True Confessions to my 6 Year Old

1. When you’re talking to me and I’m saying, “Uh-huh,” and, “M-hm,” and “Oh man,” it means I’m really not listening at all.

2. When you two go to bed, Dad and I eat ice cream sundaes and watch movies on the couch.

3. I know you love to tell me about it but I really don’t care a rat’s patootie about your most recent Skylanders adventure.

4. Eating vegetables doesn’t actually give you muscles.

5. When you pull your old art projects out of the trash and I act like I have no idea how they got there, I actually know exactly how they got there.

6. It was me who ate the last bowl of Cocoa Puffs.

7.  Most of the candy in your Easter basket will be the same candy you brought home on Halloween night a few months back.

8.  Only a lot less, because I ate quite a bit of it.

9. I regularly make fun of you on my blog.

10.  I think you are the cleverest, handsomest, sweetest, most lovable six-year-old in the world.  And I really hope you know how to laugh at yourself because otherwise someday this post is going to really piss you off.

How about you…what do you need to confess to your kids?

Son to the G

It used to be that when friends and their babies/toddlers came over to dinner the adults would eat in shifts—half the adults would monitor the kids while half ate, then we’d switch.  Somewhere along the way things changed so that now adults can eat, drink, and chat merrily away while the kids completely ignore their dinner and instead spend the whole time crawling through the cat door, trying on all my heels, and emptying out every basket, box, bed, drawer, and bag in the kids’ room.  It’s beautiful.

But I’m thinking we might need to start monitoring again, as after one such dinner party at our house, Vincenzo wrote this at school the next day:

“Corson cam ovr and Abee we mad a son.”  (Translation: “Carson and Abby came over and we made a son.”)

We happened to document their making of a son.

I’m thinking we don’t need to start teaching him about the birds and the bees just yet.  But I should probably start teaching Vincenzo about the letter “g.”

Thoughtless Thursday: Tellin’ it like it is

Poor Leo.  His entire face has been covered in acne for a full week, his forehead is peeling like a cheap face mask, and now his left eye is leaking a yellowish fluid.  To show how bad it is, here are a couple unedited shots.

“I has a question.  I can has prom date?”



Aw shoot, he’s beautiful to me no matter what his skin looks like, but I had to try:


So here are the only pictures that are turning out well lately:



Although with Leo’s luck, he’ll probably catch my plantar wart next and I won’t be able to take these pictures either.

Funny family

1. Vincenzo, watching Rocco stuff his pockets with cars this morning: Rocco’s loading up on cars like Mom loads up on fiber!

2. If you’ve noticed a lack of baby pictures lately it’s because Leo is covered with the worst case of baby acne.  We’ve been calling him Pizza Face.  Seriously, he looks ready for senior prom.

3. Me, talking to Kevin about our redecorated bedroom: The new rules are no jumping, no throwing, no swordplay, no touching…
Kevin: Hasn’t our bedroom always had a “no touching” rule?

4. Me to Rocco:  Oh look, you did some poop in the toilet!
Rocco:  I’m so proud of you, Mom.

Basking in my state of unpregnantness

For nine months I had to say no to so many things.  “No” to walking the kids to the park near our house because I might get sick and there was no bathroom.  “No” to places with my kids like I Fly and bouncy houses and roller skating because pregnant people can’t do those things.  “No” to going to the mall or fast food restaurants because the smells made me sick.  “No” to going on a vacation because pregnancy makes me more paranoid than usual and I couldn’t get myself on a plane.  “No” to cuddling with my husband because I was nauseous and my skin crawled and I could smell his breath two rooms away.  “No” to staying up after the kids went to bed because that’s when I was the sickest.  It felt like I was saying “no” to everything fun in life.

