the wiener mom gets political

So the wiener mom has ventured out in to the wide world and it has been documented by the local news. "STAY AT HOME MOM OUT IN PUBLIC! CLOTHES ACTUALLY CLEAN(ISH)!"
Short Amy and I decided to head down to hear Michelle Obama speak on campus on Monday. LOVE Michelle Obama; would vote for her to pres. in a heartbeat. We packed up Little wiener in the stroller and power walked the mile to the stadium, where we found that the line to get into the park to hear her speak was extraordinarily long. Lucky for us, as we were making our way to the far away end, I came upon Daddy wiener's aunts in line, in matching Obama shirts. They pulled us in to join them and into their bosoms for hugs, the line stopped so we could be photographed all together, and then we were on our way. The rule follower in me felt bad for "line budging" but I think the law says if you're related it's not really budging.

We ended up right in front of the press area, pretty close to the stage. I was wearing my handmade "Tee Ball Moms for Obama" shirt and had been getting a fair amount of attention from the masses. I caught the eye of hot shot local reporter Carl Agnelly and he wanted to interview me. I put together a good amount of cohesive ideas, points and if I must say so, exhibited a great deal of grace under pressure. At the end, they took a long camera shot of my shirt. I was feeling pretty good, spoke well for my candidate, was respectful of the other side (blah blah-I don't want people getting the idea that Obama supporters are mean and nasty, that's the other side's job, as far as I can tell).

Michelle was late, which they always are, and of course once she came out to speak, Little wiener was completely exhausted and thrashing around, moaning. I had to sit down on the ground and give him the boob, so he fell asleep so everyone around me wouldn't give me the stink eye. He did fall asleep and I was able to stand up again and listen, but holding him and cheering simultaneously was tricky. Amy and I had to leave at 11:00 so I could get to preschool in time to pick up Middle wiener. We left the sleeping wiener with Aunties and basically ran home. Very hard for me to do without a sports bra-significant jostling was experienced.

Now that I was going to be on TV I felt the need to call just about everyone I knew to tell them to watch. Watch how smart I am! Watch how poised I am! So articulate! When the moment came we had the VCR set and were on the edges of our seats. Guess what? Of my whole, long, intelligent, poised interview they played only one sentence. Just the one. The real star of the show was my chest. They showed the close up of my shirt, which encompasses my massive breast-feeding chest. So there it is, in the archives. My boobs. Daddy wiener said, "that was my favorite part!" Oh, just kidding he added...

the wiener mom has a sick day

Sick, Sick, Sick. The wiener mom is sick. So sick in fact that Daddy wiener had to stay home from work yesterday, no skin off his nose I'm sure. I'm never sure what to do when I'm sick. Too sick to do normal stuff, but would love to watch TV all day. However, the TV is in the living room, so I'm not sequestered away from prying wieners. So I'm stuck in my bedroom. I wish I could say that I slept all day, but sleep be damned. My throat hurt so much that I couldn't sleep. I just laid there and thought. About nothing and everything. It's what I do. I like to refer to it as mental diarrhea. Now, there's a pretty picture.

I'm feeling slightly better today, just watching and waiting to see if my head explodes. Hopefully, none of the little wieners caught it from me. The only thing worse than a sick wiener mom, is sick little wieners.

the wiener mom has a slightly unnatural obsession with adults that are nice to her

Help! Just found out last night my hair stylist is gone! Where? Don't know! I am in serious shock and disbelief, I feel like my world has been rocked (and not in a good way!). Do I care that much about my hair? No. But he talked to me. We had wonderful conversations, about all the things the little wieners don't care about: movies that aren't animated, books that we dissected in our youth when we thought we were so much deeper than we actually turned out to be (well me at least), politics. He humored me, he laughed at my dark humor and tried to laugh at my puns. And he's gone! I have short hair, so I was there enjoying conversation with him every six weeks for the last two years. I thought I meant something to him! I feel like a failure of a client; wasn't I enough to keep him there?! Yes, I'll admit he needs to have his own life, but I need to talk to him. He was one of the people on my list of adults I like to talk to.

Is all this a little overboard? Yes, of course it is. But, I have come to the realization lately that I crave adult interaction. Somehow, Daddy wiener isn't enough either. I quickly attach to people who are nice to me and go out of my way to talk to them. I probably talk their ears off. I think that I may have heard one fall, just now... If you are nice to me; I will be your friend. Oh, it also helps if you're old enough to use the potty by yourself and don't need the crusts cut off your sandwiches.

