Super Savannah

For those of you who don't know, I have epilepsy. It's annoying. I cry every time I have a seizure because I just want to be normal. That being said, I know that there are worse things that I could have. I'm not dying so that's good.

On Saturday morning, I had a pretty good (or bad?) seizure in the bathroom when my girls were taking a bath. Jim had run down to his work for a moment so it was just me and the kids. I fell onto the toilet, broke the seat (because if I'm going down, I'm taking something with me!), and then eventually hit the floor. I have no memory of any of is always the case. Apparently the brains way of saving me from the trauma. I appreciate that.

Meanwhile while I was passed out, my little 4 foot tall hero, Savannah immediately went into survival mode. Remember, she's 6...

Savannah got out of the bath and then lifted Madelyn (2) out of the bath as well. Later she told me that she didn't want Madi to drown. Though they fight, it's moments like this that prove they actually do love each other...though neither will admit it very often.

Once they were out of the bath, Savannah grabbed my phone to call for help. She scrolled through my contacts and called "Dad". She thought that I would put my husband under Dad in my phone. She meant to call Jim, but ended up calling my dad instead, which was fine too though it didn't take her to her dad...

Soon after, Jim came home and got me upstairs and into bed. Savannah told him what had happened and he later told me when I came to all the way. See, seizures do this weird thing where even though you are conscious and talking, you are still "not there". It's like dealing with a drunk...or so I've heard anyway. I've never witnessed a seizure myself.

Savannah later told me how scared and worried she was. This breaks my heart, but I think in the end it will make her more well-rounded...or at least that's what I'm telling myself anyway. I hate that she has to see them, but there isn't much that I can do to prevent them beyond taking care of myself. Sometimes they come out of nowhere and I can't do anything about that.

I am beyond proud of the way that my oldest handled everything on Saturday. She was truly a hero and did everything perfectly right. I am amazed at the fact that she could do all of this while obviously panicking inside. And that she thought about her sister in such a traumatizing event makes my heart happy.

So while I make a frillion zillion mistakes (daily), it's moments like this that remind me that perhaps I am doing a few things right along the way.

But let's not let that get out. I have a reputation as Worst Mother of the Year to uphold...

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Go Home Tuesday, You're Drunk

Yesterday started with my husband waking me up before he left for work. "Savannah's cough is worse. I dunno if she should go to school." She had missed the day before because she was "sick". So sick that she ran and played all day with her little sister. I had no intentions of letting her miss another day.

"Oh, she's going to school!" I told my husband. She has missed a lot of days already and we're only two months in. This is partially due to other parents never keeping their kids home when they're sick....but that's none of my business. Either way, Savannah was going to school, even if she had Ebola. I don't have time for Truancy court...for a 6 year old.

So I got the princess up, made her get dressed, got the little kids ready and headed out the door to take Savannah to the bus. Once I got Madelyn strapped into her car seat, I closed her door...or attempted to anyway. It bounced back open. "What the??" I said to myself. I tried it again. It bounced open again.

Because I'm not very smart, I opened and closed it approximately 31,000 more times. I jiggled the handle, played with the latch, locked and unlocked it, and did every other thing that I could think of to "fix" it. Nothing worked. It kept bouncing back open.

"WE ARE NOT MISSING SCHOOL!" I said to myself.

Knowing that it's never a good idea to drive down the road with your toddler's door open, I pondered all of my options. I went to find a rope. Instead, I found a bungee cord. Even better!

I wrapped the cord over, around, through, and under every thing that was solid on the door and the car to ensure that it would not fly open during the drive. Yes, I most definitely am white trash, despite my best efforts to hide that some days. I didn't care. We were not going to miss school for this and I am not a mechanic.

As soon as I got it jimmy-rigged, I closed it Madi's door last time. It latched this time. Of course it did.

Happy that it finally closed right, even if it took me a half hour, I rushed into the car to head to the bus. I forgot my coffee was sitting on the middle console. My forgetfulness caused my very full cup of coffee to decorate the interior of 99% of the inside of my car. Coffee was on everything. Surprisingly enough, it hardly made a difference on my already trashed mom car.

Like troopers though, we trekked on. Savannah was not missing school. We got to the bus with seconds to spare before the bus should have arrived. We waited...and waited...and waited. "Damn!" I thought to myself. "The driver was early on the one day that I was late. Oh well, I'll drive into town. Savannah is not missing school!"

