What I Did on My Summer Vacation

Vacation.  HA!  That is hilarious.

So I’ve been missing again.  I received an awesome reminder via my email that it has been FOUR MONTHS since my last blog post.  Which just sounds wrong.  I refuse to believe it’s been that long.  But I digress.

We have less than two weeks until school starts here and I’m having conflicted emotions because this is the first time BOTH of my kids will be in school full time.  I want to be sad about it, but I’m ecstatic.  Maybe that makes me a bad person.  But whatever.

So what, you might ask, has been taking up all my time this summer?  Well the vast majority of it has been trying to keep my children alive.  You would be surprised how hard that is.  It requires feeding them, breaking up ridiculous fights, and trying not to murder them.  If you murder them, then honestly why did you bother doing all of those other things?  It would just be silly.   So I find that I’ve been saying “Just go away!”  a lot.  Because I can’t murder you if we aren’t in the same room.  I’m not Carrie.

So the keeping alive of the children was especially difficult this summer because the hubs and I decided we each needed our own vacation.  In the hospital.  A month apart.

I have to say, that my husband was at least courteous enough to wait until baseball season had ended.  The night of Slugger’s last game, he started to complain about a pain in his knee.  He hadn’t done anything to it, but he’s notorious for having horrible joints and being that he spends the entire day on his feet, we didn’t think a whole lot of it at first.  But then he went into work the next morning and couldn’t even stand.  He had to come home and tried to convince me that his giant, red hot knee wasn’t that serious.  I wasn’t convinced and long story short, he ended up hospitalized with an infection under his knee cap.  There were lots of antibiotics involved and a surgery to drain it.  After a little less than a week, he came home.  It was weird and scary.  I didn’t like it.  Not a highlight of my summer.

While this was going down, Pixie decided she wanted to participate in the Little Miss “Insert name of our town here” pageant this year.  So, while her father was in surgery, we were standing around in a super hot field, waiting to see what tiny person would be crowned.  My daughter had NO CLUE what any of this entailed, but was super excited because she knew she got to wear a dress and stand on a stage.  Which is more or less all she did, along with flashing the judges her underpants randomly whenever she felt nervous.  She didn’t win, but now we know for sure she’s my kid.13423875_10209530964381234_9101752849184228286_nEven though she didn’t win, she received prizes for being a runner-up.  Prizes = Winning.  So she promptly left there telling everyone she met that she was the winner and the new Little Miss.  Eh.  Whatever.  You do you, Boo.

So this brings us to July.  My hubs was recovered and back to work.  He stubbornly went back before being cleared by the surgeon and then rubbed it in my exasperated face when the surgeon agreed with him at his next follow up.  Men.

July started out as a pretty magical time.  Our school does a summer enrichment program for all grades INCLUDING the kids going into Kindergarten.  So both of my snowflakes were signed up faster than you can say “BYE KIDS!”.  It was about three hours a day/four days a week.  Which is perfect for both of us to get used to the idea.  I would love to say that I was productive during this time, but seriously it was only three hours.  You can’t do anything in three hours, so I didn’t even try.  I caught up on some reading.  Because then I was learning things too and everyone was better educated after those three hours.  At least that’s what I tell myself.  13599930_10209667783921637_4293443858245239248_nNotice Slugger’s completely mismatched socks.  This kid.  He’s going to be the death of me.

Speaking of Slugger, he turned ten at the end of July.  I’m still in denial.  I’ve covered the many things I’m not qualified for and having a ten year old is just another thing to add to that ever-growing list.  I mean, I was ten not that long ago.  I don’t know what I’m doing here.  I have no idea.  Soon we’re going to be having THE TALK and seriously, I’m not qualified to lead THE TALK.  And my husband won’t have THE TALK, because he, well, doesn’t talk.  WHAT THE HELL!?  I can’t do this.  I need to huff some Stress Away.  I’ll be back.

Ok.  Let’s not talk about that again.

Here’s the part where we get to my tale of misery and woe.  Let me preface this by saying: the only time I’ve been hospitalized was when I was birthing my children and though I didn’t enjoy it, at least I went home with a prize.  Like, “Sorry that was painful!  Here, have a baby!”  I can deal with that.  This wasn’t like that.

Things are about to get gross.  You’ve been warned.

