It must be wonderful to see the world through the eyes of a 3 year-old.  Every day is a happy day.  No cares in the world.  Everything is pure and innocent.  I’m envious.

I mean think about it.  Every day is full of excitement and fun.  You get to say what you want, when you want without people thinking badly of you.  Even when you innocently say, “ewwww Mommy, that man stinky”, people just smile and think awwww, how cute.  When you feel happy and giddy inside, you can break into a jiggly dance and sing at the top of your lungs, “Rah, rah, ah-ah-ah….gaga, ooh-la-la”, Lady Gaga-style and all you’ll get is soooo adorable. 

Yup, I’m envious of that innocence.  When your only worries are…hey, when can I have that lollipop…or…are we going to the park today???  The joys of a 3 year-old.

Thank goodness I have my son to remind me of these simple things in life.  When I’m having a bad day and all I want to do is scream and yell, I’ll see him do his jiggly dance, shaking his butt and wiggling his head and I start to smile.  He’ll break into song…apple bottom jean, boot and fur, low-low-low-low, and I can’t help but shake my head and chuckle.  (Yes, my son is all pop and hip-hop down to his bones.) 

Yes, I may be the one who teaches him right from wrong and left from right.  But he’s definitely the one who teaches me to not take life so seriously all the time.  Sometimes you just have to let loose and dance when you want to dance, and sing when you want to sing.  Just have fun today, because there’s always tomorrow to worry.

Thank you Lil T.

Okay, it really irks me when you go to the “Customer Service” department in a store, and you get more aggravation than “service”.  Where do they find these people???  I’ve worked in the hotel industry for about 10 years, so I know what customer service is.  And yes, there are times you get obnoxious customers and you can’t help but lose it from time to time.  But I’m talking about those people that (a) doesn’t know how to smile, (b) speaks to you in a condescending way, and (c) is annoyed that you’re asking them to do their job. 

On my recent grocery shopping trip to Stop & Shop, I had the pleasure of interacting with one of these people.  I had to buy some sparkling water and saw that they had the Poland Spring ones on sale for $1.  Woohooo.  And on the shelf there was a sign that read, “Buy 3 Poland Spring sparkling waters 1 ltr./0.5 ltr 6-packs and get a checkout coupon for $2 good on your next visit”.  What a great deal!!!  And so I grabbed three 1 liter bottles and finished my shopping.  After paying for my groceries, I noticed that I didn’t get the $2 coupon (as mentioned).  So since I had already paid for my purchases, I was told to go to the Customer Service desk. 

So I waited on line at Customer Service.  When it was finally my turn, I explained to the lady my predicament.  She didn’t even bother to let me finish.  “No, that can’t be right”, she said.  I told her there were several signs on the shelf that stated the fact.  “Well, that wouldn’t make sense.  You only paid $1 for each bottle.  That means you’ll be getting 3 bottles for $1.  It’s wrong,”  she frustratingly said, all the while shaking her head.  So I offered to go get the sign to show her.  Mind you, I had my son with me sitting in the carriage who was getting impatient and starting to fuss.  You would think she could offer to radio someone to check.  But no.  So I went and pulled off the sign to show her.  Went back to Customer Service and again, stood on line. 

Finally, my turn.  I showed her the sign.  She looks at it and says, “You got the wrong one.  It says you need to buy 3 six packs.”  “No, it says 3 one liters or 3 half liter, six packs”, I tried to explain.  And again she argued that I would practically be getting them for free, so it was wrong. 

C’mon lady, read the damn sign!!!  I’m not the one making it up.  Is it my fault that your store chooses to practically give it away. 

I even read it to her.  “No, they come in six packs”, she argued.  So at this point, I’m steaming.  My son is whining.  The lady apparently can’t read or needs better glasses.  So again, I get off the line to pull the 6 packs (which are in 0.5 liters) to show her.  As I’m approaching the line again, I see the lady was getting ready to go on her break.  Okay, time for the NY attitude to kick in.  I stop her as she’s leaving the desk and basically yell, “Look, it only comes in half liters in a six pack.  I’m sick of this.  Let me speak to the manager.”  Another worker was nearby and came running to see what the problem was.  She was ready to get the manager.  At the mention of the manager, the lady panics.  She goes back to her station and says, “okay, fine.  I’ll give you the $2.  You sure got a great deal” 

WTF?????  You mean all I had to do was mention getting a manager and I could’ve resolved this from the beginning?  And the thing that irked me even more was the fact that she thought I was trying to pull a fast one on her because she kept mentioning that I was now getting 3 bottles for $1.  Seriously lady, if you can’t stand that I got a good deal….go get your own damn bottles too!

All this to get a $2 checkout coupon for next time.  When I told Papa in Suburbia, he couldn’t stop laughing.  He’s like why did you go through all that just for $2.  It’s not for the $2, I explained.   It’s for the principal.  Why shouldn’t I fight for something that is supposed to be mine?  Why should I let others undermine me?  Right???