I went through a similar thing after Baby wiener was born. I mourned the loss of my OB. I love her! And, even more than her, I loved getting to see her every month (and then more!). She was trapped in a room with me and paid to listen to me talk. I miss her. I've even gone so far to contemplate some imaginary gynecological symptoms that facilitate seeing her. If I didn't have to get a pelvic, that would be better, but we do what we have to.

Am I crazy? Maybe a little (but in the good way). I don't just talk, I listen too. I have a friend, Tall Amy, we'll call her. She calls me and says, "Tell me something! Tell me anything! Tell me what's happening in your life! In the lives of anyone you know! Throw me a bone here!" Guess what, she's a stay-at-home mom too. We need people to talk to! If I start talking to you simply because you made eye contact with me at the library, please humor me. That conversation, the one where I tell you way more about me than you need to know, may be the thing that gets me through the day. Just don't ask me to cut the crusts off of your sandwich in return.

Update: I'm like a giddy school girl. My hair stylist man called yesterday! He opened his own salon, so I can sleep peacefully again, knowing that there's one more person who has to talk to me.

the wiener mom's favorite game

Ahhh yes, fall is approaching! School has resumed and I am down a wiener. Big wiener is off to first grade. Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings I'm down 2 wieners, while Middle wiener is at preschool (Joy! Joy! The shrieking that lasted all summer has only caused minimal damage to my ears, full recovery may still be possible.) So for 2.5 blessed hours three days a week it's just me and Little wiener. And, he takes a nap, yeah! So mommy takes a little nap too, as interrupted sleep is not the wiener mom's best friend and causes her much irritability and general droopiness the next day. Maybe some day Little wiener will sleep through the night...
Anyway, on to the wiener mom's favorite game. When it's just me and Middle wiener and Little wiener is napping, Middle wiener has a new favorite game. Guess what? Unlike most new favorite games that wieners create (motorboat, Max and Ruby, uni-colored super tall Lego tower) the wiener mom LOVES this game.

What could this game be you ask? We call it the "We're so tired" game. It starts like this: all participating players are soooo tired. Tired enough that we have to lay down somewhere. Preferably a bed, but I'll settle for the couch or even the floor. Then, we pretend to sleep. Here's a secret, some of the participating players (me, but shhhh) may actually be sleeping. Middle wiener can play this game for upwards of half an hour. Half an hour of fake (or real) sleeping! Every once in a while he sits up and says, "Wake up! It's morning!" but usually we get tired again so quickly that we have to lay down again, within seconds really.
Some of you may be familiar with this game, but might know it by one of it's other aliases: hibernation, or operate on a patient, or Mommy is the boat that lies still.

Whatever you call it; I say let's play!

the wiener mom's day off

Today was my day off. Lovely Daddy wiener took the day off to give me a day off. Weeks ago Daddy wiener decided to take a weekend and a day off to learn how to build a chair from a log. Which actually sounds as interesting to me as an actual log. But I pretend. When he told me that he was going to do this, I said "Wish I could take a day off to do something that I've always wanted to do..." He then decided to give that chance by taking a day off, but didn't date check with me, so with my day off approaching I had no plans and everyone I know was working. It was a lovely thought and though I may not make contact with anyone else I decided to make the most of it.

I started by sleeping in. Ahhh... Whereas Daddy wishes to be industrious and further his intellectual growth by learning a new skill, I choose to sleep. Blessed sleep. I feed Little wiener in bed at 7. My stomach is growling to be fed, but I ignore, knowing that once I am really and truly up I am in fact really and truly up. Little wiener is too too cute and is so excited to be in my presence that he must look away from me. His huge grins and farting noises are the perfect way to start the day, followed by another two hours of sleep.

After waking up at 9, I shower. Shower, I tell you! Alone! No shower negotiating, no Little wiener laying on the bath mat in wait, no one whipped open the curtain to play peek-a-boo with me in all my nakedness. I actually shaved my legs and then post-shower, applied the self-tanning lotion that requires stillness and nudity for 20 minutes post-application. Am working on my pasty legs, which never seem to get as much gentle golden color as my arms in the summer. I'm not a sun goddess by any means, but feel healthier with a small amount of glow. Have always wondered why my legs do not receive the same sun as my upper body...

Went and had breakfast at the coffee shop to read Marian Keyes' new book on loan from a friend who has it loan from the library, so time is crucial. I thought I'd be very sophisticate and order a croissant (chocolate of course, otherwise what would be the point?) and an iced coffee, chocolate type thing. Did not do well with the sophistication and could barely choke down the coffee over the two hours that I sat and read-did not have the same problem with the croissant.

