I'm {not} loving it

Some days I wish I had a ripcord. Or an option to take a blue or red pill. Or the ability to safe-surrender my four year old without getting arrested. If during the tensest of standoffs with Sawyer I was able to just remove myself from the situation, I'd probably be able to save myself a ton of anxiety and stress...and him a lot of money on adult therapy.

Case in point. Today, I thought I'd be an even more awesome mom than I already am and take the kids to McDonald's for lunch. But not just any McDonald's. No, I wasn't just going to force their tiny bodies to ingest pink slime after hitting up the drive-thru. I was going to take them to a McDonald's, dine there and it was a McDonald's with a Playplace. Yes. I said it. A Playplace. The worst invention ever and, in my opinion, the reason that there is flesh-eating bacteria on this planet. If I NEVER go back, it will be too soon.

Sawyer has been begging me to go to a McDonald's with a Playplace and I finally caved and decided today would be the day. Big mistake. Huge. Catastrophic.

Why!? Oh, because once we finished our pink slime-infused chicken nuggets, and the kids got to play at the Playplace and it was time to go, Sawyer decided he'd found his new happy place at the TOP of the Playplace tower and basically gave me the middle finger. Yes, that's right. Sawyer climbed to the top of the tower, sat down and told me to eff off. In so many words. He basically called BS on me and knew that there was no way in hell I was going to climb into the tiny tunnel ladder and crawl my ass up to the top of that tower and drag his ass down.

Let me just go on record here and say that if you could have seen the look on my face and if my face could talk without saying a word, here's what it would have said:

"Sawyer Colt, you climb your little ass down that tower now or, so help me God, you are going to spend the rest of your life in a full-body cast."

And here's where I really needed the ripcord/blue pill/whooo-za/deep breathing option...HE WOULDN'T EFFING COME DOWN. Swear.

So there I am. Gritting my teeth. Armpits sweating. Saxon Crying. Cursing. And the ENTIRE McDonald's Playplace area watching me.

In case I haven't set the scene well enough. Here's a glimpse into the conversation I was having with myself in my head.

Don't panic. He'll come down. Right!? He's not coming down. Panic. Fuck. Shit. I'm claustrophobic. Can I even fit in that tunnel ladder? I certainly can't fit in that tunnel ladder while I'm holding the baby. Who in the Playplace area is not a recently released convict that I can trust to hold the baby while I go fish Sawyer out of the tower. {looks around}. No one. Fuck. Shit. McDonald's with Playplaces should really serve wine just like California Adventure does at Disneyland. Shit. He's still up there.

"Sawyer, get DOWN here."

He's still not coming down. Fuck it. I'm leaving him here.

"Sawyer, I'm leaving."

{Screams}

"Rylan, go get your brother."

Rylan won't go. She's scared of the tunnel and flesh-eating bacteria too. Fuck.

And so it went. For about 20 minutes. I've now spent approximately19 minutes more than I've ever wanted to spend at a McDonald's Playplace. And now I'm certain that the B.O. I'm smelling is mine. It's a full-on stand off. Sawyer knows that if he comes down, his ass is such grass that it actually behooves him to stay up there.

He's going to boarding school. No. Worse. Military school. Actually, I wonder if they'd take him at Juvenile Hall. This is a crime, right!? Having a stand-off with your mother in the McDonald's Playplace tower has to be a crime, right!?

Sweaty. On the verge of tears and down one less child because I'd lost him to the grips of the McDonald's Playplace tower, I gave up. I had no fight left.

Much to my surprise, a sweet and wonderful 7-year old girl {whom I later volunteered to swap for Sawyer} said, "I'll go get him for you." Omg. I think she was actually wearing a halo. That girl crawled up to the top, showed Sawyer how fun it was to go down the slide and down he came. Right into the arms of an abusive mother. I could have killed him right then and there. Of course, I composed myself and we walked out like nothing had ever happened.

Whatever McDonald's Playplace. I own this shit. Same time next week? Done. Ok, maybe not that confident. But it went something like that.

Oh Sawyer. Bless your heart.

Snip Snip. Sniff Sniff?

Remember when you were dating your significant other and people would always ask, "when are you going to get engaged?" And then you got engaged and everyone said, "when are you going to get married?" And then after you got hitched, no sooner then sipping your first pina colada on the beach in Hawaii on your honeymoon, some random couple would ask, "when are you gonna start trying?" And then you ripped your hair out because you just wanted everyone to stfu and leave you alone? No? Just me? Oh...