I woke up one morning with weird stomach pain.  Now, this isn’t THAT unusual for me because I’ve had weird stomach pain for a good portion of my life.  The fact that I HAVEN’T had any pains in a while was more unusual.  But any way…

So I think that these are the pains I used to get and I bust out my Digize.  Then I ate some yogurt, because in my head I was all “Yogurt has probiotics”.  I ended up regretting that, because only a few moments later, I ended up seeing that yogurt again.  Gross.  So I call the hubs and really at this point, my main concern is that the kids want lunch and I can’t stand long enough to make lunch, so for the love of all things holy can he please come home and make them lunch?  He comes home, makes them lunch, and proceeds to tell me that I probably shouldn’t feel like I’m in labor and that maybe we need to go to the ER.

So I get my act together enough to roll out of bed and put shoes on.  I did not care that I was wearing little sail boats on my pajama pants.  Didn’t care.  But I did put a bra on, because wearing pajamas while needing a shower and not brushing your hair is a lot to deal with on top of free swinging boobs.  Yeah.  I said it.

If all this wasn’t enough, I hobble myself to the door just to open it up to a BEAR on my deck, hanging out.  In the middle of the afternoon.  This is my life.  Thankfully the bears around here don’t know they’re vicious and can be scared senseless just by whispering aggressively at them.  Which is precisely what I did.  I angrily whispered “What are you doing!?  Get out of there!” and the bear looked at me like I was the scariest whispering person ever and took off.

I learned a super important lesson this day.  If you want to get through the ER quickly, just start vomiting.  No sooner did I start, a nurse rushed in with an IV full of anti-nausea meds.  Which was helpful.  Especially since it was slightly humiliating that every time I threw up, the elderly lady next to me would yell “GOD BLESS YOU!”  She was hard of hearing and I’m pretty sure ended up being my neighbor once I got moved to a permanent room.  Unless I was just blessed with two different deaf old ladies during my stay.  I mean, anything is possible.

I really didn’t think any of this could get worse.  I mean, I was already puking into a bucket and groaning with my eyes half closed for all of the Emergency Room to see while receiving numerous blessings.  That’s an all time low for me.  But then, I went in for a CT scan.  Which was fine.  I mean, whatever.  But after the CT scan, I started to feel very hot.  And queasy.  And the poor, distinguished looking gentleman in a lab coat had to rip me out of the machine so that I could once again resume vomiting.  However, at this point, my stomach was empty.  So instead of vomiting, just made awful noises while retching into a bucket and proceeded to PEE ALL OVER THE TABLE I WAS SITTING ON.  Yes.  I peed.  On the CT scan table.  So then I was groaning, and apologizing, and kind of hoping I would magically lose conciousness.  I didn’t.  But at least the lady next to us couldn’t hear the story when I had to repeat it to my husband upon returning to my assigned cubicle.

So skipping lots of other barbaric stuff, I ended up admitted with what they THINK was an infection in my large intestine.  We are really good at weird mystery infections around here.  So I basically had to lay in a bed with an IV and starve for a few days.  Which was ok, because I was in so much pain that eating wasn’t even a thing I wanted to think about.  THAT’S A BIG DEAL.  I LOVE EATING.  AND THINKING ABOUT EATING.  But anyway…

Things were running smoothly until the antibiotics really started to kick in.  Because the side effects of the antibiotics?  Stomach pain and diarrhea.  The irony was not lost on me.  And I was kind of ok with this anyway because I hate vomiting and would much rather sit on the pot than kneel in front of it.  Everything would have been roses.  Except, that morning, they moved my IV to my right hand.  I’m right handed.  You would think that wiping your butt with the wrong hand would be as easy as just visualizing what the dominant hand does and then, you know, doing that.  BUT NO.  My left hand is for aesthetics only.  It can’t follow directions.  I sat there longer than I’d like to admit just willing it to do my bidding.  It.  Was.  Terrible.  At one point, I missed my target completely and ended up sticking my hand in the toilet water.  I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.   Don’t try it.

I’m feeling much better now.  I still can’t eat quite like I used to and still have random pains, but I’m off all meds and am alive and can wipe my butt.  So it’s all gravy.

WHILE ALL THAT WAS HAPPENING, Pixie started cheerleading.  Which has been a fascinating experience.  I missed her first couple of practices because I was busy sticking my hand in toilets, but for the last two weeks I’ve been taking her and goodness, my kid is going to be a star.

