I just joined Twitter, because it seemed like the cool thing to do. And I’m nothing if not cool. Hahahaha. But um can any of you tell me to use it? User name is Issascrazyworld if you want to….well I don’t know, search for me or whatever.
Help…
Morgan’s been home for three days now. Three very interesting, fun filled (I use the term fun, very lightly) days. She vacillates between being so helpful that I just want to kiss her all day and an absolute nightmare. The lovely side, is very, very lovely. Mommy, can I help you? Mommy, can I fold those clothes for you? (Yes and blessings upon you child.) Mommy do you need anything? Like maybe some more iced tea? Truly that side of her has been awesome. That and the hugs, man I missed the girl’s hugs.
Then the other side of her happens. The bossy, demanding, I am the queen of the world attitude. This, well honestly, I can handle this, as we normally see it in smaller doses. It’s a bit larger than life, this side of her, in the moment. But that comes from spending three weeks being pampered by my parents, aunties and uncles and general spoiling. But it’s the hitting that has me wanting to kill her. She can’t seem to not fight with her sister. See, Morgan’s bossy….shocker I know. Bailey normally isn’t, but as she’s gotten older, she’s getting more independent and not willing to bend to her sisters demanding ways. This causes loads of problems, my friends. Personally, I’d let them deal with it, except I have this problem right now and it’s basically that I can’t handle the screaming. It’s hot and I’m huge and a LARGE grouch and I just can not deal with the screaming. Or for that matter, the noisy bickering and the CONSTANT tattling. She looked at me; she touched my Littlest Pet Shop death trap; she let her bike feel up my bike….it’s all gotten a bit old and frankly I just don’t care. I don’t feel bad for either of them and I told them both so.
Then the hitting started. Morgan’s hitting her sister and then trying to hold her in the room so she won’t tell me, which is funny because she doesn’t get that the ear piercing screaming would eventually tip me off or something.
The best however, is the excuses given for the hitting. Yesterday they were normal, Bailey looked at me and then wouldn’t do what I wanted her to do. She pushed me out of the way….why yes I was holding her in the room, but that’s not important. And so on and so on.
Today they’ve gotten down right funny.
Mom, I didn’t mean to hit her; she got in the way when I was reaching for my toothbrush.
I didn’t smack her on her back, I was giving her a high five and she turned around.
And the all time winner, this one being the one that made me finally separate them for the next two hours at least: Mommy, I was talking to Bailey and telling her what to do and she wasn’t listening to me and I had to talk faster and I bit the inside of my mouth and it hurt and then I hit her, cause it was her fault.
Uh huh, sounds plausible to me. Somehow, I just don’t feel sorry for the child. I’m thinking it’s a bad sign that I’m counting down the days until school starts. Twenty-two and a half days for those of you who care to know.
Dam it to hell, I can’t even drink.
That after two and a half hours at Chuck E Cheese, I wish I’d never had children? I swear I’ll take that back after they both nap. Well maybe. But seriously, when we left with the two screaming brats and they stopped me at the door to make sure I wasn’t trying to kidnap the little screamers, I wanted to say, oh shit man, these ones aren’t mine. I must have gotten them mixed up; please, please keep them. That nice sweet little thing over there, the one I just gave all of my kids prize tickets to, that one’s mine. Really mister, she is.
Instead I took them home, put them to bed and am eating a second piece of cake. But dam that Chuck E, dam him to hell and that stupid ticket nightmare crap of a place.
$45 dollar cake from Cold Stone: Priceless
These were the words that I heard at 4pm today. My kid, sobbing into the phone, needing me. Talk about hard, hell this was harder than giving birth to her. Gah, it made me so freaking upset. See, she’s in Texas with my parents, who are taking care of my grandparents. Not so easy to go and get her “right now” like she wanted. Because there is no right now when a kid is 650 miles away. Nothing had really happened to make her so upset. I mean she has been there with them, swimming every day, doing time tests (don’t ask) and being completely doted on, for three and a half weeks. She’s called me every night and told me about her adventures that day. She’s been homesick a few times, but not too bad. Heck, her favorite people in this world are my mom and step-dad. She wanted to come home tonight though, not next week, not in three days, NOW. Every part of my being wanted to teleport to get her. Unfortunately, I don’t have one of those dam teleportation things. They were fresh out of them at Costco last week.
