We actually took a kid-free trip.  It has literally been 5 years since we have been on vacation alone – just us, not kids, no parents, no friends.  When you are from a family of 7, vacations tend to involve at least one member of the family, in my case, preferably all of them.  I love my family.

That meant no double stroller that causes you to break out into a sweat trying to get through security.  No more bribing your kids with anything under the god damn sun that will keep them quiet as you cruise through the air in 35,000 feet.  “You want to eat an entire tube of Pringles?  You want to color on your legs with pink and red markers? You must have your own can of Coke from the flight attendant, NO PROBLEM.”  Just please, please, please do not torture these sweet people who have saved money to go on a nice trip and here we are….the Vogelbrechts, making their flight one straight from hell.  We don’t mess around.  You can see us coming from a mile away, wait I mean hear us from a mile away.  I don’t know what it is about kids but when you get them higher than 30,000 feet all hell breaks loose.  It is like they know you are trapped and willing to throw every rule out of the window for cooperation.  Airplanes are not the place to prove a point or let the kids throw a tantrum or kick the seat of the person in front of you or try and stand on your tray table or have diarreah.  They just aren’t.

I am a pro when it comes to international travel – ALONE… with 3 kids… as I have done it twice in the past year.  It is not for the faint of heart.  The funny thing is that I actually made a friend out of my last trip.  I found the nicest human being in the world who herself was a mother but on her way back from a girl’s trip.  She saw me dealing with customs, with screaming half naked kids and the desperation that was setting in faster than it needed to be.  I had one poor child who was in a Benadryl haze and peed down to her socks. Poor Miss Eden had to wear her little 8 month old brother’s onesie unsnapped and a diaper (she has been potty trained for over a year).  They were all cruising around O’Hare customs like a bat out of hell.  The kind sweet woman came up with the sweetest smile and said, “let me help.”  She did.  She stayed with me until the very end even though she was dying to get back and see her own children.  She got it.  It’s what mother’s who get it will do.  I remembered her name and pertinent details and  found her.  I sent her a Christmas Card of our happy loving family which was the exact opposite of what she saw.  I made sure she knew what she meant to me.  She was my life saver that day.  I think about her more than she will ever know.  She made a huge difference.  Thank you Miss Natalie.

My prior trip with all 3 alone was so bad I was convinced that I was moving to Atlanta.  The flight was so terrible in every way.  I am talking 3 screaming kids whose ears are popping, diarreah on handrests….just imagine the worst and multiply it by 38.  I was in tears.  We all were in tears.  The flight attendants were so nice to me because I was trying so hard that I was literally a sweaty mess of tears, Desitin and shattered dreams.  I apologized more on that 2 hour flight than I have in years but nobody cared.  There were a few kind moms who did feel my pain and the sweet attendant who made me repeat to her, “I am a good mom”.

Needless to say when the flight landed they let me get off first with my 3 pals….and people started clapping as I left.  Not as a sign of support like – “Hey you did it!  It was more….get the F off this plane with your terrible kids.”  We landed in Atlanta and I called my mom and I told her to get me change of address labels because I was literally never getting on another flight again.  I cried so hard. Harder than I have in a long time.  I felt defeated, that I had let my kids down and vice versa but I was so disappointed with some of those people on that plane.  They didn’t get it.  No one wanted my kids to stop crying more than me.  The guys next to me actually had the balls to tell me between sobs that he did not have kids for this exact reason.  It. Was. Awful.

I had 3 kids to transport back to Chicago and that was not happening so my only option was to move to Atlanta.  My husband would come visit.  Maybe.  I sort of like peaches and rap music so I could make it work.  There was no way I could do it again.  Seriously.  Just thinking back to that day gives me hives.  I obviously got talked off the ledge, swallowed my pride and hopped a plane back to Chicago.  I decided that since the “Real Housewives of Atlanta” were not looking to cast new members, it was best we hit the road.  I am also scared of Nene Leakes.

