I don’t know who came up with the phrase “Terrible Twos,” because with my three kids, age three has always been much worse than two. I was reminded of this today, when my three year old daughter had her first humongous public meltdown. It happened like this…

This morning, I needed to get some things from my favorite store, Target. I love going to Target. There is a Pizza Hut/Taco Bell snack area up front, and I can grab a soda to sip while I shop. Usually, I get a sugar cookie for my daughter, and she sits sweetly in the cart, smiling at strangers, waving at old folks. It’s a nice outing. Not today.

About halfway through the shopping, she decided to throw a big screaming fit. It was really magnificent. On the International Tantrum Scale (based on how many strangers would stop and stare), it was probably a 9 out of 10. There was crying, whining, screaming, falling on the floor, scratching, bleeding, hair stuck to snot, kicking… No vomiting, though. That would have made it a 10.

I will spare you the rest of the little details, but let me share some of the things I learned from today’s Tantrum at Target:

• Age three is more terrible than two, because a three year old is heavier, more wiggly, and can cause more damage during a tantrum.
• The first time a child has a huge tantrum at the store, it will be unexpectedly crowded, even though it’s a Monday, and people should be at work.
• The more difficult your child is being, the more people will stop their carts directly in your path, blocking your way.
• The ear-splitting shrieks of an angry toddler would make a highly effective torture device.
• The ear-splitting shrieks of an angry toddler would also make a highly effective birth control device.
• Chanting “this is not my child” to yourself while you wrestle the kid and try to drive the cart around the oblivious morons parked in the middle of the aisle does not help to block out the screaming noise.

I’m sure some of you parents can relate to this experience. It’s one of those things that we all go through with our kids, right? Do you have any favorite tantrum lessons you’d like to share?

First of all, let me say that this story involves throw-up. If you are averse to hearing such a story, please skip to the next post. I don’t want to make you sick! If you’re a parent, chances are you’re over it, so read on…

When it comes to parenting, Hubby and I have lots in common. All the important things. However, one of the places we differ is in the treatment of sick children. Specifically, children who are vomiting, or who are about to vomit. For instance…

Not long ago, one of our young children was about to be sick. She’s not old enough to go into the bathroom and take care of it herself, but there was no doubt about what was going to happen.

Sensing the imminent upchuck, Hubby jumped backwards, with a graceful agility I did not know he possessed. He nailed the move, and landed safely outside the splatter zone.

In the same second, I — almost without thinking — lunged toward my daughter. I got my hands cupped under her pale face just in time, and caught the mess! Yes, in my bare hands. I’m a mom. I’ve been a mom long enough to know it’s much easier to wash my hands, arms, and/or shirt, than to scrub the sofa, floor, and/or carpet!

Once things were cleaned up and under control, I pointed out the difference in our reactions to my husband. I asked him why he jumped out of the way, leaving me to jump in. He said, “I don’t know. It’s just a reflex, I guess. And you’re a vomit magnet.”

“Vomit magnet.” Next time I’m revising my Mom resume, I’ll have to add that to my list of talents and responsibilities. Head Cook, Nurse, Chauffeur, Tutor, Vomit Magnet. Yeah, that’s impressive.

A recent conversation I had with my kindergartener went something like this…

Punkin: Mommy, why is your belly so floppy?

Me: Well, Mommy had three babies. Remember when Mommy’s belly was big like a balloon? When the baby was inside? Well, when the baby comes out, Mommy’s belly is like a balloon with no air inside, and that is why it’s floppy.

Punkin: Oh. (giggles)

Yes, the truth hurts, but it’s also pretty funny.

Here is a funny story I had to share. My kindergartener recently had trouble getting his fingers all the way into his gloves before going out to the bus stop. He insisted there was something in there! I said, “Just try again,” because sometimes that works… He tried jamming his fingers into the gloves, but they wouldn’t go all the way in.

So, being a good mother, I turned the problem glove inside-out to check for debris. I was expecting a scrap of Kleenex or a piece of grass. I got the first couple of fingers checked out. Nothing was there. Turning these gloves out is no easy task, because the fingers are pretty small.

I continued with the index finger, and started pushing the tip of the glove inward. As I worked the glove and opened up the finger, I saw long, brown fibers being pushed out. I thought it might be a piece of mulch. Then, a roundish wad of something emerged. And finally, the whole leggy, smushed, balled-up spider fell out of the glove and onto the floor.

Fortunately, it was dead. Our vigorous attempts at putting on the glove had done the trick.

It’s a good thing my 6-year old is not afraid of bugs, or this might have been a traumatic experience.

The moral of the story: Always shake your gloves out before putting them on!

I have three kids of my own, and although I love them all dearly, they do have their moments. My first baby had trouble sleeping. He had allergies and acid reflux, which we didn’t get diagnosed until he was 15 months old, because the pediatrician kept telling us he’d grow out of it. “Stop breastfeeding him and he’ll sleep through the night.” “Take away the pacifier, because he can’t find it, and then he can’t get back to sleep.” “Just let him cry.”