And besides, she was lucky it was only for $2.  If it was for a $5 coupon, I would’ve gotten downright nasty from the get-go.

Yes.  I am alive.  Sorry to have been MIA for so long.  It’s been a hectic couple of weeks.  Lots of things going on personally that, unfortunately, I cannot comment on at this time.  But maybe one day.  When I have the strength and courage to re-live it in my mind, I might divulge.  Now I really got you going, right?  But anyhoo…maybe one day.

As for me getting back into the blogging saddle, it’s rough.  Call it blogger’s block.  Call it my-brain-is-literally-fried-in-this-100-degree-weather. 

Seriously, we are eyebrows deep in a heat wave.  We hit 100 degrees today.  100 degrees..wtf????   I, of course, was not brave enough to venture outside.  I stayed nice and cool in my air-conditioned house.  The brief 5 minutes that I had to step outside to water my plants, I almost got a heat stroke.  For real.  The minute I opened the door, I felt a hot smack in the face.  The overbearing, excruciating heat just knocks the air out of your lungs.  I couldn’t take more than 5 minutes.  Sorry plants.  I promise I’ll water you tomorrow. 

Hmmmm….see?  Bloggers block.  Blame it on the heat. 

But as I promised my plants, I will deliver tomorrow.

Guiness Book of World Records should be contacting me soon because I have to be the person with the smallest, near non-existence veins in the world.  Seriously. 

I dread going for blood tests because it’s always a big production.  One look at my arms and I can see the disappointment, the worry, the anxiety in the phlebotomist’s face.  It’s always the same.  They tap my veins, both arms, shake their head, and let out a deep sigh.  Geez, thanks for making me feel comfortable.  But then there are times when I get a really good phlebotomist.  One who knows what they’re doing.  One tap, in goes the needle, and done. 

On a recent trip to get my blood drawn, it took 3 nurses and 3 pokes in my arms for them to draw a teeny, tiny vial of blood.  Nurse A, a very nice lady, took a look at my arms and said, “Oh my, you have tiny veins.”  Yes, I know.  Then came the sigh and the furrowed brows.  She takes out a butterfly needle (one of the smaller needles).  Bless you.   And starts to tap my veins.  She locates one, but I advise her that I don’t think she’ll get any out of that one.  They’ve tried in the past to no avail.  She tries anyways.  Sigh.  In goes the needle.  Nothing.  She starts digging around.  Uh, ouch!  Nothing.  “You okay, sweetie?”  I nod my head.  Uh huh, but stop digging around.  She pulls the needle out, finally realizing there’s nothing there.  And the search goes on for a viable vein. 

She moves on to the next arm.  Taps around.  Then calls in Nurse B, a Ms. Know-it-all who doesn’t know it all.  She looks at the arm and taps around. 

Nurse A:  What do you think?

Nurse B:  Oh yea, there’s something there.

Nurse A:  You wanna give it a try?

Nurse B:  Sure.

Ummm, people…we’re not talking about trying on a pair of shoes here. 

I may not be a doctor or a phlebotomist, or even a nurse…but I seriously don’t see any veins there.  What are these people talking about????  But Nurse B is determined to go in.  But instead of taking out a butterfly needle, she uses a regular, full-size needle.  What are you doing, lady?  She pokes the needle in.  I squirm in pain.  She starts to dig around.  OUCH!!!  There’s no vein there!  This goes on for about a minute.  I let out a scream. Nurse B looks at me and says, “Are you okay?  Does it hurt?”  What the *bleep* do you think???   She pulls out the needle.  “I think we’ll have to send you to the lab”, says Nurse B.  You’re kidding me, right???  After all that?

As I’m getting ready to go, Nurse B says, “Oh maybe So-and-So can try.”  In comes Nurse C.  She looks at my arms.  Shakes her head.  And takes a look at my hands.  She ties an elastic on my wrist, tells me to make a fist, and out pops a vein. She takes a butterfly needle, pokes it in, and draws the blood.   Nurse A and Nurse B stands there watching in awe.  Thank you, thank you Ms. So-and-So.

Finally, done.  I walk out of the office with 3 huge bandages.  One on my left arm, one on my right arm, and one on my right hand.  I look like I was in a fight.  Why do they use bandages?  Why can’t they use a Band-Aid for that little pinhole?  **Sigh**

I don’t know how druggies do it.  Poking themselves over and over again.  But then again, maybe if I was a druggie…I’d have bigger veins.