So this time it was just us – just me and my main squeeze.  We had craptastic weather unfortunately but we still managed to make the best of New Orleans.  On Saturday we slept in – until NOON.  I repeat, noon.  Can you imagine?  I didn’t have to cut up anybody’s food and I went for 2 days without getting poop under my fingernails.  I even got to use the bathroom alone and no one fought over who was going to flush my pee.  That may have been my favorite part.  Don’t get me wrong, I missed my pals with every ounce of my being but the break was much deserved and needed.  It was the first time we have been on vacation alone since we had kids.  And the best part – it was free.  I won the trip (airfare and hotel) last year at Chicago’s Blues fest.  As my dad says, nothing tastes better than free.  I love free shit and what is better than a free vacation?  My poor dad filled out 743 entries at the Southwest airlines booth and I filled out exactly one and it was only because the guy at the booth made me.  I was on my sixth trip up to the booth grabbing the free bags of peanuts and blow up airplanes when he insisted I at least fill one out.  Fine, I will do it – just let me grab another dozen free bags of peanuts.  For the record, I don’t even like peanuts but they were free.  I had to.

My amazing parents watched my pals….they went to the zoo, the park, Taco Bell, China Star – all our regular stomping grounds.  They read books and gave baths and snuggled and took walks and put up with my annoying phone calls checking in on everyone.  They are the best- with 7 kids and 17 grandkids, they are seasoned professionals.

So, when I go on vacation with my pals and every day for the matter, I snap about 783 photos.  This time, on this trip, I took 7. 7.  Arno and I really just are not as cute as my pals.  Here they are in random order.

I am not sure which is my favorite.  The selfie where I am trying to see how my outfit REALLY looks or the picture of my fancy new Teva’s.  (Did you know they still made Teva’s?  And green nail polish….and notice the j-toe?)  Wait, no I take it back.  My favorite is the one where Arno looks thrilled to be out with me.  He looks like he might actually cry.  Poor guy.  I am kind of a pain in the ass.

All in all it was a success and we will do it again – in 5 years or better yet, anytime we can get someone to watch my pals.  Who’s up for it?  I promise they don’t bite.  Well, two of them don’t.

I will be the first to admit that there is a chance I have lost control.  I have 2 tiny bosses and they call me “Mommy.”  They tend to run the show.  I tend to “give in” to them more than I should, particularly in public places – like the grocery store.

There are a few things worse than taking my pals to the grocery store – a root canal, putting a toothpick under  your toe nail and kicking a wall as hard as you can, jumping off the Empire state building and landing on a bike with no seat or taking a cheese grater to your eyeballs, to name just a few.

When I take them to the store, I always promise it is the last time I will ever be doing this and then like clockwork, about 5 weeks later, I think I can handle it and give it another whirl.  I can’t.  Especially when they do not have carts that hold both of them….this is why Costco is amazing because they can both be locked and loaded, strapped in and essentially held hostage in the Costco carts.

This is why I had to put them both in the cart with the groceries.  This didn’t last long as I had a 12 pack of Guinness in there which Einstein (L.A.) figured out to use as a seat.  This did not work out well for Eden so I had to grab another 12 pack.  “Whatever works” is my motto in life.  I pick my battles and the stares from judgy people no longer bother me.

What the hell?  Throw the groceries on the bottom of the cart so they don’t get smashed by 2 pairs of tacky crocs.  There is nothing classier than using alcohol as a bench or jumping off of  the top of the Empire state building and landing on a bike without a seat….and landing on a rusty stump.

To add insult to injury, they have this free horse to ride after you checkout.  Just when I am almost in the clear, this thing needs to be taken for a spin and God forbid they take turns.

In 5 weeks I will need a refresher of this trip as I will once again try and lug them to the store and buy precisely 68 things that are not on my list in exchange for silence.  Yama mama.

What is it about boys and trucks and dirt and nuts – and not the cashew kind, the kind in their pants.

It is almost like boys pop out already programmed to like certain things and do certain things.  I really find it fascinating.  The whole truck thing is particular.  Both of my boys are obsessed with trucks, any kind of truck, really anything with wheels that is large and in charge.

Our neighbors are adding on to their home so it is a massive construction site with trucks coming and going daily.  My boys are in heaven watching these trucks go back and forth all day long.  My daughter could give a rip.

