Ok, this post is going to probably come of mean. It's not meant to be. Really. But, it's too insane not to talk about.....
So there is this retarded Chinese guy that works at the Walgreens near me. Ok, I know that's not the proper term...he's Asian....oh, I mean Downs Syndrome. But, that's too much to type so let's all let our political correctness slide for this one. Anyway, I think it's awesome that the guy has a job and stuff. But, he likes to sneak up on people. Seriously. It's happened to me. It's happened to other people. I don't think he does it on purpose, it just works out that way. Case in point:
On a recent trip, I parked in the parking lot and worked myself up to go inside. You never know if he's working or not, so it's always a gamble you have to be prepared for. I walk inside the doors and scan the joint. Nothing but the old guy that smells like he bathes in an ashtray at the register. I decide to do a run through on a few aisles to be sure that he's not there. Ok, all clear. I head on over and grab my first item, still looking over my shoulder. Then, ABBA comes on the speakers and I start to relax. I'm on the tampon aisle....Dancing Queen...da da dah....only 17...... Still all clear. Next up, kids allergy meds. I am now totally calm and happily enjoying the musak and my time alone. As I bend over to figure out which form of drug the boys need, I hear, "WE WIVE IN FWISCO TEXAS!!!!!" being shouted at the back of my head! SHIT!!!! I jump, scream and tampons and lip balm go flying. Damn it!!!! He's HERE!!!! I pick up my crap and very politely say, "Yes, yes we do. How are you today?" He just smiles and yells, "WE WIVE IN FWISCO TEXAS!!!!". I agree and walk as fast as I can to the front of the store. Dear. God. Why????? I feel bad for the guy, but at the same time, I really want to hide behind the crappy Christmas decorations and jump out at him and yell, "YOU WORK AT WALGREENS!!!". It plays out pretty funny in my mind. I'd never actually do it, but it's fun to plan.
So, I get to the register, still shaking from having the crap scared out of me, pay for my items and head to the door. As I walk out, I hear, "GO COWBOYS!" followed by the sound of something dropping to the floor from the back of the store. Ah, he apparently switches it up. He may be a lot smarter than I think. Touche young man. Touche.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Forget the wine, I'll take some oxycontin please!
Some days are bad and others.....well others just make you want to run head first into a brick wall. I should have known today would be a test when I started my day by stepping into a fresh pile of cat puke (luckily I had shoes on...unluckily I couldn't feel the barf) and walked all over the kitchen before turning around and seeing what looked like dancing lesson stencils made of feline vomit all over the floor. Great. Went for a run....see my facebook post for that debacle. The mid morning and early afternoon were actually quite nice. Did some work. Did some shopping. Did some jamming out in Wheezie to Taylor Dayne (yes. Taylor. Freaking. Dayne. ). Then I had to pick up the boys from school early for flu shots. All down hill from there.
Got to Hud's class only to hear that the little turd was having ANOTHER RED DAY!!! Today, he chose to stand in the doorway of his class room and trip all the kids exiting and laugh at them as they tumbled towards the ground. Ok. That's funny. But only in the comedic schtick kind of way. I wondered how many kids did he trip before one of them realized what was going on and didn't walk past him. Or why one of them didn't just kick him in the crotch.
Fast forward to the Dr.'s office. I made a deal with the boys. I would break my "No Christmas before Thanksgiving" rule if they didn't give me any crap and they could go see Santa after their shots. Agreed. Good. Until we are called back. Hud immediately starts crying and screaming, "I don't want to go!" Henry is nervous and now can no longer control the volume of his voice, so he's yelling, "This won't hurt, right?"! They put us in a room and shut the door and I'm trapped with one kid in full on freak out mode and one panicking and trying so hard to NOT YELL! The nurse comes in and we decide I'll go first. Ok, I'm sorry, but those stupid little shots hurt! But, I have to not say a certain 4 letter word to prove that it isn't a big deal. Henry is watching with eyes the size of plates and Hud is still in the corner begging to leave. So, Henry is up next. Oh. Dear. Jesus. He tries to bolt! So, I take off after him and drag all 70lbs of him back and try to hoist him on the table. It was like some weird rodeo. As soon as I got him up, he slips off that stupid paper protector thing, so I have to wrangle him again. Now my shirt is untucked, my hair is falling out of my clip and I'm sweating. The nurse calls for back up, so there are now 3 of us holding him down. Henry is screaming, "Pause! Pause!". WTF???? Pause???? Ok, you play too many video games kid, but I'll deal with that later. The nurse finally gets the shot in his leg and he looks up and freaking smiles! I had to try really hard not to say, "Yeah, see you a-hole! I look like a Tijuana whore after a frat party for that!"! But, figured the Pediatrician's office frowns on that kind of stuff.
Now on to the little one. Ok, same rodeo, but he's half the weight so it was much easier. And given his behavior, I really thought about having them give him a tetnus shot too, just for good measure. Apparently, during all the banging, wrangling and screaming, several of the Dr's in the office peeked out of rooms to ask what was going on. Awesome. Couldn't be more proud. The kids are still crying on our way out. The nurses are giggling. Part of me agreed with them and part of me wanted to kick them b/c.....well I was pissed and can't kick my kids.... We get on the elevator and Hud is telling the poor lady on board with us all about it. Only he's still hysterical, so that and the Elmer Fudd accent and she just smiles.
By now, I realize I have been defeated and then had the realization that I might be out of wine at home! Gasp! Feeling lucky, I decided to go to the grocery store. BAD, bad idea. This is what happens to me at the slot machines. Same feeling....I'm already down, how bad can it get. We run in and grab all of 6 things and some wine. We get to the front and of course, 3 registers open with 5 people with full buggies in each one! OMG! I hate this store! All the checkers are over 60 and like to discuss each item with you. Tampons? Oh, are you cramping? Napkins? Messy dinner? Ahhh! Shut up! Just scan my crap and get me out of here!!! We finally are next in line. The boys are thirsty. I let them pick a drink from the cooler by the register. Well, Hud just sits on the floor with the door open. "Hud, get up." Nothing. "Hud, pick a drink and get up." Nothing. "Hud, last chance." He lays down. So, I run over him with the cart. Ok, only in my mind. I pick him up and tell him no drink. He freaks out. Like a full on tantrum. Henry sees the steam coming out of my ears and starts trying to give me a back massage. As all of this is going on, the damn checker asks, "So, will you be entertaining this Thanksgiving?" "Nope. I"m going to go home, pack my bags and drive myself to the looney bin. So, for this year, I'll be in a nice robe, at a card table, making animals out of Q-tips."
Parenting really is a hard job. If you had to date your kids, it wouldn't last past 3 months. But, day in and day out we have to try our hardest to help them be good people. Even when we don't really always know how to do it ourselves. I don't expect my kids to be perfect. But, I hope that I can teach them how to laugh at themselves when they aren't. If not, I'll just have fun laughing at them.
Got to Hud's class only to hear that the little turd was having ANOTHER RED DAY!!! Today, he chose to stand in the doorway of his class room and trip all the kids exiting and laugh at them as they tumbled towards the ground. Ok. That's funny. But only in the comedic schtick kind of way. I wondered how many kids did he trip before one of them realized what was going on and didn't walk past him. Or why one of them didn't just kick him in the crotch.
