Oops, I Crapped My Pants!

Not literally, but pretty darn close. For those of you that don't already know, the kids and I were t-boned on the way to my mother-in-law's house on Wednesday. Someone exiting a parking lot didn't see me coming and slammed into the passenger side of my van...approximately a foot and a half away from where Teaghan was sound asleep in her car seat. Hole. E. Crap. I've been involved in a couple of fender benders before, but nothing like this. Add to that the fact that I had my 3 babies (I don't care how old they are...if my kids are in danger, they're my babies) in the car...terrifying. Fortunately, the guy that hit me was moving as fast as he was, because if I had made it any further along the road before he hit me, I can say with absolute certainty that at least one of my kids would have been hurt. And then I would have gone to jail for beating up and old man.

After my rental car was dropped off and I went to clean all of my crap out of the van, I got a good look at how close the point of impact was to T's seat and began thanking my lucky starts that if I had to be in an accident, at least we all walked away...well, except for T, but c'mon...she's only 4 months old. Not a lot of walking going on there. 

Kony 2012

I usually try and keep things pretty light and funny because, let's face it, there's enough heavy stuff out there already and who needs any more, am I right? Well, I saw something online today that hit me really hard as a mother, so I'm going to lay a little heavy on you. Brace yourself.
There has been a video plastered all over Facebook the past couple of days, but since it's 30 minutes long and I do most of my internet surfing at work, I hadn't watched it because of it's length...finding 30 uninterrupted minutes at my job is pretty rare. One of my bestest friends posted the video on his Facebook page, so I knew it was worthwhile, and took half an hour of my morning to check it out. Holy life-altering, Batman! Please, find 30 minutes and watch this:

If you actually took the time to watch that, thank you. As a mother I just cannot imagine a child having to fear being taken from my home on a daily basis. So, I decided to do something. I have sent a handfull of emails to various political figures as well as emailing a few of my fave celebs. I also got my "kit" and am going to encourage EVERYONE that I know to do the same. This is not something that can continue. It has already gone on for too long.
To purchase your kit, read more about the war, or maybe just donate a few bucks simply click here.

The Times, They Are A-Changin'

Everyone knows that once you have kids, you sacrifice some, if not all of your "me" time. Time I would've spent putting on a little makeup before heading to the grocery store is now spent getting the last ounce of formula down T's throat before we have to run out the door. Time I would have spent going for a run is now spent grabbing a quick shower and a cup of coffee before the kids wake up. I realized just how much I have let myself go the other night when I had to run out to the grocery store at 8pm because I had forgotten it was Paige's day as snack sharer for school the next day. While in the juice aisle debating between Hi-C with Dora on the box or Juicy Juice with Lightning McQueen on the box a STUNNING woman around my age comes around the corner. She had perfectly styled hair, her makeup was flawless, her outfit was spit-up free, and her shoes were to die for. Cut to me: Hair in a ponytail, makeup that was done 15 hours ago by that point, a pair of sweats, a long sleeved tee shirt with spit up stains on the shoulder , and old fake Uggs. I had one of those, "What the hell happened to me?" moments. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that I need to get all gussied up to go to ACME, but I'm finding myself sacrificing so many of the little things that make me feel good about myself. I'm not even doing it because it's necessary. Carl is perfectly capable and willing to put T to bed if I wanted to zip out for a quick jog after the big kids are in bed. I see a lot of this, not only in myself, but in other moms, too. Why do we insist on making sure that everyone else is so dependant on us for everything? From this point on I am making myself a priority. I suggest you do the same. :)

I Think It's the Chili

For months now we have been having dinner issues at our house. If Carl IV likes it, Paige doesn't. If Paige likes it, Carl doesn't. If I like it, nobody likes it. Oy! So we have held pretty firm in our, "We're having what we're having. If you don't like it, you're not eating," stance because I absolutely refuse to be a short-order cook and have kids that only eat chicken nuggets and macaroni. Needless to say there have been MANY nights of "Moooooom, I don't want this. It's grooooooooss!" and "Mommyyyyyyy, it's yuckyyyyyy!"  (Allow me to interrupt myself here to state that I am not that bad a cook. I do not make "gross" of "yucky" food. They're just punks. Alright, moving on...) Well, the other night I made chili. Who doesn't like chili?!?! You can put cheese on it. It's awesome on a cold, damp day. I even made it super-wimpy mild so that nobody would complain about it being to spicy. One look at it and both kids were in teeth gnashing mode. "Eeeewwwwww! I don't want thiiiiis!!! Not thiiiiis! I want pizza! Waaaaah!" Rude. So, Carl III and I ignored them, had 2 bowls of my awesome, if wimpy, chili and the kids had no dinner.
This morning Carl IV is eating his breakfast and tells me that his mouth hurts on his gums. I look at it, and it looks like he's just jabbed himself with his toothbrush. It hurts, but he'll live. That's the end of it, right? Well, I thought so, but was sorely mistaken. Apparently when he was at school he was complaining and whining so much about his teeth hurting that his teacher actually called my mother-in-law! She said he's complaining about his mouth and teeth hurting "really bad." I know exactly what it is. The kid is so OCD that he gets completely fixated on something and can't let it go, so he's probably been poking this scrape with his finger and/or tongue all morning so it's irritated. But, no...he'd never admit that. When Mrs. Porter asks him what happened he says, "I don't know, but I think it's the chili my mom made me eat." !!!!!! WHAT?!?!?! Now my chili is not only "gross" and "yucky" but causing physical harm to anyone within 5 feet?! Ugh. This kid...

