Either I'll become social or...

I'll continue to hide from strangers. (And talk about them on the Internet.)

We went to the park a few days ago. When we arrived there were several Moms, all whom had other mom companions. We arrived just before lunch since we were going to have a picnic. All the mothers did there motherly stare down at which point they decide who I am, what I am about and whether or not I'm worthy of a hello.

Okay, so maybe that stare down thing is just my imagination running wild but it sure feels that way.

Let me start by saying, I keep to myself and have not one single friend within a 30 mile radius of my house. Okay, so maybe that makes me sensitive to other mothers who actually have friends. Whatever. That is so not the point.

Also, until 30 days ago I didn't need any friends. In fact, I didn't have time for any friends. Clearly, now? I'm desperate. But, that desperation is for another post.

First, I need to tell you about the playground. The ever loving playground and the mommy's who lurk there... a recap if you will.

The Nanny's. Hard to spot at first glance because you never just want to assume a young woman couldn't possibly be that cute and trendy whilst wiping bottoms and cleaning up drool without pay. A few trips to the park and you can quickly tell a Nanny from Mom just by her cell phone. Generally speaking a mom will not sit on a park bench with another mom and talk and text on her cell phone whilst corralling two toddlers. Not that any mom is not capable of that kind of multitasking. It's just when a mom gets another real mom in front of her, you know, someone who uses complete sentences, she will give that non-toddler non-drooling woman her almost (because one eye is always on the babes) undivided attention.

The Older Mom. This is the mom who, for whatever reason, decided to wait to have a family until the very last possible second. (I get that it isn't always a choice, quit hating.) For whatever reason the area I live in is full of this mom. This mom is often a first time mom who, because of her age, suddenly knows everything that is best for your child even if you didn't ask. For some reason this mom makes me the most nervous. Maybe it's because some of them are old enough to be my mom. Or, maybe because I suddenly feel like a teenager who has two toddlers waiting to be reprimanded. I find the best way to deal with this mom is to avoid eye contact at all costs because I can't handle feeling like a teen.

The Know It All Mom. This mom closely resembles the Older Mom but only with more youth and less tact (if that's possible) and access to the Internet. This mom generally travels alone and is the first one to start a conversation.

TKIAM: Oh, I see your child has a drink.

OCC: Hot out today. (Notice the slight change in subject.)

TKIAM: You know, breast milk is best.

OCC: Uh, huh. (Doing my best to not sound interested.)

TKIAM: The WHO recommends that baby's be breastfed until the age of 2.

OCC: Yeah. It's just water. From a cup. Because it's hot out and it's the Park. (Speaking slowly. How dare she assume I don't have the Internet. Slightly annoyed, walking away.)

TKIAM: (Following) Well I guess water is better than juice.

OCC: Uh, huh.

TKIAM: And way better than formula.

OCC: (PISSED) Look, she's still breastfeeding and will be 2 next week and for your information she was fed formula for the first day of her life. Do you see 4 eyes? Horns? (Yeah, I see the horns too but that's not from the formula.) I think it's great that you are spreading the word. I already have this information. Thank you. (Grabbing both children suddenly needing to go potty.)

Yeah. She's pushy AND wants everyone to know about her knowledge. I generally can forgive this mommy for being outgoing with her information since she thinks she is doing a good thing. But, she needs to back off. You know, I might even like this mom if she would just chill the eff out.

The Mom Who Tries Too Hard. This is the mom who when she packs a picnic for the park it is not in a grocery bag or reusable sack. No, it's in a picnic basket, you know, with plates and utensils encased in a basket like structure. Not only does she pack water for each individual, she also includes juice, chips, pretzels, sandwiches and a blanket to sit on and a back-up blanket in case the first gets wet. This mom also packs both children's bikes for playing after the picnic. At first glance she appears to have her ducks all in a row until you watch closely to learn she is just like you and me. It starts with forgetting her daughter's sunglasses, then forgetting the helmets to ride bikes then the crows take the chips while they are taking a potty break quickly followed by what may be the most awkward park experience of my life (story later today).

The Mom Who Hovers: This mom is characterized by constantly needing to be within 2 feet of her child at all times. And, I blame to media. I realize that some play structures can be a little advanced for 2 year olds and some 3 year olds but unless you have a really daring child or a really klutzy one your child will not willingly risk it's life for a little thrill. It's not that I don't understand. Heck, I blame the media for implanting that all people want to do is steal our children and harm them. Yes, I agree, watching our children is their best defense against bad things. But, hovering squashes independence and really effs up my play date parent to parent time. Trust me, you'll know when she's hurt.

