"Life with Monkeys."

...One mothers account of her experiences from within the cage.


Happy Birthday to my Bells

Happy Birthday and Glory be to God for my baby girl Isabella who turned two years today. It's the craziest thing to think that she is two and Navah is going to be 5 in June. She wasn't in the greatest mood today but she knew it was her birthday. She had a smile from ear to ear when we'd sing the birthday song. The past few weeks have been stinky due to several attacks from the sick monster. But all is better. I released myself from caring for Jacob (daycare child) and enjoying the time with my girls. The night could have ended better for Bells. She was laying on the bed in the middle of a diaper change while on the phone. Our good friends called and sang to her and she was smiling up until Navah wanted to talk to her best bud Sophia and reached for the phone. I thought Navah had the phone when I helped Bella pass it up. When I let go of the phone Navah did the same and the phone dropped on Bella's eyebrow bone and she screamed. She cried soo hard that she was gagging. I felt so bad and thought what a crappy way to end a birthday. She cried herself to sleep and when I gave the usual night-night mommy loves you she sobbed back "night-night..I love you too mommy." This made me cry for my poor Bells. I whispered to her that I would make it up to her tomorrow after her doctors appointment with a trip to the park and a great lunch. She whimpered, "kay" and turned over. I promise you next year mommy will be sure to make it extra special.



A Little Theory O'Mine

I am convinced that I like being pent up . It's a good stress if you can believe it. I have this theory and maybe it's just my crazy box being opened, but I think that women love (or maybe it's just me) being stressed out when it comes to their children. I mean why else would we continue to have more if we didn't somewhat like it? Right?

I have a high tolerance for pain and it comes in handy when you have kids. I can't tell you how many times a day I bite down on my teeth and say the Jesus prayer just to get me through a situation. Okay at least 10, 20 or is it 30 times? Nevertheless I still think about throwing in another one or two. But is it really about wanting more children? Or is it because I want a house full when the holidays and birthdays come around? Because I live for those times with my family. Or is to see how tolerable I really am? Either way this is where my crazy box flies open.

I can't comfortably leave the kids with anyone (not even dad) knowing they wouldn't be cared for the way I care for them. But then there are days where I look forward to Thursday nights because I have a class to attend. Then I go through the whole guilt riddled thoughts when I'm out and not at home with my girls especially Bella who isn't even two yet. I think about the crying for mommy, the hard times getting to bed, the fighting with your sister and mommy isn't home to ref. The looking for the favorite flannel pillowcase and daddy not knowing where all the secrets spots are to check. If they ate more than just crackers and milk or if they had string cheese and yogurt for dinner. What's wrong with me?

I think I figured it out. It's called Mommyitus. It's a condition that is birthed along with your children. It's everything that you were once able to do prior to kids and now can no longer do. You wish you could (and some do) scream and rip your hair out and then forget what you were about to do because you have another child screaming herself. Then you have the days where you look down at your once flat and semi-firm stomach and wish it were big and round again. Like I said I have my days and times but then those moments happen. That moment of when one of your angels seeks for you out of the blue and kisses you. Or tells you that your a great mommy just because she wanted you to know. Or overhearing "God grant you many years" sung at the top of little lungs in the bathroom. Or having a little head pop up in the middle of the night just to say "Mom?" perfectly and fall back to sleep. Then I realize that this is why I endure and continue to endure.

And so my theory is this: Women can and will continue to have children simply because we live for the little rewards and not so much the obvious.

Like me and my Bebe always say, "God wouldn't grant us with what we couldn't handle, it'll just take a bit of time and patience to get a handle on what we've been granted."

"Oh Lord, Oh Lord have mercy on Me!" (in my southern accent)


Round Three?

Oh Yes. It is I the cage keeper sharing a story. Fear not.

So we've been going in circles about the timing or even the possibilty of
a third child. And week to week it changes. My mom has been pressuring me to hurry up and give her another baby being Bella is a little girl now. She's being pretty specific too by demading it to be a boy. C'mon now!

The past two weeks I have been feeling sick and even a couple of times, I've thrown up. What beautiful music to my mom's ears when I shared
this with her on Friday. Oooh! Your PREGNANT!! she yells. I say, "No my dear mother I am not." I told you so mommy.

So I share with Bebe who is on his way back from Platina heading to the cathedral in San Francisco, that I have been sick the past two weeks. He
freaked when I told him to be sure to pray to St. John especially me and our family. He wasn't thinking of a possible pregnancy but instead was thinking about a serious illness of some sort. After telling him this he calls back a few hours later worried. I was out running errands and received the message from my mom that he called. So I freak and call him back and he asks if I am okay? Of course, why? He explains, and I then go into the story of my mom trying her hardest to get a grandson in the mix and we start laughing. Then flashing back and realizing that our "birth control" package had read: Expiration 10/2004, we laughed, but not a "there's no way!" laugh. Oh Boy?@!*

NOT!!! But could it be? Not I said!! To my mom's disappointment she was wrong and I was right. No round three. At least not this month. Jacob the baby I care for has also been a great supplemental form of birth control. I'm on the roller coaster for round three but I must say lately, just lately I am starting to wonder about my round three. It shifts with the wind.
Today's wind reading: BOY


Can I do this?

Being the wife of an avid blogger (and a great blogger at that) I've wondered if I would be able to do this. He has bugged me forever and I was adamant about not wanting to share or discuss things in this type of forum. Of course me being the blabbermouth that I am with certain folks, you would think this would be a piece of cake. You know the kind. The 50-layer chocolate one they sell at Claim Jumper that puts you into a diabetic coma just looking at it through the glass. Yeah that one!

I always thought to myself that if and when I wanted to talk or share my daily monkey stories that I would. Writing isn't easy for me. I am not the grammatically gifted person that my Bebe (John) is and the way things process in my head is like a food processor. I can't finish a thought without the other thought barging in for it's chance to swirl.

Kinda like my monkeys. I am the cage keeper and I swirl for a living. My job duties include but are not limited to poop patrol, feedings, moral encouragement and teachings, referee, bodyguard (for the younger monkey), clown, peacemaker, chauffeur, teacher, mechanic, monkey keeper for other monkey babies and last but not least the human band-aid. Oh yeah and a wife and faithful servant of God in there somewhere.

Sheeeese! So when would I have time to share let alone get a potty break? Never I say! But Bebe thought different. He came home and built my blog according to what he thought suits me. Pink though??? It's cute but pink? I am so not the pink girl. Maybe he was thinking pretty in pink. Awe my Bebe.

So several words later I am slowly but surely making my way out of the cage for a break. So we'll see how the monkeys do this day and maybe just maybe I shall share a story or two.

Gotta go my monkey boy who I care for is crying and he needs to eat. Bella just came to me and grabbed my arm and said a few things. I think she said, "Hey mom, get off that thing Jacob is crying...Now woman, now!"


And yes Bebe, I can hear you.


Monkey #2

Bells Posted by Hello

This is Isabella. Also known as St. Isabella, Bella, Bells and Poo-Poo. Dad calls her Belly, Fats or Junior. Whatever Dad!


Monkey #1

Navah Posted by Hello

We call her Navah, although she'll answer to Barnyard, Barney, Barno and even Kook...the residual fallout of having a surfer for a father.


"Isi can you hear me?"

..."Can you hear me calling?"