Yesterday, Abbs and I sat out on our front stoop and watched the loader go back and forth with load after load of dirt.  He is only 15 months and he sat still, his tiny flat buns firmly planted there just watching this thing like there was going to be a quiz when it was over.

After his nap, I asked him if he wanted to go back outside and watch the trucks.  He immediately got this huge grin on his face.  He is a man of very few words, well, none to be exact but he has a smile that goes for miles.

So, trucks and nuts are his favorite things and I think he was born to be obsessed with these two things.  This kid grabs his junk every chance he gets and he does not mind if they are covered in poop, actually, I think he prefers them like that.  Changing diapers is a shit show over here, literally.

Well.  We all did it.  We made it to 4.  I know everyone says it but damn, time does fly.  I cannot believe my peanuts are 4 years old.  I feel like it was 3 months ago that my pals were in the NICU and the size of a burrito.  A bean burrito.  My sister said it best when she said that when you have kids the days go S-L-O-W and the years fly by.

The day started off with donuts, party hats, lei’s and picture boards that I made for each child and then the left with a goodie bag to take home.  What happened to singing a 3 second version of Happy Birthday, throwing a fun size Snickers at your pal and calling it a day?!?!  LONG GONE.  Which for full disclosure, I have to say, as much as I bitch, I love it.  I am a huge craft nerd and love being burned with hot glue and going way overborad.

They got to pick 4 pictures of the 632 photos that Mommy laminated and matted and spent 17 hours on…but 4 is good. 4 is good.

Then Mommy got special doughnuts because cupcakes are SOOO  2005.

The best part of the day was Abbott watching Eden’s photo board presentation.  He clearly had more important things to do.  Mommy has been hanging with me 99.9% of his life but picking up a few things from his daddy.

“Listen Eden….this is interesting and all but I have seen these pics and gotta run.  Places to go and people to see.  Possibly even a diaper to shit. ”

Then we did a fancy “airport” pick-up for the kids and daddy even came.  That was the best part.

We then went to a little place that resembles what I can only think hell is like.  Chuck E. Cheese.  All  I can say is – Thank God they serve beer.  Bad tap beer at that but we needed one to carry around as we slugged tokens into every machine possible.  They really have the attention span of a gnat.  They would be playing one game and see something that looked a bit more enticing and they were off…..By my estimate I burned 386 calories just lugging the giant baby around and chasing them from one dirty game to the next.  We took a Purell bath when we were done.  I am not a germy freak either but I think I saw a pepperoni and a pubic hair on the ski-ball machine.

How do you top Chuck E. Cheese?  Well, you really don’t in their minds but we had a Minion themed bowling party with our pals.  Bowling and 4 year olds do not really go hand in hand, more like hand and hair.

I have to give credit where credit is due and my husband puts up with my nuerotic attention to detail and tendency to go overboard.  For every kids birthday, I make us all coordinate.  This year the kids picked a minion theme so we all wore matching gear.  I chose to have a minion shirt with googly eyes front and center – on my boobs.  The best part is I had not a clue about the placement until about 10:00 pm when my sister pointed it out.  Now I like the shirt even more.  Best part – the minion’s goggles glow in the dark.  I can’t wait to go walk the dog in this thing tonight.

I also made my own party favors for the party and holy balls…if you had any idea how long this took me, you would slap me across the face.  This is when pinterest kicked me in the ass.

All in all it was a great day.  We finally got to give the kids the birthday presents that we have had hiding since January when I got them at Target at an “after Christmas sale”.  I LOVE a good deal more than anyone and these beauties were 90% off!  38 bucks each.  You cannot beat that with a stick…or a tree.

So, wish us luck as we head into our 4th year of life.  It has been an amazing four years filled with more laughs then I can count, approximately 10,000 dirty diapers, a few temper tantrums and the best hugs and kisses you could ever get.

Happy Birthday L.A and Eden.  You are my dreams come true.  You have come a long way from your first days in a petri dish.  As I tell you every day about 87 times – I love you to the maximum.  If I loved you anymore I might burst into flames…and nobody needs to put that out.  Can you imagine the smell?  Burnt bronzer and cabernet cannot smell good.

