Want To Feel Better About Yourself? Read This.

*Disclaimer - a lot of this post was written a couple weeks ago - I sat down to write a brand new entry tonight, but some of this shit cracked me up, so I am leaving it in!!*

**Second disclaimer - there is a lot of profanity in this post. To those who are offended, I am sorry. To everyone else, I swear on my life it is all warranted**

Hi. It's been a while. A long while. Too long. I have scraps of paper all over my existence with things that I want to write about but haven't. Sorry. All good? OK. Here are a few things that have happened to me in the ensuing months since I last wrote that might make you feel better about yourself:

1) I have to start with this one because it happened recently. I spent several hours of my life not only *watching* but LOVING The Real Housewives of New Jersey. I'm not embarassed about it because there is no shame in my game. But I feel that anything that I do alone while my husband is out of town that, upon hearing about my actions, would cause him to look at the floor and shake his head in disgust must be made public. Saves me from guilt later. So...the show is the bomb, and I could TOTALLY be a NJ housewife. Love the hair. Love the nails. Love the accent. Don't love the "my daughters are my best friends even though they are all under age ten" but whatever. To each her own.


2) Mother's Day. Beautiful sentiment in theory. Love that my husband let me sleep in....got the boys up, did the whole diaper/teeth brushing/dressing thing, made them breakfast and kept it all to a dull roar. Beautiful. I was awake and heard whispering outside the door around 10 AM...when the door opened, my beautiful (coached) sons ran in saying, "Happy Mother's Day!!!!!" with the biggest grins you could ever imagine. The fact that Yancey ran to the bed while Foster tripped and fell on his face at "Happy Moth....." is really OK. Then I was handed a Grande Skinny Vanilla Latte Extra Hot One Splenda (WHY does he make me write it down every time if he can do it on his own??). Ahhh....happy glow. THEN....then then then......because I couldn't leave well enough alone......I asked my husband, "What if I'd wanted to sleep beyond 10AM? What if that was what 'Please, sleep in on Mother's Day' meant to me?" He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Tough Shit." (not with his mouth, of course , but with his eyes and with his whole entire being). Love that man enough to laugh (sort of ) at that. A lesser man might have taken the latte and walked out of the room.

*New addition to the above......after I wrote it, Father's Day happened. And the funniest part is that I planned to let Yancey sleep in AS LONG as he wanted - no waking his ass up at 10AM just for paybacks. I'm a good wife like that. But he ruined it by coming downstairs early! I hadn't prepared the boys or wrapped the gifts. So, I tried my best and asked boys, "What do we say to Daddy? Happppyyyyyy..........????" and they said, "Happy Mother's Day, Daddy!" Priceless.



3) Oh - later on Mother's Day......the boys were jerks all day, and Foster launched himself out of his crib in anger and landed straight up and down on his head. Little Turd. And, so scary that Dad was pinching his toes to make sure he could still feel his legs. So, although we've had a long road to get where we are, please know that I am convinced DAILY that I need Remedial Parenting 101. Nice job, Foster.....on Mother's Day. You suck.



4) We have taken some video of the boys over the last couple of months. The boys are adorable, but in EVERY clip....all I can do is stare at myself and wonder at how much I have aged and grown (weight-wise, not in wisdom). Who DOES that??? Who looks at videos of her kids and stares at herself more than at her kids? *Sigh......big Sigh.....* Me.



5) The following words/phrases are now part of my children's vocabulary. Some regular, some for shock value:



GO! GO! MOVE IT STUPID PEOPLE! (In the car)

Don't you tell me No!!!!

Wash my butt.

G*d Damnit Annie! (I apologize if this offends you. It offends me as well, and I cannot imagine where in the world my children would have heard this.)

Mommy, that shirt is too small on you. (Would anyone like a 2 and a half year old shit-head?)



6) It is no longer enough to keep up with all the gossip sites known to man. I have now become addicted to a consipracy theory website devoted to Brangelina. I am miniscule. I am beyond help.