We arrived in town 15 minutes later. I noticed that the school zone sign was not flashing. "Someone needs yelled at for that crap!" I thought. I'm very in favor of driving slow in the school zone. I don't think that's probably a hotly contested issue, but if it is, I'm on board with the pro-side.

When we turned the corner off main street onto the block that the schools are on, I noticed that there were no cars in any of the parking lots. We were a bit early for school (but late for the bus, go-figure), but I can't believe that we are the first people here.

Then reality slapped me across the face....IT'S FREAKING VETERAN'S DAY. There is no school. I could have slept in. I could have stayed in my pajamas. I could have saved myself two wasted hours of trying to get Savannah to school.

And I did this last year too.

Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb girl.

After a good laugh over the matter...because I was two seconds away from crying...I drove back home to enjoy my day.

Then the power went out. I hadn't showered yet. No shower for work? That's great. Also, its the second time in two weeks that I've been forced to go showerless to work. Fabulous!

Then Madi woke up from her nap crying hysterically. Nothing I could do would console her or calm her down. Fun!

Then Nolan woke up, apparently playing follow the leader with his sister, and also cried hysterically. I only have so many shoulders to cry on and hands to pat backs. I could do nothing else for 90 minutes. 90 MINUTES!!! Note to self- get sterilized.

A while later Jim came home and I left for work. Leaving for work means the day cannot possibly get better, just the same or worse. Worse was what happened...

I poured a new cup of coffee for my drive to work. I went to take a sip, hit a bump, and chipped my tooth because I hit it soo hard. That wasn't even the worst part. At the same time that it hit my tooth, coffee also spilled out (thanks to the bump). It was very hot and the whole thing startled (and burnt) me. This was when I dumped the second cup of coffee all over my car.

One would think that at this point, I would have just gone home, gotten in bed, and called it a day. Nope. My boss never accepts the temporarily insane excuse for missing work. I went in. All was well for the rest of the day. Apparently, Tuesday finally passed out.

But this is what happens when Tuesday gets drunk. It starts thinking it's Monday and everything goes wrong. If I didn't have to work, I would have gotten drunk with Tuesday, but I didn't...but I should have.

Go home Tuesday, you're drunk.

The Case Against Public Breastfeeding


Oh for goodness sake! How hard is it to just use a cover!

She should be ashamed of herself. There are children around.

In my day, we did that where no one could see us.

Women have no modesty anymore.

I don't want my husband looking at that!

Why can't she just go into the bathroom?!

That is so offensive!

I'm all for breastfeeding, but I don't think it should be done in a public place!

That is an intimate act that should not be for the world to see!


No one would say these about animals.
Because it's a natural thing.
Not offensive.
Not gross.
Not sexual.
It's just a mother feeding her young.
Tell me again why it's different for humans?

****Brought to you by the mother who never breastfed, but who fails to see the big deal.****

I Love Fundraising!


I got an email the other day. It said something along the lines of, "Such and such is selling items from this catalog to raise money for his school. Please help us out!" Not realizing who it was from, my first thought was, "Why the heck would I buy something from your kid. I don't even want to buy something from my own kid, who is also selling things from a magazine!" Then I realized that it wasn't just sent from a random person, it was sent from my very good friend, who I have every intention of helping out now that I know it was from her....
(Though I remain steadfast in my previous statement of, "I don't even want to buy something from my own kid!")
Savannah came home from school the other day with a fundraiser magazine thingie to sell things to people. I remember doing the same fundraiser a thousand years ago. My gram always bought wrapping paper. I have no idea why I remember something like that when I can't remember what I wore yesterday, but I do remember her always buying wrapping paper.
Anyway, Savannah insists on selling a million things so she can win all the prizes they give to good little kids who sell things. By that I mean, good little moms who take their sheets/magazines around to all their friends, family, and co-workers and guilt them into buying things they don't really want/need. I know because I've been the "guilted-into-buying'er". I've bought many a $300 tub of cookie dough so Little Sally could win a yo-yo that she will break in 30.3 seconds.
The struggle is real....
I dislike being on the selling end of fundraisers (with the exception of bake sales, in which I get to eat any products not sold). I'm not a saleswoman. I feel guilty and annoying and obnoxious when I try to sell things....much like salespeople should feel but don't.
I especially dislike the magazine fundraisers. They annoy me. The company uses your kids against you by promising all these prizes if so many items are sold. Then, if you refuse to bug your friends/family/co-workers, you either have to buy a crap ton of crap yourself or hear your child complain that they are the only ones who didn't get the crap yo-yo.
"All of my friends got a yo-yo because their moms sold crap, but you don't love me enough!"
You're right. I don't. I love you a lot, but I draw the line at selling crap.
Shockingly enough (but not really), I haven't sold a single item. The entire order sheet is blank.
Then I see an announcement that if parents fill up the entire order form and need new ones, they can get them at the school office.
WHAT???!!! There are people using multiple sheets? I can't even imagine getting five items, let alone more than a sheet full.
I understand this all goes to a good cause and fundraising is needed, blah blah blah. I still hate selling stuff. The only answer here seems to be for me to buy as many $1 items as possible. Win-win. I just need to actually look through the magazine to see if they offer ant $1 items.
While I'm there, I think I'll check out the wrapping paper.