Went home to feed Little wiener and then set out to meet my wonderful neighbor for lunch downtown where she works. Decided to be environmentally conscious (and too cheap to pay for parking) and take the bus. I had to have Daddy Wiener (bus veteran) to help me figure out how to do it. I am mortified of public transportation. Let me reword; I am mortified of any type of transportation that involves a schedule. My family traveled a lot in my youth and I've been trained to assume that buses/planes/trains/ferries, etc. will be early and/or may never arrive. I anxiously await the arrival of the mode and breathe a sigh of relief when it finally gets there and I get on, only to become anxious again when I wait for my arrival at my hoped-for destination. Often I get off the bus sooner than I have to for fear that it will be the closest that I can get to my final destination. Then I usually watch the bus drive by and stop where I should have gotten off. Better safe than sorry.

Of course I got to the bus stop early and what do you know? The number 19 never came. I finally with nervous sweat got on the number 3 at the driver's assurance that it was going to the Capitol square, where I got off a stop early. I met C and we ventured down State street, through the thongs of shoppers looking for discounts at Maxwell Street Days and then to a little Italian restaurant with sidewalk seating. We had a lovely lunch while we discussed the grand ideas in life, something the wieners rarely show any interest in. We discussed the question: would the "old me" be happy or disappointed in the me I have become? Interesting question... We also discussed the fact that there are points in our not so distant pasts that we have completely forgotten. Jobs that we forgot we had, people we forgot we were friends with. It is interesting that something that is so central to a person's life at the time can be forgotten so easily with time. Maybe I'm just getting old. If you need to leave the computer to discuss these grand ideas with someone; go ahead, I'll still be here.

You're back. Good. We walked on down the street and to the Union where we decided to leave the question of ice cream up to fate. If the line was short, it was meant to be... Unfortunately fate did not favor us, but instead the 30 or so people in line. Once again it was time for me to fear getting on the bus. I decided to walk to the bus stop a little early, so as not to miss it. 45 minutes early may have been a bit much, but I didn't miss it! I read my book on a bench and sweat profusely. I got on the bus when it came home, actually got off at the stop closest to my house (yeah me!) and walked the block home where I was greeted by happy wieners, big and small. I was very glad to see those wieners and hugged and kissed each one. Litttle wiener seemed particularly thrilled to see me again, perhaps believing that I was gone for good, not having a keen grasp of object permanence.

It was a good day off, nothing eventful, but nonetheless full of things I don't get to do on a normal day. Wieners don't like it when I read and ignore them. Wieners also don't enjoy shopping at sidewalk sales and don't do all that well at quaint restaurants without children's menus. They do love the bus though...

It was funny, the first couple hours of my adventure I had an uneasy feeling that I was forgetting something, or missing something. I think it was just the lack of responsibility for anyone but myself. There was no worrying about bringing along extra underwear for Middle wiener, or a binky for Little wiener. No worrying about what everyone would eat and how long it would take us to get to the bus stop (wieners are notoriously slow walkers). I was free and as much as I liked it, I also felt a small bit of loneliness. Crazy? Not sure, but maybe someday I'll have another day off and find out.

the wiener mom is too too obviously not under 21

The wiener mom went to the grocery store today. She was directed to buy a case of beer for Daddy wiener. The liquor department of the grocery store is papered with signs, every flat surface demands I.D. You will be denied without I.D. Do not attempt to buy without I.D. Go back out to the car now and get your I.D. Even, belligerence at I.D. checking law will not be tolerated (?)
The wiener mom steps up to the cashier, loads case of beer onto checkout counter and dutifully presents I.D. As previously stated, the wiener mom is a rule-following rule follower. Cashier scans case of beer and proceeds to tell the wiener mom to pony up $26.84. The cashier doesn't look at my I.D. I re-present said I.D. and wait to be cleared. He glances at it and restates my total. The wiener mom is too too obviously not under 21.
I know that, of course, I'm thirty-ish, very far from 21. He could at least humor me with a faux check. I must look old today. Is it the sagging breasts (that still garner a lot of sneaky looks from old men)? Is it the wrinkles? I know that it isn't the white hairs. The wiener mom's oldest pre-wiener friend, Troopa, was here on Sunday and helped me say bye-bye to the bad hairs. I just really and truly do not look that young anymore.
I have been fooling myself for a long time (apparently). I still see myself as a young twenty-ish thing. I still feel like that too, except when I spend all day running after wieners. I still have quite a few moments were I can't even believe that I have three wieners, am I old enough to do that? Yes, apparently I am.
Maybe next time I should have a belligerent fit at not being carded. That would show them that I've still got some fight left in me. Until my back starts hurting...

the wiener mom and her middle wiener

It has come to my attention that it is a sad state indeed to be a middle wiener. Not being a middle one or a wiener, this has escaped my attention until recent talks with Daddy wiener. Middle wiener watched Big wiener turn 6, have a party at Chuck E. Cheese, lose his first tooth and receive subsequent surprise money from a curious winged creature in the night. He traipses along as we take Big wiener to play dates, art classes, and swimming lessons.