Fast forward to the Dr.'s office. I made a deal with the boys. I would break my "No Christmas before Thanksgiving" rule if they didn't give me any crap and they could go see Santa after their shots. Agreed. Good. Until we are called back. Hud immediately starts crying and screaming, "I don't want to go!" Henry is nervous and now can no longer control the volume of his voice, so he's yelling, "This won't hurt, right?"! They put us in a room and shut the door and I'm trapped with one kid in full on freak out mode and one panicking and trying so hard to NOT YELL! The nurse comes in and we decide I'll go first. Ok, I'm sorry, but those stupid little shots hurt! But, I have to not say a certain 4 letter word to prove that it isn't a big deal. Henry is watching with eyes the size of plates and Hud is still in the corner begging to leave. So, Henry is up next. Oh. Dear. Jesus. He tries to bolt! So, I take off after him and drag all 70lbs of him back and try to hoist him on the table. It was like some weird rodeo. As soon as I got him up, he slips off that stupid paper protector thing, so I have to wrangle him again. Now my shirt is untucked, my hair is falling out of my clip and I'm sweating. The nurse calls for back up, so there are now 3 of us holding him down. Henry is screaming, "Pause! Pause!". WTF???? Pause???? Ok, you play too many video games kid, but I'll deal with that later. The nurse finally gets the shot in his leg and he looks up and freaking smiles! I had to try really hard not to say, "Yeah, see you a-hole! I look like a Tijuana whore after a frat party for that!"! But, figured the Pediatrician's office frowns on that kind of stuff.
Now on to the little one. Ok, same rodeo, but he's half the weight so it was much easier. And given his behavior, I really thought about having them give him a tetnus shot too, just for good measure. Apparently, during all the banging, wrangling and screaming, several of the Dr's in the office peeked out of rooms to ask what was going on. Awesome. Couldn't be more proud. The kids are still crying on our way out. The nurses are giggling. Part of me agreed with them and part of me wanted to kick them b/c.....well I was pissed and can't kick my kids.... We get on the elevator and Hud is telling the poor lady on board with us all about it. Only he's still hysterical, so that and the Elmer Fudd accent and she just smiles.
By now, I realize I have been defeated and then had the realization that I might be out of wine at home! Gasp! Feeling lucky, I decided to go to the grocery store. BAD, bad idea. This is what happens to me at the slot machines. Same feeling....I'm already down, how bad can it get. We run in and grab all of 6 things and some wine. We get to the front and of course, 3 registers open with 5 people with full buggies in each one! OMG! I hate this store! All the checkers are over 60 and like to discuss each item with you. Tampons? Oh, are you cramping? Napkins? Messy dinner? Ahhh! Shut up! Just scan my crap and get me out of here!!! We finally are next in line. The boys are thirsty. I let them pick a drink from the cooler by the register. Well, Hud just sits on the floor with the door open. "Hud, get up." Nothing. "Hud, pick a drink and get up." Nothing. "Hud, last chance." He lays down. So, I run over him with the cart. Ok, only in my mind. I pick him up and tell him no drink. He freaks out. Like a full on tantrum. Henry sees the steam coming out of my ears and starts trying to give me a back massage. As all of this is going on, the damn checker asks, "So, will you be entertaining this Thanksgiving?" "Nope. I"m going to go home, pack my bags and drive myself to the looney bin. So, for this year, I'll be in a nice robe, at a card table, making animals out of Q-tips."
Parenting really is a hard job. If you had to date your kids, it wouldn't last past 3 months. But, day in and day out we have to try our hardest to help them be good people. Even when we don't really always know how to do it ourselves. I don't expect my kids to be perfect. But, I hope that I can teach them how to laugh at themselves when they aren't. If not, I'll just have fun laughing at them.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Pumpkin guts and other stuff
Everyone knows how much a love Halloween! It's by far the best holiday of them all. Something about scaring the crap out of kids makes me so happy! I love everything about it.....well, almost everything.
Every year, starting in October, all the cooking shows start to feature pumpkin carving. These people, totally effortlessly, whip out some of the most amazing sculptures. They make it look so easy, I am always fooled into thinking, "yeah, I can totally do that.". Every year, I find the most spectacular pumpkins to which I will carve away and make it look so amazing, everyone will ooo and aaahhh at my creations. The kids will gather around the table and just like in those Norman Rockwell rice crispy treat commercials, we will all giggle and laugh as we clean out the pumpkins and carve away...At least that's how it goes down in my head.
Now, let's go through the actual reality. We buy pumpkins as soon as our church gets them in. I mean, I can't have someone else get the best ones. So, that day, after church, I'm shoving aside old ladies and leaping over wheel chairs to get out there and stake my claim. Then, bring them home to sit for a month. I get the boys this afternoon, while Nick is setting up the "haunted cave thing" outside. We notice that one of the pumpkins already has a rotting spot on it. Great. I have to hide it from Henry so he doesn't puke. I start cutting the tops off, while Hud is helping me by shoving a plastic knife in each spot I just did it with a real one. Every time he pulls it out, I get whacked in the head w/ a wet plastic knife. I finally get the "lids" off and both boys have to look inside and do the obligatory, "GROSS!" scream. So, I dig in. I hate this part. It's like digging through last week's trash to find your car keys. I'm up to my elbows in guts and stringy things and seeds. The whole time Henry is hopping like a madman on one side of me and Hud is yelling at me to "huwwy up". He's such a crappy boss.
To buy some time, I give them that stupid jack o lantern template book that comes with those pathetic little tools. They each pick out a pattern. Of course, Hud picks the most difficult one in the book. I tried to talk him out of it, but he ended up in the fetal position on the floor crying. I thought about dropping the pile of guts on his head to shut him up, but realized that would just be a bigger mess. As I'm doing the last bit of cleaning, Henry peeks inside his pumpkin and sees the rotten spot. Great. Now he's dry heaving and gagging. I'm trying to keep him from puking while Hud is still pissed screaming on the floor.
This is when I also realize I have about 5 lbs of that stringy inside crap stuck in my hair. Not to mention that the cuts on one of my fingers is now stinging from whatever acid is inside a pumpkin.
I get Henry focused on not puking, get Hud off the floor and we start to work on the design. Hud's being the hardest, we do his first. It's a jack o lantern face with "Boo" written across it's mouth. Would be fine on a big pumpkin. However, Hud's is barely even big enough to carve. Once again, this is the passive aggressive crap he does to me. Pretty sure he's out to get me. I start carving out those little tiny letters. After 10 minutes, my arm is tired, my elbow is pounding. I felt like a child laborer in a Chinese clothing factory. Hud is still bossing me around and Henry is still hopping. I can feel my eye start to twitch. Stress kicking in.
I'm all hunched over with this damn tiny little tool (which are just crap. They bend, they don't fit in your hand properly, they slip) carving letters, and now my shoulder is cramping. OMG! Henry! Stop freaking hopping! Finally, I finish. By now, Hud has gone out in the garage because I failed his time challenge. I get him in to look at my masterpiece. Seriously, it looks way better than I expected. I proudly show him "his" pumpkin. I say, "What do you think?" He looks at me and says, "Not good.". WHAT? NOT GOOD? I'LL SHOW YOU NOT GOOD YOU LITTLE SHIT! I don't know if I've ever been more insulted.
So, to all you marketing people that make these commercials where little things like making rice krispy treats are a family bonding memory making affair....stop it. Just stop it. All you are really doing is setting up the average American family for failure. As for Hudson, I think I may cut a hole out of the bottom of his pumpkin and make him wear it on his head tomorrow night.
