Fresh Princess of Walmart!

So, we had just returned to America (in the midst of Covid) and were through our quarantine at home – I mean, after all, we had just traveled halfway across the world in the middle of a pandemic …

It was the month of my mom’s birthday – April 2020 – and we also needed a few supplies at the rental where we were staying.

And, let’s just be a little honest, I wanted out of the house. To explore.

To see the world!

So, we hopped in our borrowed car and drove straight to Walmart!

My encounter there reminds me of fan favorite (and my personal favorite) Fresh Prince …

You remember the theme song?

If you do, you can sing our story …

Now, this is a story all about how

My life got flipped-turned upside down (Thanks, Covid!)

And I’d like to take a minute

To sit right there

I’ll tell you how I returned to a town called Chandler

In west Chandler born and raised (Actually born in Mesa)

On the playground was where I spent most of my days

Chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool

And all shootin some b-ball outside of the school (Erie and Knox! AJHS & CHS)

When a couple of shoppers who were up to no good

Started making trouble in my neighborhood —- Walmart that is

I got in one little verbal fight and my husband got scared

He said ‘You’re not allowed’ back in your hood … #chandler

Okay, okay.

You got me. It wasn’t really a verbal fight. Sparring match. Or encounter of physical form at any time —- BUT —- believe me when I say, Walmart Chandler off of the 202 and Arizona Avenue heard from me!

And this is really how my story goes …

My husband (the better half of the Two Makes Crazy) and I were shopping, birthday shopping, Easter shopping, Mother’s Day shopping —- just generally, masked-up, crazed hand sanitized, shopping without littles or a teen in the mystical land full of all sorts of creatures – called Superstore (aka Walmart).

I found my mom the perfect gift. Yes, at Walmart. It couldn’t have been more perfect for my mom – let me explain why.

If you have met my mom, she is sunshine and delight. She is rainbows. And she is unicorns.

She is laughter and encouragement. The world needs more lovelies like her in it.

And her mom – my eldest daughter’s namesake, Marguerite (aka Tootsie), was laughter. She was a pint-sized miniature granny in a bottle.

She lived a full and extremely hard life. She lost big big big (burying 3 of her children, two as infants, and her husband) – and, yet, still managed to laugh well.

And Tootsie, sweet, feisty, amazing, Tootsie had a fan-favorite toy – if you could call it that.

It was a dancing bear that would dance and sing at the push of a button.

And the cackling laughter of a woman that has lived long would fill the room. Her laughter was loud. It was squeaky. It was combined with lots of exclamations.

And it was infectious.

Even if you didn’t think the stupid, dancing bear was funny, it would take you 2.3 seconds to, all of a sudden, find the obnoxious bear amazing. And you would push the dancing singing paw over and over again – simply to hear Tootsie laugh.

So – when I saw IT at Walmart, I just knew.

It beckoned me.

It called my name.

It was shiny.

It was musical.

It was a unicorn.

It danced.

And it sang.

It was the perfect gift for my mom.

And, in the nostalgia of the moment, reliving the past while in the present, I pushed the button of this musical, dancing unicorn in the middle of the aisles of Walmart over and over again.

Best of all – it was the VERY LAST UNICORN on the shelf!

I had won.

Best gift of 2020 was going down with my name on it. And I just knew my mom would laugh – maybe not as loud, long, or hard, as Tootsie – but I knew it would bring joy!

And so I placed it in my cart, turned my back, and began looking for a card and bag to accompany it.

Within 2.5 seconds, there was a whoosh!

Like a flash.

So I turned.

Behind me, in my cart, was nothing.

No unicorn.

No joy.

No dancing.

No singing.

And that’s when the Chandler in me came out and I threw down.

Okay, not literally.

I hollered, very (let’s just leave it at one very and, yet, imagine a very – very – very in there) loudly,

“Oh, COME ON, PEOPLE! DON’T STEAL FROM PEOPLE’S BASKETS! GET REAL!”

With my loud proclamation came, immediately, literally, before I could blink my eyes, a small crowd of curious shoppers.

“What happened?”

“Are you okay?”

And the funniest of all —- “DID SOMEONE STEAL YOUR TOILET PAPER???!!!”