All in all I'd have to say that life sucks right now for the middle wiener. What's happening in his life? Grown-ups are forcing him to empty his bowels on a potty! That and all of the above. Oh and on top of that, he is now sharing me with Little wiener and Big wiener all day long.

Though I hadn't noticed the fact that his life sucked until very recently, I did notice the effects of the suckiness on him. I was pulling my hair out (just the white ones) because his behavior in the last month has been so bad. He doesn't listen. He shrieks all the time. He fights with Big wiener. He shrieks all the time. He won't use words to tell us what he wants, just (you guessed it) shrieks. Daddy wiener and I have been fighting each other to see who gets to run away.

Then I have this epiphany. I start thinking about all the things listed above, all the reasons that Middle wiener might be feeling a little left out. This could be enough to piss the little rogue off. He's an intense wiener anyway, so this last month has just pushed him over the edge. I feel badly that it took me a month to realize that this might be the problem and the impetus for all the shrieking, but in my defense it's hard to think above the SHRIEKING.

On the airplane coming home from Fabulous Fargo, after being delayed for three hours, Middle wiener is sitting next to me with his too big head drooping and bouncing around as he fights sleep. I tried several times to reposition him with his head on my lap, but he wasn't interested and in fact produced several shrieking type noises, though quiet. I wanted so badly to hold him, but he didn't want to be held. It was really much more for me than for him, I just wanted to show some penance for not noticing his inner turmoil sooner. Sitting there, watching him droop and bounce and look altogether highly uncomfortable, my heart was breaking for him.

At one time he had been my baby, he was the Little wiener. He seems so stuck and so frustrated. He's bigger, but not big enough. He's little but not really very little. I just wanted to take him in my arms and hug him, kiss him, whisper to him that he would always be my special boy. I felt so sad that he might be sad, or frustrated in the very least. There are so many things that he wants to do and express that he just can't yet. I finally did get so tired of the drooping and bobbing head that I just scooped him up and put him on my lap, a place he's not spent much time lately. I kissed that blond head and breathed in that Middle wiener smell. I miss my happy little Middle wiener. I decided right then with him sleeping on my lap, flying through a thunderstorm towards home, that I needed to do a better job. I can't let him get looked over. I can't let his day pass with nothing special. I need to make sure that every day he knows I love him and he's special. I'm his only wiener mom and more importantly (and more selfishly) he's my only Middle wiener and I love him to pieces.

Update: Since I made that decision and we've been home three days, I have made an extra effort every day to do something special with him. We're taking a parent/preschooler art class together on Saturday mornings for the summer. I told him and he was so confused, he coudn't believe that Big wiener wasn't coming. My sweet precious Middle wiener. Oh, the shrieking has been drastically reduced! Who knows if my love and kindness had anything to do with it, or he was just hurting his own ears...

the wiener mom and her wonderful wieners take flight

I have just recently arrived home from my first three wiener trip-just recently as in two days ago, but it kind of takes that much time to recover. My wieners and I visited the fair city of Fargo, ND to see Daddy wiener's 98 year old grandpa. Also on the trip were Daddy wiener's sister, husband and three kids and Daddy wiener's parents. Given the price of gas and also the even higher price of my sanity we didn't drive the 9 hours, but flew with frequent flier miles (good thing all that charging finally paid off). The wieners are not a car-loving people. Big wiener is from the classic "are we there yet"camp. Middle wiener is from the less common, but equally annoying "drop everything you give me on the floor and scream" and little wiener likes to keep it simple. He just cries until he passes out from fatigue. So, 9 hours in a car wasn't going to cut it for us. We flew.

The flying itself went very well. All wieners were well-behaved, save Middle wiener's desire to unbuckle his seat belt constantly. Side note: it's hard to believe that in a huge, terrifying, possible death inducing airplane crash, that piece of nylon is going to save anyone. Lucky for us the two flights were both under an hour, so short that there wasn't even beverage service, but small bowls with lids of orange juice and water. I couldn't do it, water isn't supposed to come pre-packaged in a bowl with a foil top. I strongly suspected it would taste like plastic. I have a strong aversion to airplane food anyway, good thing no one serves it anymore. Big and Middle wiener, sitting with daddy, were thrilled with their bowls of water and Middle wiener proceeded to spill only half of it on himself and his seat. I was sitting across the aisle with Little wiener, who was busy charming anyone in viewing distance with his smile and mohawky hair do.