How quickly did I feel better after baby?  It’s like this: When I was in the pushing phase of labor, I asked for a sip of water.  I had one and paid for it with a round of heartburn so bad the nurses were scrambling for a barf bowl.  A couple minutes after Leo was born I asked for a sip of water.  I drank it and didn’t have an ounce of heartburn.  I tried another sip of water.  Nothing bad happened.  I drank the entire cup of water.  I had not been able to drink a glass of water like that for nine months.  If something as benign as water upset my system that much during pregnancy, you can imagine how bad everything else was.

For nine months I was a slave to nausea.  I planned everything around how I felt or how I thought I’d feel an hour or two hours from then.  I woke up every day feeling nauseous.  I’d eat something and feel slightly less nauseous, then the nausea would build up and build up until I ate again and felt slightly less nauseous, and then the nausea would build up and build up… 

I hated eating.

Pregnancy is five weeks behind me now, and I still get excited about the little things.  Standing up from a sitting position.  Lying on my stomach.  Eating at McDonald’s.  Going to the mall.  Taking walks with my boys.  Feeling hungry.  Smelling.  Having pillow fights.  Staying up late.  Singing.  It all feels brand new to me, like I’m experiencing all the wonders of the world for the first time.  It’s as if Leo and I are both newborns.

I’m done with “no” for awhile.  “Yes” is my new favorite word.

Expensive Crap

I, like most parents, don’t like spending a ton of money on clothes. But I found this $80 Calvin Klein jacket that I liked for Vincenzo and, as the $10 jacket he’s been wearing for 2 years is ripped, I wanted to get it.

Fortunately the Calvin Klein was 40% off, making it $40.

And I bought it one size too big so he can wear it for two years, so that meant I could divide the price by two, making it more of a $20 Calvin Klein jacket.

And since we now have three boys who will all one day wear the jacket, I went ahead and divided the $20 by three, making it a $7 jacket.

So I might not make the Extreme Couponing show, but if there were an Extreme Justification show I’d so be there.

So Vincenzo goes to school in his originally $80 Calvin Klein jacket and it’s very nice looking and I’m sure all the kindergarten girls swoon when he walks in wearing designer clothing, so I was less than thrilled when I looked outside the other day and saw Vincenzo washing Kevin’s car with a spray bottle and the sleeve of his new jacket.

The kid must hate me.

Because while I can justify the price of a Calvin Klein jacket down to a mere $7 and feel okay about it, I can’t justify spending $7 on a car-washing rag.


(This is the kid I’m writing about, trying his brother’s car seat on for size.)

Still doing this…

Nothing incredibly interesting or remarkable has happened around here lately.  Kevin went back to work this week so there’s significantly less baby-holding and slightly fewer photo shoots.  Leo turned one month old, which feels like a complete betrayal somehow.  But I’ve managed to forgive.




He is incredibly forgivable.

More weird body stuff

I’m so excited…I just discovered I have a plantar wart!  Oh frabjous day!  Caloo calay!  Someone get me to a disco ball ‘cause I feel like DANCING!

Okay, so normally a plantar wart would not cause a person to be excited, but I am thrilled for two reasons:

1) I thought my foot was bothering me because of a sprain I got almost two years ago, and this was just how it was going to be the rest of my life and I would never get to wear heels again.  I was just going to chalk the foot pain up to getting older.  But lo!  It’s just a wart that I can get rid of for a $6.97 box of fancy band-aids!  I am not condemned to a life of flat-bottomed shoes!

2) I had a plantar wart once before and it was the coolest thing ever to come out of my body.  (The babies were pretty cool too, but you’d know what I mean if you’ve ever had a plantar wart.)  I was going to insert a picture from the Internet of a plantar wart but all the pictures I could find were either too gross or not gross enough.  All I can say is the one I had looked like a white, screw-shaped thing the day I pulled it out and it made me want to both vomit and also post a picture of it for all the world to see on Facebook.  And this was years before Facebook was even invented.

Once again this week I have managed to post about something completely gross.  I’ve gone from snot to hemorrhoids to plantar warts…and this time I don’t even have a cute baby picture to soften it up.  Will this cross-eyed one do the trick instead?