Dear CPS

Dear Child Protective Services,

 Please ignore the screaming child in the background...eventually she will cry herself to sleep. Anyways, let's get to the reason for this letter. There is absolutely no reason for you to come investigate me and take my children from me. My parents have been reading my blog and are worried that their grandchildren will be taken away  and thrown into "the system" because of my posts. Let me assure you that both my husband and I love our children deeply and do our best to provide a loving and safe environment for them to grow up in. If you could just overlook the bruise on my son's cheek and the bump protruding from his forehead that would be great. I just can't seem to convince the kid that he is not yet steady enough on his feet to run. I m currently in the process of covering all my walls with foam and cushioning my floors with bubble wrap. I also am working on never being more than two feet away from my kid when he plays outside so as to prevent him from falling. I will also be investing in a helmet and full body protective gear for him.  Please continue to disregard the crying baby, I know it's been 15 minutes but I promise she will eventually fall asleep, it's called "self-soothing." If this too is reason for investigation, I will invent a device in which I can carry her at all times. This may mean that I will be compromising my personal hygiene as it will be quite difficult to use the restroom and shower with my daughter connected to me. I will also need some monetary compensation from you as I will be fired from my job for not being as effective. Oh, and one more thing, my marriage will most likely not work out since it will be impossible to have a good relationship with my husband while I am following 2 feet behind a one year old and have a baby connected to me at all times. So, if you could help me figure out a solution to that, that would be greatly appreciated. 

  In closing, there is no reason for concern despite what you may read on this blog. Moreover, with all of the precautionary measures mentioned above, my kids will never get a bump or bruise and will never have reason to cry again.

Yours Truly,

Soon to be perfect mother of two

P.S. Noah has been relieved of his house cleaning duties. I have stocked up on energy drinks so that I never have to sleep. I now clean the house at night while my children are asleep. 

Where is the Maid?

If you look closely at Noah's feet, you can see that the maid is not doing her job. Noah has been inside all day walking around barefoot. When I put him on  the couch, I noticed how dirty his feet were and thought, where the heck is the maid?....Okay, okay, I don't have a maid. I am the maid.  And, I obviously suck at my job. I just live in denial everyday convincing myself that the maid will clean up, but everyday I wake up and the house is still a mess. After seeing Noah's feet today, reality hit me like the smell of one of his poopy diapers. It was not pleasant but I knew it had to be done. So, I wet a towel, put Noah on his belly on top of it and told him to army crawl around the house. I feel better about myself now that the floor is semi-clean.

Do Questionable Photos = Questionable Parent?

I think we would all agree that some people just shouldn't be parents. I do not consider myself to be one of those people. However, as I was looking through my photos today, I began to second guess myself. Maybe I am one of those people. What do you think?...


I swear I didn't know that a child could experience a hang over from too much baby Motrin.

Doesn't every parent tie a shoe lace around ther kid's tummy as an accessory?

He won't stay away from those dang electrical outlets! At least the shock gave him a cool hair do. Just ignore the cut on his cheek, he was attacked by a toy when I wasn't watching.

This is a new method of potty training. It's "organic." Take your kid in dirty green parasite infested lake water and take off his diaper.

Don't let the facial expression fool you. He loves being in the hamper with the dirty clothes...okay who am I kidding? It makes for a great time-out spot. Isn't the point of punishment to make your kid never want to be bad again?

Although, he may look uncomfortable, he is not. This is completely safe and he loves to bend his back that way.



It was his first "bleeder" and daddy had to get an action shot. It was much more important than comforting him because we make him look at it now to remember the pain and it makes him never want to fall again. It's a teaching tool.

We didn't want her to be embarrassed by her baby acne which could have a lasting effect on her self-esteem so we just covered her face with her pretty butterfly headband.

Who knew killing flies could be so funny?

I have been trying to upload this video for a week now! Why do computers have to be so tempermental? I almost punched a hole through mine trying to get this video on here, so you all better like it. Anyways...in this video, I am multitasking. I was on the phone with my dad and trying to kill the pesky Chino flies at the same time. Who knew that I would be Noah's entertainment as well?

P.S. No matter what you may think after viewing this video, my son is not a smoker.