The Mom Who Observes: This mom is characterized by a non-inviting grimace which states by the furrowed brow do not approach, unfriendly person behind the mask. The Observer likes to watch how moms and kids interact and likes to know that interaction between parents exists but does not want to actually participate in said action with strangers. She prefers to wallow in her own pity about not having any friends than actually do something about it. The mere thought of social interaction with strangers frightens her yet has never been disappointed from an encounter yet. She is the one quietly judging you wishing she were talking not making up stories about you. Although, often the stories in her head are far more entertaining than reality. The Observer is the one who actively practices the stare down (mentioned above) and who may or may not suffer from social anxiety or be known as One Crazy Chick.

MOTO-BABY

We're NUTS!

If you didn't get enough the first time, here's more!

Because it's Saturday...

and I spent the ENTIRE day at my husband's family reunion I think everyone needs to take the field trip and expand your blogging horizons.

Seriously!

Spread your wings.

Camp Candid Carrie is having a sleep over at a boy's house and you need to go! Now!

Pitch your own tent...it's a blast!

Kevin will make you laugh so hard your cheeks hurt.

Go on get!

And, BYOB! I don't share my vodka with anyone!

If it's not one thing...

it's another.

You may remember recently we evicted Gary & Steve and by evicting I really mean we found them a nice new home where they can annoy the shit out the new owners.

In our home when one hobby leaves another one starts, the start of a new chapter if you will. You can't just not have something to annoy you...that would be insane.

Oh Craig's List, how you may be the death of my sanity.


I present to you what used to be the birds...

Or, part of the birds...whatever. He came with some friends who decided they didn't want Mamarazzi all up in their grillz... I suppose I understand.

Let's call him Ray. You can't tell but he's approximately 18 inches long and lives in a 72 Gallon Aquarium in our BEDROOM. Which totally seemed harmless on paper, you know, until the bubbling wakes you up in the middle of the night thinking that your toddler is vomiting on the floor right next to you. Yeah. I'm getting used to it but man that first night was rough!

It's Friday Foto Finish Fiesta time again! Come play or just browse the other entries!

Garbage Wars: Taking it to a Whole New Level

So, remember that garbage?

Candy and Tent Camper's suggestions did not fall on deaf ears, however, mind blowing money counting in this house is a given. Although, potentially withholding a little money may come in handy at a later date it is surely not the appropriate response to something as silly as a little game of garbage.

Oh, no. When you have One Crazy Chick living in your house the only thing you need to do is inflict a little guilt. I am the Queen of Guilt. I often wonder how it is I am not Catholic because the amount of guilt that resonates within me is insurmountable at times.

Upon returning from my week long trek to Pleasantville the trash had been removed without a single word from me. Now, potentially his mother (hi!Nana!) said something because she reads this site but either way it was done without so much as a word from me. If it can be handled in silence then we are all winners, wouldn't you agree?

Now, for the guilt. So, I go on and on to Internet about our silly little silent garbage wars only to have the entire "war" end silently and not at all in a war like fashion making me feel like a complete ass.

So, that, and the fact that Mama's Losin' It so nicely pointed out that I do absolutely nothing all day, something had to be done.

In retaliation I, of course, offer to go to the dump. Yes, the same girl who can't stand to take the garbage bag to the garbage can just offered to now dispose of the garbage in the place that only accepts trash. The same trash I cannot manage to walk 15 feet out the door. And, you know, my husband plays me. He knows how to word things to get his way with me. It's sick really and I totally fall for it EVERY.SINGLE.TIME. He always gets the last laugh. ALWAYS.

I present to you my trip to the local dump...

Oh just look at the excitement in my eyes.

After losing a bag of garbage on our way, turning around to get it, running into the middle of the 55MPH highway to get the bag of garbage I finally arrived at the local dump.

When you arrive the station manager waves you to the weigh station and hands you this card. I think this card is Big Brother or at least it knows my starting weight which is SCARY.

"Clean Up. After Dumping." This sign is not nearly as funny whilst in the mist of dumping...cleaning up is a real concern at the dump.

"USE EXTREME CAUTION! CHILDREN MUST REMAIN IN VEHICLE." No doubt. We don't want to lose one.