Well, newsflash folks, the questions never end. And it never gets any less awkward. Because it's usually people who you don't know very well who think that they should be privy to your ovulation cycle. Ew. Weird.

So after we popped out #3, I thought maybe these strange encounters would start to slow. Guess what? They didn't and now random people are asking me if we're considering getting a vasectomy. "Um, no, well, ah. I, uh, haven't. but..." is usually all I can utter as I'm deciding what bunch of bananas looks the best in the produce section. Really!?

But now that we're rocking and rolling in the Beach house and we're officially out of the baby stage, I've actually started thinking about sending Eric in for the big snip snip. I know, sad. We both agree that three is enough but aren't sure if we need to "make it official." And because we've both teetered back and forth about making the big decision, I thought I'd share with you my list of positives and negatives:. Here she goes.

Positives {pro-snipping} because a "surprise" would...:
- Another baby would put me over the edge. No, seriously, I swear. Like Thelma-and-Louise-style. Off the cliff.
-We've run out of bedrooms. Another baby would have to sleep in our room. And you know my feelings on co-sleeping.
- 4 kids is like two steps away from joining the ranks of the Duggars. We'd have to have a reality show.
- I would have to trade my Denali in for a school bus. Or one of those Mercedes van/bus things. Oh, wait. Mercedes? Maybe this one switches to the negatives column.
- No more pill-popping pour moi. I recently read that one of my facebook friends got preggers on birth control. She said that this happens to about 1% of women. OMG. I started to sweat.
-Grandma Sue Sue won't babysit 4 kids. Remember, I'm an only child. 2 was challenging. She watches 3 because, well, she can't say no. 4 is deal-breaker which means we definitely can't have another baby...until Rylan is old enough to babysit for long weekends. So, what's that, like 2 years?
-College. Putting 4 kids through college is craaa-zy. And since Eric is buying me that Birkin bag for our 10th wedding anniversary, Rylan already has to graduate in 3 years {I chose Ry's college fund because I figured, as a girl, she'd understand the need to sacrifice education for fashion.}

Negatives {leave the goods alone and pray}:
- Our kids are rad. Seriously. I don't even really like kids. But ours are awesome. 1 more would just be contributing to the awesome-ness we've already created. Yeah, I said it.
- I could maybe talk Eric in to getting the Bugaboo Donkey if we got knocked up with #4
- I would have to listen to Eric complain about having surgery on his manhood. Oh geezus.
- I would keep taking the pill and live in fear of the 1%
-What if I died and Eric got remarried and that chick decided that she wanted to have a litter of Beaches too? Ha. Good luck chick.
     *While, I'm at it. Here's my letter to Eric's new wife in the event that I die. Can one of you please direct her here? K, Thanks. Here goes.
     Dear Mrs. Beach: I just wanted to let you know that in the event you think you'd like to go for one kid of your own, I wanted to let you know in advance that the child will not look like you. The Beach DNA is no-joke. Seriously, look at my kids. They didn't even get my eyelashes. You will, in fact, just be contributing to Eric's ego and adding one more mini-Eric to the universe. I hope they get your brains and handyman capabilities. Think about it. xo, L

I hope this clears things up. For now, here's to really good birth control.

I blog {finally}, therefore I am no longer a crappy blogger

Seriously, If Amanda Bynes can retire on Twitter at 26 only to un-retire a few months later, I figure, so can I. And I'm way more interesting than Amanda Bynes. I mean, the chick hasn't been in a movie since she was like 12. Nobody cares.  OK, moving on.

Don't judge me. I was depressed, remember?

Here's what you've missed. Hold on tight. It's real exciting.

Mama -
I'm off the Prozac. This was huge. The side effects of the anti-depressants were, well, depressing. I had night sweats so serious that I'd wake up in the middle of the night thinking I'd wet the bed (don't act like this has never happened to you) and need to change my pajamas. Sexy, right?

Or how about how the anti-d's made me a borderline narcoleptic? The kind where I'd sit down for two seconds, pass out and wake up thinking it was the next day. This makes for super responsible parent as I'm sure you can imagine. "Mommy, can we juggle knives?" "{Snore}".

The truth is, I was just feeling a lot better. My anxiety was gone and I was able to NOT sweat the small stuff. Pun intended. It feels good to have my shit together. I mean, sure, come 5pm, we're all a little crazy. But it's nothing two glasses of wine can't fix. Keep calm and drink on.