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Savannah Quote Book

Last night I was scrolling through my Facebook account and read through a whole bunch of Savannah quotes that had me laughing so hard that I almost peed my pants.

By the way, after three kids, that isn't hard to do.

That being said, I thought a funny blog post would be to include some of her best moments. After all, her quotes were the reason I started blogging anyway.

 So, I give you the best of Savannah;

Savannah, "mom, it be sooo sad if I was who would turn my tv on for me?"
"Mom, what's your grandma's name?" Savannah asked.
"Barb. Grandma Barb." I answer her.
"Hey! I have a Grandma Barb too!!!" Savannah exclaimed.

The cat scratched Madelyn and Savannah says, "Well Shelby, I hope you're proud of yourself!"
Savannah, "I don't even know how he (Nolan) holds that big nugget up!"
Savannah to Madelyn, "You're heavy for a little girl."
Savannah to Madelyn, "I'm growing very tired of pushing you on the quad. Perhaps we could take a break?" My oldest is perhaps from the 17th century?
Me to Savannah, who is just in her undies, "Do you plan on getting dressed today?"
"Why? Are we going somewhere?"
Me to Savannah- grandma barb was kind of like my mom because my mom was gone.
Savannah- oh because your mom hit someone with a car and went to jail?
Me- where do you get this stuff?
"Savannah, I'm the most proud of the part about you being caring!"
"Cool bro."
Mopey Savannah, "I'm sad because I'm really going to miss my friends after high school when I go to college."
"Okay but you do know that's 12 years away right?"
Savannah, "I think I hear a silent vowel in that word."
Savannah very proud of herself, "Mom! I told the bus driver that there were kids in the back eating jelly beans!"
"oh good! I'm sure all the kids on the bus love you!"
"yeah, probably."
Savannah just brought me my Mother's Day present from her....a necklace straight out of my jewelry an envelope from Valentine's Day. I love her.
Savannah, "can I stay up really late tonight, like till 7:30 or something?"
Savannah, "Do I get paid for putting away the dishes?" (Her one daily chore)
Me, "No one pays me to clean the house."
Savannah, "You have the money. Pay your freaking self."

Savannah and I were playing guess who, where we give hints about someone or something until the person guesses right. I'm doing Hello Kitty and I say, "She has a really big head...." Savannah interrupts me, "Madi!" Haha....poor lil sister.
I have a book of cool old paintings and sculptures with some slight nudity....its old art after all. Savannah flipped through it and says, "Ummm, I think this is a little inappropriate."
11 month old Madelyn crawled by Savannah and happened to be chattering, "No, no!" when she went by. Savannah stopped what she was doing and said, "You dont tell me what to do Madi!"
"Mom, does it start snowing after 'cook your own turkey' day?" mean Thanksgiving?
My husbands face is swollen because of an infected tooth. My daughter refused to kiss him today.

"I don't wanna catch the puffy face!!!!"
By the way, this was only a year's worth.
I love this girl.

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What a Puke Day

We were ten minutes away from home after driving Savannah to school when I smelled that unfortunately, all too familiar smell; vomit. It's becoming very familiar lately as Madelyn has suddenly developed car sickness. Well maybe not suddenly developed...maybe she's always had it and thus the crying in the car. I don't know. What I do know is that she just started actually puking.

The vomit has become a regular occurrence now and happens approximately 1/3 of the time we take Savannah to school. Of course she would pick that time as Jim is at work and I have to clean it. I hate vomit. It doesn't phase Jim. So the universe aligns to make me clean it every time.

Anyway, I smelled the smell and turned around to see Madelyn covered in her breakfast after it had gone down and come back up. Fabulous. So I got to drive the remaining ten minutes taking in that lovely aroma because it was raining and I couldn't roll down the windows per two small children in the car. They owe me....big time.