Wow.  I was always thought the middle child was supposed to get screwed but not at our house.  In our house the youngest wears Christmas pajama’s in May, gets his hair cut in the backyard and he plays with a Buzz Lightyear that is literally a stump – no arms or legs left.  It is just a barrel shaped body and get this, it does not even have a head – but it DOES have buttons that you can push and it still makes noise.

My poor sweet Abbott get’s bulldozed by his brother and sister on a daily basis and he just takes it…all of it.  They use him as a pillow, drag him around by his feet and just yesterday Eden sat on his head and he barely flinched.

After Miss Eden used him as a bean bag, she decided to turn it up a notch as my guy was attempting to climb up the slide….yes, up.  Why is it that all kids want to go up the slide more than they want to go down?

Then it happened, she went down the slide with full force gusto and clocked the poor little guy into Tuesday.  He literally flew through the air.  What was Mommy doing?  Taking photos….I did not see it coming but by the look on his petrified face, he saw it and knew there was no turning back.

The blurred feet might be my favorite part.  It really accentuates the visual…

After I picked him up and dusted the poor guy off, he got right back on the horse and started right up that slide again.  Nothing fazes this guy.  He is one tough cookie.  The best part is that one day he is going to get his brother and sister back.  They are tiny short little shrimps and My guy Abbs has been off the charts since birth.  He is my giant buttery guy who happens to be covered in bruises…and graham cracker crumbs.

As Mother’s day approaches, my thoughts focus (even more so than usual) on my own Mother and what she has done for so many people and in particular what she has put up with raising a small army of children.  She is a mother of 7 kids and 17 grand-kids.  She is nothing short of amazing.

On top of all of us, she puts up with this guy – The Albino Gyno aka The Silver Bullet and sometimes he is like her 8th kid.  Don’t get me wrong, my dad is AWESOME, sometimes way too awesome.  There is absolutely no one else that I would rather spend a Saturday night with.  No one.  He too is nothing short of amazing but we’ll save that one for Father’s day.  My dad does not mess around and I love it.

My mother has put up with her share of naughty kids and for this, I apologize.

That time you told me I could not drive the car to South Padre Island for Spring Break and I did anyway, I am sorry.  That time you sent me to High School with bottles of wine for all my teachers for Christmas gifts and they never made it to their rightful owners, I am sorry.  On a side note, thanks for a fancy Friday night in someone’s basement.  Everyone else was drinking Busch light and me and my pals were sipping on an 89 Cabernet.  What about that time I made my little sister poop in a crayon box?  Sorry for the smell.  Sorry for all the High School parties we threw right under your noses and all the watered down vodka.  Do you remember when Dad came home after a rough day at the office and poured himself a “water martini”?  Oops.  Sorry for all those nights where  I left you up waiting without calling.  Sorry for all those mornings that I walked out of the house without telling you, “thanks for the breakfast you just made and the lunch you just packed.”  I envied the kids who got to have hot lunch, I thought they were the lucky one’s.  I was wrong – you made my lunch, with lots of love…..stale chips and love.  I always pack my pals lunch now and always include a note that lets them know that Mommy is thinking of them.  I remember when you would jot a little note on my napkin and it made my day.

Now that I am a mother myself, it is amazing all of the tiny things you notice.  I notice every “I love you Mommy” and every sweet little kiss I get from my favorite people that call me “Mommy.”  Being a Mom is the most amazing thing ever and I have been beyond blessed to have learned from the best.  You taught me so much and still continue to do so.  You taught me that laughter really is the best medicine and that a shitty diaper is really not that bad.  13 shitty diapers in  one day is another story but one or two, not bad.

You helped me navigate through twins as a first time mother by letting me not become overwhelmed and to not take it so seriously.  You told me there will be tears and fighting and fevers and scraped knees, but that is ok.  It is part of life.  My pals and I laugh every day, because of you.  I like to think that I have done a lot of things in my life but being a mom is what I do best….because I learned from the best.