So the flying itself was fine, the Minneapolis airport was lovely. They have a play land type area that was very popular with the wieners, not however more popular than the 75 cent rides on the vehicles that go up and down and make noise (outside the FREE play area). Daddy wiener got suckered into a couple dollars worth of up and down.

We arrived in Fargo on Friday night, in time to swim in the Pirate themed indoor pool. Hugely popular with wieners young and old. Me, I'm not that into swimming, you can theme it up as much as you want, but I'm still not going for it, unless I absolutely must. We did swimming, eating, visiting, more swimming.

Great Grandpa wiener was thrilled to have us visit him. He freely handed out the key to his Rally scooter thing that gets him around the old folks' home. Not sure if children under the age of 8 should be driving, even 2 miles per hour in the hall, but of course the kids were incredible pleased with themselves. By the time we finished with it, they had only crashed into the wall a few times, dislodged the cargo basket, pinched one finger (Middle wiener, of course), and had successfully avoided injuring any residents. Great Grandpa wiener commented, over the screaming, how well behaved the children were. Yes, he's hard of hearing.

Monday it was time to head home to Madison. Our first flight was on a small plane from Fargo to Minneapolis and hit a little turbulence, nothing that bothered the wieners, or me. Until, a crazy flight attendant came over the little P.A system and told us she wasn't going to collect trash from the little bowls of water because IT WAS TOO DANGEROUS!.Are they ever supposed to say things like that? Aren't they supposed to tell you everything is going to be okay as you plummet from the sky? Then, to make matters worse, upon our arrival to Minneapolis and our taxi into a gate, she came back on the P.A. and said, "Well we made it." I think she needs her P.A privileges revoked.
Of course we couldn't get home without a delay. A two hour delay in Minneapolis and then another hour on the runway because a light was burnt out, got us home by midnight. I sat with Big wiener and Middle wiener on the last flight and happily let them fall asleep with their heads in my lap. Well, Big wiener did that on his own. Middle wiener, in his own style, refused to lay down and was asleep sitting up with his little head bobbing all around until I finally fought him into a laying down position and all was peaceful. Until we got off the plane and Middle wiener cried all the way down the tunnel thingy, through the gate to the baggage claim, through the parking garage, and most of the drive home from the airport. Oh well, it can't be peaceful all the time, or even 10% of the time really.

the wiener mom doesn't shower alone

Just ten minutes was my hope. Just the ten, more would have been preposterous.

I think the shrieking started at minute 3. Three minutes, not so bad, but definitely room for improvement. I'm in the shower, with the fan on and the door closed and can still hear them.

Middle wiener, "Mine!" Big wiener, "No, mine!" Back and forth, escalating into incomprehensible high-pitched shrieks. Minute 4, Big wiener knocks on the door (yea! manners!) and then comes in complaining about his brother wiener, "Middle wiener won't share!" Surprise, surprise, he's two and a half; sharing is against his religion. Mind you, the thing that they're fighting over is a cardboard box.

Suddenly, I am thrust into the role of shower negotiator. No hostages yet, but with wieners you never know. I am calling forth the defense, the prosecution, the witnesses, all while I wash my hair and shave my legs. All my efforts are fruitless, or fruitful depending on how you look at it. The shrieking stops because they have reached a cease shriek amongst themselves.

Showering is just one of the many things I don't do alone. Others include going to the bathroom, brushing my teeth, checking email, writing this post (wieners have taken over the office!)... my wieners are part of a rebel anti-wiener mom coalition that work daily towards the untimely demise of any aloneness I may have. For now, we don't need back up, but little wiener is getting bigger everyday.

the wiener mom welcomes you to wiener world

someone peed on the wall
there is a plastic spider on the bathroom windowsill that stares at me with it's 4 eyes (is that even right?) while I use the toilet
there's gravel in the lint trap of the dryer and sand in the washing machine tub
someone taped a piece of construction paper to the coffee table with 37 pieces of scotch tape
there's jam between the couch cushions
someone tried to photo copy a band aid and there's a walkie talkie in the scanner
my dining room chairs used to be upholstered in gold and orange dahlias, now they're upholstered in finger paint, pudding, and grease
a rubber frog, superman and a race car are getting a bath in a bowl on the dining room table
there used to be water in the bowl, now it's on the floor
someone dumped half a bottle of bubble bath into the bath tub
the living room rug is covered with tissue paper and large pieces of foam that came from the large box that has become a wiener boat
there's chalk on the dog and the word "fart" is written on the chalkboard in the dining room
(at least the word "fart" isn't written on the dog)
on the bright side... maybe there's a bright future for a boy that can pee sideways
everyone here appreciates the angry chimpanzee impersonations
no one cares if I shower or shave
I can build with Lego's any time I want
I am and shall always be the wiener queen
we laugh a lot
I love folding little wiener laundry, which is good because there is a lot of it
sometimes there's a hug for no reason or a cuddle just because
you take the good, you take the bad and there you have... wiener world

the wiener mom and the primary reason that delicious cheese crackers and trampolines do not mix

