Seeking a Promoter

Lulo has been hitting (pushing, kicking, swatting) his brothers. They are moving now. Getting in his space. Drawing attention towards themselves and he don't like it. Not. One. Little Bit. J says that "boys will be boys" and that is fine and good. But the little ones are little and frankly, I am SO not interested in meeting my insurance deductible this year because of Lulo's temper.

If one approaches him, he says he is scared. This is a crock. This is straight from Damn Diego and all the animals he rescues. The twins are half his size and won't do anything to him. I am trying not to freak out and yell. Though, when he nails his brothers or I am trying to get him to stop what his little, mean brain is thinking about doing, I raise my voice. I am trying to let him be and see what happens without getting involved. I've tried time outs and rewards.

Anyhow, because it is easier and more fun and I like seeing them all calato (naked) in the bathtub together - we give them baths together at the same time. I took a break for a couple weeks because Lulo was not having it. He did not want either of the boys even near him. Basically, one day, Lulo hit Jojo in the face, Jojo fell back and hit his head, Jojo shrieking. Juju crying out of sympathy. I yelled at Lulo for hitting his brother. He started crying. I took Lulo out of the bath and removed him from the bathroom. Big mess.

This weekend, everything went OK with bathtime with all three at the same time again so I thought, OK, MAYBE WE CAN DO THIS AGAIN. Routine starts again.

Then, today, I introduced a new toy. Four stupid plastic turtles from Target. Lulo wants all four. Jojo wants one. I tell Lulo to share. He plays with one and puts the other three on the ledge where Jojo can't reach it. Spitefully. {Me, seething.} Jojo tries to get one. Lulo nails him in the face. Jojo falls back and hits his head. Jojo starts crying. I sit Jojo back up and rub his head and he calms down. Jojo waits for Lulo to get close enough and Jujo jabs Lulo in the face. No hesitation. Pure art. Just smacked him one good.

I sort of did a silent cheer for Jojo. That kid is small but mighty. Lulo deserved it.

Is that mean that I sort of cheered for Jojo? J came in the bathroom with calato Juju and asked what happened because I seriously couldn't contain the laughter and I told him.

He said, "boys will be boys." Whatever you want to call it is fine with me. Jojo did some fine work today and we are seeking representation.

Summer PJs

I just started putting summer pajamas on the boys. Until a few days ago, it was still getting cold at night. So, they were all in long sleeves and long pants. The nightly ritual of stuffing the twins' really fat legs and chubby arms into these "fire retardant" extra safe pajamas was getting really old. I don't really get the whole safe pajama thing. I put the twins in 18-24 month pajamas and it's like stuffing a sausage into its casing. I sweat trying to get their fat legs into these pajamas. And you may think, "lady, get larger pajamas."

But, alas, it does not matter.

All manufacturers make pajamas tight in all sizes because I think they are trying to prevent some loose pajama-ed child from lighting on fire. I know that this is a serious topic and third degree burns are no laughing matter. But, you know, I wonder if there could be a proper balance between the likelihood of catching on fire and the likelihood of a mother losing her mind and/or the likelihood of accidentally breaking a bone or bruising a kid while trying to shove chubby, clean, rolly polly legs into pajamas. Tell me if I am wrong and I will advocate for the tight pajama.

Anyhow, tonight the tight pant pajamas were replaced by little shorts. The rolls and creases were loose and on display for adoration and kisses. Their legs, except for the creases, are tanned from their afternoon walks.

Lulo is lanky now. He had rolls last year but this year, his legs are long, skinny, and he asks me to put socks on. The passing of seasons dawned on me tonight and I had to breathe it in and be amazed by how the time is flying. It doesn't feel like it from day to day but the tight pajamas were just here. And now, they are in shorts, summer is upon us.

Huh? What?

Who is Speidi? What did they do?

I need to eat mass amounts of chocolate.

Megan Fox bugs me. What did she do? Why do I keep seeing her in dresses?

I need to eat an entire pizza.

The reason I watched Jon & Kate was to see parents ungracefully cope with six children who were the same age. It made me feel better. I could give a rat's heiny about Kate's scooter. I also don't care that they are in a brawl. Just show me the kids. Show me your day to day, that's why we watched your family. Get on it. It's made us feel better about our own chaos. Damn.

I need to eat a french dip sandwich.

I really like Boot Camp. I am going to keep doing that. Go away rolls.

So, I need to eat nothing.

I bet Megan Fox eats nothing.

No, seriously, who is Speidi and why is Al Roker interviewing them? Why does Al Roker interview anyone? He needs to just keep telling me about my neck of the woods.

$20 in Your Pocket

I am a big fan of rewarding myself before I have accomplished anything. I like to indulge my inner OC. You can take the girl out of OC but you can't take OC out of the girl. So, on that note, before my very first EB, I went to Target and saw some work out stuff. Bought work out sweats in XL. Put them on (at home). I looked like a heiff. Panty lines, cellulite, muffin tops, bulge, needin' a nip/tuck tightness everywhere. This might work for some people but I don't believe in exposing the world to my rolls more than need be. Tight pants and Jog Bras sans Top are not my MO.