Also, this is pretty much where the local tour ends because I was not about to take my camera out of my car. I have a really bad habit of dropping camera's in the places you never want to like that one time on our honeymoon. We were hiking the lava fields and I dropped our camera on hot lava (OK warm lava) and it never worked right again. I could not risk my camera's safety at the dump. With my luck it would have ended up in the bin to be hauled away.

Let me just say that my experience at the dump would not have been that bad if I could have gotten the tailgate down on the truck but as luck would have it I could not. So, the garbage cans that I could not lift over the tailgate I had to dig into the can and grab the garbage...with my bare hands. I touched a whole lotta maggots. It gave me the willy's. But, there was no way in hell that I was coming home with any of the garbage I came with. So, the maggots and I became friends.

Then I befriended this:

...the entire box to be exact.

And some of you may wonder why it is exactly that we don't just pay our wonderful little garbage man to handle the details of our trash relocation and it's because we're cheap. When you do the math, to pay someone to do your garbage relocation it's costs between $50 and $75 around here per month. We take two household garbage's to the dump every 6 weeks for the price of $25. My husband cannot stand that kind of rip-off. Well, that, and the fact that he often creates all kinds of trash the garbage men won't collect which warrants a trip to the dump on top of our trash expenses and you start adding that up and your head starts spinning.

That, my friends, concludes our trip to the dump.

You are welcome!

The Chick Behind the Blog: Even I am Astounded at My Stupidity

Monday afternoon was shot to hell.

It was 2pm, Kyan had accidentally woke up Baby from her nap and I was going stir crazy. Tired kids and I never seem to do well indoors. I did the only logical thing...threw them in the jogging stroller for a walk. They would get fresh air and I would get some peace knowing exactly where they were.

I decided that I was going to head to Pleasantville, a quaint part of our city that was so planned it looks like Stepford up and threw up all over it. Seeing as how we don't live in that part of town I've never really explored it. What the heck, I thought, let's see how those people live. (It turns out that it's clean, very clean and also very Stepford, but I already mentioned that didn't I?)

Off I went. I knew the "park" I had in mind was approximately 2.5 miles from my house. When I set off I hadn't calculated the 2.5 mile return trip, I just knew I wanted out of the house and the kids wanted something different.

After nearly walking straight up a mountain I arrived. I stopped the stroller, excited to have finally arrived, only to find both of my non-napping toddlers, napping. I should have just turned around and went home but I thought that the kids would be a little bummed to wake up right back where we started. Also, upon arriving at our destination I noticed a trail map.

Trails? Here? In Pleasantville?

I had to take a look for myself. The trail map said I only had to walk 2 more miles to make it to the top of the mountain. Psst. What's another 2 miles? Duh, nothing. But, I already had a blister on my right heel because remember I hadn't calculated that I would be originally walking 5 miles I thought it was only 2.5 miles, so, I wore my Keen Sandals and, hello, I totally thought my Keen's could hang. Um, no.

I start my 2 mile trek up straight up a hill (did I mention that?) pushing a double jogging stroller (weight approx. 40 pounds) with 2 toddlers (weight approx. 70 pounds) with a total pushing weight of 110 pounds not including my fat ass.

So, there I was, fat, 2.5 miles in on the steepest mountain ever pushing 110 pounds with a blister on my right heel in 80 degree heat.

People, I think I need break for a moment and say whomever stole my brain cells, please return them to their rightful owner, she needs them...desperately.

The trail was great but the scenery no different than my backyard really, except for, you know, the monstrous power lines that were so insanely large you could actually hear the electricity flowing back and forth.

A thousand times I wished that I had brought along my camera but I was a wreck trying to get out of the house in one piece and I left it on the counter. I mean, it could have been worse, right? I could have left the water and remembered the camera, in which case, I would have no story to tell because I'd be dead.

After passing the 3/4 mile mark I was starting to get a little woozy. My legs felt like jello and I was light headed and thirsty. I opened the second water bottle - the kids' water bottle which only holds 18 oz...I started to ration my water intake. I was thinking... oh!no! what if the kids need it, what if there is no more water ever, what if I have to take a drink from the redistributed water the signs are telling me not to drink? The whole time I was less than a mile from a Starbucks but that is not the point. The point is, this trail, despite being located directly behind the Police Station and Business Park next to thousands of homes, made me feel like I was hiking, FOR REAL. Either that or dementia set in.

