I'm a real mom today.

Like, one of those for real moms. I was up at 6. Zach was already gone for work. So I had sole responsibility for feeding, dressing, controlling the whining and getting the kids in the car by 7:50 in order to get Stella to preschool on time.

Plus, as an added bonus, I was able to get myself ready as well. Makeup and all.

It was pretty much a miracle.

I am loving preschool though, so there might have been this surge of motivation, I am lacking other mornings.

Stella's decision to go to preschool stemmed from a text from my mother. I had actually written off preschool all together, resigned to do my best at home and send her to kindergarten with the full confidence she would do fine.

I had actually even had a conversation with Stella's future kindergarten teacher about how necessary preschool actually is. She told me it wasn't necessary at all. Kids do fine either way, she said, they all end the year with the same amount of knowledge.

I'm assuming its a lot like teaching the piano. You can start your children as young as you want. But until they get a full handle on reading, which happens in second grade, they are not going to advance very far. Whether kids start at 3 or 8, they end the year with the same amount of talent.

Well most kids. Unless your Justin Beiber talented. :)

Anyways, they had an open spot at OCA and we jumped on it. We had to. Stella is, I'm pretty sure, ready to leave the next. Like all together. Like get an apartment, find a job, drive a car kind of ready.

We both were ready for some peace of mind.

And it feels SO good to have her at OCA. I cannot even tell you.

I left dance on Wednesday feeling traumatized. I got a crash course briefing on what goes on in todays' Middle Schools and I kind of felt like I would give up society all together and homeschool the children after leaving.

Sexting. Naked Pictures. Inappropriate Relations of Biblical Proportions.

I can't do it. I cannot think about my little girls in compromising situations without having a panic attack.

So you know there's only one thing to do, right? Yes, exactly. Educate them. And Educate them early.

And I don't just mean be open and honest with my kids. That's a given. I mean scare the living daylights out of them with pictures of horrifying STD's and teen pregnancies. Maybe even make them watch a live birth from a young age. Like a really young age. Like tomorrow.

Fear tactics work people!

I know this because that's part of my Saladmaster job. :) In the sense that sometimes the truth is terrifying and you have got to use that to your advantage.

So I plan to use them.

Well, and after thinking about the horror stories of the preteen years, I got to thinking, well maybe its just those isolated stories. You know, everybody on earth tells the worst stories. We wouldn't sit around scaring and shocking each other with all the outstanding examples of couples who wait until their married and teenagers who stand up and just say no. They exist. They are becoming fewer and far between, but I have to believe they still exist!

But then, the next day we were at the doctor. My new second home. I'm there like three times a week.

Anyways, and then this female doctor we had started talking to me, for no apparent reason whatsoever, about how her daughter informs her of all the middle school couples or kids that are sexually active and who is sleeping with who and she's like, what do I do? Do I call their parents? What would you do?

And I'm all, I don't know! I can't give you this advice! You're a doctor. You went to school forever! I am trusting you to figure out this rash on Stella's arm, please tell me you are capable enough to figure this one out on your own.

But yes. Call their parents. I would be furious if all of the other parents at school knew something that dangerous about my child and were afraid to tell me. I mean, wouldn't you be?

I once upon a time had a different opinion on the matter. Its funny how things change after having children of my own.

So anyways. Apparently that's our world. And I know it can happen at OCA. Believe me, I know. But still. I'm hoping for the best.

Oh its been forever since I've blogged, there is just so much to write about!

Birthday week is FINALLY over. This year felt more hectic and chaotic than normal. It might be the fact that there's a newborn in the mix now. And because of that I feel limited in the amount of things I can accomplish every day. Mostly because I am literally tied to the couch like 20 hours of the day trying to keep that little boy fed.

Seriously. He's crying right now. But I just fed him 20 minutes ago. So I am refusing to acknowledge that I can hear him. Although I can feel the Cave-In just around the corner, lest I be accused of child neglect.

I'm just so tired. All the time so tired. I haven't even planned the girls birthday party yet! And their birthdays are officially over!

I just don't know how someone can be hungry all of the time. All the time......

I'm losing brain power. Last night, after the shower, instead of putting hair product in my hair, I got confused and used lotion. Yes, pink, flowery, Avon lotion. It was awful. I tried to rinse it out. But there was only so much I could do.

And I'm so forgetful.

On my birthday, which I can't even talk about my gray hairs and crows feet as a result of turning a year older right now, I kept forgetting it was my birthday. Zach had to keep reminding me. And it wasn't even one of those things I just wanted to forget. I actually kept forgetting it.

It would help if I had more access to the computer, but as it is, with nursing 99% of the time, I feel like I've been grounded from a Social Network Life.

Ah the joys of motherhood.

That apparently, in the last 48 hours include a terribly painful and miserable Urinary Tract Infection.

Ok. I give up. I can't complain anymore.