God made 2 year olds funny for a reason, and even on the days when I want to strangle A, he usually has some funny commment for me.

Lately with the holiday season we have been talking a lot about giving to those whom I, in a very un-PC way, refer to as the "poor kids" - simple terms for simple minds. A is a bit confused by it all as we packed up some old toys and canned food from our pantry. The whole way to his school he kept telling me

A: "But mama, I really need that tow truck. Why can't the poor kids go trick-or-treating and get their own tow-truck? I need mine."
A: "Mama, how we ever going eat? We giving all the food awaaaaaay!"
Me: A, we still have food at home and we can go buy more at the grocery store.
A: "Why don't the poor kids go to the grocery store?"
Me: Because they don't have the money sweetie.
A: So why don't we give them the money?
Me: We'll do that too.
A: "OH NO!!! How we ever going get more money!?"

And this went on and on and on. A is very articulate and expresses himself well which I am grateful for because it gives me a glimpse in to the workings of his mind. I was floored that he thought that giving some food to charity meant that he wouldn't have food. I tried so hard to make it clear to him, but it was not hitting home with him. Days later he asked me for a snack and I told him he had to wait until we got home since I didn't have anything with me. He immediately began to wail that we had no food because we gave it all away and how would we ever eat....

Crazy, crazy kid.

I picked A up from preschool and as we were walking to the car he exclaimed, "It stopped raining! Hooray!" Then after a moment of reflection he asked, "Mama, who made the rain stop?" Rather than get into a long scientific explanation of rain, I simply answered "God." He thought for a moment and said, "But mama, who made God?" I had no answer for this guy.

Damn my cheapass self. Enough other freaky wives bought their husbands large blue pajamas covered in penguins that there are none left at Gymboree. Damn. Poor M, no PJs for him.

The early bird special is seriously something to love about Florida. Last night I had lobster for about the same amount I would spend eating at Applebees. We were the youngest people in the restaurant by at least 20 years, and there were no highchairs and no kid menus, but hey, we survived!

I am making bratwurst for dinner tonight and it turns out the only beer we have in the fridge is Corona. Viva the melting pot!

Gymboree.com is almost completely sold out of their coordinating adult pajamas. And here I was thinking I was alone in my freaky desire to have matching fmaily PJs on Christmas morning. I got A and I matching ones last year on clearance and I wanted to get some for M and O to compliment them. Damn. They better still have a pair left tomorrow since my 30% coupon isn't good until tomorrow. I may be a freak, but I am a cheap freak. And I must get O the fleece penguin hat. It.is.too.cute.

Hey, at least I don't have a webpage dedicated to my child's wardrobe.

I was pretty convinced when I found out that I was having another boy that he would be an A Jr. But of course O turned out to be his very own man, very different from his big brother as a newborn. But now that O is older, I am beginning to feel like I am reliving A's babyhood. Or more like O has completely replaced A's babyhood with his own. They are blending together, becoming one. Doesn't help that O's dark hair is turning blonde. I am babbling, it's so hard to explain. But I do now understnad why my mother sometimes has trouble seperating my babyhood stories from those of my brothers. I see how they all run together, all become one.

Needless to say, I am pretty damn sure that O can not be my last baby. The kid is on the verge of crawling out of my arms and these arms were made for babyholding.

A has entered the question phase of toddlerhood. Today in the car he asked me -

A: Mama, why do people get boogers in their nose?
Me: I don't know A, that is a good question.
A: Well, I think the booger truck puts them there.
Me: Maybe, A, maybe.

Gross, but interesting, insight into my child's truck obsessed mind.

For all my moaning and groaning about moving to Florida, there have been a lot of positive things (even though it does seem like a string of bad luck since we moved here!).

I have to say one of the best things is actually living in a real neighborhood. This is a totally new thing for us, coming from apartment buildings or busy city neighborhoods. As an aside, M and I realized that this is the first time since either of us left home for college that we have lived in a place without someone above, below or next to us. Our old house was a two-family so we had tenants above us even then. The joy of no one immediately attached to us knows no bounds.

Back to the neighborhood, it is a quiet street of about 15 homes that ends in a cul-de-sac. We are part of a much larger 500 home development spread along a state preserve - so spread out that you would never know so many homes are here. Our street has a nice mix of families, full-time older couples and part-time older couples (the infamous Florida snowbirds). Across the street is S, who is the source of all knowledge about everything and anything, and everyone to be more precise. Next door is A's two new best friends, sweet girls ages 2 and 4. Their parents are great as well, and I think will be great neighbors. We've already gotten in to a pattern of late afternoon drop-by playdates. Reminds me of my childhood when my best friend lived next door and another up the street. Then further down the street we have another S who is totally in love with my son O and promises to be the best mother's helper/babysitter ever in a few years (she is only 10). We love her and she bakes us cookies. She reminds me of myself at that age, though she is far more outgoing and confident.

The neighborhood has a pool and tennis courts and a communtiy center. There is a neighborhood newsletter and calendar. M is in heaven over poker night and I am trying to organize some playgroups now that more young people are moving in. There's currently just a lot of ladies-who-lunch-and-golf on there now!