She’s not interested in what the other girls are doing.  Oh no, not my child.  She’s putting her own twist on EVERYTHING.  A lot of it involves jumping.  She jumps.  A lot.  Which is cool because if I jumped, I’d pee, just like I did on the CT scan.  Have kids, they said.  It’s fun.

Anyway, cheerleading has been 2-3 nights a week.  Pixie still really doesn’t understand why they have to show up and do the same things over and over, even though I’ve explained that’s what PRACTICE means.  So it’s been challenging.  Tomorrow is their pep rally, and I’m sure it’s going to be a big, adorable mess.  I’m excited.

AND THIS HAS BEEN MY SUMMER.  If this was being graded, I’m sure the teacher wouldn’t have bothered and probably just would have called my parents to make sure I’m not on drugs or something.  But I’m not anymore.  I finished them, remember?

And though I’d like to say this has been a great summer, it really hasn’t.  I’m glad it’s almost over.  Bring on the school year.  BRING IT ON.


Because I Have To.

So.  As the title implies, I’m writing this post because I have to.  Why do I have to?  Because I haven’t.  Duh.

I haven’t written anything in some time, and not because my life is void of activity or events, but because I’m terrible at follow through.  There.  I said it.

Also, I have to say (since I like to be honest here) my confidence has been seriously lacking as of late.  There is something to be said about putting yourself out there and hoping people like who you are.

“But you shouldn’t care if people like who you are!  Just be you!  You are special!”  That’s what we’ve been told growing up, isn’t it?

But goodness, it’s so much harder than that.

I don’t know who I am most days, or how to be sure of myself.  I (as I’ve mentioned before) struggle so much with the concept of making adult friends.  And I know I’m not alone.  There are many people who feel this way.  And especially after having kids, all of a sudden you turn into this MOM-BOT that only says things like “Sit down!”  or “Nice hands!”  and you go by names like “Mrs.  So-and-so”  or “So-and-So’s Mom”  and you’re all “Wait!  I used to by my own person!”.

Add to that mix the fact that my humor is, um, a little off brand to the mom world, and things just get even MORE awkward.  I can’t express to you the amount of times I’ve made a joke, just to have people’s eyes glaze over and their jaws slack a little.

I guess the point of this post (besides me once again complaining about how I don’t know how to life) is that I’m in the process of barreling through this weird, awkward second puberty I’ve found myself in.  Thirty is the new twelve.

So if you find yourself feeling similarly, at least know you aren’t alone.

That’s all.

Update:  I’m Lazy

Seriously though.  I can’t seem to get my butt in gear this week.  I’ve had about 2039840293784 things on the agenda and maybe accomplished, oh, 3 of them.  Anyone else?

Anyway, I figured since I didn’t tackle any of the big things I’ve had planned from this blog so far this week, I’d at least stop by with a little update.  

As I mentioned before, we took Slugger off his meds a little over a month ago now.  There have been some changes, and I thought this was as good a place as any to think them out and put them on “paper”.  Plus, you know, I like you guys.  

So the pros:

I have heard more genuine laughter from Slugger the last couple of weeks than I’ve heard in a while.  Like goofy, belly laughs.  

We’ve been able to joke around a little, which is hard sometimes because he is SO literal.  Like, sarcasm.  I embrace it.  He doesn’t understand sarcasm and gets really upset with me some times.  Whoops.  

BIggest pro?  No more meds.  Duh.

The Cons:

There is really only one HUGE con.  Slugger seems to think that because he isn’t on his medication anymore he now has free reign to act like a fool.  And I don’t mean the goofy stated above.  I mean blatant disrespect and disregard for everyone around him.  More so than the usual.  Now, how do I know this isn’t a side effect?  Well, his meds were for his FOCUS.  Not BEHAVIOR.  

So I have a feeling, in his head, he thinks that he can blame any and all indiscretions on the fact that we are no longer medicating him, when in fact, the issues we are having are completely unrelated.  Ahhhh, kids.  They’re great.

But on another note, we finally got our new oil blend in and I’m hoping this at least assists in Slugger’s anger issues.  I will say, I made the mistake of diffusing it during homework time yesterday.  Never. Again.  Talk about letting the flood gates open.  We are going to have to use this one with caution.  So there’s that. 