Not only are you an amazing mother to all of us, you are about the best Nonie a kid could ask for.  My kids are so blessed to have you in their lives.  The only thing better than me calling you, “Mom” is my pals getting to call you “Nonie”.  You have read my pals countless books, given them a zillion hugs, had hundreds of phone calls where you could not make out a word, painted and colored, changed trillions of diapers, applied nut cream to more balls than we care to remember and made dozens and dozens of cupcakes, cookies and scrambled eggs.

All of this and you still sleep in the top bunk with Eden EVERY time you come to visit.  That right there is about the most awesome thing ever…cramped quarters, 8 feet off of the ground with a child who tosses and turns more than a baby alligator on speed in her sleep.  I know you crawl up there and sleep about 12 minutes total but you still do it every time for her, because she will not have it any other way.  You are her everything.

So, thank you Mom.  Thanks for loving me as much as you do even when I make it tough.  Thanks for being so much more than just a mom – you are my best friend, my guidance counselor, my personal 5 star chef, my nanny, my cleaning lady, my personal comedian, my cheerleader and my biggest fan.

Happy Mother’s day to you.  I love you…..today, tomorrow and ALWAYS.

Well, he did it.  My big buttery guy has hit the world wide web and I think it is hysterical.  I knew he was going places.  Next stop – Good Morning America.

A friend sent me this link that has Abs’ photo with his trusty tampon.  He is in the 4th one down.  The link is “40 reasons why kids ruin everything good in the world.”  I am not sure about the headline but none the less, it is a pretty funny link.  I think a kid that carries a tampon everywhere he goes does the opposite of ruin the world, I think my guy makes it a better place.  A better, more absorbent world.

http://news.distractify.com/people/terrible-things-parents-have-to-deal-with-that-non-parents-are-lucky-for/?v=1

He also has a mohawk now which makes everything better.  Who doesn’t love a baby with a mohawk?

Well, we did it.  We did not get the pesky little critters known as lice.  My pals school had an outbreak and it was running pretty rampant so yesterday we got an email about it from the principal and some fancy pants health board.  I don’t know but it seemed pretty official and scared the shit out of me.  I have seen what lice can do to a house and it is not pretty.  I had to send each of my pals to school with 2 dollars to have some old lady with rubber gloves let them know if they had critters or not.  We were told that if we received a phone call and had infected children, they needed to be picked up asap.  All morning I cringed every time my phone rang.  I figured once I made it to about 11 am, I was in the clear.

I have to admit, I was certain if anyone was going to get lice, it would be us.  Why wouldn’t we get lice?  We are the total lice family.  If I were lice I would want to live here.  It just seems right up our alley.  We wear Christmas pajama’s to bed in April, we eat english muffin pizzas every week for dinner, the manager (Rudy) at Taco Bell knows us, we just got a giant above ground pool in the mail, our favorite family movie is “Bad Grandpa” and we cried collectively when shamrock shakes ceased from our Thursday after school treat routine.

We go on walks that end up having every neighbor open the door to simply see what the hell all that noise is, I simply tell then that I have 3 kids and an insane Jack Russell and I am no longer the boss.  I lost that position about 6 months ago.  I was demoted.

So I regress but yes, we were thrilled that we passed the lice test with flying colors.  I did a quick check before school and it looked good to me.  For a split second I thought I saw something in L.A.’s luscious locks of hair but it turned out to be a sesame seed.  If anyone could tell me how in the hell he had a sesame seed in his hair, I would like to know.  Did he sneak out for Lox and a bagel without me?  Did he eat a bagel in bed?  These are all questions I have.

So I am sorry to every other family at St. Vincent’s that got those nasty critters because if they knew where they would be having the most fun, it would be right here, right now.  We could name them and teach them to do tricks. I am thinking Pedro, Simon, Chester, Pat and Hercules are all good names for lice.

But let’s be honest, I NEVER want to find out if Pedro and his pals like it at my house or on my kids noodles or in their beds or on their stuffed animals……and to all the mom’s who are disinfecting their houses as I type this and washing every shred of clothing – NEVER underestimate the power of Cabernet.

So, I just googled it and apparently my pals are still technically toddlers which according to Wikipedia is 1-3 years old.  They are toddlers….and they play T-ball.  Sort of.