Bob called around the time I passed the 1 mile mark and was surprised I was...walking that far from home but didn't seem too concerned. It was about 4 o'clock which means I had been at this for about 2 hours and it was starting to lose it's luster although the kids were still sleeping which meant there was no reason to stop.

After taking a portion of my water ration I was really starting to get hungry which I passed off as my body getting confused about all the exercise it was enduring.

Around the 1.5 mile mark the kids woke up, fascinated that we were in the woods with monsters. Eventually, Kyan tells me he is hungry. Oh! You are! I said with glee. The thoughts of Cheddar Bunnies danced through my head. I could see myself grabbing handfuls and shoveling them into my mouth. If my pupils could change, they would have been Cheddar Bunnies. I grabbed into the pouch for the Cheddar Bunnies and passed them to the kids but not before grabbing a handful. I shoveled those bunnies in as fast as I could. I chewed. Then I chewed some more. It didn't take long to realize that those Bunnies were going to be the death of my water rations.

I could not, under any circumstances, have any more Bunnies.

I was focused on the fact that according to the mile markers I have a half a mile left. No problem. So, I'm a little weak? No big deal. It should be over in no time.

We made it through the trail and back down to the park where I started the hike in one piece. I was tired and happy that there were some Bunnies left from the kids snack and even happier the park had a water fountain. I rested. The kids played.

I pressed on. As happy as the park made me it also saddened me. I was sad because the trip was not over... I still had 2.5 miles left. Now, with a sunburn (way to go sun screening the kids and not myself) and a limp.

Eventually my limp turned into a shuffle, back past the trains, the trails, the parks, and finally home.

..6:15pm...exactly 4 hours, 7.5 miles and 50 ounces of water later.

If that isn't enough to convince you of One Crazy Chick's stupidity rest assured I did the whole thing again today.

The Chick Behind the Blog: Sometimes I can be Stubborn

I've told you before that the roles both my husband and I play in our marriage are very defined. Inside it's me, outside it's him. Pretty cut and dry if you ask me.

There are a few things though that responsibility is not cut and dry. For example, the garbage, in my mind this is HIS job for so many reasons. First, because it's the garbage, duh and ewwww. Second, it technically requires to be disposed of outside which is his area. And third, ewwww it's the garbage and no doubt garbage is a boy's job.

I wish I was kidding when I say that this is something that has gone on since we moved in together over 7 years ago. The garbage wars start off innocently. We each just keep putting more and more stuff in an already full garbage. I keep quiet hoping he will see that when he puts his trash in the can that it's overflowing and dispose of our waste properly.

But, 99% of the time he just puts his stuff in the trash and goes on his marry little way. I end up heart broken because he didn't notice our garbage crisis. I then get bitter and continue to ignore the crisis myself until we have hazardous waste spewing onto our floor. I mean it's never just about the garbage, you know. I somehow find ways to make this about me and our relationship and how if the garbage is a metaphor for our relationship well then we are headed for disaster.

Sometimes these wars last days. These wars usually do not end until I say something. I know he won't make the first move because if I am stubborn, he is doubly stubborn or just too busy to notice the hazardous waste overflowing into our dining room from the kitchen.

I present to you Day 2 of bag sitting next to can, Day 4 of overflowing:

UPDATED: So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye

UPDATED: Feminine Man met Bob with a Cashiers Check yesterday...hopefully the story ends here.

Operation Evict the Birds: Complete Almost Complete Please Pray the Check Clears Check didn't clear, please pray my husband does not have to go all REDNECK on the very feminine man who "re-homed" the gay birds Gary & Steve... the man may not live through my brawny husband's wrath!*

Lucky for us, Bob delivered the birds, Feminine Man we know where you live!

It was a long drawn out two weeks since the birds were officially evicted. Did you know in Washington State the Landlord must file a lawsuit if he/she wishes to evict a tenant?

I know, we didn't either.

So, of course, that bought Gary and Steve a week.

Then we had to appear in court and tell the judge why the birds violated their agreement and since they would not shut up in court the judge totally sided with us.

As if going to court wasn't enough Gary & Steve refused leave. They left us no choice we had to call the Sheriff. Just when the Sheriff was about to put them in the squad car Feminine Man showed up to rescue them. Lucky for Gary & Steve, Bob took a check...which may mean Gary & Steve (Lord help us all) may be returning to our humble abode.

But, please, pray that the very Feminine Man decides to meet Bob tomorrow with cash because getting Gary & Steve back may just ruin my marriage or at the very least rob me of my happy home!

