because now we are sneaking into rooms and putting away the laundry, washing dishes, paying bills, picking up toys and trying to get our heads on for the next day. We fall into bed only to be jarred awake by some noise in the middle of the night or we open our eyes to see a big toe on the end of our nose. Our hours stink.

The pay. Now some of my fine readers may very well have good paying careers outside of the home but sentimentality be flushed. I love my children and their hugs and their kisses and giggles. They really are something special. But it sure would be nice if someone really did pay me that $114,000 that some ridiculous government agency determined my work to be worth. And even nicer if they paid me in something other than a namby pamby tax break or day care credit. Pay me in the green.

Ahh Hah! I figured out the real stimulus package! Pay the stay at home moms and working moms for their parenting time. We in turn will hire teenagers to babysit while we go to spas and nail salons and malls and crafting and writing conventions. Or maybe we'll start our own businesses that will stimulate the ecomony. We will be spending that money you gave us. We will be providing jobs for working class people. As Mrs. Dolly Levi said, "Money is like manure. It does no good unless you spread it around." (Name that musical and a bonus for the person who names the actress who played her. Double bonus if you can tell me who the leading man was.)

Anyway, I'm just saying that for all the joy that being a mother can be, it's not a job for whiners and wimps. It's a job for selfless, dedicated, determined, focused people with no olfactory nerves.

How to Tell You're a Grown Up by The Orangutan

It was feeding time at the Zoo Thursday night and the small exhibits were gathered around their corn dogs chomping away with glee. Lion and I were discussing whether we should have egg noodles or rice under our beef tips. It was a pleasant little Cleaver scene when Rhino decided he was done.

He got up from the table, pooched his belly out as big as he could get it and said, "See Mom! I'm all full."

Before I could say a word Orangutan jumped in. "Rhino, if your belly is getting that big it must mean you are getting to be a grown up because grown ups have big bellies. Well, Daddy grown ups do but Mommy grown ups don't. The have straight down flat bellies."

Lion and I just looked at each other and started to laugh but I composed myself and I asked the inevitable question, "Orangutan, why? Why are grown up Daddy bellies big and Mommy bellies flat?"

"That's easy Mom! Because Daddys eat a lot and lot of food and just sit and Mommys don't eat very much at all."

They don't? Why don't mommys eat?

"Because they are too busy working and feeding everybody and taking care of everybody and being bossed around. They don't get to eat breakfast or lunch and they only get to eat dinner if the kids are done eating and will leave them alone."

She's going to be a great mom. With a flat belly.

Must be a Daddy Tang!

Mom Tip #22: You will NEVER be sick again.

I just saw a tweet from blogging buddy Tanya from Mommy Goggles which led me to a post on her page. Mommies aren't supposed to get sick! Now I knew I had written a Mom Tip about this but I wasn't sure if I had ever actually published it and after much searching I realized that you were all missing out. So here it is!

Mom Tip #22: You will never be sick again!

Isn’t that wonderful news?! Oh, I promise. You will still catch bugs and you will still FEEL like you’re sick. But you will never REALLY be sick ever again.

Allow me to illustrate. I have had a ridiculous, out of control, kill me now sinus infection for two weeks now. My eyes are being held in by my contacts; Kleenex and Tylenol have offered me stock options; and fish can hear more clearly than I can right now. But I’m not sick!

We were coming home from the grocery store a few nights ago and Molly asked me why I was so sad (she could see my reflection in the review mirror). I told her that I wasn’t sad; I was just sick and feeling really crummy.

"Well, when we’re sick you make us go to bed Mom so maybe you should take a nap!"

My mood improved immediately! Sure Mo! As soon as we get home.

Then the other shoe dropped. "I mean AFTER you make dinner and we get our baths and you make our popcorn and start our movie. THEN you can take a nap!"

And that’s how it works for Mom. Daddy can get sick and we wait on him hand and foot and nurse him back to health. The kids get sick and we stop sleeping for weeks at a time until they are breathing normally and sleeping through the night again.

We get "sick" and we continue to pack lunches with a dishtowel over our nose and mouth to keep from contaminating anything. We change sheets and fold laundry with one hand while we blow with the other. We get sick in the toilet and then take a moment to clean the bathroom while we brush our teeth.

Isn’t it amazing what pregnancy did for your immune system?! Hello OB – Goodbye, general practitioner!

Mom Tip #61: Expect the Expected

Um, Sarah? Don't you mean the "unexpected?" Nope. Sure don't. Because eventually you will expect things to go exactly the opposite of nature. I'm only five years into this mom thing and I'm already indoctrinated to be surprised at nothing.

I was on the phone with The Great Silverback (aka Poppie) the other night. Orangutan was in the playroom being delightfully quiet with her coloring books. Rhino and Marmoset were playing with his wooden train set in the middle of the living room floor and dinner was simmering away on the stove. All was well and The Silverback and I were having a delightful conversation.

