Homemade Cliff Bar

As I continue my quest of trying to figure out what the hell my children will eat, I jump at any opportunity to make something resembling healthy.  By jump, I do mean I notice something, feed them the crappy version for as long as I can then eventually get around to looking for a recipe and may actually make the recipe.  So, they love Cliff Bars. Awesome. Balanced, real food, somewhat healthy and enough calories to get them moving and add some meat to those skinny ass legs. I found this dope website, that, amongst several other crack-like recipes, had a recipe for a no-bake Cliff Bar! Whoop Whoop!!
So I tried to make them.
I had most of the ingredients at home, imagine that. The girls like the chocolate chip peanut butter one, so I for that. I did not have peanuts, so I chopped up almonds. I also did not have Brown Rice Syrup, so I used Molasses and Honey.

I'm not going to lie, honey, molasses and peanut butter smells damn good cooking.

They were good. Not great, not as soft at the actual Cliff Bars. I am going to pick up some peanuts and brown rice syrup next time I am at the store and see if that makes a difference. The taste is a bit too molassesissy (nice) for me, so I am going to either try the brown rice syrup or just use straight honey. I think using peanuts instead of almonds may hide that flavor a bit more. So, we will see. Ruby spit it out and Adriana ran out of the kitchen and hid in her room...

Seriously

I got new cleaning stuff.

This time it will be different.

Seriously.

What the douce

I am quite sure that there is a large vacuum out there that is sucking the time and energy out of every moment of my day. I think it is an Oreck. You know, the kind you can never find the right bag for? It is orange. I am hoping that whoever turned it on is able to turn it off and return it to the store. For now, coffee, sugar and a silent resentment for all things breathing will have to suffice.

Harper Rose

She is the bomb.

It's all fun and games until...

someone gets an imaginary friend. It started out harmless, super weird, but harmless. Both 3-year-olds created an imaginary event, the concert. At said concert, they had a friend named Michael. Now, they each have a Michael, differentiated by the simple word "My". Here is a few of the MANY things that the Michaels do:My Michael has a red shirt

• My Michael can drive
• My Michael likes cookies
• My Michael read this book at the concert (yep, that event still takes place in the minds of my daughters)
• My Michael lives in that house (pretty much any house they see)
• HI MICHAEL!! (screamed at every plane that flies overhead. We live a mile from the airport. 750 planes a day...you get the point)

Now, their dear friend Michael has become a problem. When asked what Michael looks like, they usually say some older man they know or just "an old man." Ok, fair enough. We once saw a Barney episode where an older man was trying to get to his concert and one of the characters was named Michael. Maybe thats it...

But my mind usually sees something more like this:

Now, Michael has started telling my kids that he does not need to listen to me and he doesn't like me. So, Lou's Michael told her that all the DVD's need to be on the couch. When I asked her to tell Michael that her Mom says no, she started crying and freaking out.

In other words, I have two 3 year-olds that are pushing the boundaries of human nerves, but a creepy old man that keeps telling them to do so.

Awesome.

Moms judging moms

Since I have become a mom, I have learned that I can not judge other moms.

But I do.

And I judge others too.

For example, maybe people
should rethink the whole I-use-a-playground-as-a-babysitter thing, or the I-am-so-retro-that-my-kids-don't-need-to-wear-seatbelts followers, or the show-me-the-proof-that-blowing-smoke-in-my-toddlers-face-is-harmful mentality, or, my favorite, the I-dress-like-my-4-year-old-and-she-dresses-like-a-tramp line of thought.

I'm not saying I am better then them, just on a higher plane of existance.

B

Moments

I have moments of great pride in my parenting; potty training, playing
together for more then five minutes without screaming, hugs, I could
go on. Then, there the other moments; when R said she needed a cup of
coffee before she could play, when A said no one can clean milk like
mommy, when R said she is happy she can sit on my lap even if my tummy
us still big. I know they learn these from me somehow. Nah, I'll just
blame grandma.

B

Isn't there an app for that?

I am sure I found every app made for cleaning my house. I am also sure I have been reduced to tears from trying to find the right schedule online to keep it clean. I have had about 6 different plans executed on average for 2 hours in the past 2.5 years we have lived in our home. I have binders, daily tasks, Fly Lady lists, reminder notes everywhere (including an alert on my phone), but it just don't get done. My house is not a disaster zone on a constant basis, just from the hours of 7-1 and 4-7. And by house, I mean the upstairs, the basement is a bio-hazard site. I know the drill, 15-minutes a day. That is all it takes. Whoever came up with that gem does not have kids. or a husband. or a messy personality. or a house. or an environment where dust is able to settle at any point. Here, it gets done. But it makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a butter knife. I do not mind my own mess, but when it is someone else's (ie my 3-year olds or my husband), I want to watch a soap opera. Okay. Here I go. Thank God for headphones and a good audiobook. I do not go this alone.

Wonder where they learned that word...

R: I can not wait for our diarrhea birthday.

Me: What is a diarrhea birthday?

R: It is like a golden birthday (just 5 days away) but with purple work suits and yellow striped balloons.

Book Pie and SSPFSAHMWIAAWRAFDSCCCMDNLTOPIWMAD

The girls pulled most of the books from the shelf and made a Book Pie. They said it was made by all the hungry children.

I sat on the couch and tried to get them to watch a cartoon, but "no, we want to play with books!" They are not my kids.

A friend of the family recently started a fabulouso blog called Daily Epidural. It is super Rad. They have been discussing the various types of moms, Working, Stay at Home and Work from home (or as Carrie calls it the "As if working isn't crazy enough, and parenting isn't crazy enough, let's get super freaky and combine the two" mom). When I quit my Crotch-Smelling job (meaning the job that made me wear nylons) so I could stay home with my kids, I was blessed enough to obtain a part-time, contract job doing some media type research. As it turns out, this is also a crotch-smelling job, but not in capital letters, because no one if requiring me not to shower for days on end. And the part-time work is actually a break from my full-time plus work as a mom. So, I really shouldn't blame it on that...