Daddy-
Eric has been super busy on the campaign trail and also working on his new Solar company. He traveled to Hong Kong a couple of months ago. In true CMCP {Cheapy McCheaper Pants} style, he spent more time trying to book his ticket for a decent price than he actually spent on the ground in Hong Kong. God, I love that guy. He leaves again in a few weeks for China.

When he's here, we split almost all of the work evenly. It's one of the perks of having a work-from-home husband. It's also the result of having a super-competitive husband. When he's gone and I have to get all three kiddos up, dressed, fed and to school before 8 am, I seriously get home at 8:05 and fist pump my ass off. It sucks when he's gone. But I also like to feel like I'm stepping up my game.

Rylan-
Ry could not be doing better than she is in Kindergarten. She's reading. And spelling. A lot. The other day I caught her sounding out F-U-C-K. Eeek. No more spelling out our curse words. Seriously, the time has come. What's a mom to do now!? She's doing after school cheer and spring soccer. Loves to draw and play with her baby brother. She's also getting super sassy...a trait I'm certain she didn't pick up from me and most likely borrowed from one of the other girls in her class. Because I am perfect. Duh.

Best Buds

Learned to ride a bike...huge.

Sawyer-
In March, Sawyer turned 4. With a few {a lot} of behavioral issues, we seem to be getting back on track. Wow. Boys really are so different than girls. And whoever dubbed the two's as "terrible" hadn't met Sawyer at age 3. We got him signed up for soccer. This, after he'd spent weeks "playing" on Rylan's team with the girls - gotta love a boy with an older sister. Once it was his time to shine he, well, kinda choked. It was one of those {cringe} moments.

Me:"Sawyer, get out there and play with your team!"
Sawyer {in tears}: "Mom, they're not letting me score."

Apparently, he doesn't come from a family of soccer players.
Me: "Sawyer, they're not just going to give you the ball and LET you score. You have to work for it honey."

Sawyer: "No thanks mom. I'm just gonna sit on the sidelines and eat oranges and wait to run through the tunnel at the end of the game. Do you know what the snack is gonna be?"

FML

Coach Beach could have died.

Shit. Our little athlete gamer. For Christmas, we got the kids a Nintendo Wii. We always said we'd never raise gamers. Within one night, Sawyer had memorized all the dances to Just Dance 3. Double shit.

I actually think we've turned a corner. We're working with him on lots of positive reinforcement and encouragement. Oh, and we put his ass in preschool for two FULL days a week in addition to the two half days he was already going. Yeah, made him someone else's problem. Oh, whatever, you totally would have done the same thing.

See. Totally under control.

Proof that he's not destined to play video games for the rest of his life.

 Super Hero Birthday Party

 Saxon-

Saxon Cash turned one a few weeks ago. Our little slow poke is still not crawling or walking. We started physical therapy in January. We go 90 minutes a week. We're working on strengthening his core and so far have seen really positive results. After 1 week of therapy, he was sitting up on his own. He's this close to crawling now. But he's still just my lazy little guy that is happiest when he's being held. A lot of my friends have asked if there was any diagnosis or why he had this gross motor skills delay. No one really knows how it happened, although, I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that if he cries for something, his odds are pretty good that 1 out of the 4 other people in the house will jump up and get it for him. There was never a whole lot of motivation to do it on his own. But he's progressing in all other areas right on track. The doctor had given us a referral to a neurologist to rule anything else out but even when he handed it over, he said "I don't think you need to go." So we haven't.

I have to tell you that I seriously cannot imagine not having Sax. He might be the sweetest baby that I've ever met.

Susie Cakes excitement. It happens at any age.

The first of three kids to eat the cupcake on their birthday.

We survived our first year with three. Barely.

Ok so that was a seriously freaking long hiatus. Who knew having 3 under 6 you'd have zero time to sit down and blog?...let alone just sit. Not to mention the fact that one of us has been sick since the beginning of sick season. I actually think we may have whooping cough...although not enough to take us to the doctor and pay the co-pay {who's the cheap one now?}. Yesterday, Saxon threw up on me at the park. It went down my shirt and in my pants. I had to go home and change everything. Bra. Underwear. I know, you're jealous. I haven't dealt with this much barf and spot treatments since college.

Anywhoo, now that you've been updated. I promise to do a better job at keeping up. Blogging once every 8 months is about as lame as you can get. I'm a work in progress. Bare with me.