We thought maybe she’d calm down if we gave her some time. I mean shit, any weekend but this one. Bailey’s birthday was (is) today, her party is at 2pm tomorrow and Sunday we’re going to a freaking wedding. But she didn’t calm down. My mom called a bit later and said, she needs to go home so we need to figure out how to do that, she needs you. I completely fell apart, I just can’t handle anything these days and that sent me over the edge.
When I calmed down, Logan said, well I’ll just leave and go get her. Two of the greatest men who’ve ever walked on this planet are in my family. I’m that lucky to have them both. Logan left at around six to drive to get Morgan. My step-dad got in the car at the same time, my baby girl and all her crap packed in the car, and started driving to us. After Logan left, I called my mom and told her what he was doing and she told me what dad was doing. Needless to say, they were both happy to hear that they’d only need to drive halfway and back tonight.
Morgan is thrilled. Beyond thrilled. She cried when she left my mom and told her how much she’d miss her and she can’t wait to see her in a few weeks, when they come out here. She just missed me more. It tore at my heart to hear that, as we’d been having some issues before she left. But honestly, next week seemed like a long time to me too. I’m glad she needed me enough to come home early. She missed me more.
Now, since Bailey’s party is tomorrow and we got her a bike, someone had to put it together tonight, to surprise her in the morning. We should have done it for her this morning, but she was convinced her birthday was tomorrow, because that’s when her party is, so we waited. You can’t talk reason to a stubborn four year old. Especially not one who is related to me. Then of course my husband rushed off to play prince charming to our kid. Someday, she’ll love a boy and he’ll become her world, but for now, it’s still her daddy. He’s still her knight in shining armor.
So picture if you will, me putting together this bike. It was a funny site I’m sure. All big and pregnant, swearing underneath my breath, wondering why we didn’t buy her a bunch of books or some fluffy socks. But I did it, I assembled my very first bike, all by my own self. Shit man, wasn’t that why I got married, to not have to do these things? I’m sure it was in the vows: love, honor, cherish, assemble, followed by picking up dog poop and evicting raccoons from the living room. As an aside, remind me to tell you that story one day, it’s a hoot.
Anyway, my first baby is sleeping in her gran-dad’s car content in knowing that she is coming home tonight. My second baby is upstairs, not knowing that I just celebrated her actual forth birthday (she was born at 11:37pm) by putting together her present. And the third, well…he has just lodged his foot in my ribcage. But hey, a boys got to make his presence known, right? It’s been a hell of a day in Issas Crazy World, so I’m off to bed.
What do you think, did I do good?
ps. Hey Steph (Pickle), I am so happy to hear from you, I tried your site and it said it was protected. But when you commented, it didn’t send me your email. When you get the chance, I’d love to catch up, so email me, okay? Mine is issascrazy world at gmail dot com. 
pps. I am so glad that you all remember me. I had this fear that everyone would be like, Issa who? God, I missed you guys.
ppps. My best friends and I used to sit in seventh grade English class and pass notes back and forth to each other. The deal was, whoever has written the most pppppps’s when the bell rung, won. Not sure what we won, possibly D’s in English class, but it was freaking funny. When we moved, I found some of them. I put them in a scrapbook, because they were so dang cool.
Today my lovely baby girl, you are four years old. Despite the fact that you are telling everyone that you are five, you are only four. Please don’t try and speed it up, I’m not ready for that. In fact, if you wanted to stay three for a while, I wouldn’t argue with you. It seems like just yesterday that I brought home the teeniest sweetest newborny. 
You were one of the easiest babies in the whole world. Which honestly, after your sister, was kind of a relief. Over the years you’ve remained a mostly easy, if not a bit stubborn, child. No clue where you get that from, none at all.
My love, this last year has been hard on you and lately we’ve seen how some of it is starting to affect you. You’ve regressed a bit lately, having accidents, being more emotional at silly things and having tantrums. Your dad gets a bit pissed when you do this, but I’ve told him to knock it off. Because truly, it’s our fault. We can’t be mad at you for something that we created. We’re working on it though and I know it’ll get easier for you. I promise, I’ll make it easier for you to be you.
