Giraffes are horny too!

Let's first take a moment of silence for this little guy. He didn't live past his first month birthday. Not sure of the cause of death. Either epilepsy or an infection in his umbilical cord. His poor mother, Uzari, has given birth to three babies, all of which have passed away at a young age.

This picture was taken during my visit to the zoo last month:

Uzari was sad.

We visited the zoo yesterday and I was shocked to learn of the baby giraffes passing, however I was still anxious to feed the giraffes.

I was the first in line.

We were warned that the giraffes were rambunctious.

I was clueless as to just HOW rambunctious they really were.

Apparently there was another mother giraffe ready to give birth any day now. Hormones were raging in the air. "Gully" the male giraffe that the zoo uses for breeding was horny!

Seriously. I am not kidding.

We tried to feed Uzari, the mother giraffe that had just lost her baby, but Gully would not let her have anything to eat.

Typical guy. Not wanting to let his girl get fat?

Well, all that was on his mind was sex. Yep!! He tried and we watched.

We stood there in shock. Some parents were covering children's eyes.

I couldn't even take pictures. I was that embarrassed, violated, grossed out, and mentally scarred for life.

The good news is that Uzari, the smaller of the two shown above, is on birth control. The zoo is not sure they want her to have any more babies until they can figure out why here babies are so unhealthy.

Next up, the fighting tigers. Yep, they brawled. We watched, it was scary. Ask Carson about it, he saw the whole thing go down and loves to tell the stories of the fighting tigers. His sound effects are pretty good too!!

After that we opted for a nice calm train ride around Roeding Park.

Then lunch at The Cheesecake Factory.

Exciting morning to say the least.

Kissing Cousins

super tired today.

but couldn't resist sharing this picture.

parker... er... i mean, carson and jane.

that is just what jane called him for three days straight.

JACKPOT

It has been weeks now that I have been searching for my migraine medicine. Having to rely on good 'ol Advil just doesn't nearly do the trick. I knew it just HAD to be around here somewhere.

Then yesterday... I was cleaning Carson's room and came across a box in his armoire. Hmmm....I wondered... What is in here?

Some trains.

Some cars.

Some books.

and JACKPOT...

My migraine medicine.

On this day...

4 years ago.

The phone rang.

It was too early to be anything but bad news.

I answered.

I cried.

She is missed in our lives but will forever be loved in our hearts.

One Grad at a Time...

Ok. I was reading my most recent blog entry and yes, I agree that a three year old not wearing new underwear and saving my baby from choking are not the makings of a horrible day or life for that matter. It was just the icing on the cake from an already stressed out, hormonally challenged, tired of screaming children, mommy. We are all slowly working on recuperating.

One deep breath at a time.

And one graduation party at a time....

Here are some pictures from some of my favorite graduating grads...

Conductors Don't Wear Underwear

Why do I feel like most days that I can't do this whole mommy thing. I only have TWO kids for goodness sake. It is not rocket science or anything.

It's harder.... I swear.

Some days I read blogs from others such as my cousin Amy who manages 4 children under the age of 4 on a daily basis. I am reminded, I can do this. Deep breath, I really can.

Then I have days like this last Friday.

Carson refused to wear the new underwear I bought him. His Thomas the Train ones are getting too small and leaving indentions on his hips so I was excited to purchase new ones for him. However, they were not Thomas the Train.

"Mommy, train conductors don't wear underwear," Carson told me.

"Uh... YES they do!!" I replied.

"NO! Not ones with animals on them."

So, after major frustration on both sides, Friday Carson went about his day without underwear.

And to this day he still refuses to have anything to do with the new underwear.

Then at playgroup that same day, Brady decided to choke on a little piece (I swear it was little) of granola bar. There I was... in front of all the other moms at playgroup and my child stopped breathing. Mommy instinct kicked in and I stuck my whole finger down his throat and pulled out the lodged piece of granola. He then began to gag, cough and vomit all over me.

Yep, it is days like these that I wonder why God let me be a Mother. I just can't handle the stress. Later that night my body filled with extreme anxiety and stress to which I felt it necessary to scream at my children and husband only to follow it with uncontrollable crying.

The crying was by me!! Kinda like the scene in the new Sex and the City movie where Charlotte locks herself in the pantry and is crying while her children are screaming. Yep. That was me!!

Saturday came and went.

Today I spent some time at the lake. Drank a corona. Or two. Skunked Steve at Cribbage. I am trying to break out of this crazy funk that I appear to be in.

Taking a look at the bigger picture.

Things are starting to come into prospective.

And a vacation is definitely on the horizon....

Whose Child is this?

Last week, Carson's preschool class performed an end of the year program that consisted of farm songs. The school yard was completely decorated in farm fashion, including the children in hats and bandannas. Carson just stood there, staring aimlessly, during the entire performance and didn't sing a single song.

At the end of the program, Amy, the co-owner of the preschool, and a very dear friend of ours, thanked the parents for choosing her school and read the poem, "Whose Child is This?"

Amy is pregnant. Hormones were raging. She cried as she read. I cried as she read. I had no excuse other than I was happy that I choose a school that cares about my child as much as I do.

That story leads me to the next one.

Yesterday, Carson mentioned that he was hungry and proceeded to the refrigerator then to the freezer. He pulled out a bag of very old, frozen peas. So frozen indeed that they were completely iced together. He placed them in a bowl and I broke them apart with an ice pick. He then sat in front of the television watching cartoons and ate the ENTIRE bowl of frozen peas and I thought, "Whose Child is this??" He's certainly not mine.

Last week a similar story occurred. I had made chicken and corn for dinner. Carson looked at his plate and threw a tantrum because he didn't want corn. He wanted broccoli! "Really?" I thought, "Whose child is this?"

Those who know me, know that I don't like anything green, so he must NOT be mine.

But I'll keep him... for now.