A New Home

I moved to my own site at www.ddingkas.com. Why? To better control the traffic and followers. LOL.

I guess my husband felt bad that I felt like I was losing myself in the midst of being a mom and wife that he set up my own site for me so that I can have my space. A space where I am not a slave to my kids... although, I'll probably write about it. A space I can call a room of my own. So now, I am no longer just a wife and mother. I am also a blogger. Ok, so what I don't have a steady following of readers? Whether I have 3 or 3000 readers, this is my very own place of random thoughts, short stories, and moments worth capturing.

There's a difference between renting and owning... I'm a website owner now :)

Panty Hierarchy

Having my in-laws around is very helpful... sometimes too helpful. My MIL figured she'd fold the laundry since she wasn't doing anything. This is after I told her she didn't have to... really. But she did anyway figuring I was just being polite. No, really, please don't fold the laundry. For one, I have to refold what she already folded so that they fit in the drawers right. And two, I'm not too comfortable about my MIL (and possibly my FIL) folding my undergarments.

When I saw the neat pile of clothes, I dutifully said thank you and took the load of fresh laundry upstairs to my room. As I started sorting the clothes and putting them away in the appropriate drawers, I came across the pile of undergarments... namely, my underwears. I quickly looked through them to make sure none were going to bring any embarassment. Although, at this point, it's already too late.

This led me to the all important panty hierarchy.

First on the list are the sexy panties. You usually have a matching bra that go with it. They make you feel all nice and feminine no matter what you're wearing on the outside. They are usually of silky, lacey, or sheer material... at least from what I can remember because the last time I wore them was before I had Elisa which was oh... 4 years ago. I don't think I can even fit into them anymore with the way my body has morphed over the years. Yes, it's not just my tummy that's grown and taken life of it's own but my hips and thighs as well.

Next are the everyday panties. Nothing to write home about so there's nothing more to write here. I usually buy them from Victoria Secret or at a dept store... mix and match type of purchase. Buy 3 for $20 or something like that.

Comfy granny underwear. These are the kind my grandmother would approve of. The kind you wear when you know you're going to be doing a lot of moving around and no matter what yoga position you're in, you never get a wedgie. Usually comes in a pack of 3 or so.

Emergency underwear. They start off in the everyday panties category but after one too many wears, you see the wear and tears. Not so much tears because that would be just ghetto if you still wore them but the elastic is not as tight as they once were. Or, they're practically new but has a slight bleach stain because you keep pouring the bleach onto the clothes rather than in the water before putting your clothes in... or worse, other stains that Tide can't seem to get rid of. You know you should have thrown them away. Really. After each wear, I think to myself I better throw them away but I forget to and they end up in the wash and the vicious cycle starts all over again.

Prego/ postpartum underwear. Same as comfy granny underwear but in size XXXXXL. If you try wearing them when not pregnant, they look like shorts. My MIL folded the laundry before and mistook them for my husband's because they were THAT big. Wonder what she was thinking folding pink underwear in my husband's underwear pile.

Emergency prego/ postpartum underwear. These are the kind you DO NOT want to be caught dead in. These are the kind my grandmother warned me about when she used to tell me to always wear clean underwear in case I'm in an accident and rushed to the hospital. These are the kind that if you were in an accident, you wished they'd just leave you there at the scene because you'll die of embarrassment anyway later if you're stripped from your clothes. Why I still have them is beyond me because I'm not pregnant anymore. I will throw away this very instant... well, soon after I hit the publish post button.

Bestest Kids Ever...

I enjoy reading other people's blogs. Maybe it's because I'm just nosy and like to be in other people's business. Or, maybe it's because I can live vicariously through other people's lives... travel, dine and wine, and live the high life that can only happen in my dreams, or at least until my kids grow a little older. Or be inspired. Or, maybe it's so that I can reaffirm that I'm normal like everyone else.

