Finally! This morning I got the recognition I so richly deserve. Finally I was awarded the high praise I had been expecting. It was a long time coming, and it felt... well, it felt like any other Monday, to be totally honest. But it was nice all the same.

I do nearly 100% of the grocery shopping for my family. I like to research and plan our meals. I like to read labels and shop. I know it might make me sound a tad bit crazy, but if I am at the right store, like Whole Foods or Giant Eagle Market District, I am truly happy. I really enjoy the experience. Or, I used to. Then we brought home our big five year old, and I continued to enjoy grocery shopping, with my sweet 15 month old baby sitting in the cart,  for about a minute. Soon he figured out how to stand up in the seat while still strapped in, and how to unhook the toys I would hang from the cart. Oh, and how to drop the toys on the floor every third step. Finally I got to the point where I could pull my oldest son out of the cart and let him walk on his own, helping me. Now he can even read the list! Then we brought home the tiny toddler, who immediately figured out how to wriggle out of the cart and how to transform his tiny body into Stretch Armstrong and somehow manage to reach the items in the very back of the cart, turn back around, and throw aforementioned item over my head. And any attempts at stopping this behavior are met with kicking and screaming, which is always enjoyable in a crowded public space. That's right, we're that family...

So now, every so often, I maybe don't enjoy the grocery shopping as much as I used to. And I am trying to give my sweet husband more responsibility. He says he isn't purposely watching me do all the work around here, that he just needs me to nag , remind him. So I sent him to the grocery store last week. Where he bought the chocolate yogurt that our tiny toddler loves. Loves might just be an understatement. He is over the top addicted to this yogurt. It is like crack for him. So the next morning the tiny toddler runs into the kitchen yelling "yogurt", and flings open the refrigerator door. Upon seeing all of the yummy yogurt waiting for him he begins to clap and cheer. And then I made the ultimate mistake. I uttered the words that would be my downfall. I opened my mouth and said, "Your daddy bought you your favorite yogurt at the grocery store yesterday!" Stupid Mommy. Stupid Mommy. Stupid Mommy!

My little guy immediately runs over to my sweet husband, flings his arms around his legs, kisses him, and cheers. He cheered. Where are MY cheers? I always buy this yogurt. I am the one who figured out he even liked it in the first place. I am the one who puts it in the cart every week. Oh, and by the way, little man - I am the one who doesyourlaundrycooksyourfoodplayscarsonthefloorblowsbubbleswithyousingswithyouaddedthelaurieberknerbandapptomyphonejust foryouputsbabypowderinyourdiaperbecauseiknowyouloveitalwaysplaysyourmusicinthecarinsteadofmakingyoulistentomychoice...

And it didn't stop there. The cheering continued every day for the entire week. Every day. Now don't get me wrong. I am thrilled that my sweet husband was getting so much love from the tiny toddler. I enjoyed not having to drag little ones to the grocery store. But cheering? Seriously?

Dear Tiny Toddler,

While I am thrilled that you have managed to secure your beloved chocolate yogurt for another week, and it warms my heart to see you so thankful to your father, I, ahem, feel as though I must remind you of the following:

Yes, it's true that your father did, in fact, bring the chocolate yogurt home from the grocery store he did so only because it was on the list. What list? I am glad you asked. The list I made for him. That's right my sweetie. I was the one who made the shopping list and who very clearly wrote down the name brand and exact type of yogurt you so covet. I made the list, and then I sent your father to the store to buy the items on that list.

But that's not all, my friend. I have it on very good authority that while reading aforementioned list while standing in the Dairy aisle your amazing father had to ask your big brother for further clarification on your favorite type of yogurt. Plus, he called me to double check. That's right. He called me while standing in front of the yogurt case. Who do I call while grocery shopping? Oh, that's right, nobody!

So, to recap. I made the list. I outlined exactly what type of  yogurt to get. Your brother then clarified it again for your father. Basically, your dad put a few cups of yogurt in a cart and then carried them into the house. All the heavy lifting? All me! Had I not made sure that your favorite food was included on that grocery list you would be enjoying the wonderful taste of plain yogurt right now. Or, perhaps no yogurt at all.

Love,
Mommy



So I took back the grocery shopping yesterday. And this morning I was the one who got the hugs and cheers. The shopping is mine. Daddy can do the laundry. No one ever cheers for laundry.

too many grapes and not enough vodka

I used to want it all. The career, the husband, the house, the kids, the white picket fence, the opportunity to travel, the nice clothes. Yes, I used to want it all. Now I just want to pee alone.

My list of things I used to enjoy doing alone is getting bigger. Which means my list of things I can still enjoy by myself is dwindling rapidly.

I never used to think about getting dressed in the morning. Then a 15 month old moved into my house and learned to walk. Once he found his sea legs he toddled straight for me and never looked back. So I moved my morning dressing into the walk in  closet. Then the toddler grew taller and could open doors and it was all over. Now I have two little voyeur's tracking my every move. And I have totally given up any attempt at privacy. Which is upsetting, at times, because I have one who pays no attention and couldn't care less and one who notices absolutely everything - and laughs.

I used to be able to shower alone. When the bathroom door opened at least I knew it was my husband, and I was OK with that. Now I shower with one foot pressed against the door to prevent the tiny toddler from sliding the glass door open. Which he manages to do anyways, sending blasts of cold air into my nice warm shower. And when I am not interrupted I am still on high alert, listening for screams or sounds of trouble from  my two sweet boys. I fear I will one day wind up in the emergency room with an injury obtained from trying to shower while balanced on one foot while holding the door shut. And how will I explain that? One time, back in our home in Cleveland, I managed to somehow fling myself out of the bath tub and onto the floor, winding up with a very  large, very nasty bruise on my arm. Try explaining that without mentioning how it happened and see how many people offer you a card for a women's shelter...