There is actually not a lot of playing of T-ball that goes on.  There is actually none if I am being honest.  I will tell you what there is a lot of though….crying.  Lots of it.  Not listening…..lots of that too.

I can’t believe they actually line up and pretend to listen to Coach Dylan and Coach Cory.  These two guys deserve a statue in their honor and I cannot for the life of me figure out how they got roped into this gig.  It has got to be community service of some sort…or maybe they lost a giant bet.

They actually do put the ball on the “T” and hit it.  Each kid gets about 834 tries and 833 of those swings make perfect contact with the “T” but I have seen it happen.  I have seen contact and it was brilliant.  L.A. did it on his 834th attempt.  It was amazing.

Eden just looked damn cute in her giant bows.

There use real balls.  They use metal bats.  There are no helmets.  There is no order.  Not an ounce of order.  If you are watching it from across the street it probably looks like 16 three and four year old’s have been dipped in honey and are running from a swarm of angry bee’s.  Coach Cory told L.A. to run to first base and he did, he really did, but he kept going…and going…all the way to the playground on the opposite side of the park.

My favorite part was when my pals got into a fight on second base.  They did not want to share it.  Eden refused to leave and go to third so L.A. took matters into his own hands and whopped her with his “ball bag”.  Yes, that is what he calls his mitt….his “ball bag”.  Then they both cried….and cried and cried.  Then Mom almost cried.

2 weeks down, 6 to go.  Wish us luck.

I have an obsession with Taco Bell.  I cannot tell a lie.  I do not know what it is but it gets me.  Every.  Single.  Time.

I am not sure what it is – the fake sour cream that comes out of what appears to be caulk gun or the Doritos taco or the powdered beans.  I don’t care either, all I care about is how delicious it is.  It has been that way since I was a little kid.  When we were little, Grandma Vogel would take us to Taco Bell and let us order whatever we wanted.  If we wanted the expensive mexican pizza and 4 tacos with “sour cream”, no problem.  We were usually only allowed plain tacos or bean burritos when Mom was in charge so this whole “order whatever the hell you want” thing was a dream for the Vogel kids.

My kids have (thankfully) inherited my love for mexican food, particularly crunchy tacos and even better – Taco Bell.  If I ever give them a choice for a dinner entree, it is always the same – “tacos and beans with sauce”.  They would pick a crunchy taco over a chicken nugget any old day.  I love this because then I get to partake in one of my favorite things.  We don’t eat a ton of fast food but sometimes Mommy wants a break and sometimes when she is tired of saying “no” we hit them up.  I am not afraid to admit it.  Too many people out there try and turn their nose up at fast food and Mom’s that give it to their kids.  Let’s get serious, EVERYONE has a Happy Meal here and there and it is ok.  If you really don’t, more power to you I guess but I am not sure we can be friends.

I was out running errands with L.A. the other day which was a treat in and of itself.  I love when I get to spend time with my kids one on one.  Being twins means they do everything together, all the time.  We had family in town for Easter so Eden got to spend the day with Papa and Aunt Sas downtown and L.A. and Mommy went grocery shopping and to Target.  I told him that Mommy would take him out for a special lunch.  When I said “Special Lunch” I had no idea it would be Taco Bell.  His request was this, “Mommy, I love you so much.  Can we have Taco Bell?”  The kid could have said, “Mommy, you smell like a garbage butt and have 386 wrinkles on your zitty face.  Can we have Taco Bell?” and the response would have been the same.  Hell to the yes.

So my best big guy and I waltzed in to Taco Bell, sat down in the plushest booth and he out ate me by a long shot.  This kid ate 3, yes 3 crunch tacos with “white sauce” and a pintos and cheese (with extra sauce, naturally).  I was impressed.  Mom stuck with 2 items – a crunchy taco supreme and a meximelt.  I suggest you try and replicate my order some day, you will not be disappointed.

So here’s to Taco Bell, “sour cream” and spending the day with my favorite big guy…..I suggest you all go treat yourself and “Run to the border.”

(For the record, I cannot get on board with this whole taco Bell breakfast.  The whole waffle taco thing literally makes me want to hurl. There is no need to use a waffle as a taco shell, there just isn’t.  Man up and wait until 11:00.)