So anyway, I've been on this blogger site the past few days and have been browsing through people's sites. As a SAHM, I'm attracted to mothers' (or dad's... they're a parent too) sites. I'm reading and reading... and more often than not, things just don't click. So many of the moms rave about how wonderful it is staying home and watching their kids grow. How every living cell in their body lives for their children. Or, how glorious their kids poop is. Ok... so not in those exact words but that's the sense I got from reading their posts. The pics and posts look like they came straight out of a parenting magazine.

Ooookkkaaaayyyy....

Don't get me wrong. I love my kids. Really. I can't imagine life without them. But don't they have days when their kids are downright annoying? When the laundry pile is not just a pile but a mountain of clothes. When there are cobwebs in the corners of the staircase because you missed a week of cleaning?

Maybe... it's just me.

To Zip or Not to Zip

I was at the Ridgefield's HMart's food court trying to keep my kids seated when the crotch of my pants kept getting caught on the table corners. It was annoying to say the least. By the 3rd or 4th time, I finally looked down and noticed why. My zipper was down. Just great. What do I do? I'm standing in the middle of the food court. Do I zip it back up and possibly bring attention to myself or do I just straighten my pants and lower my shirt as much as possible and just hope no one else noticed. I felt like I was in one of those Choose Your Own Adventure books that I used to read back when I was in grade school. You know the books where the story ends differently based on the choices you make? I used to cheat and read the different endings and chose accordingly. Only if life was that easy, right? Anyway, I chose the latter. I adjusted as best as I can, finished my lunch, and went to the bathroom to zip up my pants.

Great. I happened to be wearing a shirt that was low cut and sort of baggy so that every time I bent over to pick something up, my boobs and belly were showing. I, of course, was unaware of this until I was in the parking lot buckling in Ellen. So not only was I flashing my boobs and stomach in all of it's glory (neither of which are worth showing off in public... or even in private for that matter) but all the foodcourt customers and staff got a glimpse of my pink underoos as well. Good job. The ironic thing was while I was driving there, I remember wishing I brushed my hair in case I ran into someone I knew... which ended up being the least of my concern once I got there.

I'm Not a Hippie

Ok... caught a quick glimpse of my own reflection in the mirror today. One may mistaken me for a hippie. But I'm not.

I may seem like I'm high on something. The reality is I'm delirious from waking up every 3 hours and haven't had my coffee yet. (Christian started sleeping till 5AM a couple of weeks ago but once he turned 3 months, he started waking up every 3 hours again. What's that all about?)

Peace loving laid back type of gal. That's partly true. Husband and I rarely fight. We get along really well and even find the time for intimacy quite often... don't hate me. The only time I raise my voice at home is with the girls. But you just haven't seen me yell all that much lately because my in-laws are here. They get all antsy if we yell at the girls. But after 3 months, they started talking about disciplining and making sure we get them on the right track while they're still young. I think they're starting to see our side. I refuse to have spoiled kids.

Tie dyed clothes? Oh no. Those are stains. Mostly spit up... but some are of other things. Not quite sure what. Hoping it's food. But... Christian is quite the sprinkler. Keep reminding the in-laws they've got to stop staring at the family jewels at each diaper change.

Long wavy hair. It's long because the last time I went to a salon was over a year ago. I don't have time. It's wavy because I usually keep it in a messy twisty bun bird's nest type of do that gives my hair a semi wavy look.

Cry First and Ask Later

What's worse than waking up in the middle of the night to feed my 3 month old? What's worse than having to clean up a toddler who's learning to feed herself? What's worse than having to change diapers all day? What's worse you ask? Listening to my firstborn cry. And I don't mean my heart aches every time she cries in pain or in sorrow. I'm talking about crying because she can't find her bracelet. She's crying because there is a tiny little wrinkle on her construction paper. She's crying because she wants juice instead of milk.