The last day of kindergarten... big wiener has successfully faux-graduated from his first year of real school. Lord please help me; it's going to be a long summer. The summer began, appropriately enough with a good ol' fashioned ice cream social at a neighbor's house. Please note, we do not know these neighbors very well. Also please note that on the long walk from the bus stop to the un-child friendly tea store to buy daddy wiener some loose tea leaves for father's day (a whole other story) and then to the ice cream social, wieners become ravenously hungry. Big wiener decides to eat a granola bar, well really just selective pieces of said granola bar before dumping the undesirables back into random pockets in the diaper bag (where I will reach in and find them stuck to keys and stuff for weeks). He unwraps the bar, and then ceremoniously tosses the wrapper over his shoulder ON TO THE GROUND and continues walking. What the F? Why is my child littering? Daddy wiener and I don't litter. Where would he learn such a thing? How could he be so ungreen? I look around quickly to see if anyone has seen this embarrassing display of careless unenvironmentalism... no one has seen. I ask, "what are you doing?" He looks at me, "what?" he has no idea. "You can't just throw your wrapper on the street, do you know what that's called?" "Nope" he answers. How can I have gone so wrong. I send him back to pick up the wrapper and lecture him on the pitfalls of littering, destroying the environment, etc. I'm pretty sure most of it when in one pretty little ear and out the other. Oh well.

Meanwhile, middle wiener has eaten an entire sandwich bag of cheddar jack cheezit's that was hanging around the diaper bag for who knows how long. The contents of the bag were meant to be shared between wieners, but he's happy and not shrieking at me so I let him eat the whole bag. Mistake number one.

Mistake number two. Stopping at the damn ice cream social in the first place. I should have just walked on by and pretended that I forgot to go. But, good neighbor that I am I stopped at the effing thing (I am!) We are greeted at the driveway by a young guest of the social who goes on to display incredibly unsocial behavior. He busts around the corner and sees us, stops and says, "YOU were invited to the ice cream social?!" in disbelief. Who the eff does this little s.o.b think he is? The day that one of my wieners talks to an adult like that is the day that I think of something really horrible to follow that phrase (I'll work on it) What else could I do but curl my lip dramatically and say, "Yeaaaaa." It felt good to stoop to his adolescent level.

We head around to the back and the nightmare continues. There is a trampoline. A very large and crowded trampoline. I am an anal retentive rule following rule follower and I'm pretty sure that for the sake of uncracked skulls and unbroken bones you're not supposed to have more than two people on a trampoline at a time. There are six kids on the trampoline and wonder of wonders my little wieners rush up to join in the fun. I make them wait. Someone tries to get the kids off of the trampoline so the smaller kids can have a turn. Basically they reply with, "make us" I don't personally know any of these jumping non-rule followers, so I wait for one of their responsible parents to clear them out so the little kids can have a turn to bounce their brains around. Guess what? No one does, my little wieners and I are invisible to them.

Finally some nice woman approaches the ring of hell and tells the kids that they can only have a little more time because other kids are waiting. How long could it be? Two minutes, three, four maybe? No, she gives them ten more minutes! Ten! Who the eff gives kids ten more minutes of anything? I know that's extreme, but in wiener world it's two minutes or three minutes and since the little wieners can't tell time, it's completely up to my discretion how long those two or three minutes actually last. My little wieners wait patiently in the grass while they slap mosquito's away.

Finally the kids clear out, amidst much protest. The little wieners scramble over and I boost them up and away they bounce. Except that middle wiener has never been on a trampoline and is suddenly hysterical and limp, being bounced around against his will. I hand baby wiener off to someone who looks trustworthy and enter through the hole in the nylon net that leads to hell to pick up middle wiener. I stand him up and give him a pep talk. I send him on his way with instructions and he goes down again. He cries. I go in again. I stand him up. He falls again. He finally figures out that it's kind of fun to just sit there and get bounced around. He laughs. He vomits delicious cheese crackers on the trampoline.

