Trying to get a moment of solitude is pretty much impossible. Maybe if I didn’t own pets… but here I sit on baited breath, hoping O doesn’t wake before I finish pumping or my morning coffee. The dog and cat both constantly seeking attention.

I used to consider myself a morning person. Recently though, I’ve realized I’m just able to wake to an alarm when I really need to. Mornings are hard when there other people depending on you. Especially when none of those tiny humans are morning people either.

I have to nearly drag D out of bed for school every morning. He’s a night owl and absolutely hates getting up. When B is here, he literally will sleep until 10 if I let him. Too bad for him, I won’t. G will scream for me until I come open his door and then he glares at me as though I physically made the sun rise myself. He’ll cover his face back up and tell me “Go way.” Hmmm. Pretty sure you told me to come in here ya jerk. O is hit or miss. Some mornings he wakes up and just babbles and plays in his crib. Other mornings he cries and won’t crack a smile until he’s had time to adjust.

All of these things typically will take place before my morning coffee. So I set an alarm for this morning that I DID NOT want to get up to because O was up twice in the middle of the night. So here I sit, pumping, writing a boring blog, drinking my coffee before all the kids wake up and we have to scurry to get ready for the day…. because today I have to get the two little ones to babysitters so I can chaperone a field trip.

Toddler Potty Training

via Daily Prompt: Patience

I feel like patience is one of those things that just doesn’t come as easily to a person as one would like to believe. If it did, it probably wouldn’t be one of the seven virtues, right? I mean, sure, we all pretend like we’re patient … patiently waiting for the new season of our favorite show to start, patiently waiting for the newest version of our phone to be released …. patiently waiting to get through a difficult project at work, or a particularly trying season in our life. We save face and we exute patience to everyone around us, but really we’re anxious about it… even the silly things. We want immediate gratification in all aspects of our lives.

And it never changes.

Want a perfect example? Kids. They are the epitome of having no virtues. Patience? I could create a YouTube video of a new superhero and name him Captain Patience and they STILL would not be able to emulate it.

As a parent, I feel like my ability to have patience is put to the ultimate test on a daily basis. Prime example – potty training.


This adorable photo was taken 8 months ago. G decided two weeks after bringing O home from the hospital that he was ready to be a big boy. Eight months later and we are just finally wearing underwear with our pants when we leave the house. 90% of the last eight months he has spent entirely butt naked or naked from the waist down. I have seen him naked more than any of the other kids or my husband combined. I have dealt with him peeing on my carpet, on my couch, on his bed (intentionally) and in my hall closet which also led to pee in my shoes. Fan-fricken-tastic. I have dealt with him pooping in his underwear, pooping and not telling me so that I can wipe his butt which led to skid marks on my shins, poop on my lap and poop on my furniture. His carseat pads have been washed more times than I can count and I have absolutely, one hundred and ten percent, thrown away a crap ton of underwear.

Through all of this I have done everything in my power to remain patient. He grasped the concept of potty training immediately. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do and where to do it. And he did great. For about a month. Let me tell you, my patience with potty training at this point is receding to be as thin as the once popular, high school jocks hair line. But it’s almost as if he can see that I’m at that breaking point of just letting him wear diapers until he’s in middle school and he’s suddenly deciding it’s time to give mama a little break.

Today he had his first accident, other than while sleeping, in a week. We’ve only had underwear on, every single day, including for sleep and in the car. It’s been a fantastic feeling to see the toddler I had assumed was potty trained eight months ago, finally almost REALLY there.

I will openly admit that patience is not one of my strong points. Having kids has made that abundantly clear and although it has increased my patience threshhold, I still lose it multiple times a day.

Leprechaun Spotting Binoculars

Happy St Patrick’s Day! I try to find a way to celebrate every year and this year we found out that we actually ARE Irish. Like I needed a reason anyway, amirite? Having kids though makes the crazy shenanigans of March 17 a lot different than they use to be. This year Mr. B and I are planning on bringing the little ones to the parade tomorrow so I made leprechaun spotting binoculars to get G in the spirit!

Things You Need:

  • 2 toilet paper rolls or 1 paper towel roll cut in half
  • Green construction paper
  • Glue
  • Rubber bands
  • Paper Clips
  • Decorations

I glued the construction paper onto the toilet paper roll and then used a rubber band to get it to set in place.

I then took another rubberband and figured eighted it around the two…

I stuck to a simple decoration of gold paper tape and then paperclipped the top and bottom for extra support.

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. How’s that for my first “craft” blog post? I had a hard time making these cause I’m a bit of a perfectionist and these are far from perfect.

Laundry “Day”

via Daily Prompt: Wrinkle

Yesterday during nap I attempted to make a product review video. I was terrible of course and spent hours trying to edit it so I could post it here only to find I need to pay for my blog to post it. Jokes on me, right? In the video you can see 3 overflowing baskets of laundry sitting on my floor by the bedroom door. The nice thing is that those baskets are full of clean clothes – does anyone else know that? Of course not. Would everyone be judging me? Meh. Maybe. But let’s be honest here, I don’t really care.

When you’re young and single, possibly living alone or with a roommate, there’s laundry day. Maybe it’s Wednesday. You wash a load of laundry, dry a load of laundry, hang and fold. Hell, maybe you’re ambitious and you even IRON. hahahahahahahahahahahaha If you’re lazy or just hate doing laundry – like myself – maybe you do A LOT of laundry every couple weeks but chances are it still just takes that one day.