I’m super excited because we are going to be trying a supplement for Slugger next month.  Even though his go to blend, Brain Power, seems to be working well for him (when he feels like actually doing work!) I figured the added boost of a supplement couldn’t hurt.  I’ll be trying it as well because, ummm, who couldn’t use some assistance with their continuities function, am I right?  More on that though when it comes in.  

Any way, I’m going to go try to be productive.  Then I can actually present something interesting to you folks.  So hang in there.  It’s coming.  I think. Maybe.  

Sexy, Sultry, or a Potato?

halloween costumes

Happy October!!  Halloween is by far my favorite holiday and therefore, I’m already obsessing over costumes.  The kids each have one already because I was not waiting until the shelves were barren.  Slugger doesn’t really have a preference each year, however, Pixie is very serious about her costumes choices.  Last year was a mini fiasco, seeing as she insisted on being Cruella DeVille.  Which was fine.  Except they didn’t make a costume in kid sizes.  So we had to throw something together.  CruellaThis is what we came up with and I was more or less happy with it.  Even if the hair didn’t turn out as expected.  Whatevs.  She was adorable.

So what is the point of all of this?  Well.  Let me tell you.

I am a larger girl.  And I don’t just mean in comparison to Pixie, because, seriously?  I mean, I’m larger than your average.  I wasn’t always, but thanks to my two beautiful crotchfruit children, I’ve gained a significant amount of weight over the years and fall into that oh-so-controverial category of “plus sized”.  Now listen, I’m not here to body shame anyone.  We are all beautiful and deserve to feel that way.  What I am about to complain about has more to do with my own insecurities than how I view other people.  It’s me, not you.  Seriously though, it’s me.

As a “plus size” girl, costume choices are…interesting.  I find myself limited to the internet if I want to find something remotely close to being reasonable.  It seems as though costume choices fall into to extremes:  “should be kept in the bedroom” and “you are going to look like a fool”.

Let me show you.  Gander with me.

halloweenMeet the “Bewitching Beauty”.  She is adorable.  I can’t say she isn’t.  If you click on her she will take you right to Halloweencostumes.com where you can buy her and wear her and make her your own.  The costume of course, not the actual woman.  So what’s my issue, you wonder?  Well first off.  This woman isn’t plus sized.  Like, not even a little.  Not even “Well, maybe she falls into that weird in-between zone that fashion deems plus sized.”  NO.  So, here I am looking for a costume for my plus sized body and I am looking at a “plus size costume” on a very not plus sized model.  How is this helping me?

Secondly, though I’ve already said I find this costume adorable, do you know what I’m picturing?  Me, bending over, exposing my incredibly large butt accidentally to everyone in the tri-state area.  NOW THAT is a scary costume.  There is no way the length of this skirt would cover my…umm…assets. So, so unflattering.

Let’s move on.

halloweenWell, hello there “Party Skeleton”.  I found this gem over at Yandy.com and surprise, surprise, if you click on her, she’ll take you where you need to go.  Again, this woman isn’t really a great representation of the “plus sized” world, but that seems to be a common theme.  This dress is adorable, especially if you aren’t the “costume type”, its a happy medium.  The skirt length is a little longer than the last, but still not quite long enough for my derrière.  My real issue with this though?  It’s.  A.  Skelton.  I mean, lets break for a moment here and acknowledge the fact that I know NO ONE is the size of an actual skeleton.  If they are, then that is a completely different problem.  BUT!  Nothing screams “snicker and side eye” like a large girl dressed like a skeleton.  There are places on my body where I’m not even sure there are bones anymore. I haven’t felt them in ages, so they could very well be gone.  So let’s highlight the fact that I have WAY too much meat on my bones by dressing like a skeleton.  No. Thank. You.

halloweenGUUUUUUUURRRRRRLLLLL.  You walked out in your “private time” outfit.  Oh wait.  No.  Nope.  Read the description on this “Alluring Alice” and they are definitely telling me it’s perfect for my Halloween party.  Is it?  I mean, does it have pants it comes with that I’m just not seeing?  Legit, if this girl turned around, I’m sure she’s airing it all out back there.  Why have we done this to a “scary” holiday?  Like, do people need a refresher on what Halloween is all about?  What is happening here???

Ok.  I’m calm.  Click on her if you want.  She’ll take you over to trendyhalloween.com, where sadly she’s out of stock, but I’m sure you can find something else.  Check your unmentionables drawer.  You might already have something similar.