Yes, in the middle of a pandemic, you would think that would be a logical thing to get upset about – so imagine the surprise of the other shoppers when I said, “No, my magical, singing and dancing unicorn.”

Their concern for my cart-thievery did not hold.

After all, they did not care about my unicorn the way I did. Perhaps their toys that would dance and sing were not as memorable as mine.

So, they left.

And my cart remained empty.

But, no! I was not done.

I shouted again.

Let’s just say, the volume was ample.

“Really! A gift for my mom! Get real, people!”

And then I decided to do something kind-of stupid. Something that I would tell my teenager to never do – I went looking for a “Cart War!”

After all, they messed with my cart, I was coming after theirs!

So, I left the aisle I was in. I left my husband. I left my empty cart – and I began the trek around Walmart – eyeing everyone’s carts. Seeing if I could find the sneaky soul.

I know how to confront. I am not afraid of a fight. After all, I have broken up teenage fist fights in my neighborhood in Poland by grabbing their ears, as well as chased away bad men that were beating up a homeless man at a tram stop in Poznan.

I have served murders soup in my home.

And I have released my dog on approaching robbers in the middle of the night.

I have watched my daughter surrounded by machine guns at the Temple Mount.

And I have taken money back from a man because he did not deserve it. Literally – opened up his jacket, reached into his pocket, and took it back.

So there is no way that some lunatic at Walmart (I use that loosely, as I am most likely looking like the lunatic here) was getting away with my unicorn.

Battle on.

Unfortunately …

I mean, fortunately …

My mission was very short lived.

Apparently the cart thief did not think my unicorn worthy of a fight. So they ditched it on a clothing table.

My prize – tossed – haphazardly – in the middle of a pile of messy clothes.

I am sure it had a soft landing.

I picked it up, looked around for guilty faces. Saw none. (Sly thief)

And pushed the hoof.

Sure enough – the song and dance once again filled the store.

And laughter my memories.

Holding onto my unicorn, I found my husband (who did not pursue this unicorn on foot like I did). We made it through the rest of Wally’s World without incident – and the lovely, hard-fought, unicorn…

Well, let’s just say, it made it to my mom.

With a story to boot!

Maybe the unicorn doesn’t make her laugh as loud as Tootsie’s bear. But, with each push of the button, my heart is flooded with memories.

And laughter.

And, now, a new reason to smile.

I was back in my hood.

#conquererofwalmart #freshprincessofchandler

“What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul.”

Yiddish Proverb

Article explaining the benefits of laughter:

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/laughing-health_b_4519611

A decade is simply a word …

I don’t come to And 2 Makes Crazy often — my life in Poland turned into the mundane. My children grew bigger. My sanity slowly returned. And, yet, despite it all, life really hasn’t slowed. Life hasn’t gotten less crazy #worldpandemic, and, truth be told, we are still 2 — 20 years married now (YIKES) — and we still drive each other crazy. Er. I mean, we’re both crazy. Two and Crazy. Hence the title.

But, through it all, as the world spins, and time seems to fade away, my heart still remains my heart. And that will never change.

Even in a decade.

As October’s golden sun and brilliant leaves grace the skies and grounds – and we head into a month of thankfulness, I remain, forever, indebted to the littlest heartbeat of all for soul-crushingly teaching me the truths of life, delicate life, and love that has absolutely no end.

Xo from here to you!

B

www.facebook.com/729244049/posts/10159312298089050/

What do you do?

I keep people alive every day.

Some professionals call this a doctor.

I keep people out of trouble. Even prison.

Some professionals call this a lawyer.

I have a 24-hour food service.

Some businesses call this an all-night diner.

I make sure individuals are eating properly.

Some professionals call this a nutritionist.

I provide full-service cleaning of home and garden.

Some businesses call this Merry Maids. Others Lawn Services.

I organize an entire empire, guaranteeing the success of my subordinates.

Some professionals call this a CEO.

I listen to hurts and pains and help guide to a healthier and stronger emotional well being.

Some professionals call this a psychologist.

I pray with, for, and share scriptures with those in attendance.

Some professionals call this a pastor.

I even democratically rule my own country…with the strong use of Veto when necessary.