I know I'm going to sound like such a terrible mother but oh myhairpullingteethgrittinggoodness! Elisa knows how to express herself very well. She's very creative at describing things even if she doesn't know the right words for it. But why on earth can't she just ask for things without crying? It's like a reflex. A life motto that she clings to. Cry first and ask later.

Elisa recently turned 4. She's very smart, funny, witty, and imaginative. She loves to dance, sing, and draw. She loves arts and crafts. She loves playing with me. She loves to learn new things. She loves to practice writing. She loves dressing up. She's quite the camera hog which I don't blame her for because she's quite photogenic. She loves pretending to get married. Weird one but we had quite a few weddings this summer and she enjoys reenacting the whole wedding ceremony... even the sermon. She keeps asking where she can find a boy (groom.) Anyway, she's all this and more. Lovely little girl if I do say so myself.

BUT... what's with all the crying? I have to reminder her EVERY SINGLE DAY that she's a big girl now and only babies cry. Just ask. Do I say no all the time? I try to accommodate as much as I can. It's okay to cry if you get hurt or you're really sad about something. Crying because someone else set the table (and that's only because she refused to set the table because she was too busy playing) doesn't fit into either category. She cries more than her younger sister and brother. No. Really.

Before my in-laws came to visit, they used to tell us to not yell at her. Don't yell. Just reason with her. We told them we try. We really do. Now that they've seen it themselves, they laugh at how ridiculous it's become but at the same time says we need to make sure she's disciplined. Heeeelllllooo???? That's what we've been saying all this time.

Is this common and I'm just a whiner myself? ARrgggggghhhhhh. Have mercy on me. I don't know. Maybe not getting the red crayon is an earth shattering event that's worth shedding those tears. Maybe I need to recheck myself and try to understand that she's only 4.

Living in a Zoo

I know my last entry was on bats in our attic so this is going to make it seem like I live on some rodent/ pest infested property but...

We're watching the World Cup final when my FIL went upstairs to use the bathroom. The next thing I know, he's running down and out the garage yelling and screaming about some jerk ruining his tomatoes. What's going on? I later find out that he was looking out the bathroom window when he saw what looked like a raccoon eating one of the tomatoes in his garden. Whew. I thought he was running after some burglar or someone. The man has no fear.

We finally discovered who or what's been eating the tomatoes (actually it was only one) in our garden. At first, we thought maybe it was a neighborhood kid but why? We live on a pretty decent street and I just can't picture any of the kids snatching a tomato... and an unripened one at that. My FIL did a little investigating and discovered deer tracks so we thought it was a deer. Well, the little masked bandit was caught red handed.

During the past 3 months that my in-laws have been with us, my FIL started a small garden and brought a dead looking yard to life. He takes his handiwork very seriously. I see him out in the back creating some makeshift scarecrows to scare off the rabbits. I don't know if you can call them scarecrows but he found some random colorful plastic bags and posts them around the garden area. I don't think they work too well because every so often he's running out of the house yelling like he did today. You'll see him swinging whatever he has in his hands (usually the shirt he takes off his back) scaring them away. Well you know that's quite a site with him in his wife beater trying to scare away whatever dared to cross our yard. What must our neighbors think.

Once upon a time, he thought it was so odd and cute seeing rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks wandering around but once he saw what a nuisance they were, that's no more. I don't want you to think he's some animal hating old man. Not at all. When he first came to visit us, he found small baby rabbits and he was afraid they'd get cold and wet in the rain so he placed them in a small crate inside our garage and gave them food. It took some convincing to let them go and leave them where their mom can find them. He loves animals and is used to caring for pigs, chicken, dogs, and whatever little pets his grandkids ask him to babysit while they try to convince their parents to allow them to raise them themselves. BUT... be warned all you little pesky animals out there. Don't let his small frame and old age fool you. He doesn't let anything or anyone get in between him and his garden/ yard.