Unprovoked and unannounced Marmoset picked up a piece of train track, stood up, and promptly WHACKED Rhino on the head. Without so much as a squeak Rhino picked up a piece of train track, stood up and whacked Marmoset on the head.

Suddenly, both of their eyes flew wide open, their faces contorted as if they were possessed and they let out screams, wails and gnashing of teeth all mashed up together. It was almost as if they were surprised that their skulls were throbbing with cartoonish heartbeats even though they had just actively participated in the exchange.

Silverback immediately said, "You need to go!" To which I very calmly replied, "No, I don't. But give me a second anyway." This was followed by the next very brief exchange.

Marmoset, when you whack your brother you have to expect that he is going to whack you back. Got it? Good.

Rhino, when she stands up with something hard in her hand, it's safe to assume that she is going to whack you with it. Next time duck. Got it? Good.

The Silverback was obviously in tears at my calm and well thought out directions. I'm sure it's awe inspiring to observe my parenting skills in action but I never thought I would move anyone to tears. Then again, if the Grand Keeper (aka Grammy) and her laughter were any indication, the tears may have been more AT me than because of their awe.

Mom Tip #57

Take a lesson from yourself.

Oh yeah! Let's get ugly about this Mom Tip thing shall we? For review here are a few things that I have said to my children in the last 48 hours.

*Please come into the same room as me if you want to talk.

How many times have I tried to talk to them or to my husband and I'm in a completely different part of the house doing about 17 noise creating tasks? Of course they aren't going to hear me or even try to listen for that matter.

*A fit will get you absolutely nowhere.
*You can scream all you want but all that does is turn my ears off.

I'm blushing and cowering in shame right now as I approach the second statement on our list. I throw fits all the time. To them. To LM Lion. I rant and I yell and I expect it to serve some purpose. That of course links up nicely with number three. I'm pretty sure as soon as I start to raise my voice my children's ears disengage. Just like mine do when LM Lion and I get heated.

*Your brother is three feet away - why are you yelling?

I do this all the time! Now in my defense it's usually beacause I don't realize that someone has snuck up behind me or because my ears are stopped up from yet another sinus infection. But just the same. I had a serious reality check the other day when the Rhino looked at me and said, "Geez Mom! I'm right here! And I CAN hear you!" Can't imagine where he heard that before.

*The longer you sit there the longer it is going to take to get anything done.

Now, the sitting part isn't my problem. It's the walking in circles that gets me. I can walk from one room to the next for hours and never get a blessed thing done. How many times this very morning have I walked into the bathroom to get a tissue? And I still haven't taken the 3 minutes it takes to clean the toilet and sink.

*You don't work with the TV on so I'm turning it off.

I can sit and stare at this mammoth basket of laundry that needs to be folded but sitting here staring at it isn't going to fold it. And the TV. I can work with the TV on but this blasted computer and I have to come to an agreement. Stop calling my name! Stop suckering me in with, "but someone famous may have just commented on your brilliant take on housekeeping!"

*A spoonful of vegetables hasn't killed you in the last 5 years. I doubt it will start now.

And a spoonful of veggies has never killed anyone. And neither has a glass of water. Or a nice fresh apple. Or a break from whatever that business is that keeps me from eating on a regular basis.

Kinda hurts, yes?

I'm just saying. Maybe I should pretend I'm my own mother for a day. But then what would she do?

Getting a Head Start on Ruining my Children's Education!

I started thinking about it while we were at Home Depot today. Everytime I want my children to remember something I make a rhyme or rythm out of it. Here are just a few things my poor children were subjected to today.

*Nothing in your nose that isn't wearing clothes.

*Saddle up, buckle up, rah, rah, rah!

*Skirt off, sleeves on, socks plus shoes.

*Put it in the potty or Mom will think you're naughty!

*Seat in the seat or you're not gonna eat!

*Chin to the sky - no bubbles in your eyes.

Do you see what I am doing to my children? If educators can make it rythm and rhyme, my children are never going to remember it! I can see right now that the rest of my parenting life is going to be spent pouring over their schoolbooks rhyming their spelling words, state capitals, and history notes.

I wonder if I can get advance copies of the kindergarten curriculum. I have a lot of work to do before August!

Mom Tip #55

Should a mom attempt to take a day (or even a few hours off), she should be prepared for the consequences of her diminished vigilance.

Now it is the Christmas season and between decorating, cleaning, cooking, laundry, and making gifts things are a little hairy here at Zoo Suburbia. I've been up at 6 and going to bed at 2 and lather, rinse, repeating for three weeks straight. I'm a little tired and more than a little punchy. So I thought I would cut myself a little slack and take a break today. I have been at this for five years - you would think that I would know by now.