An Hour in My Shoes

Yesterday morning, my wonderful husband decided that he would let me sleep in because he knew how sleep deprived I've been. He said that he would handle the kids while I slept in for a couple of hours. So, at 7:30 he took Maia Belle and closed the bedroom door and let me get back to my sweet dreams. I dreamt of a little boy screaming from his crib and a daddy telling him to shush. Then the little boy ran from his daddy yelling "Whey ees Daa Daa" (translation: Where is Mama). I was startled out of my sweet dreams by Noah barging into my room and yelling "Dey ee is" (translation: There she is.) Ricky quickly pulled him out of my room and locked the door so he could no longer come in. It took me awhile to fall back to sleep as Noah was standing at the door yelling for me, Ricky was trying to coax him away from the door while shushing him, and Maia Belle started to cry because Noah's yelling scared her. My dream for the next 45 minutes consisted of a baby crying, a little boy terrorizing his house, and a daddy's constant rebuking. By this point I decided enough was enough. If I didn't rescue my husband right that second, I would no longer have a family. I knew that he was on the verge of killing our children.  I stopped pretending I was dreaming and faced the fact that I would never again in my life get to sleep in past 7. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the scene that awaited me on the other side of the door...I found a trail of toys in the hallway, a screaming baby in the office in her bassinet with a soaking wet diaper, Ricky trying to shove a pacifier in her mouth to get her to shut up, and Noah shirtless with a shoe lace around his neck dropping a handful of toys in the dining room and wondering if I was the one who was going to finally feed him. My dear sweet husband looked at me with desperation in his eyes and said, "How the heck do you do this everyday?" The time was 8:30 a.m. 

Doctor's Visits are Not for the Weak

Yesterday, Noah had a doctor's appointment with an orthopaedic specialist. I knew it was going to be a bad experience when we made the appointment months ago. 

  I get up and get ready early, I pack the diaper bag, I feed the baby so she will sleep the entire time we are out, and I get the kids in the car. I hurt my back getting the "double wide" into the back of the truck...it has to weigh 100 lbs. The whole drive over I am thinking about how I am going to qualify for a loan to pay for the gas for this trip because I had to drive all the way to Baldwin Park. I am also starting to panic thinking about how I am going to maneuver Big Mama and park her in the claustrophobic parking structure. Please Lord, let there be a parking space outside. We arrive and I find a parking space outside and 2 miles from the building (whatever it takes  to avoid the parking structure with my massive truck). By the time I unload the kids and the stroller and take the journey to the building, my newborn is screaming her head off and drawing lots of concerned looks my way. Not to mention I have arm pit stains from the sweat I have worked up and the perspiration is beginning to drip from my forehead as well. We check in at 11:00, his appointment is at 11:15. My baby is still screaming and Noah doesn't want to be next to her so he is screaming to get out. I take Noah out and let him run around and I feed the baby again so people will stop staring at me. Bad idea. I have a kid attached to my boob and I am trying to keep Noah from eating the leaves off the plants in  the waiting room. I finish feeding Maia but she is still screaming. Finally, one hour later they take us back into a tiny room for another 30 minutes. I am trying to keep Noah from touching anything and from going out of the room while trying to keep Maia happy. After about 15 minutes, I gave up. I let Noah touch whatever he went for and let him escape the room and run down the halls all the while Maia was screaming. I figured they would get really irritated with us and send the doctor in so that we would get out of there. We finally saw the doctor at 12:40. She said that there is really nothing she could do for Noah's feet. He will eventually grow out of it or will just be flat footed. I wanted to strangle her and tell her, "Do you realize what I just went through for you to tell me that my visit was pointless? You better do surgery or something to make this worth my while, dang it!" 

I am now broke, sore, and in need of some pills. 

What the heck is the "Hafamuh Virus?"

A couple of weeks ago, my son Noah had a really high fever and was really sick. Ricky came home from taking Noah to see the doctor and let me know that Noah had the "Hafamuh Virus." I had never heard of such a thing so I kept asking questions. Ricky's response to all my questions was "I don't know." I looked up the virus online and found nothing. In my mind I was thinking is this virus so rare and awful that they don't have any information on it? I began to think the worst. 

 

Me: "Why don't you know anything about this virus?" Why didn't you ask?"  

Ricky: "I did ask but the doctor was Asian and had a really thick accent."

Ding, Ding, Ding! My husband cannot decipher English with an accent if his life depended on it. I, on the other hand, love accents and pride myself on imitating them and understanding English spoken in any accent.  

Me: What does this "Hafamuh Virus" do? 

Ricky: Well she kept pointing to his hands and feet and she checked out his throat and said something about blisters.

Hmmm...blisters on his hands, feet, and mouth; "Hafamuh Virus;" and Asian accent. I pictured my friend's mother who is Chinese pronouncing these words..."han, foo, and mou." 

Me: "Oooooohhh, it's the Hand, Foot, and Mouth Virus!" 

Ricky: "Oh yeah...I guess that is what she said. It sounded like 'Haa- Fa -Muh' to me and she kept saying it really fast." 

Sheesh, that is the last time I send Ricky to the doctor.