This year has seen some major changes in our life. This time last year, we moved out of LA. Your daddy got the job opportunity of his life, the chance to partner with some of his family and co-own a business and we decided to take it, even though it put us in the unknown. I never thought I’d leave LA, but it’s kind of been nice. There’s this crazy thing here, it’s called peacefulness. You’ve grown kind of used to it. You and your sister miss the beach for sure, but you’ve gotten to kind of enjoy riding your bike outside, playing in the neighborhood with friends, even skiing last winter. Heck, in the five years we lived in our old house, we only knew two of the neighbors names; here we know them all. The new neighborhood we just moved into, even has neighborhood events. Things like block parties, parades and Christmas light challenges. Your daddy’s looking forward to that last one. You got used to the move and the new way of life, way faster than your daddy and I did. Me, especially. I told you last night that this new house, the one we moved into last month is our forever home. You looked at me for a minute and then said, “ok, mommy, but you can’t tell daddy that you want to go home anymore. This is our home now.” You made me cry, although thankfully, I was able to wait until I left the room. I didn’t realize you’d heard me say…ok scream that at your dad late at night, way too many times to mention. You say the most profound things sometimes and it shows me how you’re growing up way too fast. I made a promise to you and I’ll keep it, from here on out, this is the only home I’ll say I want to be at. That’s my real birthday promise to you.
Last month or the month before last you told your daddy not to be afraid of falling (he was about to attempt some stupid stunt on a skate ramp), you said that falling only hurts for a minute or two, but being afraid hurts much longer. These are the things that I want to remember about you, the insights and amazing things that you say. Yes, you’re taking swim lessons right now and last week you did a real cartwheel and these are important events to remember as well, but the real important things for me are the small things that make you, you. The amazing little girl that I thank the world for every day.
In eight-ish weeks you are going to be a big sister. I know you’re excited, but I also know that’s the reason for some of the regression. Four years is a long time to be the baby…this I know to be true. We didn’t intend to wait this long, but that’s just the way life ended up. You love to tell people that you’re going to be a big sister, then you show them how you’ll hold and rock him. I know you’ll be a great big sister. You also love to tell random people his name, which is kind of funny since you change it to suit your mood in the moment. Even funnier, is the fact that they honestly believe that I’d name your brother, Homer or Stewie, sometimes even Petra. Not sure that I like any of those names, but seeing how we don’t have one for him yet, your guess is as good as mine.
You’ve been an only child for the past three weeks, as your sister went to hang out with Gran for a while. It was a good vacation for her and for you. You’ve gotten on each others nerves this summer, which means you’re on my nerves and honestly my nerves can’t handle it right now. Sending Morgan to Gran was one of the hardest things I’ve done in a while, but it seems to have been a good thing. We had to take you out of daycare two weeks ago, for reasons that had to do with another class and just having you here and not both of you has been good. If you’d both been here, mad at me for the past two weeks, I’d have sold you on eBay by now. I know you’re still mad and that’s okay, but we’ve had some serious fun. Plus, sissy will be back next Friday and then you’ll go to real preschool three weeks after that.
You’re daddy just called me to say that you told the checker at the store that you were six today. I’m telling you kid, you are four years old all year, no matter what you tell people. But it is freaking funny. It’s like you’re trying on different ages to see how they sound.
Even though you’ve gotten so big, you’re still my baby girl. You always will be. I love that you love My Little Ponies and Littlest Pet Shops, as well as Transformers and Batman. I love that you demand to do things your way, but you still love to cuddle and let me tell you that you are my tiny newborn. I promise to still tell you that for years to come, even after your brother makes his way into this world. Because, my little chick pea, even though you are big and old, you are still and will always be, my tiny newborny.
Happy birthday Bay,
Love Mama
I quit blogging over a year ago. My old blog was on Typepad and it was called Issas World. I’m the mother of two amazingly irritating little joys of my life, Morgan (age 6) and Bailey (age 4). I’m married to my high school sweetheart, Logan. Maybe you remember me and maybe you don’t. It’s okay either way. I’m not sure I can tell you why I stopped blogging in the first place. Maybe when I figure that out, I’ll be able to tell you what made me want to start again.
Yesterday I got a wild hair up my ass and started searching out old blog buddies. Some I found and some I wasn’t able to find. Maybe some of my old pals quit blogging too. As I looked at your sites and read your archives, I realized one thing, I miss this. I miss blogging, I miss telling you all about my life and my kids. Mostly I miss all of you.
My life has changed a lot in the last year. Most of it good, but some not so much. I’ll get into that eventually. You’ll notice that my site name has changed from Issas World to Issas Crazy World. This, my friends, is for two reasons. First, because Issas World is taken, by a knitter I believe and second, because I’m crazy. What can I say, it’s completely true these days.
Welcome to my world.
-Issa
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I’m a joiner