I was sort of mad at the world and exclaimed "HOW IS IT POSSIBLE THAT THESE XLS DONT FIT ME." XL was pretty much the only size that still had some room for me. THESE SWEATS were BAD - no room. Just bulges and yuckiness a la Kirstie Alley post Jenny Craig.

So, I tucked them in the drawer. Sadly. No new pants to celebrate my heifferness. I started Boot Camp with my old loose pants. Finished my first session, finished my second session. Started my third session.

Then, this weekend I was talking to my cousin, A, who shared with me her love of Target work out clothes. I told her my sad story about the XLs that weren't and she sheepishly said, "Well, you kind of have to stretch them out." Uh huh, sure. I knew she was thinking..."Tina, I think you were very close to needing 2 plane seats."

Well today, I got out of the shower and I thought. OH I BET THOSE PANTS FIT ME NOW. I bet A is right and they'll fit with a little stretching. I should give them a try.

No dice.

You know WHY? Because, the damn things are Size Medium!

Terms of Endearment

For the most part, my husband and I called each other by our last names. He uses my maiden name - GXXXXXX. I use his surname (LXXXXXX) - which is also my surname now that I committed to this marriage and to standing in line at the Social Security office, DMV, and Post Office (for the passport). Anyhow, most people use, "sweetie" or "babe". We use our surnames.

Example:

J: "Hey GXXXXXX, can you pass the ketchup?"

Me: "Sure, here LXXXXXX. Can you pass the Dulce de Leche Cheesecake? Thank you, You are the Best LXXXXXXX."

Anywho, Lulo has been running a fever since last night. Last night it was low grade and he was eating like a champ and in a great mood so...I blew it off. Today, it was in that 101 range all day. It started to freak me out when the fever only went up after I gave him Tylenol. Anyhow, I called my Dad 72 times today and each time he said - if he is in a good mood and you gave him Tylenol just wait it out.

Well, I called my Dad again at 4ish and told him that Luk's temp was 101.7 (under his arm) and my Dad said that it sounded like an ear infection since it kept hanging on. And, then, he told me to look in his throat...like this is an easy task. Weirdly, I asked Lulo to say AHHHHHH while I look in his mouth and he fully cooperated. I damn near passed out that he cooperated. And then, I damn near passed out when I saw little pockets of PUSS all over his tonsils. NIIIIIIICE.

So, Dad calls in a prescription and I was standing in line waiting for my friendly pharmacist technician (David) to find Lulo's bag o' magic. And then, the actual Pharmacist (real name: My Luc - as in "just my luck") looks up from busily measuring out the Prozac and says, from across the pharmacy:

My Luc: "Hey LXXXXXX, it is a good thing your Dad is a doctor because you would have to wait months for a regular doctor for all the medicine your family needs."

Yep, this is how well I know our neighborhood CVS pharmacist.

Wonder if she has any cheesecake?

Boobie Pantalones.

In law school, I was in a study group with all guys. We got to choose our study groups and I am glad that I landed with these guys because the stress level was low (or as low as it can be for law school) and they were all smarter than me so I was positively influenced and their knowledge often seeped down to me. Anyhow, we had many, many nicknames for several of the people in our class. Many.

"Friendly Neighborhood" was the name we had for a particularly aloof fellow and I think we called him that because of a specific incident when he was particularly not friendly. "Quilty" was this woman who repeatedly (approximately once a week) wore this awful outfit that basically looked like a purple quilt - large purple buttons, tapered pants. Head shaking as I think about it. "Hatch" a/k/a "Cone Head" had a horrible, horrible haircut reminiscent of Kate Gosling's (of Jon & Kate + Eight) but worse, and higher, and more horrible. "Toadie" was the girl who followed Hatch around.

Get the idea? OOOOK - there is a point here. I obviously became a lawyer - we didn't JUST make fun of people in law school. But if you aren't a lawyer, I just want to say that law school is a breeding ground for people that must be ridiculed while you are sitting around in your study group for 7 hours straight.

So, on that note, I need to speak about Boobie Pantalones. Unfortunately, in the case of Boobie Pantalones, she was a really, really nice (and from what people said) and good professor. She got this name because my friend B and I are horrible people. Also, she wore her pants ("pantalones" en Spanish for the gringos) RIGHT UNDERNEATH her Boobies. In other words, she would wear a top and her pants would be maybe 1 inch below her boobs and her shirt would usually be tucked in and she would have a belt one. Oh, the fashion crisis. As such, she was bestowed the name "Boobie Pantalones".

Anyhow, once again, I have a point.

I totally thought of Boobie Pantalones as of late because for the last 3 years I thought my tops have been shrinking but they are not. I am not getting taller. My torso appears to have remained the same. I don't really get WHY the length of my shirts seems shorter. I THINK the reason is because I am fatter and there was SOME stretching that occurred when I carried my litter last year. I pretty much ALWAYS layer a tank or something underneath shirts to give the illusion of length. I am very much against the "bare midriff". My midriff is gag worthy. So, I don't want anything hanging out. Ew. I respect the eyes of others.

However, today, I was like WHY IS THIS SHIRT SOOO SHORT. And for a brief moment, I pulled up my pants, and the shirt was the PERFECT LENGTH!

Boobie Pantalones, I get it now. I salute you.