Every year, starting in October, all the cooking shows start to feature pumpkin carving. These people, totally effortlessly, whip out some of the most amazing sculptures. They make it look so easy, I am always fooled into thinking, "yeah, I can totally do that.". Every year, I find the most spectacular pumpkins to which I will carve away and make it look so amazing, everyone will ooo and aaahhh at my creations. The kids will gather around the table and just like in those Norman Rockwell rice crispy treat commercials, we will all giggle and laugh as we clean out the pumpkins and carve away...At least that's how it goes down in my head.
Now, let's go through the actual reality. We buy pumpkins as soon as our church gets them in. I mean, I can't have someone else get the best ones. So, that day, after church, I'm shoving aside old ladies and leaping over wheel chairs to get out there and stake my claim. Then, bring them home to sit for a month. I get the boys this afternoon, while Nick is setting up the "haunted cave thing" outside. We notice that one of the pumpkins already has a rotting spot on it. Great. I have to hide it from Henry so he doesn't puke. I start cutting the tops off, while Hud is helping me by shoving a plastic knife in each spot I just did it with a real one. Every time he pulls it out, I get whacked in the head w/ a wet plastic knife. I finally get the "lids" off and both boys have to look inside and do the obligatory, "GROSS!" scream. So, I dig in. I hate this part. It's like digging through last week's trash to find your car keys. I'm up to my elbows in guts and stringy things and seeds. The whole time Henry is hopping like a madman on one side of me and Hud is yelling at me to "huwwy up". He's such a crappy boss.
To buy some time, I give them that stupid jack o lantern template book that comes with those pathetic little tools. They each pick out a pattern. Of course, Hud picks the most difficult one in the book. I tried to talk him out of it, but he ended up in the fetal position on the floor crying. I thought about dropping the pile of guts on his head to shut him up, but realized that would just be a bigger mess. As I'm doing the last bit of cleaning, Henry peeks inside his pumpkin and sees the rotten spot. Great. Now he's dry heaving and gagging. I'm trying to keep him from puking while Hud is still pissed screaming on the floor.
This is when I also realize I have about 5 lbs of that stringy inside crap stuck in my hair. Not to mention that the cuts on one of my fingers is now stinging from whatever acid is inside a pumpkin.
I get Henry focused on not puking, get Hud off the floor and we start to work on the design. Hud's being the hardest, we do his first. It's a jack o lantern face with "Boo" written across it's mouth. Would be fine on a big pumpkin. However, Hud's is barely even big enough to carve. Once again, this is the passive aggressive crap he does to me. Pretty sure he's out to get me. I start carving out those little tiny letters. After 10 minutes, my arm is tired, my elbow is pounding. I felt like a child laborer in a Chinese clothing factory. Hud is still bossing me around and Henry is still hopping. I can feel my eye start to twitch. Stress kicking in.
I'm all hunched over with this damn tiny little tool (which are just crap. They bend, they don't fit in your hand properly, they slip) carving letters, and now my shoulder is cramping. OMG! Henry! Stop freaking hopping! Finally, I finish. By now, Hud has gone out in the garage because I failed his time challenge. I get him in to look at my masterpiece. Seriously, it looks way better than I expected. I proudly show him "his" pumpkin. I say, "What do you think?" He looks at me and says, "Not good.". WHAT? NOT GOOD? I'LL SHOW YOU NOT GOOD YOU LITTLE SHIT! I don't know if I've ever been more insulted.
So, to all you marketing people that make these commercials where little things like making rice krispy treats are a family bonding memory making affair....stop it. Just stop it. All you are really doing is setting up the average American family for failure. As for Hudson, I think I may cut a hole out of the bottom of his pumpkin and make him wear it on his head tomorrow night.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Sabans or Griswalds?
The dreaded road trip. We all do them. We were forced into them as a child. We inflict the same pain on our own children. Although we no longer let kids sit in the back of the station wagon, facing the car stuck behind you, without seat belts, the insanity is still there.
We do tons of road trips. We drive to Austin. We drive to Illinois. We drive to just about everywhere in between. So, you'd think the 3 hour drive to Austin, would be just a normal drive by now. Nope. Not even close. We left Friday afternoon to spend a weekend at grandma's. The boys were dying to go and Nick and I loved the prospect of getting out kidless for a while. We packed so light, I didn't even need to fold the back row of seats down to fit all the luggage. Yay! Victory #1! Pick up the boys from school, get Nick off the phone and we leave the house only 15 minutes later than I wanted to. Yay! Victory #2! I usually have to drive, or we take separate vehicles because Nick will stop and see customers on the way down, but today he's driving us! Yay! Victory #3! Wonder when my luck will run out.....
As we are heading down I-35, approaching the mess of highway that is downtown Dallas, I start to dial in for a conference call. Nick is dodging cars and trying not to get us killed. Then we hear Henry say from the back, "I don't feel so good". We both say, "Stop reading your book." because we are sure he's getting car sick. 10 seconds later, Henry starts to cry. As I turn to look back at him, I see his mouth open and a brown spew of pizza bits, corn and milk come flying out of his mouth! I have to admit, I have that moment where the first thought is, "OMG! My car!!!" I mean, it's easy to get puke off a kid. But, milk barf, on the floor of a car in TX heat...you might as well torch the car and start over. He stops, breathes, then starts round 2. Nick manages to get us off the highway, and we pull into a pretty large gas station. Henry is still barfing and crying. Now Hud is screaming "I don't want to see the barf!" as he's looking right the crime scene that has unfolded 24 inches from him. Nick yells at Hud, "Don't look at it!". Henry is still puking. He's like an oil well or something. I send Nick into the store for wipes, paper towels.....anything that we can use to clean up 12 pounds of puke from Henry and the car.
Now, this is about the point when I realize we have stopped in the barrio. Crap. I have to get Henry changed. Hud is hanging half way out of the window, squealing because right next to the parking lot is a donkey farm or something. He finds this really impressive and it did keep him occupied. So, I start taking Henry's shorts off, that are so soaked, they are dripping. He's freaking out because people might see his junk. I yell, "I don't care! You are not riding in the car covered in sick or naked!" I don't think any of the people in the cars around us even understood. Now, Hud is screaming that he wants to go pet the donkeys. Who in the hell has 15 donkeys next to a gas station in the city????? Did Juan Valdez move north??? I get Henry changed and realize I have a beach towel in the back of the car for just such a crisis. I manage to wipe up as much of the barf as possible. At this point, Nick comes back from the gas station with a container of Armor All wipes. What???? I appreciate that he's concerned about the leather and all, but those will not kill germs.
Me: Why did you get these??? I need disinfectant wipes!
Nick: This is all they had.
Me: They didn't even have baby wipes?
Nick: No, this is it. They sell car stuff, beer and there's a lady out front selling corn in a cup.
Me: What?
Nick: Yeah, corn. In a cup. I thought about getting some for Dooter.
Me: Well, was she Mexican? (I don't know why it mattered, but for some reason, if she was Mexican, it would not seem so weird).
Nick: Yeah, but why does that matter?
I really wanted to go check out the lady selling corn. What kind of corn? Popped? Roasted? Out of a can? Do people actually buy it? But, these questions will all have to wait for another day.
I give up and we all load back up and are ready to head out. Again. But, now the car smells like old milk and boy feet. Hud is pinching his nose screaming, "What's that smell?". We roll down the windows and head down the highway at 70 mph with our heads hanging out. We look like dogs. We roll the windows back up after a bit and the smell is still there. Just as strong. Back down the windows go. Luckily for us, this is about the time we roll into Waxahachie, where earlier in the week, a chemical plant blew up and they still had the smell of burning chemicals in the air. That's one way to get the vomit smell out and thankfully, we did not pass out from the fumes.