P.S. Bob has talked to the Feminine Man...the birds are happy and watched a movie there first night in their new home.

P.P.S. Bob and I can't stop laughing.

P.P.P.S. Okay we will totally stop laughing if Bob has to go all REDNECK on his ass to get the birds back.

* Bob never takes checks but he was desperate...I threatened to release them into the wild...so they could be free.

Brawn vs. Brains: You'll never guess who wins

Ever since meeting my husband 9 years ago (this month) I always took it for granted that he had the brawn and I had the brains. Bob has always been handy with tools and could do anything that required a little muscle in no time whereas if it required reading and comprehension I was your gal. So, as you can imagine I got lazy. Very lazy.

If there is ever a task that requires muscle or tools or animals I leave it for him. Our pattern naturally fell into traditional boy and girl jobs not intentionally since I was determined we were equals. I quickly learned to step aside when it came to tasks that required strength because even if I could do it, it took him half the time.

Since I am now staying home I have been trying to help him out with some of his chores since I now have some time on my hands.

The other day we had a truck load of ground up tree delivered for our dog kennel and I offered to help. I shoveled and hauled tree pieces for 2 hours moving a total of 8 wheel barrows full. I was proud considering I had to wrangle two toddlers who were "helping". When Bob got home there was no mention of my effort as it hardly even made a dent in the gigantic pile but I still felt good considering I had blister on my thumb. After about 20 minutes of being outside Bob waves me over and asks for assistance guiding the truck into the back yard. He had filled it completely with the pile and I looked on stunned. "Like, why didn't I think of that?" I asked. He quipped, "I guess you are just not as smart as me."

So, the only logical conclusion I can draw from this is that he must have married me because I am good in bed. Because clearly he has the brains and the brawn.

Faux Green

I have to tell you that after becoming a parent I suddenly had an urge to check ingredients on labels, not really for me but for my baby. The last thing I wanted to put into my baby was something I couldn't pronounce and that was surely not natural. After all, my baby was organic from day one hour 12. Yep, he was fed a bottle immediately and I didn't start breastfeeding until I felt well enough to do so. It was after 12 hours he reluctantly bellied up to the titty bar and never looked back.

Anyway, once I had to introduce solids I was suddenly faced with hundreds of decisions because, you know, I was his mother and somehow his future was in my hands. I mean what if those toxic pesticides they use on fruit were to get into his baby food? Would he be okay? Would he end up having one eye and brain damage? For me, I didn't want to risk it. Flash forward to baby number 2. Did you wash that on sale non-organic fruit that fell on the floor? No? You wiped it off, right? No? Fine, just make sure there is a napkin involved.

It's true. I do my best to ensure my children are getting nutritious food and sometimes organic. Sure we go to the Farmer's Market and do our best to avoid unnecessary chemicals and high fructose corn syrup but let's face it that can't always happen. At least not in my family. It's true we enjoy lots of corn syrup on occasion then pass out on the couch in a sugar coma for what seems like an eternity.

So, the truth is I love the idea of going Organic but the change is hard when you have a budget and are having a hard time breaking up with some of your favorite refined sugars and chemicals. But, we try to avoid toxic chemicals for the most part although I can't seem to break up with Tide. I've changed all my cleaning solutions to Vinegar and use a non-toxic automatic dish detergent.

Change happens slowly, you know.

Essentially, though, this makes me faux green. I mean I am just like everyone else doing the best I can.

Anyway, recently I came across Whole Foods Blog and did you know they have a new podcast series?

Me either. Shoot I didn't even know they had a blog until Tuesday.

The most recent podcast discusses natural hair care products. It's funny where those pesky chemicals sneak in on you, isn't? I have quit coloring my hair altogether because it just seems like an unnecessary expense but most of my green friends still do. And, hello chemicals in shampoo. Anyway, this podcast tells you which natural products you should be looking for depending on your hair type. Check it out!

WARNING:
Please ladies, do not all rush out there at once grabbing for the soy protein and essential oils. We need to make this change slowly so the Soy and Lavender Industries have time to adjust to our needs. Okay?