I used to cook alone. My husband has the good sense to stay out of the kitchen while I am cooking, or at least to sit at the kitchen table, well out of the way. Now at any given moment while cooking I have very loud, very fast car races passing through, under my feet. I have a tiny toddler repeatedly opening the pantry door and attempting to climb the shelves in search of the one food item I have not yet offered him. I have requests from the big five year old for chicken nuggets, the only food he currently deems worthy of eating. Sometimes I have two little kitchen helpers standing on heavy kitchen chairs, tearing the lettuce or laying out the potatoes. That's kind of nice, actually. Usually I have a tiny toddler on my hip who is hell bent on flinging himself into the pot of whatever is boiling on the stove top. I am covered in bruises from his little feet kicking me as I work hard to keep him on my hip, and not as close to the stove as he thinks he should be, or from being hip checked by the dishwasher door as he grabs the handle and pulls down on it with all his weight, riding it the floor.

I used to be able to actually browse while shopping. I could pick an item up, look at it, try it on even if I so wished. Now I race through the store with a tiny toddler strapped into either a stroller or the baby seat of the cart and a big five year old dancing around my feet. I am in constant fear of running him over with the cart and/or stroller. Grocery shopping was something my husband an I always did together, we even had an older woman stop us once to tell us how sweet she thought it was that we had so much fun together doing something so routine as shopping for food. We don't do that so much any more. But yesterday we did. In a moment of total weakness the whole family piled in the Equinator and pilgrimaged to Giant Eagle. The big five year old danced his way through every aisle, helping mommy shop and "going long" for tosses of bread and such into the cart. My sweet husband wandered off numerous times. The tiny toddler spent the entire time strapped into the cart, his little body twisted backwards as he stretched to grab everything from the cart and fling it back out onto the floor, where the dancing five year old was ready to pick it up and throw it back in, often from ten feet away. It's moments like that when I look at the cart full of food and think, "too many grapes and not enough vodka."

We've all been there. We used to have clean houses. We used to wear clean clothes. We used to be awake enough at the end of the night to have sex. We used to be spontaneous with our spouses; now it takes planning, phone calls, synchronized bedtimes, pardons from the governor and locked doors.

But there are a few things that I am happy to have company for these days. I never have to color alone, or eat ice cream without a little pal. I never have to watch cartoons by myself or fold laundry without my two little men popping up out of nowhere wanting the laundry basket to play "boat". Besides, always drinking coffee while it is hot or sleeping in until my body chooses to wake up isn't that important. Some days I miss my well planned peace and quiet  life. But I'd miss the chaos more.

the kims from south korea are genius!

I tried out the Giant Eagle Market District grocery store. Gotta say, I love love love it! It is a combination of a traditional grocery/kitchen store, with a little Whole Foods  thrown in. I am sure this store has been open forever, or at least since we started working on bringing the tiny toddler home, but news of it's arrival in Upper Arlington had not yet pierced my bubble. Another casualty of the crazy busy job I walked away from - officing from home and traveling every week did not leave a lot of room for keeping up on what was happening in the world at large. Toss in burying my mother, two trips to Russia, finalizing an adoption, keeping up with my big four and a half year old, and bonding with a tiny toddler and it seems there was just no time to keep up on what my local Giant Eagle was up to. But oh, the time I have missed. I could have been shopping at this amazing store all this time. Sigh...

Not only did I find everything I needed and so many things I didn't know I needed but realized I could no longer live without, I found these:

The tiny toddler and I enjoyed this tasty (and healthy) snack in Russia, and then again at the South Korean airport. If you have never had them, TASTE THEM NOW.

They are hard to find because they are made fresh in a "popping machine" and so are not readily available. My little man loved to play with these as well as eat them while we waited out our time in our tiny Russian motel room. They are low calorie and healthy, so I didn't mind how much he ate. The only reason I even bought them in Russia was because my tiny toddler, who, for unknown reasons would be wound up tight while in the motel room and then appear sickly and totally exhausted in public, raised his head off the grocery cart handle where he had been resting it as he slept in the baby seat and grabbed the bag off of a passing shelf. Not wanting a total melt down of a toddler I barely knew in a crowded grocery store in a foreign county, I let him hold the bag and, ultimately, purchased the mysterious snack.

While in South Korea waiting for our flight to Japan we stopped to watch the Magic Pop being made. An older Korean man dressed all in white stood behind a huge metal contraption churning out different flavors of the snack cake, most of which I was not brave enough to try. I did get a strawberry one for my new son though, which he happily munched on while we waited for our boarding call.

Today at Giant Eagle the man behind the large metal machine was making original, strawberry, and cinnamon flavored Magic Pops. The oh so much better than rice cakes treat transported me right back to that little motel room in Vladivostok. Back to when it was just me and my new son, alone and together for every minute of the day. Back to when he became my shadow, forced to trail after me down the hall as I washed our clothes in the community washer or settled our weekly bill at the front desk. Back to when we would spend hours laying on the double bed, listening to music on the computer mixed with the rain outside the window. Back to when my tiny toddler would sit on the floor in the tiny motel room kitchen quietly taking the Magic Pop and the bread out of the plastic bags and playing with them. I don't normally let my kids play with food but endless hours in a motel room with a 24 month old will weaken your resolve, as well as force you to totally throw out the 5 second rule. Back to the first few weeks of mothering my youngest son. And anything that can instantly take me back to when my boys were babies is a good thing!