Every day I drive down a beautiful windy road shaded by palm trees to get to my house. As soon as I turn off the main road onto this road I feel calmer, excited to be going home, to my refuge. I love my house, I am in awe of it at times, can't believe I actually live here. My kids have no idea how lucky they are. I hope one day they do.

I love me some Goodwill. Yesterday for a grand total of $7.72 I scored a Little Tikes large height adjustable basketball hoop, one of those micro skateboard/scooter things that were all the rage a few years ago that my husband always wanted, a huge wicker basket with canvas liner, and a large stuffed Bob the Builder doll. I was a little skeeved at the used stuffed doll thing, but it looked in good condition and A asked for it so sweetly I could not resist - "Look mama, a big Bob! He can snuggle me when I sleep." For $0.99, that was worth it!

I also scored a $100 BCBG skirt for $16 at Ross Dress for Less (look away Diva, look away!). Combine that with two shirts for M for his bday, two storage cubes, and huge foam puzzle squares for the playroom and I was one happy shopping camper.

And today I will shop more - I am succumbing to the fake pre-lit Christmas tree. Breaks my heart, but I live in Florida now. By the time they ship those beautiful trees from up north and I get it to my house it will be half dead anyway. A fire-hazard I do not need. So today is the last day to buy a tree at Target and get a $20 gift card with purchase. Yay for free money!

Did I mention I had my house cleaned yesterday by a cleaning person for the first time EVER? How lovely it felt to come home to such clean smelling, freshly vaccuumed, just crisp and shiny house. And yes, A did poop and stink it up a bit, but it was still lovely. But then this morning as I was reaching for a placemat I knocked my full cup of coffee all over the clean kitchen table, all down A's clean booster chair, all over my clean floor. Who knew a mug could hold THAT much coffee. It was truly a brown flood of biblical proportions. And poor A, who just wanted to sit down and eat his cereal, got all upset and said (whined) "But I didn't want it to spill mama, I want to eat! And I wanted the green bowl, not the red one." My response, "Well, that's life honey. That is just life."

Thankfully, I still had some coffee left in the pot. I must highly reccomend the Red Sea Blend from Intelligentsia. I was almost as upset over my lost coffee as I was about my brown floor!

My biopsy came back normal. Yay! For some reason I feel slightly stupid for having a chunk of normal tissue removed from my armpit. Yes, I know, that is stupid, but that's the way I feel. So aberrant breast tissue, I guess a 3rd boob in my arm pit. Nothing fucks with your body like pregnancy. I won't even go into my TMI sneezing issues :(

So now I have a lumpy, stitchy, stinky but normal armpit. Have I mentioned it is stinky? No putting deoderant on the incision. Stinky!

I love my kids like mad, but that seems to be the problem lately - I am always mad. A screaming, short-tempered, angry mother and I hate it. I can't seem to break the pattern though even though I am conscious of it. Post-partum anger? I don't know. The violent swings in my mood are what scare me, I go from happy, happy mom playing on floor with sons to screaming mimi freak mom b/c A rolled the ball (pilates ball!) on top of O after several warnings. *sigh*

My MIL sent her cleaning lady to my house today since she was out of town this week. Happy birthday to me! My house is clean and smells divine. Well it did smell divine until A had a poopy diaper. The kid needs to be potty trained ASAP, but that is a whine for another day.

So M made my bday brunch reservations at the super posh hotel. Yay for M, good husby that he is. Alas, I open the paper today and see there is a marathon down there on Sunday. A marathon. Almost every street is closed. No need to subject ourselves to the traffic mayhem - birthday hoopla postponed for yet another week. We decided to go to Cracker Barrel and then to a local air show instead - talk about extremes!

O is so big his legs hang awkwardly off of my body when I hold him in the cradle position to nurse. Flailing legs everywhere. I am missing my little peanut who scrunched down in the corner of my arm, nuzzled against my chest. He is lurching and reaching for things like mad. Once he figures out how to move there will be no stopping him. With A I was so anxious and excited for every milestone, this time I am happy if crawling takes a few extra months, I didn't understand than that each milestone takes him a step further out of my arms. I need more babytime. I am in toddler angst at the moment and am not quite sure I want another toddler on my hands anytime soon.

While sitting cross-legged on the floor with A in my lap, enjoying snuggling and reading a book, I start to feel his little hand rubbing my shin. I ask him what the matter is and he says -

"What is this? What do you have on you?"
"That's hair, sweetie, mama needs to shave her legs."
"But how did it get ON you?" - said with a look of absolute horror.

Guess I better get on that shaving thing. That is one thing about living in Florida - no more winter shaving hiatus for me!

The surgeon said he is pretty sure it was just "aberrant breast tissue" - nothing to be freaked about but he wants to see the lab report all the same. So now I just have a really ugly armpit, but hopefully that will heal in time too!