I always feel like we give the Griswalds a run for their money. Vacations. Holidays. Whatever. But, until I have a dead aunt tied to the roof, I will gladly not worry about that victory.
We do tons of road trips. We drive to Austin. We drive to Illinois. We drive to just about everywhere in between. So, you'd think the 3 hour drive to Austin, would be just a normal drive by now. Nope. Not even close. We left Friday afternoon to spend a weekend at grandma's. The boys were dying to go and Nick and I loved the prospect of getting out kidless for a while. We packed so light, I didn't even need to fold the back row of seats down to fit all the luggage. Yay! Victory #1! Pick up the boys from school, get Nick off the phone and we leave the house only 15 minutes later than I wanted to. Yay! Victory #2! I usually have to drive, or we take separate vehicles because Nick will stop and see customers on the way down, but today he's driving us! Yay! Victory #3! Wonder when my luck will run out.....
As we are heading down I-35, approaching the mess of highway that is downtown Dallas, I start to dial in for a conference call. Nick is dodging cars and trying not to get us killed. Then we hear Henry say from the back, "I don't feel so good". We both say, "Stop reading your book." because we are sure he's getting car sick. 10 seconds later, Henry starts to cry. As I turn to look back at him, I see his mouth open and a brown spew of pizza bits, corn and milk come flying out of his mouth! I have to admit, I have that moment where the first thought is, "OMG! My car!!!" I mean, it's easy to get puke off a kid. But, milk barf, on the floor of a car in TX heat...you might as well torch the car and start over. He stops, breathes, then starts round 2. Nick manages to get us off the highway, and we pull into a pretty large gas station. Henry is still barfing and crying. Now Hud is screaming "I don't want to see the barf!" as he's looking right the crime scene that has unfolded 24 inches from him. Nick yells at Hud, "Don't look at it!". Henry is still puking. He's like an oil well or something. I send Nick into the store for wipes, paper towels.....anything that we can use to clean up 12 pounds of puke from Henry and the car.
Now, this is about the point when I realize we have stopped in the barrio. Crap. I have to get Henry changed. Hud is hanging half way out of the window, squealing because right next to the parking lot is a donkey farm or something. He finds this really impressive and it did keep him occupied. So, I start taking Henry's shorts off, that are so soaked, they are dripping. He's freaking out because people might see his junk. I yell, "I don't care! You are not riding in the car covered in sick or naked!" I don't think any of the people in the cars around us even understood. Now, Hud is screaming that he wants to go pet the donkeys. Who in the hell has 15 donkeys next to a gas station in the city????? Did Juan Valdez move north??? I get Henry changed and realize I have a beach towel in the back of the car for just such a crisis. I manage to wipe up as much of the barf as possible. At this point, Nick comes back from the gas station with a container of Armor All wipes. What???? I appreciate that he's concerned about the leather and all, but those will not kill germs.
Me: Why did you get these??? I need disinfectant wipes!
Nick: This is all they had.
Me: They didn't even have baby wipes?
Nick: No, this is it. They sell car stuff, beer and there's a lady out front selling corn in a cup.
Me: What?
Nick: Yeah, corn. In a cup. I thought about getting some for Dooter.
Me: Well, was she Mexican? (I don't know why it mattered, but for some reason, if she was Mexican, it would not seem so weird).
Nick: Yeah, but why does that matter?
I really wanted to go check out the lady selling corn. What kind of corn? Popped? Roasted? Out of a can? Do people actually buy it? But, these questions will all have to wait for another day.
I give up and we all load back up and are ready to head out. Again. But, now the car smells like old milk and boy feet. Hud is pinching his nose screaming, "What's that smell?". We roll down the windows and head down the highway at 70 mph with our heads hanging out. We look like dogs. We roll the windows back up after a bit and the smell is still there. Just as strong. Back down the windows go. Luckily for us, this is about the time we roll into Waxahachie, where earlier in the week, a chemical plant blew up and they still had the smell of burning chemicals in the air. That's one way to get the vomit smell out and thankfully, we did not pass out from the fumes.
I always feel like we give the Griswalds a run for their money. Vacations. Holidays. Whatever. But, until I have a dead aunt tied to the roof, I will gladly not worry about that victory.
Monday, September 26, 2011
He don't need no stinkin' badges!
Ok. I really try to be a good parent. I do. I think I'm running at about an 80% success rate, which I don't think is too bad. That being said, I am officially at my wits end with Hud. Officially. I do no know what to do with the boy. I should probably recap for those of you that may have forgotten or may be new to my saga.
Let's go back...way back.... I go for a 3D ultrasound at 32 weeks pregnant. So excited to see the little smooshed face crammed up against my uterus. I look at the screen, and there, plain as day is a little chubby cheeked baby extending his middle finger right in the middle of the shot. The tech was so impressed she asked if she could keep a copy for her wall of fame. Great, his first mug shot. Awesome.
When the boy was 2 he was kicked out of preschool for throwing too many fits. I'll be honest, I was so pissed at the situation (and I'm pretty sure I'm still harboring some bitterness) that I don't remember all the details.
Last year, was another doozie. I remember climbing the stairs to his class every M/W/F wondering what face of Cybil would greet me.
I don't get it. I mean, he and Henry came from the exact same genetic material. Henry has had maybe 3 or 4 bad days his entire school career and each time, he was so mortified that it was at least 6 months before he had another bad day. Hud seems to take pleasure in coming up with new ways to piss people off. He gets mad if a kid colors outside the lines. He gets mad if someone talks when they shouldn't. He gets mad if someone takes a chair he wanted. He gets mad if someone looks at him wrong. However, should he do any of the above, it's perfectly fine and everyone should get over it.
Last week, he came home with his first "red" day. He told me the teacher gave him the wrong color as he cried on his bike ride home. When I opened his folder, he had tried to erase that red stamp!!! It was all smeared and pink. I realized that the child must think he's smarter than me. Clearly, in his mind, there was no way I would notice that big pink blob on his chart. OMG, the kid thinks he's smarter than me! I figured I had at least until 9 or 10 before that would happen.
Today was another banner day for him. Red again. This time he says, "It's because my body makes me do it.". Ok, I don't even know what that means. Is he possessed? Like Linda Blair possessed. I mean, he's shown tendencies and my God that would explain so much. The lack of sleeping. The random puking. The pets running when he comes into a room. If I see his head spin, I'll take it as a full confirmation. I feel like he's heading for a hard life. Like he's going to be selling illegal gummy bears off the back of his trike at the park. He'll of course, need a little toy pistol and some thugs to do his dirty work for him. You know, cause he'll be busy with his "business". Like Scarface, but the friendlier fuzzy school yard version.
So, tonight, I was forced to make a parenting decision. It may not be the best one. It may not be the right one. It may cause years of therapy later on, but I don't care. I give. Nothing works for him, when it comes to discipline. So, tonight, as I was pulling out Halloween decorations, I introduced Hud to Jasper:
Let's go back...way back.... I go for a 3D ultrasound at 32 weeks pregnant. So excited to see the little smooshed face crammed up against my uterus. I look at the screen, and there, plain as day is a little chubby cheeked baby extending his middle finger right in the middle of the shot. The tech was so impressed she asked if she could keep a copy for her wall of fame. Great, his first mug shot. Awesome.
When the boy was 2 he was kicked out of preschool for throwing too many fits. I'll be honest, I was so pissed at the situation (and I'm pretty sure I'm still harboring some bitterness) that I don't remember all the details.