Now at this point one would expect that the trampolining would take a sudden and violent pause, but no. These kids will let nothing get in the way of their illicit bouncing good time. They continue to bounce around as I yell at them to stop. Someone gets a roll of paper towel. I have to go in once again to get middle wiener out. I know that a whole lot more cheese crackers were consumed than have come up yet. He cries. He's having fun! I leave the host to clean up the puddle and get shoes. Now big wiener is crying, he doesn't understand why he has to stop bouncing. Because I effing say so. We go home. School has been out for approximately an hour and a half. I think that says it all.

the wiener mom's peeve (just the one)

I just have to get this off my chest. Big wiener's favorite snack is crackers; saltines, soda crackers, or as we call them here in wiener world, square crackers. He eats them like a wood chipper though and it drives me nuts. The crackers go in the hole and suddenly there's cracker shrapnel flying out all over. Cracker debris on the couch, the table, the rug (again!). I don't really like to vacuum all that much, but I like cracker shrapnel even less.

the wiener mom's admirer

I have an admirer. Not so much a secret admirer, but an admirer all the same. He doesn't send me love letters or flowers. Some chocolate would be nice...I can tell by the way he looks at me, he's definitely interested. He flashes me these smiles that make my day. I don't even really need to do anything, just sit there and look at him, or walk into the room. He'd probably say something cheesy like, "the room lights up when you walk in." if he could talk.

He's on the short side and pleasingly plump. We don't actually have that much in common, except each other. I'm into knitting, he's into chewing on his own hand. I like listening to music, he makes spit bubbles. I love Italian food, while he's best described as a "lactarian". I like a guy with a sense of humor, he finds pat-a-cake wildly funny. I'm a writer/editor and as far as I can tell he works really hard at kicking the floor and swinging his arms around. I like his big blue eyes, but I have the sneaking suspicion that my eyes are not his favorite part of me. I'm pretty sure he's a breast man.

Before little wiener was born I was worried that there wasn't enough room in my heart for another wiener, that there was just no way that I could love him as much as I loved the other wieners. He was a stranger after all. As soon as he was born though, we fell in love. I couldn't imagine that I was ever worried. I called people from the hospital to declare my love for him. I had to tell everyone, "I am in love with this baby." and he's in love with me too.

I'm going to enjoy this infatuation while I can because as soon as he's mobile and figures out that there are more interesting things in the world than me, he'll be gone. We'll still love each other, but it won't be the same. He'll be busy. He won't have time to call. Someday there will be other girls. Someday I'll have to share my little wiener, but for now he's all mine. I'm going to take every smile and every drooly kiss he'll give me and store them up for later. These will be my love letters. The chocolate though, that would be nice.

the wiener mom goes soft

I used to be a hard-ass. I do mean that in more ways than one. My ass, literally used to be hard. I used to work out 5 days a week doing insane things like spinning and step aerobics. That was in the time of only one wiener. Life was so much simpler than. Throw him in the car and go to the gym, every day.

That's not what I'm thinking about today though; I'm thinking about the fact that I have gone soft. I used to be a hard-ass mother. Daddy wiener and I used to believe in "crying it out". I should say I guess that Daddy wiener still does believe in "crying it out" and it's only me that has gone soft. When we had gotten to a point with a wiener baby that we had done everything we could do to soothe them and it didn't work, we'd put him in his crib and walk away. I could do that. I could let babies learn to soothe themselves, find their thumbs, or just basically cry themselves to sleep. I could put in ear plugs and turn on the bathroom fan and just go to sleep.

With each subsequent wiener born unto me that ability has deteriorated until now, I just can't do it. I like to think that it's the fact that little wiener can cry like nobody's business, like he slammed his hand in the car door, but for an hour. He is heart-breaking to listen to. I like to think that any mother couldn't ignore that cry, even though it's just the cry of an over-tired baby and not the cry of someone in dire need of professional medical attention. I know though, that the old me could have done it. I could have weathered on through.

Daddy wiener and I were the poster parents for "cry it out". Friends with new babies came to us and asked, "what do we do?" in that first-time parent end of the world panic. I was the guru levitating on top of the mountain that people made pilgrimages to, except that it was just down the street and a lot of times over the phone. I was so zen, so calm and sure of myself, "babies just have to cry sometimes. Just let him/her cry it out. It will be okay. Ommmmmm."

That used to be me. Now, the sound of baby wiener sobbing and shrieking just grabs me tight around the heart and forces me to pay attention. Even the cries of middle wiener for me to pick up a dropped animal (again) or cover him (again) I can't ignore. Daddy wiener has told me that he will take over, he will be in charge, which means that he will ignore the crying and force me to do the same. I hold on as long as I can before I veto his decision and swoop in to save my babies, no matter how old they are.