Some would say that I am a self-appointed democratic monarchy—ruling both the party and the crown. Therefore, calling me simultaneously Mrs. President and HRM the Queen.

Yes, many professionals and businesses may give me many names…

But, for those under my roof, they simply call me mom!

Slodkie Czary Mary

Making candy that we are so quick to gobble up is a beautiful process perhaps far too under appreciated!

On our recent trip to Wroclaw, we were able to see a sweets shop make little bits of hard candy like grandma would give you and finish with the grand finale of a heart sucker. It was a hot yet delightful experience—and I literally felt as excited as a “kid in a candy shop” !!!

To begin, the candy base has to be heated until it reaches the perfect temp. Then it is dumped onto a granite tabletop to cool for a period of time.

Aren’t we all a bit like candy? When we are a little too hot, we also need a cooling off period.

While it is in the process of cooling, the Candy Gals begin adding the colors for their upcoming projects.

After, the candy is cut and the second process begins—it’s nearly like a play-doh factory.

You begin by folding and pounding the candy.

Which then leads to stretching it…

After stretching, they begin the process of separating their colors and building their desired result/s—which this one would eventually become a heart lolly.

Along the way, however, was almost like a “dessert break” because they took a portion of the sucker and made it into tiny little pieces of hard candy which they promptly served to our room full of eager eaters.

The candies were still warm, sour, and brought me back to grandma’s house.

While we were all sucking on our nostalgic delights, the final project was expertly being finished with twisting, turning, cutting and shaping…

Until finally, voile! The heart lolly!

Which then goes for sale at the store, Slodkie Czary Mary!

Am I patient enough to make candy?

Perhaps.

Am I eager enough to eat it?

Pretty sure that’s a resounding You Betcha!

Do I recommend stopping in and watching this process?

Absolutely!

Did I feel just like a delightful kid in a candy shop?

The entire time!

Hence, we should all find ourselves watching how candy is made because then we have truly experienced time travel…even if just for a moment!

#wroclaw #poland #slodkieczarymary

Dessert to steal your heart…

I kid you not…we ate these divine ditties in the Square of Wroclaw while watching bubbles float over fountains and listening to a solo saxophone playing love songs with soulful perfection…

After that we walked across Saint Jadwiga’s bridge to board a small boat and travel the Odra, taking in every magical sight…

Before crossing the bridge of love to leave our mark with a lock…

I can recommend visiting so many places in Poland. But this one, Wroclaw, truly will steal your heart!

And then light it on fire at night with an actual lamp lighter, in full costume, walking the streets bringing them from darkness into night life…

All the while, church bells ring…

Would I recommend travel to Poland?

In a heartbeat!

Would I recommend Wroclaw?

Is the Pope Catholic???

Yes!

The Midnight Bullfrog!

Seriously.  I was having so much fun hanging out at a friend’s house that it was just before midnight when I gathered my 3 and 5 year old kiddos up and stuffed them in the van for the ride home.  We barely made it out of the neighborhood when I saw the BEST thing I could have ever seen…a humongous bullfrog hopping across the road in front of me!

I pulled the car over, put on my hazards, and then took off after the bullfrog in the dead of night.  

A car came around the corner.  I don’t think they knew what to do.  Stop and help the lady and the van or just watch as I chased this bullfrog down the street?  Apparently they figured I was not in need of assistance as I grabbed the bullfrog and let out a loud whoop of delight.  So they continued driving on. By this time I’m slightly far away from the van with my kids (bullfrogs are FAST little buggers), so I begin a quick trot back to them—a proud trot.  An “I am an accomplished mom because I have captured a bullfrog.  I am a bullfrog capturer,” type of trot!  

And just as I go to open the passenger back door to show my triumphant capture, the bullfrog squirted (urine—yuck) ALL OVER ME!  My hands.  My arms.  My legs.  The bullfrog pee was running down my leg.  I kid you not.  And, as the bullfrog’s number 1 was covering me in disgusting wetness, all I could do in that moment was hold this midnight bullfrog high in the air and proclaim, “Look what I caught for you, children!”  

The kids?!  

They squealed and laughed and just thought that a mom covered in froggy pee-pee was the BEST gift anyone in the world could have given them.  I don’t even think they even saw the bullfrog through their laughter.  