When we arrived at our destination, I grabbed Madi out of the car touching as little of her as possible in the most unloving way possible. If I would have had tongs big enough, I would have used them. A hazmat would have been preferable though. I had neither so I did what I had to do.

Once on the porch, I stripped her down, all the while she is thrashing and flailing because she is cold. I get it kid, it's slightly chilly, but you're throwing puke everywhere and soon there will be two of us covered in it.

Finally, I got her cleaned up and settled and braced myself to clean out the car seat. Let me just say right now that if I were given the choice between biting off my big toes and cleaning this vomit covered car seat, I wouldn't have hesitated to lose my toes via my teeth. No joke.

Some car seats have covers that come off easily with just a few steps. Madi's car seat is not one of those kinds. In fact, it's extra difficult to get the cover off. I guess this is good in the case of an accident but in the case of vomit, it's not. Not even a little.

I had to keep turning and flipping and maneuvering the seat to get all the straps off and the little tie thingies unhinged. Amidst all of this, I put my hand into puke wet stains a thousand times. I think I broke a world record for saying "Ewwwwww!!!!" more times than anyone ever.

Of course, this couldn't stop getting worse. Madelyn, who had by this point had a bath and clean clothes on, decided to pick up some of the straps that were on the ground next to me while I was focused on the seat itself. I looked over to see her put one of the vomit straps in her mouth. I came seconds away from puking myself....for the 99th time in an hour.

I put everything down to wipe her down again. Each second saying ewwwww more and more.

When the car seat shell was stripped and cleaned and wiped and sanitized and hosed down with a fire house...okay maybe not that last one....I put it back together and called it good.

And then found a bunch of chunks on the floor that Madi was not walking in. Puke reflex activated again. Great.

Cleaned her again and hand-washed the puke clothes and puke car seat cover in the kitchen sink. Oh, did I mention we barely have any water at my house currently? its really fun to clean a huge puke mess when you barely have a trickle of water.

Good day all around.

Old people always say that parenting are the best years of your life. "Cherish these moments. You'll really miss them when they're gone."

I can say with 100% certainty and not a shred of doubt in my mind that I will absolutely, positively, surely, never ever ever ever ever miss this day. Or any other day that resembles this day. Or any day that involves puke. Or any day that involves hand washing anything. Or any day that requires me to pull apart Madi's car seat.

But other than that, I'm sure I will miss a few moments....such as now....when the little kids are napping and Savannah is at school.


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I make my oldest share snacks and such with my two year old because my two year old does not finish anything I give here. Therefore, if my two year old wants a banana, I give it to my 6 year old and tell her to share with sister. Is this fair to my 6 year old to always have to share with her little sister? Perhaps not, but believe me when I say that she needs to learn that the world does not revolve around her. She currently believes that she is the sun and we are all little peons revolving around her.

As all two year olds go, little sister is not exactly excited to share either. If she is the current holder of the banana, she has a hard time giving it back to older sister for her turn to take a bite. But if I tell her to share, she will reluctantly hand it back to big sister. 

Anyway, we're working on sharing and manners in general. But as is always the case, sometimes mommy's plans backfire in my face. When I say sometimes, I mean always. They always backfire in my face.

I stopped by the coffee stand on my way home from taking Savannah to school and got a fiber-enriched 100% organic smoothie with kale and spinach extracts....along with some free-range calcium infused carrot sticks for the two year old to snack on during the drive home.

I'm kidding. I got a Redbull with raspberry flavoring and the two year old got fruit snacks.

I didn't hand her the entire bag because I'm not a damn fool. Okay, I am but not in this specific case. Instead I handed her one by one to limit the amount that would be lost forever in my car, until I sat in the backseat with nice clothes on and then they are magically found on my butt as I get out.

Another lesson learned the hard way unfortunately.

So the one by one plan goes swimmingly until she finishes the first fruit snack. Then, from the backseat I hear, "Share mama, share!"

I know what you're cute that she is repeating. You're wrong. Not cute at all for the simple fact that it wasn't in a nice, sweet, polite tone. Instead it was in a tone that can only be explained as a banshee being tortured to death. Actually that sound might have been preferable to Madelyn's whining the word, "Share! Share!"

Now I have quite a bit of patience these days due to being old. The first 2,000 "Share!" whines did not bother me. It was the 2001st time that got to me...and the 30,296 times after that. You see, there are approximately 30 fruit snacks in this bag that I foolishly purchased. Times each one by 11,000 tortured banshee "share" whines and if my math is correct, this totals to a whole lot of "share" coming from Madelyn's mouth.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I thought teaching to share and teaching manners would be heavenly. This wasn't the case after all. I highly recommend not teaching to share...or manners either. It's never a good idea.