Last year, was another doozie. I remember climbing the stairs to his class every M/W/F wondering what face of Cybil would greet me.
I don't get it. I mean, he and Henry came from the exact same genetic material. Henry has had maybe 3 or 4 bad days his entire school career and each time, he was so mortified that it was at least 6 months before he had another bad day. Hud seems to take pleasure in coming up with new ways to piss people off. He gets mad if a kid colors outside the lines. He gets mad if someone talks when they shouldn't. He gets mad if someone takes a chair he wanted. He gets mad if someone looks at him wrong. However, should he do any of the above, it's perfectly fine and everyone should get over it.
Last week, he came home with his first "red" day. He told me the teacher gave him the wrong color as he cried on his bike ride home. When I opened his folder, he had tried to erase that red stamp!!! It was all smeared and pink. I realized that the child must think he's smarter than me. Clearly, in his mind, there was no way I would notice that big pink blob on his chart. OMG, the kid thinks he's smarter than me! I figured I had at least until 9 or 10 before that would happen.
Today was another banner day for him. Red again. This time he says, "It's because my body makes me do it.". Ok, I don't even know what that means. Is he possessed? Like Linda Blair possessed. I mean, he's shown tendencies and my God that would explain so much. The lack of sleeping. The random puking. The pets running when he comes into a room. If I see his head spin, I'll take it as a full confirmation. I feel like he's heading for a hard life. Like he's going to be selling illegal gummy bears off the back of his trike at the park. He'll of course, need a little toy pistol and some thugs to do his dirty work for him. You know, cause he'll be busy with his "business". Like Scarface, but the friendlier fuzzy school yard version.
So, tonight, I was forced to make a parenting decision. It may not be the best one. It may not be the right one. It may cause years of therapy later on, but I don't care. I give. Nothing works for him, when it comes to discipline. So, tonight, as I was pulling out Halloween decorations, I introduced Hud to Jasper:
Jasper is my kick ass stuffed skull on a stick. Jasper doesn't take any crap from any punk ass kid! I love Jasper. Hud, on the other hand, is terrified of him!!! Yay!! Yes, I can honestly say I get pure joy from hearing him scream when Jasper is in the room. It's totally awesome. Like when you see a speeder get pulled over or the drunk loud jerk at the bar get kicked out (all of which I'm sure Hud will be one day). So, now having the upper hand, I inform Hud that when he has a red day at school, Jasper will be spending the night in his room. Mean? Maybe. Unconventional? Of course. Effective? I think yes. I may set him in front of his door tonight, just to prove a point.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
F-It, I'm taking the bus!
I got the pleasure once again of getting to use the North Dallas Tollway this morning to get to the studio for a webcast. On a normal day, under normal circumstances, this is all of a 20 minute drive. But, Monday - Friday at 7:30 are not normal days. As I began my journey, traffic was going so smoothly, that I actually thought, "Wow! This is great! I'm going to be really early.". As I finished the thought I saw all the brake lights in front of me. Crap. What's even worse is that I only made it a few exits down from where I got on the highway to hell. As I sat there, trapped in the left lane, I had time to observe the insanity going on around me. Here are a list of thoughts and observations I had while stuck.
Why do people change lanes every 5 feet? All you are doing is mucking things up for us nonretards that know how to drive. Seriously, stop changing lanes. In fact, you should be banished to the feeder road as punishment. I hate you.
I'm boxed in by 2 Priuses. Or is it Pri-i? Like cactus and cacti? Or is it just prius, like fish or deer? What do you call a group of them??? I know you can't just call them cars, that's would freak the owners out. They run on hair dryer motors right, so what do you call a group of hair dryers?? I know someone with one, I should ask her.
Hey, I don't think so, Mr. Obama 08 sticker guy! You most certainly are not getting in front of me! Hell no! I don't care what your political preference is, just update it man. Get your '12 on!
OOOO! We are moving again! Yay!!! I'm so going to be early!!! Crap. Stopped. Boxed in by Pri-i again. What do you call multiples of those things???
The guy in the truck behind me looks like Alton Brown. Is that Alton Brown???? Do you think he's cooking something. I'm hungry.
OMG! Stopped under an overpass. I need a valium. I hate being under these things. You never know when an earthquake will hit, toppling it onto my vehicle!!! Move people!! I'm freaking out here!!! Maybe Alton Brown has breakfast tacos....
Hmm....there's a lot of tail light parts on the road. Don't they clean those up? I see street sweepers here often enough. Maybe it's just yesterday's commuting carnage.
Woohoo! Moving again!!! Damn it Obama 08! I told you no!!!!
Hey, jerk in the Lexus SUV w/ the mickey mouse stickers!!! Stop trying to run me off the road. I'm sorry you have to drive your mom's/wife's car, but I'm going to run you down! Do you see how much bigger mine is than yours!!???? I now also hate you. And your stupid "family member stick people with mickey ears on" stickers. Tool.
I need botox now. I have a huge crease in my forehead from this drive. I mean this park and go 5 ft. I wonder if I just have a surprised face for a while, it will go away. Opps, scared one of the Prius people. They must think my brakes went out.
And of course, as soon as I get to my exit, traffic goes from 10 to 50. F-it. Next time, I'm taking the bus.
Why do people change lanes every 5 feet? All you are doing is mucking things up for us nonretards that know how to drive. Seriously, stop changing lanes. In fact, you should be banished to the feeder road as punishment. I hate you.
I'm boxed in by 2 Priuses. Or is it Pri-i? Like cactus and cacti? Or is it just prius, like fish or deer? What do you call a group of them??? I know you can't just call them cars, that's would freak the owners out. They run on hair dryer motors right, so what do you call a group of hair dryers?? I know someone with one, I should ask her.
Hey, I don't think so, Mr. Obama 08 sticker guy! You most certainly are not getting in front of me! Hell no! I don't care what your political preference is, just update it man. Get your '12 on!
OOOO! We are moving again! Yay!!! I'm so going to be early!!! Crap. Stopped. Boxed in by Pri-i again. What do you call multiples of those things???
The guy in the truck behind me looks like Alton Brown. Is that Alton Brown???? Do you think he's cooking something. I'm hungry.
OMG! Stopped under an overpass. I need a valium. I hate being under these things. You never know when an earthquake will hit, toppling it onto my vehicle!!! Move people!! I'm freaking out here!!! Maybe Alton Brown has breakfast tacos....
Hmm....there's a lot of tail light parts on the road. Don't they clean those up? I see street sweepers here often enough. Maybe it's just yesterday's commuting carnage.
Woohoo! Moving again!!! Damn it Obama 08! I told you no!!!!
Hey, jerk in the Lexus SUV w/ the mickey mouse stickers!!! Stop trying to run me off the road. I'm sorry you have to drive your mom's/wife's car, but I'm going to run you down! Do you see how much bigger mine is than yours!!???? I now also hate you. And your stupid "family member stick people with mickey ears on" stickers. Tool.
I need botox now. I have a huge crease in my forehead from this drive. I mean this park and go 5 ft. I wonder if I just have a surprised face for a while, it will go away. Opps, scared one of the Prius people. They must think my brakes went out.
And of course, as soon as I get to my exit, traffic goes from 10 to 50. F-it. Next time, I'm taking the bus.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Scrub those nuts
It's never a dull moment being a mom to boys. It often feels like having alien life form in the house and I have to figure out some means of communication with them to coexist. Funny how having that extra appendage can throw everything off.