Wanna know what happens when you mix someone who HATES laundry with 5 boys? Hell. Seriously. It’s absolutely ridiculous. Laundry day is every day when there are six people living in a house together. They should just call it laundry LIFE. If I’m able to stay on top of things, I do a load of laundry EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. If I don’t stay on top of things? It’s what I can only imagine a laundry apocalypse would look like. Rolling hills of wrinkled clothes. Some of them are clean, some of them are dirty but they’re taking over the world! Ok. Just my bedroom – clothes on the dresser, on the bed, on the floor, in laundry baskets.

And an iron? Do I own one. Yes. I even own one of those fancy clothes steamers. Do you know how often those things get used? ummmmmm My dryer has become the standard for wrinkle removal in this house. The older boys need it more often than anyone because they can’t keep their clothes folded IN THEIR DRAWERS despite the fact that I put it away that way.

Then there’s the days when I forget about the load of laundry I’ve started. every single day. The clothes in the dryer are now wrinkled, the clothes in the washer are starting to smell musty already. So I restart both. And then forget. And restart both again the next day. So now one load has somehow multiplied and become a three day dance. And the clothes are still piling up! I feel as though they must be breeding secretly … little humping socks and kinky t-shirts everywhere.

My kids are always in clean clothes though – welllllll, they start the day in clean clothes. Sometimes those clothes are wrinkled. Or stained. Hell, half of mine are the same way. thanks kiddos. But man are those dirty, wrinkly kids loved.

Where there’s noise…

via Daily Prompt: Noise

It is not very often that my home is quiet. Typically the only times there’s an iota of silence is when everyone is finally in bed for the night and even then my mom radar picks up on every sigh, cough and reposition.

I struggle with anxiety and sometimes the noise of my home can be so overwhelming that I can actually feel the pressure of it. During those times you would think that silence would be a welcome change. But alas, silence with a toddler can be worse than all the noise in the world. At least when there’s noise, you have an idea of the trouble they’re causing.

When your toddler gets quiet, you have no idea what to expect – unless the smell reaches you before you have the chance to realize they’ve been too quiet.

The scent of what I can only assume is what a Jersey Shore frat house would smell like wafted into the nursery where I was changing O. Why did I believe I could change the baby on the changing table without consequences? The overwhelming smell of Axe body spray infiltrated my nostrils. My eyes began to water. INSTANT migraine. How much did he spray that I could smell it that strongly from two rooms away?! Answer. The entire sample size bottle.

I walked out into the living room, baby on my hip, and became so overpowered by the scent that I immediately opened the front door to air out the house despite the balmy weather outside.

He found the sample that his brother had gotten at the hockey expo this past weekend. And because he seems to be some type of mischievious evil genius, he was able to figure out how to twist it open and spray it. Everywhere. He stood behind our couch with his hands behind his back trying to hide the evidence.

“G? Whatcha got there?”

Worst thing to ask a spirited toddler EVER. Did G think it would be a fantastic idea to hand over the evidence of his smelly actions? Of course not. He thought it would be a fantastic idea to RUN. And what I thought HAD to be an empty spray bottle at this point, definitely was NOT. As I’m trying to stop him, he’s spraying more of this guido in a bottle and at this point the tiny molecules of douche spray are making their way into my mouth as I yell for him to STOP!

I finally caught up to him and grab the bottle and find it is now empty. Between what he sprayed before getting caught and what he sprayed after getting caught I’m pretty sure that there’s more on him than in the house. And let’s not forget that in my hot pursuit, I’ve managed to get enough on me to accidentally attract some quaffed haired guidette.

Shower time.

Moral of the story here ladies and gents… silence is not always golden. Especially if you have a toddler and ESPECIALLY if you’re sensitive to smells.


well hi there… how you doin’?

Man, beginning a blog is a tricky thing. Where do you start? I feel like I’m setting up a dating profile or something.

Mom of 3, Stepmom of 1, wife seeking readers to peruse her quirky blog about daily battles with a snuggly infant who hates sleep, a spirited toddler and two adolescents who truly believe they’re already teenagers. YAY!


Being a boy mom and a wife is not the for the faint of heart. I can tell you that much. I’ve been with my husband for nearly 7 years, married for 3. He has an almost 11 year old, I have an almost 9 year old and together we have an almost 3 year old and almost 1 year old. Don’t forget about the boxer mix and cat. My home is nearly always like an episode of Looney Tunes…. the Tasmanian Devil just spun his way through an antique store that’s attached to a china shop and ends his path going through a hospital nursery waking all of the sleeping newborns. In all seriousness, the toddler is currently running around with no clothes on and the infant has been following me and whining because he’s teething.

Honestly, I sat down with my cup of coffee this morning thinking “I could do an intro post this morning.” Why would I think that? hahahahahahaha I must be crazy. At this moment I can hear G screaming for me from across the house because he needs me to see that he’s going potty just so the second I enter the doorway he can tell me “GO AWAY MAMA!” Oh, and here comes O… he’s crawling with the speed of a cheetah on a hunt, whining for me to pick him up. And Mr. B just wants to ask me a hundred and two questions about absolute nothing.

Let’s get this morning rolling, huh?