When I say my son has an obsession with all things spherical (namely balls), I am not exaggerating.  Anyone who knows me or my son well, will know he is totally OBSESSED with balls.  I think the obsession started around the age of one.  It was on his first birthday that we realized he loved balloons.  And from then on, it moved to balls.  And when I tell you that we have EVERY ball you can think of in our house, I am not kidding.  Basketballs, baseballs, soccer balls, tennis balls, ping pong balls….you name it, we got it.  Oh, and we don’t have just one of each.  We have them in all sizes.  When people asked me what they should get for Lil T’s 3′rd birthday, I told them anything EXCEPT balls.  But of course, if you asked Lil T that’s all he would say to get him.  BALLS!!!

His love is basketball.  Soccer might be a close second.  He actually loves the sport.  He knows all the technical terms too.  Foul shot.  Slam Dunk.  Air ball.  Dribble.  And, of course, Michael Jordan. 

“Mama, I gonna be like Mike-Go Jor-dun.  Jump sooooo high.”

“Okay, Beanie.  Finish your milk.  So you can be tall like Michael Jordan.”  What can I say?  The kid’s got ambition.

He can spot a ball a mile away.  I think he seriously has a radar.  We’ve gone into stores that has nothing to do with balls and he’ll spot a balloon (that a child probably lost) floating way up in the ceiling rafters.  And he can keep himself entertained anywhere we go, as long as there are balls.  Every time we go to Walmart or Target, that’s his first request.  “Can we go look at balls?”.  Seriously, EVERY SINGLE TIME we go.  And it’s not like he just looks.  No.  He has to make a show of it.  He gets a basketball and starts dribbling.  Yes.  Dribbling.  Right there, in the middle of the aisle.  And mind you, he’s good at it too.  So passerbys will stop and watch.  And comment, “oh look, how cute.”.  And there I am, just standing there….embarrassed.  All I need is an empty coffee cup and I can probably start a nice college fund for him. 

He even keeps himself occupied at CVS.  Because in there toy aisles they have a metal cage of plastic balls.  So Lil T will play “basketball” there.  Takes a ball out and tries to “shoot” it into the top of the cage.  Over and over and over again.  **SIGH**  And of course, the workers there find it soooo cute.  Yea right.   They’re probably thinking…”here they come again.  Doesn’t she ever take the kid to a park?”. 

But I guess it’s all good.  Better to have passion in something than not, right?  I’m just curious to see how long this passion will last.  Hey, you never know.  Maybe he’ll be the next Yao Ming when he gets older…only maybe 2 feet shorter.

So in the mean time, if you happen to go to a Walmart or Target or CVS and see a little, short Asian kid dribbling or shooting a ball between the aisles.  Stop a while, enjoy the show.  And don’t forget to drop a five in the empty coffee cup.

You know summer is near when you start seeing creepy crawlies everywhere.  And I’ve seen my share already.

I am deathly afraid of insects.  Don’t like ‘em.  Definitely don’t want ‘em.  Although I must admit, ever since moving to Suburbia my tolerance of them has grown a slight smidgen.  I know…it’s all part of the circle of life.  Bugs are necessary.  Live and let live.  Blah, blah, blah.  But when they start invading my territory, that’s a different story. 

So I’ve already told you about my ladybug infestation last fall.  Thank goodness we’re done with that for now.  Now my issue is…carpenter ants.  Yup.  Not just the little, normal-sized ones but the GIANT, BIG BLACK ONES.  Ugh…I’m getting goose bumps just talking about it.  They were outside, some were inside the house, they were everywhere.  I tried the stuff you get at the local hardware store…sprays, granules, baits.  Didn’t work.  So it was time to call in the professionals…the big guns or maybe they’re called the guys with the big canisters (of bug spray). 

Greg, my knight with the big canister, came and sprayed everywhere.  Inside, outside…all with environmentally safe pesticide.  Ehhh, is there such a thing?  Well, we’re still alive so I guess there is.  Anyhoo, it seemed to work.  At least for about 2 weeks.  Then came the rain.  Then came the heat.  Then came the ants.  Oh and this time, there were some lovely, bigger ones…with wings.  Thank goodness they were stuck between my window screen and the window so they couldn’t come into the house.

Greg???  My knight, where are you????  Without fail, Greg came again.  This time with a bigger canister.  With more lethal (still environmentally safe) elixir.  And this time, he made sure he got them. 

Oh, and those flying, big ones I thought were ants.  He said they’re not.  He said it looks like it was some kind of bee that must’ve crawled into my window casing and hatched eggs.  Hence, the swarm.  Oh, lucky me.  At least they weren’t ants.  Phew.

P.S. - I’ll spare you the pictures of those creepy crawlies.  And yes, don’t ask me why but I did take pictures.

Lil T is now officially a “big boy”. 

Or so he says.

Big-boy bed?  Check.

Potty trained?   Check.

A mouth that is always on auto-pilot and doesn’t stop yapping?   Double check.

But these aren’t the only thing that makes him a big boy.  Nope.  According to my son, you’re not a big boy until you can sleep with the bedroom door closed.  Yup.  Then it’s official.