Back to the subject, I do quite a bit of blog research for clients and had one assignment to obtain Momblogs. Looking at them I saw SAHM, WAHM, WM and my favs, the DH/DS/DD fiasco. I immediately wanted to drop the kids off at daycare and go back to nylons. Not a fan of acronyms. But, I was sucked in. I now consider myself a SSPFSAHMWIAAWRAFDSCCCMDNLTOPIWMAD (Super Spectacular Pretty Funny Stay at Home Mom Who Is Also a Wife, Recovering Alcoholic, Friend, Daughter, Sister, Contractor, Crafter, Cook, Maid, Driver, Non-Licensed Therapist, Organizer, Playgym and Incubator with More Added Daily). But that seems a bit long, so I will just go by B.

I did not plan this. I knew I always wanted to stay home, but I had no idea how emotionally and physically difficult it would be. Non-stop life to its fullest. But a full life is a busy ass life! I am cleaning dishes constantly because I get to make food for myself and my family, I am always picking something up because we make messes while we play, I drive hours a day because we are loved and get to see people often. But, then there is the constant noise, constant mess, cheap clothes, lack of hygiene, inability to not pee when I cough, loneliness, depression, lack of adult speak and a hairdo that is beyond inappropriate.

I used to love going out. Could play video games at friends all night long or spend a whole night at a coffee shop making fun of other people. Now I pretty much have to force myself to get out with friends. I would much rather go to bed or walk around Target without kids. But I do it. At least I try. I am lucky enough to have helpful family everywhere that can watch the girls, so I can. But, I don't wanna.

Knowing what I know now, I wish I looked at the blogs before I decided to stay at home. I would do the same thing, and I would probably be just as snarky about it, but at least I would have some tools in my arsenal for the lock-yourself-in-the-bathroom kinda days.

Thankfully places like Daily Epidural are there for us! Now I know I am not alone. Not like I am going to call anyone; going to take a nap instead.

Happy Valentines Day

Ruby: Where did my hat go?

Adriana: Maybe the kangaroo took it and flushed it down the toilet.

20 minutes of hilarious talk about flushing things down the toilet, including mom.

At school, the snow banks on the side of the street are so high, that the only way to get in and out of the MiniV is to use the street side. Because of the two lanes of parked cars and the snow, there is only room for one lane of cars to go past. Being 7 months preggo, with the uterus of a elephant (thanks girls), trying to manage two 3-year olds dressed for the arctic, two bags filled with extra undies, pants, shoes, snow-pants, art projects and then the two bags of valentine candy is like watching a Benny Hill skit. Scooting along dirty cars, trying to keep both sugar-high girls close to me, shoving them and their gear into the van, getting one buckled them smothering her with my belly while trying to get into the van to get the other buckled, first one kicks me in the gut, second one cries cause she is in the wrong seat, I knee the first in the leg, she cries, both want more sugar, get a foot cramp due to position, cars and other moms going past seeing only my large ass in the door and hearing two screaming kids. I finally wiggle my way out, pop a sucker in both girls mouths, crank up music, get tires stuck in the snow bank, drop my phone under my seat. Then, they start the toilet talk. By the time I am a block and a half away, still sweating, we are all laughing and covered in chocolate.

We have to laugh, cause we would cry our eyes out if we didn't!

Turns out, it was the best car ride home ever.

Happy Valentines Day!

B

Jokes#2 plus some real life notes

Q. Why did the chicken cross the road?

A. To find his friends. then they went to his Grandmas house and there was a birthday party with cake. Can I have a cookie?

I am quite certain that I can do this. When in a rational state of mind, my life is pretty dope. I have a great hubby, amazing kids, a beautifully imperfect house, a minivan and a wonderful support system. But, in my normal state of mind, far from rationality, I am 97% sure this is way too much. Once I concede to my less then rational self, it takes an army from heaven to get me out of it. Or a day in bed with my cell phone, crying and screaming to my husband. It is, after all, his fault.

These situations were becoming pretty scarce. But now that I am getting closer to having our third child, They are happening more frequently. I have a tendency to wait-till-then, ie. once the baby is born, then I will deal with it. Not working so well. Just another reminder to life for today, be the best I can today, even if that is a bumbling mess. Accept my emotions and move through them. And tell my husband and kids how grateful I am to have them.

Jokes

We laugh a lot in my house. Some days more then others. The girls have taken to telling their own jokes. Here are our lunch ones:

Q: Why did the bear turn on the light?

A: To see what the weather was

Q: Why did the light say something?

A: To see what the weather was

Q: What did the chicken say to the bear?

A: I forgot.

I sware...

...My house was sparkling clean when I left this morning. I am certain that a group of gnomes came in while we are gone and left dishes out, threw dirty clothes on the floor, tracked sand all over, put finger prints on every shiny surface and tossed toys everywhere. F'ing gnomes.

Come Again?

I am going to try to start posting some of the random things my daughters' say. I have forgotten some of them, but hope to catch up on things as I remember them.

Here is one:

Rube: "The baby and the snow are not good listeners" (because the new baby is supposed to come after the snow melts, neither thing is happening)

I have a journal with me now...more to follow.

My Kids' Secret

Is it odd to think your children are extra-terrestrials sent from another planet to do research on human life? I am waiting for the day they both sit down and say, "Gimme a smoke, this shit is getting old."

If I were to guess, their research would be based on either how sleep deprivation effects the food choices mothers give their offspring or how may different types of yoga pants are there, with a side discussion on if sweats really be called yoga pants.