Cake and Punishment

Busted. (pix courtesy of www.rtc.pdx.edu)

I’m in trouble.

I ate cake that was verbotten.

My kids are punishing me.

And I made them do it.

Here’s the story morning glories: The twins just had seperate birthdays (one horse themed, other was Star Wars, so you can see how this is a good thing.) Seperate birthdays means… seperate cakes. My son a vanilla Star Wars cake with its’ white frosting airbrushed (?) colors, my daughter’s a vanilla/chocolate ice cream cake from a fabulous purveyour of iced fatty delights known as Nona’s Ice Cream in Hingham, MA. We’re talking heavenly stuff here my friends.

Nona's. Can you blame me?

So all the copious extras were cut-up, and frozen for treats later.

But not much later.

All I can say was they were winking at me. I thawed out some cake for my family, but snacked on it until … it was almost gone. Whoops.

And off I went my merry way.

So back from yoga I bounded into my sweet family eating dinner… and was totally and completely busted. By my husband. My daughter. My son(s).

J’accuse!

“Mom YOU ate the cake!”

I was caught dead to rights. I ‘fessed up.

Then I told them I, having broken the rules, that I should be punished.

(Now the looks on their faces at this were priceless, but I had done wrong and why should I be above following family rules? You lead by example in both good and bad I say. You do the crime, you do the time.)

My son’s first idea “No computer for a week!”

Umm, that’s going to happen kid. Try again.

So I was dealt with a firm sentence- no gossip sites for a whole week. No Prez Hilton. No CrazyDaysandNights. No Pinkisthenewblog. No TMZ. No People.com.

I can do Drudge, news, my Google reader (oh, Prez Hilton on RSS? Ahh no) but no straight-up gossip.

It was fair, and I’m handling it. Gossip is the yin to my more tech/cerebral yang- I use it as a mental palate cleanser. So as my natural instinct says, check out FT.com…. then hit Cocoprez.com I have to skip the last and go read up on Brian Solis’ PR 2.0 or Springwise.

All I can say is Thank goodness TheCoolHunter is still not off-limits.

My sentence ends Friday.*

*As in week, I’m thinking work week, not 7 days. That’d be just cruel.

Grief and The Good Dog

This is my favorite picture of Cody.

I’ve been light on the posting this week.

Sorry.

Side note: Actually, I’ve written quite a few posts, but I had to put them on hold. I’m waiting for a few confirmations etc. on my next, and very cool, big project for TheLiquidBetsy. The 90 day challenge by Modern Pilates and Bodyscapes Fitness, I’m trying to bring in a few more elements, a charity component especially. Things are looking good but nothing is firm yet. So stay tuned for that…

Meanwhile, back at the ranch… my dear husband’s grandmother passed away.

98 years old, she had lived a wonderfully full life complete with children, grand- and great-grandchildren. Although he (and I) are sad that she’s left, we cannot be distraught. She left peacefully and, really, we should all be so lucky. She (and we) were blessed.

I was most concerned with Great-grandma Del’s passing was it’s affect on my children. They’ve seen death, wakes and funerals but it always with other people’s grandparents. Not their own. And my daughter, The Toaster, was especially close. I wanted to make sure they got through this ok.

And so far, it’s been better than OK. They had a few questions, and Mr. Man said he’d miss her, but both point-blank told me it was part of life… just like with Cody.

Cody.

Ahh… Cody. Our dog that we had to put to sleep a couple of years ago. Potentially 14 years old (who knew? he was pound-procured) Cody was joy of a dog. A black furry Keeshond he was probably one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever had to pleasure to pet. Ridiculously smart. But like all things he grew old and started to deteriorate: failing eyesight, arthritis, constant pain.

A few years ago we made the very tough decision to put him down.

The twins were pre-school age and we did our best to explain the cycle of life and that Cody was now in a much happier place, chasing all the dogs and “Squirrel!” he wants in heaven. They were sad and even to this day The Toaster has a picture of Cody framed in her room.

He was a really good dog.

But now it’s Great-grandma Del. The twins are older, and they saw her fragility first hand. She was parchment to their bouncing rubber. She was tired a lot, had to be helped to walk, carried a very cool cane.

It would seem that my eldest children’s experience with Cody has softened the blow of losing their great-grandma Del. He helped give them a very good perspective, helped them deal with the grief better, and I thank him for this one last gift.

(and I am totally tearing up as I type this folks)

Again…he was a very, very good dog.

32 Refections From The Potty

Just so we’re straight-  I’m not the one on the potty.

Baby Lug is.

As I type this I’m potty training Baby Lug, whose just turned 3.

Thank goodness I have a ton of Easter Candy to dole out for each time he uses the toilet. Otherwise I’d be in big trouble — I just don’t think real carrot is enough of a “carrot” to get the job done.