That first baby is almost nine, and I still shake with fury when I remember what that stupid doctor put us through. Thankfully, I finally (I know, I should have done it sooner, but I trusted the doctor…) took him to a specialist and got things taken care of. It was nice to finally get some sleep! But I digress…

The point of this post was not to recount my old grudges.

Actually, some of our friends are just now having babies. We’re having a mini baby boom in our little circle. And even though I really want everyone to be healthy and happy, and I hope their babies are sweet little bundles of joy, there’s a snarky little part of me that hopes those kids throw some big tantrums and wake their parents up at all hours of the night. Just to be fair.

So there you have it: GeekMom’s dark side. Be afraid.

I am addicted to my computer. And the Wii. And my kids are becoming total gamers too.

Think I’m just exaggerating? Well, how about this for proof that I spend too much time at the computer? My wrists are tired and my hands go numb. Also, my eyes barely focus on anything that’s not 24 inches away from my face, because that’s how far away my screen is.

And then when I’m done working at the computer, I love playing on the Wii. It is so much fun! And of course, it’s the kids’ favorite indoor activity, and it’s what they want to do as soon as their chores are finished. Between the Wii, and games on the PC, they will play for hours, if we let them.

Now before you blast me for allowing my kids to spend too much time in front of a screen, let me admit that I know it’s a problem. Isn’t that the first step toward recovery? I don’t know. I’ve never been in rehab. And it’s not like we live in a broken down shack full of rubbish and filth. Our home is fairly clean, the kids are well-fed, they make honor roll at school, and we read to them every day.

We do turn off the machines and interact as human beings, but sometimes it’s difficult to tear everyone away from the games. That’s where I need some help. Now you brilliant inventors out there, here is my idea. This is going to make someone very rich, and I’m giving it away for free!

I want a bank that I can attach to my gaming devices. For instance, I attach this bank to the Wii, the kids put in some coins, and it plays for however many minutes I decide each coin is worth. Then, I can open the bank, collect the coins, and recycle them into the allowance or reward system (or use as Mom’s Mad Money!). How brilliant is that?

The coin system makes the play time easier to regulate, because there’s no arguing with the machine’s timer. Also, I think it would be helpful in teaching the kids about work and rewards. They do chores to earn money, and then they can decide how much of the money to spend on gaming, or whether they would rather save it for something else.

So, does such a product already exist? Anyone out there going to make one for me? Please?

Here is something my kindergartener said to me recently. It made me laugh, so I wanted to share it.

GeekBoy: “Mommy, do you know how I could tell the baby was awake?”

GeekMom: “How did you know, Punkin?”

GeekBoy: “I heard her through the baby ther-monitor.”

I was talking with another mom (name withheld to protect the un-cool) yesterday, and she said she had asked her favorite babysitter where Hollister is. She’d been noticing a lot of the young people wearing shirts from Hollister, and figured it must be a popular place to visit.

The teenager (a very sweet 18 year old) told her that Hollister is not a vacation destination. It’s a clothing brand and store.

Oh. hee hee.

The other mom and I decided it must be one of those hip shops at the mall with the really loud music. Maybe they have great clothes, but I’m not going to wheel my stroller in there. I think that’s the idea.

Just out of curiosity, I checked out the Hollister site. The shop is divided into two sections: Dudes and Bettys. What, no section for 30-something Geek Moms? I am sooo not “with it!”

It’s just the way I was brought up. When we were kids, Mom made us sit down after Christmas or birthdays and write thank you notes. By hand. We hated it, and it took forever! It’s not that we wanted to be perceived as ungrateful or rude (Mom explained that’s what people would think), but writing notes was so boring compared to playing with our new stuff.

Now that it’s so quick and easy to send a digitized message, whether by e-mail, IM, text, fax, e-card, or whatever, I find it even more important to do thank-yous the old-fashioned way. I love getting personal notes — thank you or otherwise — in my real mailbox. Every time I walk out to get the mail, I have a little flutter of hope that there might actually be something “real” among the junk. Most of the time it’s just bills, credit card offers, and advertisements. Even though this is normal, it’s still a bit disappointing. When something personal is hidden between the boring business envelopes, I get so excited! Aren’t you the same way?

Which is why I always try to send handwritten thank you notes, and I’m trying to get my kids in the habit of doing the same. It’s a battle, because they say it takes forever, and it’s boring… But I explain that people love getting a nice note in the mail, and it shows an appreciation for thoughtfulness on both sides of the stamp.

You’ve probably seen the OfficeMax commercials for Elf Yourself. It’s a web application that lets you upload your own photo, crop it to fit an elf hat, and then watch yourself do an elf dance with up to three of your friends. Silly, but so fun! I did one with my own face first, and then I made one with my kids (above). Aren’t they cute?!

I’ve heard that people without high speed connections aren’t able to enjoy the show, so keep that in mind. You can see my elf dance here, or make your own. [Edit: Sorry, but the ElfYourself service must have been just for the holidays. It doesn't work anymore, but it was fun while it lasted!]