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Conned By My 2 Year Old

I assumed I had learned all there was to know about parenting from my oldest. I assumed that she had tried every trick there was. I assumed that I would always be able to outsmart my second and third children having learned all my lessons from being outsmarted by my first on a regular basis.

I assumed wrong.

I usually assume wrong.

I don't know why I haven't stopped assuming yet.

After 18 months of my second child screaming every single time we entered the car, I finally found a trick to keep her from crying (for the most part). If I keep her mouth full, she doesn't cry in the car. So I bring snacks everywhere we go now. It's usually healthy snacks of some kind, but occasionally I'll do junk food.

Okay, that's a's more like 50/50...ish.

This morning, all I had in the car was suckers. See title of this blog if you're shocked by suckers in the morning.

As soon as my 2 year old started crying, I grabbed a sucker and handed it to her in the backseat while I was driving. She immediately stopped crying. Praise Buddha!

Not even a minute later, she started whining. Dang it Buddha! What the heck? One minute of not crying? That's all?

Thankfully, my toddler is getting really good at communicating her problems to me so at least I know why she is crying or whining.

"What's the matter, Madi?" I asked her.

"Fall down. Oh no!" She whined.

I used my mom translating skills to deduce that this meant she had dropped her sucker. I couldn't look back because we were going around a bunch of corners.

Greaaaattttt....a sucker has fallen prey to my car. Or my car has fallen prey to a sucker? Eh. Why did I think suckers was a great idea? I don't know. I'm new. Clearly.

And she started crying hard again. Still having another 20 minutes left till home, I took my chances and handed her another sucker.

"Tanks. Welcome!" She says when I hand the second sucker to her.  She's very polite, even "you're-welcoming" for me. She also says sorry when someone else burps or farts. I have one heck of a cute, sweet, tantrum throwing, half-evil toddler. Haha...and that's exactly how toddlers are if you are a new or non-parent. Split personalitied.

And personalitied is not a word.

A few seconds after handing her the second sucker, I came upon a straight stretch in the road and moved the rear-view mirror down so I could look at her. I prayed to Buddha that the sucker was not in her hair or stuck to her elsewhere.

It wasn't.

Because it was in her other hand. She scored two because she tricked me into thinking she had dropped the first one.

I was conned by my 2 year old.

I've said it a hundred times, and I'll say it again; Nothing good comes from having intelligent children. Nothing.

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Dangers of Cleaning

I'll admit it, I'm a notorious surface-only cleaner. By surface-only, I mean I clean only what you can see when you come over to my house. And this is only if you give me notice that you're coming over. If you surprise me, there's no telling what condition the house may be in.

I have really been working on my lack of being a good cleaner and I'm making huge improvements, but I'm still no fabulous housekeeper.

I have lots of excuses for this, but the cold hard truth is.... is bad for my health.

And also, I'm a horrible housekeeper because my gram spoiled me and I never had to clean.

But also, it's bad for my health.

Yesterday my landlords came over to fix up my bathroom. To you, landlords might mean evil slum lords who take your money and never put anything back into the house. To me, landlords mean my best friend and her family. They take care of the house well.

Unfortunately, my best friend is a cleaning freak. They say opposites attract and I think our friendship proves this. Also, she is a big girl with a big girl job and I'm...well, I'm me. Haha

So when she comes over, I try to clean my house so that she doesn't think I'm some slob. I am a slob but I don't want her to think that. After 17 years of friendship, I think she might be catching on, but just in case she hasn't, I clean before her arrival.

I never deep clean though. I just surface clean. I keep making promises to myself that I will deep clean one room per week so that the rooms never get too dirty. I never keep these promises as evident by my bathroom yesterday.

My landlords were going to paint so I needed to clean walls, nooks and crannies, floorboards, etc. I have never in my life cleaned nooks and crannies. Never. Not once. I've cleaned walls and floorboards every time I've moved out of a house but never nooks and crannies.

But yesterday I had to. They were painting.

And so, I woke up, put on my big girl panties and went to work. It was the most horrible three hours of my life. I would have rather walked on hot coals.

When I was done, I called my best friend..."Please tell me that this disgustingness was not just from us. Please tell me the dirt in the nook and crannies never got cleaned before we moved in???!!!"

