HippoWhat?

Leave it Maggie to come with the most creative (read difficult) costumer...a Hippogriff. I am sure you are scratching your head trying to picture what this is. And no it does not have anything to do with a hippopotamus. Thank you J.K. Rowling for creating Harry Potter and the mythical 1/2 eagle, 1/2 horse creature. You didn't think any kid would want to be this for Halloween, did you? Oh no, the stripped ties, broomsticks, robes and scar is too mundane for my child. Come on J.K. help the mother of a newborn out here. It's not like this costume can be bought; it's ANOTHER handmade costume. This is the year I wised up. Once I had an inkling of Maggie's costume of choice I asked Jack to make it. I mean I did make the lady bug and the poison dart frog. The costume was a perfect rendition.

Maggie was heartbroken that no one knew what she was. The eagle part was easy to discern, but the bottom 1/2, (the horse) was completely overshadowed by the talons and feathers. I tried to make her feel better by telling her Harry was a 6th grade book and she as only in 3rd grade. It didn't help and tears at the Halloween parade/party seemed imminent. Thank you Isabella for "getting" the costume.

After the hippogriff and the poison dart frog perhaps next year's costume should be a bit more mainstream. I don't want to discourage Maggie's creativity in any way, so on second thought maybe I should just delegate to Jack every year...

As per Maggie, the best part of the costume was taking off the Eagle 1/2 and trick or treating AGAIN with her friends just as a horse. Without the eagle mask none of the neighbors were the wiser and I turned a blind eye.

And Max? Max went as a monkey and slept through the entire process. I harbor a secret desire for them to go as M&M's next year.

The Lounge Lizard

Something wonderful happens every time Max takes a bath; he turns into a absolute and utter piece of mush. With one leg draped over the bath sling and his arms are raised above his head, he's the eptiome of relaxed. In fact, he's so relaxed that he pees on himself. Every time.

Max's bath positions make me think of the phrase "lounge lizard". What this actually is I'm not exactly sure. However, I always conjure up an image of a sleazy John Travolta-esque man in a velour leisure suit at a skate rink, complete with a hairy chest and a moose knuckle. Not really an image I want to associate with my pure, innocent newborn son.

Introducing Mad Max

I am officially changing the name of the blog to the M & M chronicles. I'm sleep deprived and cranky since the arrival of my other M, so forgive the lack of wittiness on my first entry. My wit will return or at least I hope it will....just like I hope my waistline, energy and sex drive (sorry mom) all return before 2013. Stay tuned for the updates regarding Max's flatulence which rivals that of a grown 300 pound man who has been eating greasy chicken wings and drinking Busch.

Mini Me

So M and I are sitting on a plane as per usual. Of course we have to be that family that boards first because Maggie must get her 15 stuffed animals arranged before we take off. Suddenly M is mesmerized by the boarding process. A midget passes our row and my sweet little girl says.."mommy she's mini, just like you." Thanks, I think?

When we arrive at our destination airport, M must test every chair on the way to baggage claim. I'm at this airport monthly and I have never noticed the chairs, or the even that there were different types of chairs. Seeing the world through the eyes of Maggie reminds me how beautiful and exciting life is.

Bubbilicious

Last weekend was the mother of all soccer games....well if one is five years old anyway. There should have been 4 games but rain and snow and wind and sleet and just overall crappy weather reduced the season to a mere 2 games. These children had practiced for 4 weeks without a game; they were ready. This game was quite the educational experience for me. In fact, everything I need to know I learned at a soccer game.....

It really doesn't matter which team one is on and it certainly doesn't matter who scores a goal. Everybody celebrates.

Scoring on one's own goal is celebrated just as much by the kids. (The parents can't stop laughing.)

Bubbles will cause an entire field of children to abandon the game and chase them off the field.

Snack time is infinitely more important than the game.

It's OK to touch the ball...it's easier to kick the ball if it's not moving.

The kid who brings the best snack wins.

Oranges slice smiles will make 5 year olds laugh so hard they pee their pants

Dandelions will be picked and given to mothers mid-game

These games make my weekend. I can't stop smiling.

Maggie No Poo

What do you do if you get swallowed by an elephant? Run around until you get pooped out.

And herein started our week....My little Maggie Moo turned into my little Maggie No Poo. (This might have to be her Indian name.) I can only imagine that the antibiotics killed her gut flora and everything went downhill after this. Picture if you will, a 35 year old begging and pleading a 5 year old to poop.....sitting on the potty with her, reading her books and holding her hand all to no avail. Finally, ol' mom smartened up and put No Poo in a warm tub. Bingo....I got the outcome I was hoping for but not WHERE I was hoping for it. A little bleach kills everything, right?

I must admit, Jack was smarter than I, and and literally bribed the poo out of M. Really? I kinda thought we were anit-bribing. Screw logic and sweet talk, a Webkin cures all things. I feel the same way about jewelry.

What the Blank

M and I moved into a charming (if I do say so myself) little bungalow in a neighborhood teaming with kids. Much to M's delight and for the first time ever, there are children mere steps from our front door. Maggie eyes glaze over at the sight of eight year old Lilly playing across the street. When the weather is nice they roam the yards like a pack of wild dogs, going from house to house depending on who has the best snacks. (No one ever comes to our house.....apple slices?!)

For days Maggie had been talking about Blank. Blank this and Blank that, I thought it was some cute pseudo swear word that Jack had taught her. Finally, finally Maggie referred to Blank's cats. You mean Blake's cats? The 5 year old neighbor BLAKE? She nods her head in that exasperated didn't you hear what I said manner.