(also as I edit this he’s just stood up on the closed potty lid and peed. We may have a ways to go…)

It also means I am a prisoner of my home, and complete with Baby Lug is running around freestyle. If you get my meaning.

Times like these I have to stop and review just to see what the experience of parenthood done for (and to) me.

This is one of those times.

So far I know these what I know for sure:

• At some point parenting becomes about zone defense.
• Showering can be option. But not much past day 3, unless it’s a blizzard or a natural disaster has hit your town, then everyone is scuzzy.
• Live and love the uniform. Cops have’em, nurses wear’um, even the Dunkin’Doughnut Man who I used to scored my hits of caffeine from wears one… you’ve got to consider they might be on to something. Mine is a Gap Trouser jean and a Gap t-shirt (long and short) with clogs. The clogs are key because here in the Northeast it is snowy, slushy and with 2″ platform base I can navigate easily. Those extra 2″ also makes me 5′10″ and skinnier. And I can slip them off easily.
• You don’t have to bathe your kids everyday. In the summer yes (sunscreen) but you can fill up a kiddie pool and Viola! bathtime. After day 3,  again, things get gamey.
• You wear your hair everyday. Spend the cash there.
• Bobbi Brown make-up hides pretty much everything. Also spend the cash there.
• There were days I’d sell blood or non-essential organs for Bobbi Brown make-up. (Or now I use Sarra, which may have turned me forever.)
• Perfume is your friend.
• Tag sales are your friend. So is Ebay and Craig’s List. Even your town dump if it has a “Dumptique” Ungodly how much great stuff you get, sell or trade. Or just give it away to a family crisis center/thrift shop.
• Giving is better than getting.
• You will have a million new mommy friends but if you can cultivate 3-4 close in-the-trench friends from them, they will literally save your bacon with emergency babysitting. Also fab for venting, as sounding boards and as your biggest fans.
• We all need fans. Your kids do. You do.
• No one know what it’s like to have twins. Except those with twins. You just have to accept it. We give each other knowing looks and, yes, we have a secret handshake. Same goes for higher-order multiples.They also get better discounts and have my undying awe.
• With twins, things either get exponentially easier or exponentially harder. All learn the potty or everyone figures out how to dial 9-1-1.
• Diaper bags can be anything. Even a car.
• The nice stuff gets pooped, peed, thrown up on just as much (if not more) than the good enough.
• The Baby weight won’t come off unless you have a hand in it. I know, Heidi Klum says she just breastfeeds, but the girl is LYING. She’s paid to work out and just assumes that subsisting on salad is the norm.
• Your body will not spring back. Maybe the first one it did, and maybe those we’re even twins and you were as huge as a German Zepplin, but the second or the third. Your pushing it.
• You can totally send your kids a bill when their older if that makes you feel better. For the boob-lift surgery, the tummy-tuck, therapy you threaten you need.  Also you can offer your sons future movers to your friends. I have two and boy I’m thinking up projects for them to build, tear-down and move when their 16.
• What works for one kid doesn’t work for all. In fact count on it. It make it less frustrating. And it’s a pleasant surprise when it does work.
• A sleeping child will make you glad went down the lunatic path known as parenthood. It’s also the reset button. You might wanted to ship’em off to the Gypsies earlier but the sweet calmness of a softly snoring babe and, well, you forget about the cat in the dryer episode. Well not forget…but forgive. (The cat won’t.)
• Have at least 2 emergency back-up dinners ready in freezer/pantry. Trader Joe’s is great for this- pizza, frozen Risotto, fishsticks. McDonald is the back-up, back-up, back-up — right after Wholefoods, who does an awesome job, without the crap.
• You will rue the day they learn to walk. That means they will run soon.
• You will cry. Because of them. For them. Tears of joy included.
• You will think you are unqualified to be a parent. I was shocked they let me out of the hospital with 2 little beings. “Do they know I don’t know what the HELL I’m doing?”
• You will figure it out. It may not be pretty but it will be OK.
• The days are long but the years are short. You blink their starting to talk, you blink again and they’re jumping on the school bus giggling with their friends.
• Food is what is served. No options, no whining. Don’t be a short-order cook, kids will eat anything if they are hungry enough. Even if it’s just the veggies.
• Kids are master manipulators and crafty minxes. You get the behavior that was last rewarded. Give them ice cream to keep them from fussing, you get fussy, bratty kids ALL THE TIME.
• Being bored it ok. Scheduling 7 days a week with classes is mind-numbing for them and you. Creativity is born from being bored. Pirates under the kitchen table, Jungle boys in the backyard, princesses on bikes. Keep it in balance.
• Exhaustion is the norm. You’ll wish for the days when you were bored. Sleep is sexy.
• Given the chance, you still wouldn’t trade being a parent for anything. Really.

I’m sure there’s more …but this is what I can do for now.

Plus, the 3 y.o. just informed me he went potty all by himself. In the potty.

(Hooray!)