Right now, the boys are really into zombies, ghosts, and anything else related to the afterlife of the damned. I am often forced into playing night of the living dead and I don't exactly make the best Zombie. But I improvise. I am getting very good at the zombie that runs the vacuum and the ghost that cooks dinner. They don't think it's very cool. I, however think it shows what an awesome multi tasker I am. Let's face it, a self cleaning zombie is a great idea, given that they probably drop a lot of rotten flesh and body parts durning their escapades. Maybe Mattel could invent a zombie barbie. I think I'd be much better at the game if I had a zombie with flowing blonde hair to brush and some cool shoes to put on it.
But, I was reminded last night, how I am a stranger in a foreign land being the only female in a house full of penises (or is it peni? Is a penis like a cactus?). I was bathing Hud (because he still refuses to take a shower) and I am trying to teach him (still after a year) to bath himself. Once he got shampoo in his eyes because he was trying on his own, and grabbed Henry's "grown up" shampoo. Now every time I wash his hair, EVERY TIME, he asks, "is dis kid shampoo?". I think he thinks I caused his temporary blindness and doesn't trust me.
I hand him the soap and say, "Clean yourself, top to bottom, pits, butt, nuts, feet" and walk to his room to put up laundry. Now, I can hear him talking to himself in the bathroom followed by lots of giggling. I peek around the door and he's sitting there, in the sudsy water, looking down. He sees me and asks, "What are nuts?" I lean over and grab his junk and say, "These are. Your testicles. Your nuts. Balls, Sack, Scrotum, whatever you want to call it". I know what you are thinking, but I did stop before saying "wrinkly crinkly bag of skin". He says, "Isn't dat de penis?" No! No! The penis is that little cheeto thing that lives above your wrinkly crinkly bag of skin! I explained that no, that's not it and am starting to get a bit uncomfortable. Then, here it comes......."Why do I have nuts? What do they do?". Oh Lord!!! I caught myself almost saying, "after you hit puberty, they become your brain", but decided to not further complicate things. So, I did what any good mom would do. Distracted him by asking him to "make butt bubbles" for me in the water. Whew! Crisis avoided. Maybe I should try that on Nick when I need to end a conversation quickly.
There are times when I think, I wish I had a daughter. Then, I am reminded at times, like last night, that I have been given a "pass card" on so many things with these guys because I can just say, "Go ask your father."
Right now, the boys are really into zombies, ghosts, and anything else related to the afterlife of the damned. I am often forced into playing night of the living dead and I don't exactly make the best Zombie. But I improvise. I am getting very good at the zombie that runs the vacuum and the ghost that cooks dinner. They don't think it's very cool. I, however think it shows what an awesome multi tasker I am. Let's face it, a self cleaning zombie is a great idea, given that they probably drop a lot of rotten flesh and body parts durning their escapades. Maybe Mattel could invent a zombie barbie. I think I'd be much better at the game if I had a zombie with flowing blonde hair to brush and some cool shoes to put on it.
But, I was reminded last night, how I am a stranger in a foreign land being the only female in a house full of penises (or is it peni? Is a penis like a cactus?). I was bathing Hud (because he still refuses to take a shower) and I am trying to teach him (still after a year) to bath himself. Once he got shampoo in his eyes because he was trying on his own, and grabbed Henry's "grown up" shampoo. Now every time I wash his hair, EVERY TIME, he asks, "is dis kid shampoo?". I think he thinks I caused his temporary blindness and doesn't trust me.
I hand him the soap and say, "Clean yourself, top to bottom, pits, butt, nuts, feet" and walk to his room to put up laundry. Now, I can hear him talking to himself in the bathroom followed by lots of giggling. I peek around the door and he's sitting there, in the sudsy water, looking down. He sees me and asks, "What are nuts?" I lean over and grab his junk and say, "These are. Your testicles. Your nuts. Balls, Sack, Scrotum, whatever you want to call it". I know what you are thinking, but I did stop before saying "wrinkly crinkly bag of skin". He says, "Isn't dat de penis?" No! No! The penis is that little cheeto thing that lives above your wrinkly crinkly bag of skin! I explained that no, that's not it and am starting to get a bit uncomfortable. Then, here it comes......."Why do I have nuts? What do they do?". Oh Lord!!! I caught myself almost saying, "after you hit puberty, they become your brain", but decided to not further complicate things. So, I did what any good mom would do. Distracted him by asking him to "make butt bubbles" for me in the water. Whew! Crisis avoided. Maybe I should try that on Nick when I need to end a conversation quickly.
There are times when I think, I wish I had a daughter. Then, I am reminded at times, like last night, that I have been given a "pass card" on so many things with these guys because I can just say, "Go ask your father."
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Screw you all...I'm going to ihop!
I'm pretty anal about schedules and time tables. Seriously. I get up at 6:04 b/c the coffee pot goes off at 6 and it takes 4 minutes to brew. I do email and FaceBook while sipping and catch the weather at 6:15, then get the boys up at 6:20 to be fed, dressed and out the door by 7:20. I'm a machine! But, some times, things don't go as planned. And I hate that. Not in control is something I just don't do.
Today I had to be at the studio for work around 8:30. That means getting myself ready for something other than a workout (I'm pretty sure showing up in a sweaty sports bra and ripped up boxer shorts would not be appropriate). I do the math and decide I need to get up 12 minutes earlier than usual. That was my first mistake. Due to my reoccurring insomnia, I hit the snooze button. DAMN YOU SNOOZE!! Why do we even have that? Just get your ass up when you are supposed to. I don't understand why someone also decided that 9 minutes is a good snooze time and all the alarm makers said, "yes, this is good" and went with it. So, I get up and run to the coffee pot, fill up, catch up by looking online for the weather - ok, interjecting here - I know it has been 150 degrees and no rain for 6 months now, but I keep waiting for that surprise forecast of 65 and rain, but I live in TX not Seattle.
I take the world's fastest shower and am out by 6:25. Ok, not bad. I head up to get the boys and get them settled with some chocolate milk and crappy Japanamation cartoons. Then, I make the mistake of asking, "what do you want for breakfast". I must have looked like a short order cook because they asked for 10 different items and I'm pretty sure steak was one of them. Hell no! Reheated pancakes it is. Although, I thought about cooking the giant spread, just to see how fast I could do it, but figured sending them to school with food poisoning wasn't a good idea.
By now it's only 7:05, so I'm kicking ass! But, I forgot about me. Crap. My hair is almost dried and I don't have straight hair. It looks like Jon Bon Jovi's hair back in the livin' on a prayer years. I need some serious makeup for the bags under my eyes and I have no clue what I'm wearing. It really sucks that hair bands are no longer in style. That would have helped a lot. So, I manage to smooth out my crimped fro, find something that isn't covered in cat hair in the back of my closet and put on my makeup so fast I poked myself in the eye with the mascara wand 3 times. Now I have black streaks running down my cheek and my eye is all red from the injury.
Now it's 7:17 and I have to get Hud's shoes on. Oh. My. God. Those f*ing shoes!!!! Putting tennis shoes on this child is like putting a condom on a noodle. It takes 10 attempts and by the end he's crying and I'm sweating. I'm seriously considering spraying his feet with that truck bedliner stuff.
But, by 7:26 everyone is ready to go. And in walks Nick from the gym. Of course. Why does he always show up at the end. He so graciously offers to walk the kids to school so I can finish my coffee, which is now cold and the cream is pooling on the top of it. Gross. Screw it. I'm leaving.
