Have you ever gone to the grocery store and purchased a box of something because you just wanted one? Just one of those super yummy cookies? Or just one of those ridiculous looking brownies? Only then you find yourself with an entire box/carton of the totally bad for you delectibles... This happens to me all the time.

This week it was Nutty Bars.

I cannot tell you the last time I indulged in a Little Debbie anything...maybe 8, no 12 years ago. Most of the time I find that kind of stuff repulsive- chock full of hydrogenated oils and preservatives- and they're not even really that good. A total waste of a couple hundred calories.

But, oh those Nutty Bars. They called to me from their strategically placed shelf. My mouth started to water. I needed one. N.O.W. I'm not one to deny my cravings and I'm also not one to wait, sooo as I walked down the dairy aisle I happily munched on both sticks of chocolatey goodness, finishing just in time to lick the chocolate from my fingers as I slid my CC at the checkout. (I think if I wasn't guilty of pigging out in the grocery store while I shopped people who did would totally be a pet peeeve of mine- it's really gross when you think about it. But I do it so therefore I'm ok with it.)

Then yesterday when I opened the pantry to retrieve the freeze dried peas and dried papaya for my children's snack the remnants of my craving hit me in the face. Gross I thought aloud. What in the world am I going to do with 11 Nutty Bars? The two little faces screaming 'cha-cha' below me made me rethink my previous snack decision. Maybe just one...

As we sat on the kitchen floor and pow wowed Little Debbie style, I started to feel guilty. If I am so grossed out by these processed snack cakes why in the world would I pawn them off on my children?

So I wouldn't devour the entire box myself of course...Way to put your kids first mom.

I have a lot of them. A ton really. And they seem to be multiplying. You know those people who say, "I have three pet peeves?" I'm not one of them. I have like a bagillion, plus infinity. I'm not sure if people in general just annoy me or if I'm just so perfect that everyone else's inferiority gets under my skin...joking.

It drives me crazy when people shorten street names. There's a really popular street in Indianapolis named Massachusetts Avenue. Everyone calls it Mass Ave. I'm not sure if the aforementioned 'everyone' is just too lazy to pronounce five more syllables or if they just think it's hipper to call it Mass Ave. If it's the latter they are in need of a serious wake up call. I mean, you live in Indianapolis...

It's not as if STL is the mecca of cool either. When you meet someone new in the greater metro area the conversation goes something like this: "What's your name?" "My name is....what's yours?" "My name is....where did you go to high school?" Here in St. Louis we perpetually talk about HS, live in HS, ask about HS, and generally act as if we are still in HS. It is one of my pet peeves.

When it comes to children I have an inumerable amount of PPs. Although I believe unsolicited advice and pregnant belly touching to be high ranking, pretending like you know what it's like to have twins when you do not have twins tops the list. There was a very nice mom at the park this morning during our playgroup whose children were 10 months apart and as such she kept mentioning to me that she could sympathize (why I needed sympathy I'm not sure- another pet peeve) with me because hers were basically twins too. Um, no. You do not have twins. Unless your children grew in your uterus at the same time and exited at the same time you do not have any freakin clue what it is like to have twins. Stop sympathizing, stop trying, and stop comparing. You are pet peeve numero uno.

It has been awhile. Since my last post we have had the toilet fixed (it was a serious undertaking), we have witnessed our son throw an atomic fit in the aisle of a 757 for all passengers to see (and hear), both of our children discovered how to escape their cribs (and thoroughly enjoy doing it), we awoke every morning of vacation at the very ungodly hour of 4:30ish (time changes are a bitch), we ran through Phoenix airport a la Home Alone during our layover (except we had two toddlers and three bags) arriving only 8 minutes before our scheduled takeoff (to say we were sweating would be a gross understatement. Do you know how long Phoenix terminals are?!), we (ok, so I) requested the man in our row be moved to a different seat (which was actually a legitimate request as we require four oxygen masks and with the man in our row we would have been one short) only to mess up every other seat assignment of the people coming on after us (my request actually resulted in the booting off of a passenger due to overbooking- oops), we discovered that it is possible for Brian to wheel one suitcase while holding two carseats and a pack and play and for me to hold two carry ons, a purse, push a double stroller while wheeling our other suitcase, we also discovered that while vacations with two two year olds are wonderful, it sure is nice to be home...

When a Republican crosses the aisle to become a Democrat the average IQs of both parties goes up.