And may I mention one more thing that definitely applies to all three of these?  Where I live, Halloween is COLD.  How…how am I supposed to wear these when it’s forty degrees out?  I…I just can’t.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have these options.  Full coverage, zero dignity.

cry-baby-adult-costume-cx-18335 be-my-baby-jammies-pink-adult-plus-costume-cx-17558 halloween

I feel like I don’t even need to explain myself on these.  Guys, a potato.  I mean.  No.  You can find these gems as well as some actually cool costumes at Costumeexpress.com.  Click the potatoes.  They’ll lead the way.

Please.  Don’t let my views dissuade you from whatever costume you want this Halloween.  If you like it and you feel comfortable, rock it.  I wish I had the confidence to waltz out of the door in some of these.  Until then, you’ll find me here.  Convincing myself a bedsheet isn’t an option.  Wish me luck.

Things I Never Thought I’d Say Out Loud (especially in public)

never thought i would say

I haven’t dropped off the face of the earth, though it certainly seems like I have.  We have been running around like crazy people the last couple of weeks and in the fray, my laptop charger decided it no longer wanted to do it’s job.  Facebook ever so kindly informed me that it has been eleven days since I’ve posted anything on the Oils Monster page.  So here I am.  Assuring you I’m alive.

On that note, Pixie just recently turned four this past weekend.  I don’t know how this happened, or when time decided to speed up, but in honor of her birthday I’ve compiled a slightly nonsensical list of things I never thought I’d have to say.  This list is a tiny representation of the absolutely insane things that I have found NECESSARY to say.  I should point that out.  I don’t say these things just because they’re funny.  Like, there has actual been an occasion to say each of these.  Ponder that.

So, without further ado, prepare yourself to question my entire life.  Here we go.

Stop eating the dog/cat food.  (I say this A LOT)

No, eggs don’t change color in the fishtanks like Easter eggs.  See?  They’re all still white.

We don’t eat toilet paper…

You can’t show your pee-pee to everyone…

We don’t color on our teeth.

No, if you shoot me, I won’t come back to life.

Why is the dog in the dresser drawer?  (I’ve had to ask this more than once.  Not awesome.)

No, we can’t name the baby “Sausages” or “Spongebob”.  (Good thing Slugger didn’t get final say on Pixie’s name…)

Please don’t keep chapstick in your underwear.

Well, now that you put that candy in your underwear, I guess we have to buy it.  But you still can’t eat it. (Yeah, I’ve said this.  Checking out at Staples.  It was just as awkward as you imagine it.)

Your underwear is not a substitute for pockets! (Gee, wonder why I had to say that.)

We don’t hit people with dinosaurs.

You can’t ride in the washer machine.

Please put that down.  It’s a urinal cake. (Uh huh.  Yup.)

No, I’m pretty sure bears don’t eat cars.  (Just pretty sure.  Not certain.)

Please don’t wash the cat.

No, no one turned Jesus into a statue.  It’s just a statue.  Of Jesus. (Pixie was incredibly concerned about this one…)

Pantyhose aren’t pants.  I can see your underwear.  And it’s on wrong.

And everyone, gag with me:

Please stop eating the cat’s hair!

Now of course this list isn’t all inclusive.  I’m sure there are plenty of ridiculous things I’ve blocked from my memory to preserve my own sanity.  Any fun ones you’d like to add??  Leave them in the comments.  You know, so I can feel like this is normal.

How to Survive Being a Sideline Mom

sports mom

School has officially started here!  WHICH IS WONDERFUL!  And also means something else has started.  I’ll give you a hint.  Ready?


Do you see it?  Do you?

For those who don’t know about my crazy obsession, this is my planner.  Like, really.  I use this to plan my entire life.  (And for the record, Steve isn’t some heart broken man that I plan on counseling through a break up.  It’s Slugger’s teddy bear, who was missing an arm.) And there, there at the bottom!  Fall baseball season has begun!

Slugger has been playing ball since Kindergarten, and though I wonder about how much HE has learned, I’ve learned a tremendous amount over the last few years.  And because I’m a giving person, I plan to share that knowledge with you.  Now, if you’re looking to the learn the definition of “short stop” or “pinch hitter”, this isn’t the place.  Seriously, you guys, google.  I’m here to teach you something far more valuable.

How to survive being a side line mom.