Something hit me the other night as the boys were rough-housing in a game to which only they knew the rules. Anytime anything happens to the boys (bumps, bruises, choking, sneezing, falling etc.), we say, "Are you OK?" And the boys are really good about saying "yes" if they aren't terribly hurt. AND, they have now taken to asking us if WE are OK if they hear us say, "ouch" or if they see us stub our toe or something. So......as they were playing the other night, totally caught up in that game that only they understood....running all around the bedroom and closet and bathroom......running, spinning, laughing. I heard a large THUMP and worried that something might have gone really wrong in the closet. But before I could say anything, I heard Foster's quivering voice say, "I'm........OhhhhKayyy." Broke my heart. Still does.


So, now we are all here mid-summer with a newly diagnosed severe peanut allergy (Yancey) and diapers that have been blowing off due to some sort of stomach irregularity for the last 2 weeks. I went to the pediatrician's office this morning for the "stool sample" kits that I demanded. Well, I didn't demand them....I politely told the nurse that I was going to bring them poop in a jar on Monday, and they offered the sample kits up easy as pie.

The boys are throwing tantrums left and right and are generally taking after both of their parents in spades. We have discovered the beauty of Skype, and my parents think it's hysterical that I try to sit there and "Skype" with them and the boys while one boy flushes things down the toilet and the other breaks the printer - all off camera. Who invented stupid Skype anyway? I wonder if this blog would be any different if I had girl spawn? I will find out soon enough - my sister has a new baby girl. I wonder if she'd notice if I switched her out for one of mine?

Thank You Queen Latifah

I've been mulling over this really great idea for a few days now - I think it would make a really interesting post. In fact, I sat down about 2 hours ago to write it, but I had to stop. I just wasn't feeling it. In fact, I was feeling pretty crappy. No, it's not because of the major cold and cough that we've all had for 2 weeks (although that *is* making me feel pretty crappy). It's because this day didn't end the way I wanted it to.

I had the day off from work, and Jasmine was here with the boys. I let her head out early today because it is Friday and because she is coming down with the cold that I *know* we gave her. She is never sick. Well, she *was* never sick - before meeting us, that is. So, I happily cleaned up the kitchen, put away the groceries and called my next door neighbor to arrange a front yard play-with-the-kids-impromptu-happy-hour as soon as the boys woke up from their nap. They usually wake up around 4, but at 4:30 they were still snoozing away - I guess still recovering from the crud. I got so anxious to see them that I sat with my iPhone in the chair in their room waiting for something to wake them up. When the phone finally rang, they slowly awakened, cute as can be. Then it all went wrong. The tears started. The NO DIAPER! NO TEE TEE POTTY! NO PANTS! NO MOMMY! started. I asked if they wanted to go outside....one did, one didn't. Foster didn't want to go outside. He didn't want a diaper. He didn't want a snack. He didn't want juice. He didn't want to go downstairs. And he DAMN sure didn't want me.

We managed socks, shoes, coats and hats and got outside where it was eventually happy again. Of course, the one who wanted to go out in the first place then decided he wanted to play everywhere he wasn't allowed to. I said, "this way"....he said "that way." I said, "No, THIS way"....he said, "Noooooooo......THAT way." He even did what my neighbor called "giving me the finger with his facial expression" that made me realize how MUCH of his father's son he actually is. It went on for about an hour, then we all went inside before we froze our fingers off. Dinner was relatively OK. Yancey's Mom was here to help (he is out of town for a couple days), and they were sort of well-behaved. Then, the wheels came off.

Bed Time. It just sucked. Crying, screaming, thrashing, refusing to have a diaper put on, refusing to brush teeth, asking for something then throwing it when he got it. I am specifically referring to Foster. I put him in his crib twice (which does involve zipping a crib tent, even more indignity) because I couldn't handle his tantrums. Each time he calmed down and came out sweetly. And then, something else set him off. I kept trying to remind myself that the boys are exhausted and don't feel well, but my patience was really nonexistent. Eventually, both boys were safely in bed, hopefully none the worse for wear. Not so much Mom. I tried to stay calm, but I am afraid that if you woke both boys up right now they would say, "Mom is mean."