Lately I have been busy. Swamped really- getting ready for Easter, out of town guests, the mini a few weeks away, our first vacation via airplane next week, nice weather keeping me outside during naps to plant plant and plant some more, wedding showers, lots of (surprisingly) nights out...

I have started and stopped about ten different posts. I have soo much video, soo many pictures, and soo many great stories that I am almost too overwhelmed as to which to pick and post.

And so we have 'reached the point in our program' (as a friend likes to say on her blog) where I am taking a vacation from my computer...just for awhile...maybe a week or two...and, let's be honest, knowing me I'll probably cheat and go back and post on all the days in the middle that I failed to do so!

The toilet that was causing a rain forest in our basement is officially 'broken.' The lead pipe that once held it all together is no longer. It has cracked and taken the bolts with it. Our commode, therefore, was just resting on the floor- the bolts were attached to nothing but the actual toilet (the ring that they are soldered too had cracked off the pipe).

In all probability this was our fault. We DID remove and then replace the toilet one or two times while redoing the floors...our home warranty company doesn't know that though. Is it lying when you simply choose to withhold information?

Before we knew the above information Brian had tried to 'fix' it by taking a picture to the local plumbing supply shop where they informed him that he was going to need more than just a wax ring for this one...

He walked in the door, paused for effect and then said:

"Don't fu** with this house. It will fu** you back!"

A perfect description of what all of our renovations have become...YES, I am still obsessed with old houses. This is just their way of showing you how much they love you...

We watched Marley and Me last night. The part that struck me (and that I cannot stop thinking about) is when Owen Wilson comes home and Jen Aniston (who has just chosen to leave a successful career and stay at home) loses it with the dog and then with him. She, in a round about way, blames him for having to give up all of who she was and resents him for 'getting' to leave every morning to go to work while she stays at home.

I have never felt like this. Ever.

I would like to think that I was destined for a successful career of some sort had I not chosen to stay at home. I have a degree (in Political Science and Women's Studies) from the University of Michigan and a Master's from Indiana University in health administration. I worked for the top ranking Democrat (Shocking I know. Best line of any book, "Fastest way to turn a Democrat into a Republican? Have them move out of their parents' house, get a job, and start paying taxes." I was living at my parent's during the time of my employment.) of the state of Missouri before working as project manager for the COO of one of the largest community hospitals in our country. I would like to think I was heading towards a VP level job- at the very least- at some hospital...just the thought of it makes me gag a little.

But the thing is, I never think about it. Some people wake up every morning excited to go to work. Happy to see familiar faces and make whatever impact it is they are making. I never had that feeling. Yes, I always loved what I did but I'm a passionate person- I love any task I take on.

For the first time in my life I now wake up excited to go to 'work,' knowing that I truly am making a difference. Knowing that when I look back on my life I will not have regretted not being some C-level exec who works 80 hours a week running a hospital, or some jet set lobbyist who missed out her children's lives. I will look back without regrets at having 'given up' everything to raise incredible children and to take care of my family.

We went to a wedding a few months ago and the pastor giving the service paused before saying something so profound, "A good society rests on a good marriage." Think about that. No. Really think about it. A good marriage begets good children which in turn begets a strong and successful society.

I am fulfilled by staying at home with my children. I am excited every morning to face the day's triumphs and challenges. I am not resentful nor am I wistful of nice suits and office chatter. I am not 'losing' myself in this new role but instead have found myself. The true self that I have been searching for for so long. The me that is content with the life she is living, knowing that it is the best job in the whole wide world.

Why is it that when I have a bad day I have a really bad day? I mean, 95% of my days go swimmingly well...the others? TERRIBLY.

The babes woke this morning at the lovely 6am hour (we usually slumber on until a little after 8am).

Fin was (and has been all day) a total crankster. I think she may be getting her last four teeth.

Because we had such an early start to our day I figured we would go to Art Class (no, I am not paying. I have a coupon) at 9am, then go to the gym for a workout, then maybe stop at Sam's for some much needed DDP.

We get our snacks together. We get milk. We get jackets. We get buckled into the car. I get in and can't find the keys. After a top to bottom search of the house I realize that my brother must still have them from the zoo yesterday. I call him at 9:05am. He says he will be here in 15 minutes. The babes are in the car this whole time happily munching their snack. Twenty five minutes later no brother. "Where are you?" "I'm still at home" ARE YOU SERIOUS?

So I get everyone out of the car and decide to play in the backyard while we wait. Parker 'falls' (or more like sets his sights on it and jumps) into a huge patch of mud so we must all now journey inside to change pants.