So yesterday was a non-birthday, I plan on celebrating in style next weekend. I have been hinting to M that I really just want to go out to brunch on Sunday to this posh hotel on the ocean that has an amazing, amazing brunch. Like I need to stop eating today so I can have room for all the yummy stuff! I am hoping he made those reservations, I don't drop these obvious hints for my health.

And the nursing/bottle thing with O after my surgery turned into a non-issue. I was a bit offended but the kid took to the bottle and formula with NO problem. Not a one. Loved it, slurped it down, was an absolute peach for my MIL. I pumped and dumped no problem there either. The Ameda Purely Yours is an amazing pump. A was completely fascinated by it too, he kept picking up the horns and saying "look it's a horn, beeep, beeep!" Thankfully these kids to provide comic relief to balance all the stress they provide as well.

Can the child within my heart rise above
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides
Can I handle the seasons of my life

Well, I've been afraid of changing
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you get bolder
Even children get older
And I'm getting older too

- Stevie Nicks, Landslide

So I have really pushed this biopsy thing to the back of my mind and haven't been dealing with it. Until yesterday when I spoke to the nurse at the outpatient surgery and she told me I needed to pump milk to feed O after the surgery - for 24 hours after the surgery I can't nurse my baby. Now this may not sound like a big deal if you have never breastfed a child, but the reality and logistics are a lot harder. The whole thing basically just pushed me over the edge.

First, I can not just whip out the pump and get 24 hours worth of milk from my body - especially given the fact that I have not pumped at all since he was born so my body needs to build up a response to the pump. And I will be nursing him during the period I should be pumping before the surgery so in reality that means my body would have to immediately make 2x the amount of milk it usually does. This is so not going to happen.

Second, not being able to nurse my baby for those 24 hours is going to be emotionally difficult for both of us. I don't nurse my baby solely for nutrition, there is a lot of nurturing, comfort and love mixed in there too. I am going to have a baby rooting on my face, nuzzling my chest, and I am going to have to turn him down and offer him the bottle. That is going to be hard.

Third, I am going to be pumping and dumping like mad during those 24 hours to make sure I don't lose my supply, get painfully engorged and prevent any risk of mastitis. Add in the arm pain and grogginess from the surgery and it is truly going to suck.

I feel stupid for not knowing any of this sooner, just finding out 4 days before my surgery. But when I spoke with my OB and surgeon's office they said just let them know you are breastfeeding and there are things they can do. Well after speaking with the surgery center the choices of local anesthesia are a bit limited and the IV seems the best way to go. But of course that exposes my milk to the anesthesia.

So I'm going to buy some formula today and try a bottle with O. And that is another issue - will he even take the bottle? A never had a problem, but O has never even seen a bottle yet. Cross your fingers it works. Love my husband though, he said if O refuses the bottle he will sit there and spoon feed or syringe feed O, whatever it takes.

So after all that angst I turn on the TV and watch Julia Roberts on Oprah and I cry again because she is just beautiful and round and radiant in her pregnancy. Smaller at 7 months with twins than I was at 4 months with one baby, but still I am happy for her :)

Then the news comes on and I find out Elizabeth Edwards has breast cancer. And I cry for her, thinking about what the last few weeks must have been like for her - the stress and uncertainty waiting for the diagnosis; the stress and uncertainty waiting for the election results. Such a double whammy. And I think about her feelings as a mother of young children, feelings I know so well. Ever since this biopsy thing came up, even though my doctors say it is most likely nothing, I can't help but think about not seeing my children grow up into the fabulous men I know they will be, not seeing their relationship as brothers develop, not being there to tuck them in at night, smell their sweet and sometimes stinky smells. Unimaginable.

So it was a day filled with tears, a good cry was had and I felt better after that. And sweet A ran over to me and said "Don't cry mama, don't cry. It's OK, I'm here." Thank you my sweet, sweet boy. I love you and your brother and your father so very, very much. We'll get through all this and be stronger for it.

The one with the uncontrollable kids. Notice how they are boys. Wild, uncontrollable boys. The housewife who might have been fashionable at one point in life, but who now is grateful to be able to brush her hair before leaving the house. The one who's child's teacher has to have "the talk" with because her son is pushing kids at school and not listening. *Sigh*

I got that talk today and I had no idea how badly it would make me feel. I wanted to cry. The teacher said that he is sweet and bright, BUT, tends to push his friends and fall down on them. Considering he is a 43 lb 2 year old this is especially not good. I know this is normal, this is just 2 year old behavior, but I felt like a failure. I've been feeling that a lot lately, that my mothering skills are not up to par. A is in an especially annoying, bratty stage and several times I have said to M that I don;t like my kid and what did I do wrong to make him like this. But then he turns around and gives me the worlds biggest hug complete with squeezing sound affects and tells me how he "real missed" me and I know I am doing a good job. But more often than not I am feeling harried and overdone.

Bah. M asked me what I want for my birthday and I have asked for a facial, massage, manicure and pedicure. I need it all. Bring it on. I am also getting a biopsy but that is something I did not ask for. Hopefully it will bring good news though.

Enough blathering.