So, that's where I was when I sat down to write a couple hours ago. I was really upset with myself. I mean, I watch SuperNanny....I read "Making The Terrible Twos Terrific"....I believe that kids are in need of boundaries, and if you let them get away with things, it hurts them in the long run....all that crap. But tonight, I am not proud of myself or the Mom that the boys saw. I was not in control at ALL. I am almost 4 DECADES older than they are, and not only did they run the show, but they made me feel like crap for letting them run the show. This shit is hard. And, not just because my husband is out of town. It's hard every day. But just when I was about to re-up on the ages old prescription for Prozac, I turned on the TV and flipped around. Next thing I know, I am totally engrossed in Beauty Shop, the awesome movie with Queen Latifah set in ATL about a - you guessed it - beauty shop. It's a sort of sequel to Barber Shop, the movie with Cedric the Entertainer and Ice Cube that I always thought was funny. In each movie, something happens and they almost lose the shop. Then they all band together, someone falls in love and the shop is saved. So simple, so heartening so mind numbing. And, as the credits rolled, I realized I felt better.

Don't get me wrong, I am totally going upstairs to stand in front of each crib and say my silent prayer/apology to those 2 little 2-year olds, but Queen Latifah saved me from doing it in tears. Now, I'm going to do it with a smile because doggone it, my shop is still open even though those little ankle-biters almost shut me down today!!!

Please...No "Coming Out Of The Closet" Jokes

Finally!! I have missed writing.....
It would appear that not only have I underestimated my free time lately, but I have seriously underestimated my ability to remember which of my many user names and passwords are tied to this blog. Many a night I have sat down, DaVinci Code-like, and tried to figure out which combination of numbers and letters would unlock my beloved journal. You will be glad to know that I have finally written it down. I'm sure I'll lose that piece of paper eventually too, but whatever.

Both boys are currently asleep with what I now believe are double ear infections, so a trip to the doctor is in our immediate AM future. Actually, that's OK, since the reason we first thought Y4 had a fever was because he had possibly swallowed a coin on Saturday, and I was convinced it was slowly burning a hole in his stomach and had finally become infected. The nurse told me that was unlikely - then she snickered - so I figure it's probably what I affectionately call a Double Double (twins w/double ear infections as known to a college basketball fan).

Of course, the probably-not coin swallowing happened when I was out of town on a fantabulous weekend with a great old friend - so great in fact, that we extended our stay an extra night WITH our husbands' blessings (we are both moms of twins with very understanding husbands). Yancey's friend, Keith, came over a couple nights to help Yancey and gad about town as the boys' Two Daddies. Not sure how much they milked that, but I would have liked to see it nonetheless. Keith told Yancey that he was loving playing with the boys while Yancey got meals ready.....he happily showed Yancey the handful of coins he'd given the boys to play with. To Yancey's credit he realized that was bad, checked their mouths, and made them spit them out. It was only after intense interrogation when I got home that he admitted that he could not with 100% certainty say that he got them all back to Keith. For some reason, the sight of 2 grown men completely capably handling twin 2-year olds endears me so much to both of them that I'm not even mad (anymore). PLUS, who am I to talk?? Another friend, Tillman, called us into service a couple weeks ago when *he* went out of town. He was boarding his dog and needed someone to pick him up and hold on to him until his flight got in a couple hours later. When Tillman called, I chatted with him and told him we were having a blast with the boys in the bathtub. Tillman said, "I really hope Trooper hasn't been too much trouble." And I said, "Ummmm.......no.....as a matter of fact, he's been no trouble at all. YANCEY - WE FORGOT TROOPER!!" Then I threw the phone at Yancey and ran. In the end, no harm no foul, but I went to bed at 9 because I was so ashamed of myself. So, me and my glass house ain't throwin' no stones.