Mommy Dementia

I remember once when I was about 5 or 6 my mom, sister, and I went somewhere (can't remember where, and it's not very important anyway...). After we'd finished up wherever the heck we were, we headed back to my mom's trusty old Toyota, Violet. This was back in the 80's before power locks, so it was determined by seniority the order of which you got your door unlocked. Mom, obviously, got in first and reached over to unlock the front door for Alie. As Alie's reaching around to unlock my door, mom starts to drive off. I. Am. Devastated. My own mother just drove off and left me! ...okay, okay, so she made it, like, 5 feet before she realized her mistake and I hopped in the car, but still...that was a horrifying 10 seconds for me. I remember thinking to myself, "How could she?! How does a mom not notice that one of her kids is NOT IN THE CAR?!?!" The answer: Mommy Dementia, of which I am now a victim.
I sent out invitations for the boy's birthday party last Friday. I went to the skating rink of Saturday to pay the deposit for the party and the girl can't find our reservation. "I've been emailing Kim for the past 2 weeks about this. Are you sure you don't see Dominique in there? Next Friday, March 2nd?" I'm starting to freak out at this point because I have already sent out the invitations. Aaaak! "No, but I see a Carl Rudegeair for Friday the 9th at 4:30...is that your son?" Me: "WHAT?! No, no, no...I emailed Kim. Look," I whip out my phone and pull up my emails. "Right here. 'Kim, let's go ahead and book the party for 4:30 on the...9th,' Oh, crap." Yep. I put the wrong date on the invitations. Yay, me! Ugh. So I had to write little 'I'm an Idiot' notes to all the parents of the kids in Carl's class to correct my whoopsie. And it doesn't stop there! Just the other day we're all piling in the car to go to a friend's house. I get the big kids in the car and Carl III get T all strapped in. Well, I hop in my seat and crank the engine and everyone's just looking at me as if I've grown a second head. "What?" I ask. "Were you planning on closing the door?" Yeah, I was about to head down the road with Paige's door WIDE open! Honestly, I'm thinking that with every kid you have it just gets progressively worse. Pretty soon you'll find me leaving the house without pants or without a kid...just do me a favor...do a quick head count if you see me out with the kids to make sure all are present and accounted for.

A Two-fer!

I'm going to hit you with a twofer post today. The first is going to be me shamelessly plugging myself and my friend so that we can get a little business. The second will be my usual nonsensical ramblings. Alright? Alright.

I have recently signed on as a Thirty-One consultant. They sell really cute and functional bags, wallets, home storage solutions, etc. Check out my website www.mythirtyone.com/dominiquerudegeair/ and take a gander at the catalog and book a party for exclusive savings and potentially free items available for hosting a party!

Looking for a massage therapist that works with your schedule rather than having to try to get to a spa when they're open? Look no further! My dear friend, Kim Evans, is a licensed massage therapist and, get this...she will come to you! That's right kiddies, she will give you an amazing massage (I'm speaking from personal experience...the girl's amazing!) in the comfort of your own home! Check her out on Facebook and tell her I sent you.


Alright, on to the norm:

Carl IV will be 5 in 13 days. For the past 4 days I have been subjected to, "Mom...is it 1 or 2 days until my birthday?" from the boy. Me: *sigh* "Let's go look at the calendar and we'll count. 1, 2, 3, 4, blah, blah, blah, 13. Almost 2 weeks away, buddy." Him: "Aaaaaaaugh! That's soooo loooooooong!!! Why can't it be my birthday today?!" Me: "Because then your birthday would be February 23, not March 7." And away he stomps to lament the fact that he wasn't born early. Trust me, if I'd had my way he would've been born in January!

T is rolling over now. I almost feel sorry for the poor thing because as a third child, she's going to have to do a lot more than that to impress us now. I remember when Carl IV started rolling over. I think I probably texted everyone I knew like it was some monumental milestone (If you received one of those texts or emails, please accept my humble apology. First time mom...you know how it is.).

Paige is in all out 3 year old mode. I don't know how I forgot how nasty 3 year olds are sometimes. Carl IV went through the same thing. I must have blocked it out. She is super whiney, bursts into tears about practically everything. If this is her at 3, I'm moving out when she hits her tween years, because I don't know if I'll be able to take it.

That's all I've got for you now. Remember to check out my website and pop on over to Kim's Facebook page to say hi and set up your massage. Peace!

New Venture

Because kids are expensive, and I have 3 of 'em, I have started a new business venture. The link to my website for said venture is here. Give it a look-see. I'm new and don't know what the heck I'm doing, but I'm super chatty and pretty darn friendly, so I think I can make this work. So, long story short, have a look and schedule a party, okay? *mwah!*