We put the tree up last night and the Lion and I put the lights on and then he supervised while I put the basic decorations on. It was beautiful with the dried grapefruit and oranges, the homemade cinnamon clay and baking soda clay ornaments, the white twinkling lights and the candy canes. I just sat in the glow for a while last night and looked at it.

(Last year, just learning to crawl and explore)

This morning after everyone was distributed to their proper places I took a time out with my coffee and the blogosphere and just relaxed. I was happily reading along and commenting on friends posts when suddenly there was an EXTREMELY sticky hand on my arm. I really didn't want to look. I tried for the longest to ignore what I knew was inevitable. Then the thought occurred to me that the longer that sticky hand stayed there without moving the more it was going to hurt when it came off taking even the smallest armhairs with it.

I peeked out of the corner of my eye and my worst fears were confirmed. There beside me in all of her curly headed glory was my beloved little Marmoset, bright pink from her nose to her chin and grinning from ear to ear. In her other hand a remnant with a few faint red and white stripes left on it.

(This year, learning how to be sneakiy while maintaining the cute factor!)

What's a mom to do? I heaved a little sigh and scooped her up. But the fun wasn't over. There curled up in a lttle ball under the coffee table was a certain S.M. Rhino trying to shove the stepstool around the corner out of sight. I shooed him out from under and hustled them both to the bathroom to clean up. There were no canes on the bottom three feet of a nine foot tree. None. When interviewed about how many he had consumed Rhino assured me that he and Marmoset had only had two a piece. So what happened to the rest of the canes?

He had tucked them away in a secret stash under the coffee table. You have to give him some credit. He was smart. He was fast. And he was honest.

But the crash from that sugar high took me out! Last time before Christmas I take a day off!!

Welcome to the MomDot Blog Party! (And my 100th Post!!)

I am so incredibly thrilled that this is Post 100! What a way to hit it!

So our Theme for Day 1: Intro to Blog Party, Introduce us to your family and share Holiday pics or videos of past years.


Sponsors: Day One Blog Party Question is Brought to you by La Belle Toile and This and That by Randi

VIP BLOGS to visit are Parent Reviewers , Mom Most Traveled, Mommy Zabs, MomStart, HipposToes, Run DMT

So you want to meet the Zoo? Brace yourself!

So first there’s me – I’m Sarah and I’m the Zookeeper (aka Mom!). When I’m not blogging (all 6 hours of the day that that happens!), I really enjoy cooking and baking; playing playdough; sewing and on the occasion that I can hide out on the deck with a book and a coffee – reading. I grew up in rural PA and now live in suburban Atlanta. I am not June Cleaver or Martha Stewart but I try really hard (or so I pretend).

Five minutes ago after children!>





Then you have Beloved, the Large Male Lion, my hubby Stephen. We met at the bank where I was working in 2002, and became pretty good friends. Our first official date was for New Year’s 2003 and in October of the same year we were married. I poke fun at him a lot but I love him with all I am and really don’t know where I would be without him – probably back in PA counting cows for a living.

Which brings us to Molly, Mo or as she is known here at the Zoo the Orangutan. Our firstborn is a bit of a wild thing. She has a very vivid imagination and loves to draw, sing, and make up stories. Mo is a HUGE Scooby Doo fan but has recently taken to singing the Smurfs theme song. What can I say? We like Boomerang!

Tucker. What in the world can I say? He comes by his Small Male Rhino alter ego naturally. Stephen and I can be stubborn but this boy makes us look like waffle makers. If he has made his mind up to do (or not do) something, you had better have large reserves of fruit on hand to make him change his mind. He is a very funny child and for those who can understand his small speech issues he can come out with some really great one liners. To which he would reply, “Aww shucks Ma! It’s nuffin!”

And now for the Pygmy Marmoset also known as Meghan, Munch or Mega Munch. If you took Mo and Tuck and mashed them together you would have Munch. She can throw a fit with the Rhino that makes dogs howl but she will dance and sing with Molly every chance she gets. I gave her the nickname Munch when she was very small because it was next to impossible to keep up with her appetite. Now that she is a full blown toddler I really don’t have to worry about it. If everyone else has left the table she just moves from seat to seat and finishes off the leftovers. Very entertaining to watch!

And finally you have the Security Guard, our Jack Russell, Max. I brought him into this family when he was just a couple of years old and Stephen was kind enough to adopt him. Now you would never know he was ever MY dog. Meghan wakes up in the morning looking for him. Tuck tries to get him to sleep in his bed every night and Daddy-O really doesn’t know how to nap without Max curled up with him. At eight years old he is incredibly tolerant of the ear pulling and belly hugging but every now and then I get that look that says, “Mom! Make them stop!”
And that my friends is The Zoo. It's a busy little place but we call it home. Feel free to stop by anytime! There may even be some cookies in it for you! Happiest of all theHoliday Seasons!

Want to Party like a rock star with the rest of the Mom Dotters? Head over to MomDot and meet the rest of the crew!