Speaking of baths...our latest fun pre-bath activity (and by "fun" I mean it's what the boys do while Yancey and I lie on our stomachs on the bed because we are too tired to play anymore) has been Play In Mommy's Closet. Foster is now a pro at walking in 4-inch heels, and I am *so* proud that I have taught him to sing Beyonce's "All The Single Ladies!!!" My husband is not so proud. (As an aside, both boys were playing in their fleece hats upstairs tonight - thinking I wasn't paying attention - and they both started singing that song. Oh. My. God. I almost wet my pants. I got about 10 seconds of it before the video camera battery crapped out. Figures.) Anyway, the last closet game included the boys bringing my shoes out, one at a time, and arranging them in a pile in an order that only they understood. Now, I should admit that I have some shoes. A lot of them are expensive. I told Annie on her first night home that if she ate any shoes or purses I would take her back to where I got her (that's actually true). I love me some shoes. But, the shoes that they grabbed that bothered me the most were my tennis shoes. You see, my nickname in high school was "Foot." It's not that my feet were abnormally large (I think I wore an 8), but my legs were so damn skinny that most days it looked like was wearing skis. When I gave a speech at graduation, everyone on the stage started stomping. Good times. So, when Foster emerged from my closet with both tennis shoes and proudly yelled, "BIG ONES, Mommy!!!!" I almost cried. Ahhhh....I love that kid. And, although I now love my feet (as long as they are ensconced in designer shoes), it's no wonder I don't ever excercise - then I'd have to wear the Big Ones!

And It Begins.....

......The Stomach Bug is inching its way into my house. I didn't get it last time, but my Spider Sense tells me I may not be immune this time. Our nanny (Jasmine)'s son had it last week; she got it over the weekend; now my husband has it. There is clearly another Bug spreading all over Atlanta at lightening speed. The boys have been going to school, and their Dad is now sick, so they will be getting The Bug in....ummm...about 12 hours. Anyone remember the stench that hit me like a dead mummy who had pooped in his pants a couple months ago??? I may have to pull out the rotten broccoli in my fridge and sniff it for a few days before throwing it away to numb my sense of smell in preparation for things to come.

I avoided The Bug last time, but now I feel nauseous. I am trying to play it off, but that may or may not work. I am totally telling myself it's because I ate 2 full baskets of chips w/salsa this afternoon. That should be enough to make anyone sick, right?** So, I am sitting here with 3 boys asleep upstairs (one doped up on Phenergan and Immodium) waiting for the other shoe to drop. On me.

While I contemplated the idea of having 2 sick parents and 2 sick toddlers, I thought I'd while away some time on my new iPhone - the gift that is now the bane of Yancey's existence...the thing he now SWEARS should have come with usage regulations (no such luck, bucko - I survived your first few months with your new Blackberry, so suck it up). And, I must say, I am enjoying myself. It is taking my mind off the nausea. But, that damn thing has a mind of it's own. I was cruising the internet for all sorts of interesting pop culture info, and the internet just shut down. Took me back to the slick, loves-it, home screen on my iPhone. I didn't get mad or irritated. I actually *spoke* to my iPhone. I said, "OK, fine. Whatever. I'll do something else." And I clicked on another random icon. WHAT? I am clearly in the throes of a horrible Bug that is throwing me off by tickling my tummy while going STRAIGHT for my brain!!! We'll have to see what develops in the next 12 hours for all of us. Unless I miss my guess......Yancey will stay sick, the kids will become sick, Jasmine will get sick again and I will miraculously only get a "little" sick...therefore requiring me to continue caring for every single living thing in this house. My mother would say, "Welcome to motherhood. Take some Tums."

**Gross Side Note: If I do get sick, maybe I'll lose weight! All you ladies out there know what I mean - if it means losing 5 pounds, we'll puke for 3 days! Am I lying?? I think not.

Remember When?

2 years ago today, folks.....straight from our old CaringBridge page. Holy crap.


SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2006 06:00 PM, CST
We are parents! As of 10:18PM and 10:51 PM last night, James "Yancey" Stribling, IV and William "Foster" Stribling have arrived. And boy are they tiny. 1 pound 14 ounces and 2 pounds, respectively, these boys have a lot of growing to do. Tracy delivered them via C-section last night after progessively worsening preeclampsia symptoms that came on quickly. She was so strong and was concerned only for the babies - amazing. I (Jenny) was able to be in the delivery room to see the babies come into the world - both came kicking and screaming (literally), which was a sight and sound to behold. Both have little heads of hair and are tiny but adorable.
The NICU team here at Scott & White Hospital in Temple are wonderful and kind and positive and patient and detailed in their explanations. They knew who we were and were ready for us - they have already gotten my name on the babies' placards as the mother, and we have been treated so very well in this regard.
Although we won't be able to hold the boys for a while, we have been able to be with them as often and for as long as we would like ever since last night, and this will continue as long as they are here. We can touch them and kiss them, but their nervous systems are so fragile right now, we try not to do that too often. There are many things that we will be facing very soon - medical information, decisions, possible complications - the list is endless.
But for now, we are so thankful to God for the miracles that are our baby boys.


SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2006 04:52 PM, CST
Today was a good day. We learned a lot about all of the wires and probes that are helping the nurses take care of the boys. Foster was cold this morning, so they kept a sign on his isolette that said "Brrr....I'm cold...please keep lid closed while I warm up...Love, Foster." Yancey got a second dose of surfectant for his lungs, and that should help him breathe better in the coming days. Foster's breathing is still pretty darn good - the nurses say he is showing off.
We are often reminded by the nurses, though, that the first 2 days are like a "honeymoon period." Things seem stable, but around Day 3, those stable values often get worse before gettin better. So, we are trying to prepare for that.
Yancey and I each took a temperature and changed a diaper today. Yancey said I looked like I was trying to diffuse a bomb! Both boys like to sleep on their tummy, but Yancey curls his legs under him while Foster kicks his legs all the way out. It's funny to watch. So, for today things have been good at the end of the day.

Pavlov's Dog

Watching my family pass The Cold around for 4 months has made me nothing if not hyper-vigilant. Yes, the boys still have It, but one is now almost well while one is newly sick. I am very much in tune with their every sniff, snort, sigh, cough, moan and rustle. I know when it is time to go upstairs and administer love or medicine, and I know when I can sit downstairs - muscles clenched - to wait it out. Snotty Snotterson and Stuffy McStufferstein have earned their weight in Mother-lesson gold. In fact, I am so in tune with symptoms that I drooled when Pavlov rang his bell tonight.

I was talking to my sister on the phone this evening - after a particulary snotty episode with Foster who was trying (?) to go to sleep - when I realized that Annie was drooling. Not just a little bit either. A lot of drool. Which, even though I basically suck snot out of noses all day long (and feel triumphant about it), totally grossed me out. Then it freaked me out. Yancey had just walked in the back door, so I started motioning to him (while talking on the phone to Katie).....pointing to the dog.....mouthing (sotto voce) "she's drooling....she's Drooling!" Can't you see, man? She's DROOLING! Something is wrong - she's been stung, she's had a stroke, she's going blind! Yancey dutifully walked over, accepted the paper towel I had on standby (I am nothing if not prepared for a symptom), and pronounced Annie........hungry. The two bison burgers he had recently deposited on the counter seemed to have accounted for her drool. Ummmmm. OK. But, if she *had* been suffering from a malady, I would have been ready!

Short and Sweet

I am 38 years old, and yesterday I pulled my child's hair. On purpose. He and his brother insisted on running in circles around me and laughing as I sat Indian-style on the floor (wait, am I still allowed to use that term?) pulling my hair every time they got around to the back. I laughed at first (yes, a mistake and thank you very much Parenting magazine for pointing it out), then I tried telling them that pulling hair made an ouchie for Mommy. No sympathy from those two. Then, I got stern. When that didn't work, I spun around on my butt and pulled my child's hair and said (maniacally) "SEE? SEE? Now THAT is an ouchie!!" Oh my Lord, how the mighty have fallen.

And the worst part? He looked so totally bewildered, like he might cry....then burst into peals of laughter.