As I finally released the bullfrog in the greenway for its freedom, I returned to the car to hear Max, my 5-year-old say, “I thought you caught me a present.  I didn’t know you were going to bring me pee.” 

Neither did I, Max.  Neither did I.

But, in the end, sometimes laughter is the best present after all!  

Does this look like vacation?

I am fairly sure I don’t even need to write a lot.  

We are on vacation.  

But really???

Hashtag: life; reality; parenting; humor

No rest for the wicked…

Oh, wait.  I mean the mommies (smile and wink).

Greetings from La Jolla sunny California!

Dzien Matki — Mother’s Day in Poland

I am pretty sure I just ate candy my son gave me from his grubby fingers—and I am not sure the last time he washed his hands.  Or went to the bathroom and forgot to wash his hands.  I am actually gagging a little bit right now.  Really.  My stomach is not feeling so well.  Hashtag “truemom”.  EATING NASTY GERMS FROM GRUBBY DIRTY FINGERS.  Sigh.

Therefore, let’s just say that I am VERY VERY VERY happy to be celebrating the upcoming day about ME in Poland.  Dzien Matki.  May 26th.  Mother’s Day.

In Poland, Mother’s Day is the same day year after year after year.  Kind-of like Women’s Day, Wigilia, your birthday, your anniversary, New Year’s … MOTHER’S DAY!  It is set in stone and NEVER GOES AWAY!

Kind of like our kids, eh????!!!! (smile and wink)

Anyhow, this upcoming Mother’s Day I think that I am going to set expectations for my kids:

1.  I am going to expect for them to make me frustrated.
2. I am going to expect for them to make a mess.
3. I am going to expect for them to NOT leave me in peace when I have to pee OR merely pick up the phone—EVEN THOUGH, moments before, they had forgotten about the very existence of me.
4. I am going to expect for them to cry over their hair styles or crust.  YES—the crust on their bread.
5. I am going to expect for them to have a small accident in their underpants—just enough so that they will not want to wear the same pair and not enough to make a mess on the floor.  The in between stage of wet.  Enough, however, where they will then declare that they must STRIP NAKED and be.  For the rest of the day.
6. I am going to expect for my toddler to wake me at 3am.  Or 5am.  Or 6am.  And not at all appreciate that they day is about ME!
7. I am going to expect for the pre-teen (nastolatek) to give me grief.  I don’t know about what.  About the volume of my voice or the fact that SHE CANNOT WEAR MY SHOES.
8. I am going to expect for them to fight and argue about the 1 block.  On the floor.  When there are 1 million and 12 other blocks right next to the 1 block.  And there are 500,000 of those 1 million and 12 blocks that are exactly the same as the 1 block that they are rowing over.
9. I am going to expect them to stub their toes, blacken their eyes, break their teeth, or scrape their knees.  I know this because it will happen.  My three year old currently has a black eye and a huge forehead mark from tripping onto the training wheel bike tire and also falling on the side of the trampoline.  All in a day’s work.  So I am going to expect a trip to the hospital, a broken bone, or a bandaged knee.  It will happen.
10. And, lastly, I am going to expect a gazillion times over for them to tell me that they “Love me the most!”  And fight over it.  And cuddle me.  And then fight over cuddling me.  And then fight once again about who loves Momma the most.  Because it will happen.  I expect it.

And number 10 makes up for 1-9.

As I expect it should.

So, you see, Mother’s Day in Poland is really no different than Mother’s Day anywhere else in the world.  If you come from a dirt floor or a mansion that touches the sky, being MOM is full of a million and one expectations that always start with DISASTER…But that one moment (#10) will make up for all of the tornadoes that will come in and hijack your day.

In the end, however, you don’t mind.  Because it’s a nice feeling.  Being mom.

But NOT eating the grubby food from their fingers.  Leave that behind on Dzien Matki.  I am pretty sure that is not a nice feeling.

Not at all.

Happy Mother’s Day from Poland to YOU!

Happy Mother’s Day for the woman that is not the mother…

Today may be a day that is your least favorite day of the year.  Mother’s Day.

Maybe you even feel a little guilty for not liking the day because you had an amazing mom.

Perhaps you have siblings, friends, or cousins that are AMAZING moms but you are not a mom.