Now, though in my case this applies to baseball, the tips I’m about to teach you can be applied to just about any activity you are forced happily spectating.  So pay attention.

baseball kid

This first nugget of wisdom applies to almost anything kid related:

  1.  No matter how much they enjoy the activity once they’re there, your children will fight you tooth and nail about actually going to said activity.

It never fails.  My son loves his team and coaches.  He generally enjoys himself while out on the field.  But when it comes time to leave the house, he acts like I’m dragging him to a symposium on the effects of global warming.  Every.  Damn.  Time.  So, that being said, plan to leave at least a half an hour earlier than you need to.  You know, in case you have to shove them in the car, kicking and screaming.

2.  Always bring water.

Do not, I repeat, do not count on your child to remember to bring their own water bottle.  It’s a recipe for disaster.  You will remind them 345,239 times, and mid game/practice they will be dehydrating faster than you can say “I told you so”.  Or at least, it will seem that way from all the throat clutching and rasping noises they will be making in your direction.  They will spend more time whining by your side than on the field playing the sport you paid good money for them to play.  BRING WATER.

3.  Find your people.

Stop scratching your head and let me explain.  There are going to be other moms there, you know, because it’s a team made of children.  Unless you’re  a magical chameleon unicorn, not all of these moms will get you.  It’s up to you to hunt down and find the ones that do.  And then firmly plant yourself next to them.  To avoid confusion and awkward social situations, I’ve complied a list of most of the “mom types” you will find among the bleachers.

The Posh Moms:

You will know these moms from miles away.  They are always polished and well dressed.  Hair is coiffed, nails are polished, and they are dressed like they just stepped out of a high end catalogue.  Their makeup is always on point and you’ll notice they never seem to sweat.  I’ve yet to figure this out.

The Sporty Moms:

These moms clearly played some sport in college, though the debate is open as to what.  They are usually dressed like they just went for a jog, with lots of spandex, ponytails, and baseball caps.  Don’t look for them on the bleachers, because more than likely, they’ve positioned themselves behind the team bench and are leading the little buggers in some kind of group cheer.  You can also easily recognize them by their intense need to high five everyone and shoot a thumbs up to their kid on the field every thirty seconds.  Team work.

The All Together Moms:

These moms were born to birth people.  Like, really though, they seem to have the mom thing down to a science.  They are always prepared, always on time, and usually have anything any child could possibly need on hand.  When it comes time for them to provide the team snack, you can bet it’s something painstakingly homemade.  Like cupcakes with a  picture of each child made from icing and fondant.  The Martha Stewarts of Moms.

Which brings me to my final group.

The Barely Holding it Together Moms:

Personally, this is my group.  These are the moms who are in the thick of it.  They look war weary and disheveled.  You can tell by the strain in their voice and the twitch in their eye that they are one tiny person away from a mental breakdown.  They cope with sarcasm and humor.  They scream from the sidelines at their kid, who is currently throwing dirt in the air like confetti, rather than paying attention to the action on the field.  My people.

Now that we’ve covered that…

4.  Clear your entire afternoon/evening schedule for the duration of the season.

Don’t even imagine that you will have any form of a life until the season has concluded.  Just don’t.  Plan on pop up practices, last minute games, and God knows what else.  There will be parties and impromptu ice-cream.  You are a slave to the game now.  Live with it.

5.  Forget eating dinner.  Ever again.

This one kind of runs hand in hand with number 4.  Because your brats are school aged, most activities take place during prime dinner time.  Which means rushing through homework, throwing a snack at your child, and running out the door (thirty minutes early, don’t forget this.) You will spend a good percentage of your time on the bleachers wracking your brain on how to actually feed your family a meal that night.  Don’t stress it.  This is why McDonald’s was invented.  Don’t judge me.

Now this last bit is just some added advice for those fools moms out there who have more than one child, like yours truly.

To keep your additional little ones entertained, consider packing the following:

Every electronic device you own.

Every snack currently in your pantry.

Water (We covered this)

A toy loved enough to entertain, yet not so loved that losing it wouldn’t cause a complete meltdown. (Like such a thing exists.  Ha!)

Vodka (For you.  Clearly.)

Duct tape (Just in case…ummm.  Never mind.)

If all of the above doesn’t work, send your additional children to All Together Mom.  Chances are she has something they want.

Above all, have fun.  Enjoy this time.  It will go quickly.  Plus, at the very least, you know your kid will one day have a bitchin collection of “participation trophies” to show off.  It’s all good.