Nope. She cleaned it from top to bottom spotless before we moved in. Great. Not only am I a slob but I definitely just admitted that to her. Turns out she already knew and loves me anyway. That is real friendship.

Anyway, my nightmare ended when the bathroom was cleaned. Or so I thought....

Last night as we settled down and relaxed before going to bed, I mentioned to Jim that my right side hurt.

I know what you all are thinking, "APPENDIX!" That's the first thing out of everyone's mouth every single time I say that my side hurts. After I lift up my shirt and show them my 5 inch scar that proves my appendix doesn't live there anymore, they regret suggesting it might be that. Yes people, it's gone. Unless appendixes sometimes grow back, my side hurting is NOT my appendix.

What the pain felt like was right after I had my C-section...and the pain was exactly where the surgeon had stitched everything up together inside. So I touched myself...

My god people, not like that!!! Get your hands out of the gutter! I touched around on my side. There was a lump. As I am not a doctor, I have no idea what it is...scar tissue, cyst, pulled something or other, another appendix??? I don't know. What I do know is that it wasn't there yesterday and neither was the pain.

The only thing I can think is that the deep cleaning caused all of this. I'm pretty sure a doctor will agree with my self-diagnosis. And then he will prescribe me a strict regimen of never ever ever ever deep cleaning again!

I can no longer deep clean ever again. The one time I tried it, I nearly killed myself.

Okay, maybe I just pulled a muscle from doing something that my body is not used to doing....

But either way, there are obviously dangers in cleaning.

I'm just saying, I'd rather not take that risk. I have kids to think about.

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I'm bilingual in case anyone here doesn't know that. I took three years of Spanish from Senora Lincoln in high school...all three of which were spent doodling on my note pad and planning what excuse I wanted to use on any particular day to get out of class.

Got my period? No, I used that last week.

Diarrhea? Not that desperate.

My cat is sick? Don't have a cat and don't want to send bad ju-ju to that cat that I don't have.

I'm all out of ideas. Come on, Christy! Pull yourself together and think of something to get you out of this class!!!!!

So basically I was a good student who practically speaks the language like it's my first one.

For example, I can say, "Mi ojos es verde." This roughly translates to, "I'm the best Spanish speaker in the whole wide world because I studied very hard in my high school classes."

Not really. It translates to "My eyes are green." That's pretty much all I got from three years of Spanish. In case you missed that. THREE YEARS OF SPANISH...

But wait! There's more!!!!

My best friend Maria speaks Spanish fluently. She took about 30 years of Spanish from her parents. She has told me for about 10 years now that I, when drinking, speak Spanish very well.

I wouldn't know because I, when drinking, drink too much to remember much of anything.

But apparently, with a few shots and a couple beers and a bottle of wine, I speak Spanish better than she does....and she's from Mexico. I can even roll my "R's" which I absolutely cannot do at all even a little when sober. How is this all possible?

Well, it's like the Bible says, "All things possible with Jack...Daniels."

With all that being said, I do not teach my children my second language. This is 50% due to the fact that I don't drink around them and 50% due to the fact that I'm the worst mother ever and can barely get them showered and fed, let alone teach them anything.

So as you can imagine, it was quite the shock to find out that Madelyn (19 months) had picked up Spanish overnight in her sleep. I'm not really sure where, how, when, etc.... Maybe she went to sleep listening to a "YOU TOO CAN LEARN SPANISH IN ONE DAY!" tape. I don't know.

What I do know is that all morning, she is answering, "Si" to every question I ask.

"Madelyn, do you want some milk?"

"Si...guck." Guck translates to milk in Spanish....I mean, Madelyn. Guck is Madelyn for Milk.

"Madelyn, do you want to watch Thomas?"


"Madelyn, am I the worst mother ever?"

"Si! Si! Usted es la peor madre del mundo y yo no sé cómo voy a sobrevivir la infancia!"

(Yes! Yes! You are the worst mother ever and I do not know how I will survive childhood!)

Okay, she didn't say that last sentence, but she has been answering all of my questions with "si" this morning. At first I just thought it was some random sound that she used. I don't even know 99% of what she is saying half the time. She has her own language. I can pick up a word or two here and there, but it all sounds Greek to me.

But then she kept on saying it wasn't a random sound. It was a deliberate yes in Spanish.

I think it is clear what is happening here...

Madelyn has gotten into the Jack Daniels and drunken bilingual-ness is genetic.

That's the only logical explanation. O tal vex estoy loco

One thing is for sure, my eyes are green. That's a fact.

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