Part of me wishes that I could go back to that time, when I just trusted that eventually they'd calm down and take care of themselves. I wanted to raise independent, self-reliant children after all. Mostly though, I can't go back and it's okay. I know things now that I didn't know the first time or even the second. I know now how short this baby time is. How fleeting and precious. I know that those times when I can hold little wiener and soothe his crying just by being me fade so fast. I know that soon enough there will be a time when little wiener doesn't want to be held, just like middle wiener and big wiener before him. I know that the quiet moments without the crying are to be treasured and I need to internalize that feeling of peace because as my house fills with growing wieners the feelings of peace are all to infrequent. I know that my little wiener will turn out just fine if I help him out once in a while. My opportunities to hug and kiss and hold and relish diminish as each of those wieners gets closer to being a man, so I'm gonna take all of them that I can get now.

So, if you see me out and about and I look really walking dead tired know that it's because I was rocking wieners to sleep, retrieving Mickey from the floor and kissing away bad dreams. Know that it was my choice and my fault, I could have just ignored it, but I couldn't. Know that it was my choice, but feel sorry for me anyway.

the wiener mom begins

I've joined the world of the blog, late as usual. I've been looking for some type of intellectual stimulation, beyond the world of the wiener in which I live. My wieners are all here; big wiener home from school, middle wiener napping (finally) and little wiener talking to himself and staring at his toes. And me of course, the mommy. The cook, the cleaner, the teacher, the nurse and everything else that any of my three little wieners could want.

I spent the day stacking checkers with middle wiener and trying to convince him to pee on the potty and not on the floor. "Who do you think has to clean it up?" I ask him. "I'll clean it up!" he says happily, goes and gets a dishtowel from the kitchen and wipes up his pee puddle. Although he seems pretty self-sufficient on the clean up front (unlike big wiener who used to pee all over and not give a rat's ass) he is significantly less interested in changing into dry underwear. "I don't care mommy, if they are wet. I don't care!" He says with a smile and goes about sticking dump truck stickers all over the cover of the library book that I have 4 more days to read. But I do care, wet underwear is not happening for me, so I wrestle him down and change them.

Potty training is my least favorite thing about parenting (I say that now because I'm doing it, but ask me again later...) Big wiener was near to impossible to train and took many months, going on six now it's all good, but there were some very dark and very pee-soaked days.

Now we're on to middle wiener. He's a candy boy, so I started out (not with a ton of fore-thought) using little candies to reward him for peeing. By day three he had figured out that every time he peed he got candy and so he'd be on his 'once upon a potty' every couple minutes. "I peeded!" He'd announce and then help himself to three smarties. I'd look in at the few drops of pee and wonder how I'd break him of this.

I tried a timer, when the timer goes off it's time to try to pee. Then he got attached to the timer and would ask, "Can I try to pee when the timer goes off?" Trying to explain to him that he could try to pee whenever "he felt the pee" was an exercise in frustration because he'd just say, "but the timer didn't go off" and look at me with confusion.

Finally, by day 6 we had a breakthrough. We went to a friends' house for dinner (one 12 year old son) and brought along our potty. My guess is that they don't have too many people show up for dinner carrying their own potty. We put it on the deck while we sat outside and hoped for the best. Sure enough, middle wiener comes running out of the sandbox to the deck holding his crotch, pulls down his little briefs and shorts and goes. He doesn't say anything to us, watching in rapt attention. Stands up, pulls up his clothes and heads back to the sandbox. No mention of candy! No timer! No begging and pleading on my part! Yea! He didn't pee on their floor all evening. Yea middle wiener!

Today we had only one pee crisis, walking to the bus stop to pick up big wiener, all of a sudden middle wiener grabs at his crotch and says, "I have to pee. Where's my potty?" Of course, being that we were only 1/2 a block from home and HE HAD JUST PEED I didn't cart the potty along. "Can you hold it?" I ask. Duh, I'm asking a two and a half year old who pees randomly just about anywhere, if he can hold it. I tell him he has to pee on a tree. For this I am glad to have boys. I pull down his shorts and briefs and point him towards a tree, which is by the way my friends on a very well traveled street, the street on which we live actually. My son is peeing in front of a stream of traffic. I feel damn lucky a cop didn't drive by and ticket us for indecent exposure. I can see the headlines, "Two Year Old jailed for Flashing on Monroe Street. Mother and 3 month old Brother Accomplices." Perfect, just what I need. It turned out fine, no one pulled over and yelled, no one walked by, biked by or came raging out of their homes demanding I stop exploiting my child to passers by. God, I hate potty training. Only one wiener left...