Papa, can you hear me?

Is it totally bad that I play showtunes all day? I mean, I know they love them and I'm not torturing them by singing at the top of my lungs. Yesterday I played the soundtrack to Yentl and they were totally digging it. My mom used to play the record when I was growing up, and I guess it stuck.

Actually, I love Barbra Streisand. LOVE her.

I guess if Brody asks for a pair of tights and sparkly shoes, I should be worried. Until then, jazz hands it is.

***

Why are my kids so well behaved when we go shopping? Mind you, I am totally NOT complaining, but when we're at home they drive me up the wall. As soon as we step foot out the door (or pull out of the garage, actually), they shut up and are angels. I carry Ramona in the Baby Bjorn facing forward, and usually put Brody in the cart. Everyone always comments on how cute Ramona is (well, she IS). No one says anything about poor Brody.

Of course, if we go to Tarjay or Toys R Us (which we are not to say out loud in the house), I have to buy Brody a toy or face a meltdown of cosmic proportions. And I do it. Why? Because I am a sucker and try to avoid confrontation at all costs. It's called conflict avoidance, people.

Day One

This is my first day home with both kids. I am considering quitting my job to freelance, but my boss doesn't know that yet. This is a trial run, if you will.

The kids: Brody, age 4, totally insane and LOUD. Ramona, age 10 weeks, usually pretty mellow but going through a growth spurt, I think. Either that or she hates me and has been wanting to eat around the clock just to spite me.

10:30 a.m. -- Brody wanted Pringles. For breakfast. Rather than argue with him, I just put some in a bowl and let him munch away. (To my credit, I did try to say "no," but we all know how far "no" gets with a preschooler.) Decide I must at least brush my teeth today, so pop in Baby Mozart tape and stick Ramona in front of it. Am able to brush teeth and wash face, and apply makeup hastily. She decides about 7 minutes in that Baby Mozart sucks, so I take her into the living room.

Pringles all over the floor.

Ramona starts screaming. Put her in the swing and just let her cry, so I can vacuum up the Pringles shards. Amazingly, as soon as I turn on the vacuum, she stops crying and falls asleep.

Oh. Thank. The. Lord.

While running vacuum, Brody decides he wants to "help" and gets out his popcorn popper vacuum. Proceeds to run around the house on a Pringles-induced high, no doubt, but amazingly, Ramona does not wake up.

Number of minutes Dyson has been running: 30.
Number of drugs taken: Two Midol (they have caffeine in them!)
Drinks consumed: One Frappuccino and two glasses of Diet Pepsi.
Number of times I've yelled "Brody Alexander Sparkman!!": Four.
Currently playing: The Doodlebops.

Can I go back to work now?