Bad idea. It took me an hour and a half (AN HOUR AND A HALF) to drive what normally would take 20 minutes!!!! There was no wreck. No dead animals. No jets landing on the tollway. Just a bunch of assholes driving like idiots. You would think we were stuck in a 3rd world country with elephants and donkeys sharing the road with us. Well, there were asses......
I make it into the studio 5 minutes before our webcasts starts and by that time I was done. Someone suggested mimosas would have been a good idea. I agree. Tomorrow I get to do it all over again. Yay. Not.
Today I had to be at the studio for work around 8:30. That means getting myself ready for something other than a workout (I'm pretty sure showing up in a sweaty sports bra and ripped up boxer shorts would not be appropriate). I do the math and decide I need to get up 12 minutes earlier than usual. That was my first mistake. Due to my reoccurring insomnia, I hit the snooze button. DAMN YOU SNOOZE!! Why do we even have that? Just get your ass up when you are supposed to. I don't understand why someone also decided that 9 minutes is a good snooze time and all the alarm makers said, "yes, this is good" and went with it. So, I get up and run to the coffee pot, fill up, catch up by looking online for the weather - ok, interjecting here - I know it has been 150 degrees and no rain for 6 months now, but I keep waiting for that surprise forecast of 65 and rain, but I live in TX not Seattle.
I take the world's fastest shower and am out by 6:25. Ok, not bad. I head up to get the boys and get them settled with some chocolate milk and crappy Japanamation cartoons. Then, I make the mistake of asking, "what do you want for breakfast". I must have looked like a short order cook because they asked for 10 different items and I'm pretty sure steak was one of them. Hell no! Reheated pancakes it is. Although, I thought about cooking the giant spread, just to see how fast I could do it, but figured sending them to school with food poisoning wasn't a good idea.
By now it's only 7:05, so I'm kicking ass! But, I forgot about me. Crap. My hair is almost dried and I don't have straight hair. It looks like Jon Bon Jovi's hair back in the livin' on a prayer years. I need some serious makeup for the bags under my eyes and I have no clue what I'm wearing. It really sucks that hair bands are no longer in style. That would have helped a lot. So, I manage to smooth out my crimped fro, find something that isn't covered in cat hair in the back of my closet and put on my makeup so fast I poked myself in the eye with the mascara wand 3 times. Now I have black streaks running down my cheek and my eye is all red from the injury.
Now it's 7:17 and I have to get Hud's shoes on. Oh. My. God. Those f*ing shoes!!!! Putting tennis shoes on this child is like putting a condom on a noodle. It takes 10 attempts and by the end he's crying and I'm sweating. I'm seriously considering spraying his feet with that truck bedliner stuff.
But, by 7:26 everyone is ready to go. And in walks Nick from the gym. Of course. Why does he always show up at the end. He so graciously offers to walk the kids to school so I can finish my coffee, which is now cold and the cream is pooling on the top of it. Gross. Screw it. I'm leaving.
Bad idea. It took me an hour and a half (AN HOUR AND A HALF) to drive what normally would take 20 minutes!!!! There was no wreck. No dead animals. No jets landing on the tollway. Just a bunch of assholes driving like idiots. You would think we were stuck in a 3rd world country with elephants and donkeys sharing the road with us. Well, there were asses......
I make it into the studio 5 minutes before our webcasts starts and by that time I was done. Someone suggested mimosas would have been a good idea. I agree. Tomorrow I get to do it all over again. Yay. Not.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
And that's what I have to say about that
I am adjusting quite nicely to my new life. I can't remember the last time I had so much time alone in the house. Yes, it can be a bit lonely at times. But, holy crap! My house stays clean. All day. Nothing is out of place. I actually started scrubbing baseboards by Wednesday because I was running out of things to do. The dogs have been bathed and brushed daily. The cats run because they are tired of all the grooming. I've been cooking every night. It's like I've joined the June Cleaver cult and am the shining star rookie. Now, all this free time has given me lots of thinking time, so I have a few rants that I would like to share.
*Carpool lines suck. SUCK. I am so grateful to live all of a 5 minute walk from our school. The snarled line of cars and pissed off people is fun to watch, when you aren't stuck in it. People tend to get mean and stupid when put in a long line, behind the wheel. All forms of manners and humanity go out the window. It's like they are starving tribes people from the depths of the jungle all trying to get a raw piece of meat at the end of the line! I'm pretty sure I saw a mom with a bone through her nose yesterday. It's insane. People are assholes. I want a golf cart to drive up there. Then I can taunt everyone as I whiz by. We saw a car auction once that had Elton John's golf cart for sale. It was equipped with giant glasses and a bow tie. I want it. I want it as my taunt mobile! It would be so cool!
*Carpool lines suck. SUCK. I am so grateful to live all of a 5 minute walk from our school. The snarled line of cars and pissed off people is fun to watch, when you aren't stuck in it. People tend to get mean and stupid when put in a long line, behind the wheel. All forms of manners and humanity go out the window. It's like they are starving tribes people from the depths of the jungle all trying to get a raw piece of meat at the end of the line! I'm pretty sure I saw a mom with a bone through her nose yesterday. It's insane. People are assholes. I want a golf cart to drive up there. Then I can taunt everyone as I whiz by. We saw a car auction once that had Elton John's golf cart for sale. It was equipped with giant glasses and a bow tie. I want it. I want it as my taunt mobile! It would be so cool!
See? Awesomeness!
* New kindergarten parents are the best! Ok, those that this is their first time into elementary school. They are so excited to sign up for everything. It's a PTA's dream. We shove pens in their hands and sign up sheets in front of them, letting them take on all kinds of jobs. We all smile and in our heads we are saying, "Bwuahahahahahaha Fresh meat!!!!" oh, I mean, "Yay! New help!". I'm always amazed at how much volunteering is needed for a good functioning PTA. I'm always more amazed at how many people run the other way screaming when you mention PTA. It's like I have on a hat of knives and am wearing bodies of clubbed baby seals around my neck. Geesh!
* I hate chatty checkout people at the grocery store. I will stalk each lane and look for the person that looks tired/grumpy/antisocial just to avoid a conversation. I had a winner a while back that had to comment on every item I had. As the cat litter came up, "Oh, do you have a cat?". Nope, I make my kids us a litter box. Cheese cubes..."Oh, are you having a party?". No, I'm throwing a cocktail party for my dogs. It's formal, so I'm having trouble finding them little tuxes. As the tampons come up, "uh oh...(insert her stupid frowny face here)." NO! Those are for shoving in my ears at night because my husband snores...... I really hate chatty checkout people.
*My cats spend entirely too much time licking themselves. Which is fine, but Bea Arthur chews on her claws. It's the cat version of nail biting. Is she nervous? What would a cat be stressed about? I only slept 20 hours today! How will I be productive? Is there enough catnip in the house? Did she scoop out my litter box? Max on the other hand sucks on his fur. It's the grossed sound I have ever heard. It's like someone squeezing macaroni with surgical gloves on. Drives me insane. I think he does it on purpose because he waits until I sit at my desk and gets under it and starts.
So, as you can see, I am not going crazy, but am just having a lot more time to observe.....or go crazy.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Oh, and it's that ugly kind of cry!