Keys arrive. We have time now only to workout. 40 minutes into my workout I hear my child screaming from the childcare area. Apparently some kid had a binkey and she threw a fit because she wanted one too. There should be a binky law- no child is allowed to leave their house with them in their mouths. Especially children over the age of 2 (don't even get me started). Time to go.

Neither babe would touch lunch. At noon I threw the towel in and to bed they went. Thinking I would get some planting and mulching done during what is sure to be in extra long (fingers crossed) nap I came downstairs to retrieve some of the plants we just purchased and had stored in the basement during (what I hope to be) the last frost.

I look over to see water dripping off our old office chair. With much hesitation I look up. This is what I saw...


Yes. That is a large portion of ceiling completely saturated with toilet water. Mmmm. I'm now off to drain my toilet by plastic cup and then heave it into the bathtub to determine what the hell went wrong...

Here's to hoping my day gets a little less cranky and toilet filled...

Maybe I'm just the worst mom of all time but I am NOT a fan of baby classes. All baby classes. We have been to music classes, Gymboree classes, The Little Gym classes, baby yoga classes, and art classes, and I think that they are ALL a HUGE waste of money. In fact, I believe that you could safely lump infant (<2.5) classes in the same boat with all things wedding. Both are a huge racquet. You want cupcake liners. $1. You want wedding cupcake liners? $22. Yes. We think that's fair.


We went to The Little Gym today. I had high hopes. Both of my children are big climbers and I thought this might be a way to channel all that energy into something productive. Maybe they would learn some moves. A somersault perhaps? HA! Who was I kidding? To them the place was nothing more than a mall playground with a parachute and some bells. The mall playground, however, is FREE. The Little Gym wants you to pay $40 to be a 'member.' Why they call it that I'm not sure. Usually the word membership entails getting something. This $40 only gets you the opportunity to spend another $157 for an 8 week session. That's for ONE kid. Well I have two. A twin discount? 10%. Sooo you're telling me that for THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTY NINE DOLLARS my kids can play with balls and jump on some mats? Are you out of your mind?! Better question is, are parents out of their minds?!


Perhaps when my children have cognizant memories of the balance beam will we partake in such activities. Until then we're getting us a parachute and heading over to West County Center...I hear they have a great playground. Maybe I'll sing a little song or two when we get there...

I went on a long run today.

The mini is a month away.

Mile six was a steep uphill battle with the winds gusting in our faces. I'm not sure if I was running or only walking fast. When you're pushing over 100 pounds sometimes the line is blurred.

I'm telling myself I will be ready.

I. WILL. BE. READY.

I am a purger. My closet is small and nearly empty. In a previous life (i.e. before children) I was able to fill a very large walk-in closet with my wares...40 some odd pairs of jeans at least 50 pairs of shoes, hell I think I had over 20 pairs of gym shoes alone. Suits, skirts, silk shirts, go-out tops, stay-in sweats (the one category of which has grown immensely), a shelf of polos, another of turtlenecks...all filled my 11' x 8' closet to the rafters. No longer. Now I just purge.

There are no more shopping trips in which I find a great (insert any of the above mentioned articles of clothing here) and buy in every color (PS Why do we do that?!). Gone are the days I spend an entire day at a mall or phone a friend when I stumble upon a must have.

I have freed myself (or my large(r) body has refused to be stuffed like a sausage into low-rise-muffin-top jeans) of choices. My jean supply has dwindled to three sad, no special stitching on the butt pocket jeans- two of which happen to be of the high rise varietal of which I swore I would NEVER sport. Ahem. My uniform now consists of an iron free button up and some sort of comfortable bottom. I have two 'go out' tops which I am seriously considering adding to the donate pile and one pair of jeans that is long enough to be worn with some sort of heels.

Speaking of heels...I laugh (ok, so inside I cry a little) remembering a time I told a co-worker that I would be buried in stilettos. That I loved the torture of 4" heels so much that I would actually choose to spend an eternity in them is beyond me. I wore a pair of heels last month and I had to remove them at the restaurant table and walk out barefoot. Yes, I have become a class act. A high rise, flat shoed, uniform wearing class act.

Today I am ridding myself of all things Juicy. You reach a certain point in your life where just the name of the clothing alone is enough to make you feel entirely inappropriate. Six hoodies and three pairs of pants just hit the ever growing 'I am a mom now' pile. Which also includes some great Rock and Republics, a couple pairs of Joe's, a handful of size S sweaters, and a great pair of Kors 4" heels...any takers?