Perhaps you are not a mom because a baby was just never given to you.

And you feel.

Well, you may not know how to feel but you know that you feel.  Deeply.

Perhaps you are not a mom by choice.

Yet your eyes wander the world on this day and see other women celebrated.  And this makes you feel.

You don’t know how it makes you feel.  But it does.

Perhaps you were a mom and then your babies or children were taken from you.  Too soon.  And now you, the mom, are a mom forever and always but you don’t have your baby to say on this day, “YOU ARE MY MOM!”

And this makes you feel.

On this day, ladies, all I can say is that every beautiful trait of YOU is wrapped into a beautiful box and displayed with the grandeur of the perfect woman.

You are that woman.

That beautiful treasure that is perfect just the way she is.

Strong.

Resilient.

A fighter.

A lover.

A giver.

A friend.

A woman.

A woman who makes our world a more beautiful place.

You make this world a place where I can travel with my daughters and say, “Look!  You are perfect for who you are!”

You, dear woman, are the reason that my daughter will walk tall and strong and proud.  Because who knows what her one day will hold.

Maybe it will hold children.  Maybe it will not.  Maybe it will hold a husband.  Maybe it will not.  Maybe it will hold loss.  Maybe it will not.

But when she looks about this world, she needs to see YOU.

She needs to see that one day — SHE IS ENOUGH as the woman that she is.  Because she is fearfully and wonderfully made!

So, today, on Mother’s Day, Ladies, I would like to say “Thank you” to you.  Because of you, I can point to my daughters and say “Look at this woman and see what she has done!  The world is stronger and more creative, beautiful, and kind because of her.  Be like her!”

And my daughters will go to bed remembering all that you are…

The woman that makes our world a better place.

 

Becoming Diaper Free…Finally??? A potty blog for parents!

Okay—I have an 11-year old.  She is diaper free.

Max is nearly 5.  He is diaper free.

Josephine is approaching 3 and 1/2.   As of last night, she is officially diaper free!

That’s old.  You may state.

That’s okay.  Another may add.

To both and each their own.

My little 3 year old is hilarious.  She has been advanced in walking and talking and eating and singing and bravery and living…

And not in pooping.  On the potty.

So much so that she would go for up and past 10 days, sometimes, without plopping a single drop.

One time, her constipation actually made her sick.  The doctor said—she just needs to poop.  Are you giving her anything to help her poop?

We were.  We had tried everything.  Foods, drinks, medicines…Bribery.  Tears.  Pulling out our hair.  And she still refused to poop.

Finally we had to goose the girl with a very uncomfortable czopek before she produced the results we needed — and her body immediately began to recover and heal.

Well—finally we were diaper free for pee and since she only pooped every 3-11 days, she would just tell us when she had to go.  Easy peasy pudding and pie…

Then our last pull-up disappeared one evening and we were too lazy to run to the store for more.

Josephine cried.

We cried.  (Ours, however, tears of ka-ching in our pockets—NO MORE DIAPER MONEY NEEDED)

And we refused to run and buy her a diaper.  Even when she had to potty.

Which, in our lives, was actually a really freaky thing.  We didn’t want her to be constipated.  We did not want her in pain.  We did not want to have to take her to the doctor or give her another czopek (glycerin tablet up the pupa).  We just wanted our little gal to be free.

Several days have passed since her last poopy—nerves were beginning in my mommy heart when last night—around 1am, I heard her cry out.

“Mommy, I need to pee!”

I ran into her room, raced her into the bathroom, and there she did.  HER FIRST EVER POOPY on the potty.

We immediately woke up daddy.  I am not sure he was as thrilled due to the insanely late hour of night—AND TODAY SHE RECEIVED A KINDER EGG!

A surprise for her surprise.

My friends.  If your children are a lot like my Josephine and have severe trouble pooping on the potty, please know that you are not alone.

It is a VERY hard road to walk down.

To some, it may seem like just a poop.  But to those of us in the situation, it is more that just a poop.  It is the health and well-being of our child…as well as sanity of our souls.

Give yourself a break.  Give your child a break.  And endure with great patience/pain and pray for the poop.

It’s okay to pray for the poop…

Just like it’s okay to cry when diapers are no longer in the budget 😉