Lil T never liked sleeping with the door closed.  We always had to keep it open for him.  Until yesterday.  When I went to get him from his nap, I found his bedroom door closed.  I asked him why the door was closed.  He said, “Because I a big boy now.  Big boy always sleep with da door close.”  Uhhh okay, that’s news to me.  I didn’t think anything of it.  But then it happened again at night.  After tucking him in, I left the door open out of habit.  When I went to get him in the morning, the door was closed again.  Mr. Sneaky was getting out of bed after I left and closing the door. 

So tonight, I purposely left the door slightly ajar after I tucked him in.  I head downstairs and not a minute later, I hear little feet running back and forth upstairs.  Boom, boom, boom, boom, booom.  Then quiet.  Boom, boom, boom, boom, booom.  I sneak upstairs and what do I find.  Lil T’s bedroom door completely shut closed. 

It’s funny how Lil T considers this his rite of passage into 3-year-old-hood.  Me?  I wish I was as excited about it as he is.  All I can think about is…closed door + 3 year old = trouble.   And closed door + 3 year old + crazy giggling inside = get in there quick. 

But hey, at least his door doesn’t have a lock.  Once he questions that, then I know I’m in trouble.

Dear Beanie,

Three years ago today, my life changed forever.  I was given the greatest gift ever imaginable.  You. 

I still remember the fear I felt, the excitement I felt, and the love I felt when I first held your little body against mine.   That same fear, excitement, and love has grown stronger every day.  From that very first step you took all by yourself to the fast running you now do.  From that very first word you said (even though it was Baba and not Mama) to the ever-so-annoying-but-logical things you now say.  All this scares me at times.  It scares me to know that you can’t stay little forever.  It scares me to think that one day, you’ll step out into this world and you’ll no longer need me to hold your hand.  But yet, I’m excited.  Because when that day comes, I’ll know that I’ve done my job.  I hope that day doesn’t come too soon.  Because there’s so much more that I have to show you and I know there’s so much more that you have to teach me.  

Thank you for making me a better person.  Thank you for changing my life for the better.  Thank you…for just being “you”. 

Happy Birthday, Beanie!!!  You are, and always will be, the joy and love of my life!!!

I love you with all my heart,

Mama 

There’s never a dull moment when you have a preschooler.  Something as simple as lunch can turn catastrophic.  And today, we had a near catastrophy.

It started out to be a normal lunch.  Ham and cheese sandwiches,a side of Veggie Straws and a cup of juice.  All was going well.  Lil T was playing with his lunch, as always, while taking bites here and there.  I went upstairs to put away some things I had bought earlier in the morning.  All of a sudden, I hear crying.  Crying and screaming, out of the blue.  I drop my stuff and run downstairs (nearly tripping on the stairs). 

“I got shnot shnots!!!”, Lil T cries.  Mind you, his finger is half way up his nostril.

“Snots?  You got snots?  Why are you screaming and crying?!?!” 

“I got a big shnot shnot.  This side.”  He points to his right nostril.  He continues to cry and says that it hurts.

I go get a tissue and an aspirator to help him.  He still doesn’t understand the concept of blowing his nose.  As I’m trying to aspirate his “snot”, he keeps saying it hurts.  I told him to tilt his head back so I could get a better look.  All I can see was a big blob of something.  Oh nooooo!!!

“Did you stick something in your nose?”

He stops crying and musters up a sneaky smile.  He nods his head. 

“I put a snack in.” he saids proudly.

“A WHAT?!?!?”

He points to his Veggie Straws.  Oh great!  Emergency room, here we come!  I tell him to lie down on the couch while I proceed to dig for the lost treasure.  All the while, trying to keep him calm.  Talking to him, singing to him, dig, dig, dig.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity (okay, so it was only for about 10 minutes) I was able to retrieve the pea-size-mushed-up-piece-of-Veggie-Straw with a tweezer.  Don’t know what he did, but he sure got it stuck deep. 

“Are you going to do that again?  Because next time, you’ll have to go to the doctor and he’ll have to cut your nose off to get it out.”    When all else fails, threaten them.

“No.”  He’s all smiles now.  “Can I finish my lunch now?”

**Sigh** 

All in a day’s work for me.  And all in a day’s play for him.

Dear Motherhood,

You are cruel.  You have kicked my butt since Day 1.  You’ve definitely made me “earn my keep”.  You’ve brought out my vulnerability at times, but yet you’ve shown me strengths I never knew existed in me.  You have fine tuned my creative side and sharpened my humor in more ways than I’d ever expected.  And as much as I curse you at times, I have to thank you for letting me into your world.  I am forever a lifetime member. 

To all mothers out there, I dedicate this post to you.  Because until you become a mother, you will never know the joy, the pain, the laughter, and the creativeness it takes to be one.