Anyway, my FIL and MIL went to the wooded area of our property to see where they came from. Good thing they did because they discovered what might be the raccoon's den. My FIL covered it with a bunch of rocks. He saw an even bigger den in our neighbor's yard and blocked the little path that they made under the fence between the two properties. I feel a little safer. It must be my kids' diaper smell that's luring these critters onto our yard. LOL.

Aigo... bats in the attic, deers, chipmunks, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, some other creature that my dad said might be a groundhog, and garden snakes that the lawn care folks said they saw outside... I'm leaving in a freakin' zoo except we're inside. I know these things come with living in the suburbs on a wooded lot but WTH? I momentarily thought it might be better to live in the city... but I've heard about the cat sized rats living in the subway tunnels. I'm just going to have to live with Alvin and his furry friends.

Going Batty

Shhh... I said shhh... what's that I hear skittering around above the ceiling in my bedroom? Shhh. A mouse? I don't know what a mouse (or worse, mice) sounds like unless you count the Warehouse Mouse from the Imagination Movers but it sounds like there might be a mouse living upstairs in the attic. But wait, is it bowling? Why does it seem to be rolling something? And, are those nails tapping? Sounds like pretty large claws for a mouse. Maybe it's a rat?!?!?!? Yikes!

Well... when there's something strange in the neighborhood, who do you call? The Ghostbusters! It's not a ghost so I ask my dear husband to go take a look because it's driving me bonkers. Every time I hear something, my blood freezes. So my dear husband gathers up the courage to climb the attic with my FIL right behind him. I tell husband to be careful that the mouse doesn't bite his nose as soon as he pops his head up the attic door. He thinks twice and decides to put on a mask and a hat just in case the little critter decides to kung fu kick his face.

The husband lifts the door to the attic and peeps his head in but sees an empty attic. I quickly shouted "No! Take a closer look because there's definitely something making noise in the attic." He lifts the insulation and... woah, did his voice just go up an octave higher? He yells out "Oh my... there's ALOT" and runs back down. My FIL starts laughing and asks what the problem was. Apparently, it's not just 1 or 2 mice in the attic. It's a whole posse. He said when he lifted the insulation, all he saw was a whole lot of blackness scurrying around. I'm getting goose bumps just replaying the scenario in my head.

So the DH and FIL come back down to figure out how to get rid of these little pesky creatures that decided to declare our attic a mice summer resort. My FIL insists on going back up and banging the insulation with a broom... and hope to kill them all that way. Shutter. So, the DH can't sit back knowing his dad is going to go up the attic. This time, he's armed with gloves, some fancy flashlight that stands on a tripod, and a thick branch. But while he's arming himself, my 85 year old FIL is scurrying up the ladder into the attic with a broomstick. I'm begging him to wait for my husband and he says ok but he's already deep in the attic somewhere. I can hear him banging the broomstick. DH is running in now and climbs the attic after his dad. I can hear them telling me to tap the ceiling of our bedroom. So, I go in and climb on a chair and tap the ceiling with a hanger. I hear a WHOLE LOT of scurrying... and I know it's not my DH or the FIL. What the heck? Is there some sort of mice convention up there?

The DH and FIL come down with a garbage bag and they say it's not mice up in the attic. Oooookayyyy... then, what is it? Chipmunks? I've seen one pesky one keep popping up in the garden out back. No. Holy smokes Batman... we have BATS! WHAT?!?!?!?!?! Bats? Well, I hope they're all in the garbage bag you brought down with you. But no siree. There are too many to catch. Can't even guestimate. Ok. I'm ready to piss in my pants now.

So the two men try to come up with a plan while I go online to figure out what we can do. Apparently, during this time of the year, you really can't do much. The babies are too young to fly and you have to let them escape. Killing them is out of the question. They are protected by the law. You can get a hefty fine or worse, jail time for killing them. So, all we can do is wait till the end of the summer when they can leave one by one. And, try to create a one way door so that they don't come back. I'm all about bats and they're contribution to society but having them as housemates is well... driving me batty.