7 Days Later

So, I've been doing this whole staying home thing for a whooping week and let me just say I have learned a lot. Here's a short list of my findings:

1. One has to approach the Toddlers with some flexibility. Like let's say you want to go to the beach because you have lost your mind and have forgotten that your children are both technically toddlers. And, somehow the day sort of gets away from you but you finally make it to the beach by noon with two toddlers who have innocently fallen asleep. At this point it's okay to just walk away from the plans to go to the beach. There is no reason to not just turn around and head home so the kids can rest in peace in their own beds. Trust me on this one, it will save your sanity or at the very least it will save you the effort of hauling 3 lawn chairs, a backpack, a cooler, and eleventy million sand toys to the beach only to reverse the route 15 minutes later because suddenly your two toddlers went deaf.

2. Do not take Toddlers to the beach in the middle of nap time. In fact, do not do anything remotely close to nap time so as to eff up your schedule. I repeat, do not mess with nap time, you'll be sorry. So, before staying home I never realized that nap time is the key to all things sane. I mocked mom's who resisted planning something because it could interfere with a nap. I was all, it's a nap? What's the big deal? Could I have been any more naive? Seriously, nap time is crux on how my days are structured. Psst. Structured? Who am I fooling? But, you get my point.

3. Toddlers smell fear. It's like when you go up to a strange dog and you start to pet it acting all calm even though you are dying of freight on the inside and that Doberman Pincher decides to sniff up your boot until he finds flesh and takes a big bite just to prove that you do have something to be scared of. Toddlers, they are just like that Doberman they sense that you are fearful and act out just to prove you right. Never let a 2-year-old sense your fear because sometimes their tantrums are worse than a bite. And, that Doberman, he didn't bite me he bit my brother but I was a few feet away, clearly I'm still traumatized. 2 year-olds also have a lasting effect.

4. Being well rested is the key to a good day. Seeing as how the hours of daylight are extensive these days bedtime has been inching it's way later and later. Which is really fine unless Gary & Steve decide that 5:30am is the perfect time to squawk and frolic then it sucks and I am stuck with cranky toddlers. And, cranky toddlers leads to cranky mama's which leads to almost losing your happy home. (Did your parent's ever threaten your happy home? Mine did. If you don't pick that mess up right this minute you are going to lose your happy home, I recall my Dad saying. What does that even mean?)

5. Do not combat a bad day with alcohol. Speaking of a happy home. Sometimes it appears that ones home could be a little happier if a few cocktails were passed around to ward off a bad day. It appears to be innocent enough - a glass of wine or a beer or pitcher of Vodka Lemonade. Almost harmless. Unless, of course, you consume the entire pitcher. In that case, you realize that you cannot call in sick to work and take the kids to daycare and then head home and back to bed. Not that I've ever done anything like that. I don't drink. Well, unless my husband is out of town then I call his sister and we party but, that is once a year if I'm lucky. So, even though that pitcher of Vodka Lemonade looks like a good idea at the time believe me nap time will not come soon enough the following day.

Rule Number One

Never tell your wife her day amounted to nothing because her Accomplished List didn't include a trip to the Home Depot for new light bulbs for your brand new shed.

My First Day

If I never have to take the kids to a restaurant alone again it will be too soon.

Ever since having my second child I have had anxiety taking them both anywhere alone. I have gone to the grocery store enough times to know even if they act up I can make it through the trip without them killing me. But, being a working mother taking them to the grocery store alone is about the extent of my adventures by myself.

Yesterday was my first official day as SAHM or WAHM (even though there will be no work until August).

In honor of me staying home my friend invited us for lunch...at a restaurant. She is pregnant with her second child (her first is a girl). I sort of poked fun of myself and asked if she was sure she wanted us to join her since my kids can get a little rowdy. I think she thought I was joking entirely. I was only half joking since the bat shit crazy only happens about 30% of the time.

It was peaceful while we waited for our food and I got cocky. Huh, wonder what I was so nervous about, I thought to myself, the kids are doing great. About 30 seconds after I had those thoughts things took a turn. But, see the turn is gradual and I had my blinders on and didn't recognize that I should have taken drastic measures. Kyan started his shenanigans by doing a little scoot, which at first glance seems harmless. Eventually the scoot turned into full fledged running around the table and ended in my holding both of my kids and my friend looking on with terror in her eyes.

As we are getting up to leave I tell Aspen that we should go and get her a balloon since she listened. Kyan turns, heads back to the table and begins shoveling his food in his mouth and sitting at the table like the normal child I know in hopes of rectifying his shot at a balloon. I sat in that booth defeated and embarrassed. Defeated because I know what the signs are but chose to ignore them and embarrassed because someone I know watched the kids get the better of me on my first day.

Man, first days can be rough in any job.