I can not believe the day is upon us. The day that so many stay at home moms dream of. The day that makes all those days of preschool, toddler play dates, and suffering through the Wiggles all worth it. The day your youngest goes off to kindergarten. I have worked almost 8 years for this day. Yet, I can't even think about it without getting that stupid lump in my throat and tears welling up in my eyes. Of course, I will enjoy being able to run and errand in under 15 minutes or be on a conference call without having to mute a "will you wipe my bum" request. But, I'll also miss having that sweet little voice ask me to hold him and watch Max and Ruby. I'll miss spending long mornings at the parks (if the Earth will ever move back to it's original position and not so close to the sun). So many emotions are attached to this event and I know by Wednesday it will all be in the past and I will enjoy my new found freedom. But for the next day or two, I will be sad, ok hysterical, mourning the passage of my little boy into the world of "school aged" child. I wrote a letter to Henry on this same day, two years ago. Now, it's time to write one again.....
Dear Hudson,
I can not believe this day is finally here! You are officially a kindergartener. I know, I know. You keep telling me you are not going and that you think it is going to be boring. I promise you it will be fun and you will actually like it (even though you will never admit it to me). There are a few pointers I'd like to give you to help make your days better, while you are away from me.
1. Be nice. Please, for the love of God, be nice. I know kids can get on your nerves and I know you get mad when kids color the sky the wrong color, or don't build an anatomically correct cat with the legos. It doesn't matter. Don't yell at them that they are doing it wrong. Remember, no one likes a jerk.
2. Try something new. Really. You have so many preconceived notions about things. This is a chance for you to try a new food, use a different color marker, sit in a different seat once in a while.
3. Your teacher really is smarter than you. Trust me. I know you think you are an expert on everything, but you are not. So, try your best to listen and learn.
4. Don't eat the paste. This is a very important life lesson for any child. I know you are more of a sniffer, but don't let the other kids tempt you into trying a bite.
5. Be nice. Did I mention this one already? Be nice to everyone. Every kid deserves a friend and I expect you to be one instead of being mean. Especially the girls. You never know when you might need a date to prom.
I'm warning you now that I will be a mess tomorrow. You will have my tears on your backpack, in your lunchbox, on your desk...... It's not because I am worried about you. It's because I am so sad at how fast you are growing up. I know you will always need me, but things will be different now. Your teacher will be getting the bulk of your sweet little kamakazi arm kisses and your little bear hugs. She will get to hear most of your funny little observations. She will get to see you play with your friends. I'm so sad that I will be missing much of this. You're lucky. Lots of mommies will just have another baby to fill the void. But, since you don't like babies and I don't like changing diapers, this will never happen. You will always be my youngest. My little guy. I have cherished our days together and will miss you so much. And I will be there as soon as the bell rings to hear all about your first day as a big kid and I expect a couple of those arm kisses.
Love,
Mommy
******oh and big props to mother nature for blessing me with raging PMS this weekend. I was already emotional, but thanks to you and the influence of hormones, it feels more like Hud is going off to war. On Mars. Without oxygen. I really didn't need the added amount of crazy, but you went ahead and sprinkled it on for good measure. So, in addition to Kleenex, today I will also be caring massive amounts of chocolate and Aquaban. Maybe I'll just shoot for the moon and come home and watch Steele Magnolias and Sophie's choice today and eat brownie batter out of a bowl. Wait, no, not good because if I show up after school, with red puffy eyes, swollen face, dried snot all over me, bits of Kleenex stuck to my face and brownie batter in my hair, they might not release the boys to me. Better stick to shopping.
Dear Hudson,
I can not believe this day is finally here! You are officially a kindergartener. I know, I know. You keep telling me you are not going and that you think it is going to be boring. I promise you it will be fun and you will actually like it (even though you will never admit it to me). There are a few pointers I'd like to give you to help make your days better, while you are away from me.
1. Be nice. Please, for the love of God, be nice. I know kids can get on your nerves and I know you get mad when kids color the sky the wrong color, or don't build an anatomically correct cat with the legos. It doesn't matter. Don't yell at them that they are doing it wrong. Remember, no one likes a jerk.
2. Try something new. Really. You have so many preconceived notions about things. This is a chance for you to try a new food, use a different color marker, sit in a different seat once in a while.
3. Your teacher really is smarter than you. Trust me. I know you think you are an expert on everything, but you are not. So, try your best to listen and learn.
4. Don't eat the paste. This is a very important life lesson for any child. I know you are more of a sniffer, but don't let the other kids tempt you into trying a bite.
5. Be nice. Did I mention this one already? Be nice to everyone. Every kid deserves a friend and I expect you to be one instead of being mean. Especially the girls. You never know when you might need a date to prom.
I'm warning you now that I will be a mess tomorrow. You will have my tears on your backpack, in your lunchbox, on your desk...... It's not because I am worried about you. It's because I am so sad at how fast you are growing up. I know you will always need me, but things will be different now. Your teacher will be getting the bulk of your sweet little kamakazi arm kisses and your little bear hugs. She will get to hear most of your funny little observations. She will get to see you play with your friends. I'm so sad that I will be missing much of this. You're lucky. Lots of mommies will just have another baby to fill the void. But, since you don't like babies and I don't like changing diapers, this will never happen. You will always be my youngest. My little guy. I have cherished our days together and will miss you so much. And I will be there as soon as the bell rings to hear all about your first day as a big kid and I expect a couple of those arm kisses.
Love,
Mommy
******oh and big props to mother nature for blessing me with raging PMS this weekend. I was already emotional, but thanks to you and the influence of hormones, it feels more like Hud is going off to war. On Mars. Without oxygen. I really didn't need the added amount of crazy, but you went ahead and sprinkled it on for good measure. So, in addition to Kleenex, today I will also be caring massive amounts of chocolate and Aquaban. Maybe I'll just shoot for the moon and come home and watch Steele Magnolias and Sophie's choice today and eat brownie batter out of a bowl. Wait, no, not good because if I show up after school, with red puffy eyes, swollen face, dried snot all over me, bits of Kleenex stuck to my face and brownie batter in my hair, they might not release the boys to me. Better stick to shopping.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Holy crap! Where's the straight jacket?
Ok, I have to start this with the obligatory, "I love my life. I love my kids. My husband is the best man in the world. I'm so blessed. I couldn't imagine a better life.". Blah blah blah blah. Ok, that's better. I will now feel less guilty for going off on my week. Should you feel that I'm whining too much or start thinking, "Gee, Cayce, you really have a great life.", stop reading and just go back to my first few sentences. And don't ever talk to me again.
This week has been HELL! Nick has been gone all week AGAIN. I'm starting to think that he does it on purpose. The week last winter when we were frozen in our homes and couldn't even get out of the driveway, he was gone. 2 weeks ago when it was the hottest week on record and the flames of hell were shooting out of the ground.....gone. This week, the 2nd hottest week on record, and the freaking worst week of summer because it's the last one before school starts....gone. See. He leaves me here to deal with this crap on purpose. I hate him right now. I keep saying we need a pool, so I can hire a hot young Cuban pool boy. I may go buy a blow up pool today, hire said boy, so he can be here, fanning me with giant palm frond when Nick gets home tonight. Maybe I'll add in some bon bons too. Just to make a point.
The kids. Oh. My. God. These boys! They have apparently declared psychological warfare on me. They forget that I'm all they have right now. No one will know if I don't feed them, make them wear the same dirty underwear everyday. They just assume that they can beat me down and I'll continue to care for them. Idiots. The last week of summer is always the worst. Everything is now boring. It's too damn hot to even go get the mail. The pools are 120 degrees. All the camps are done, so I have no chance of leaving them and paying dearly for someone else to deal with them. There's also the excitement of school starting next week. Add all that in to the above paragraph. Oh, did I mention that I'm one of those crazy moms that makes my kids start their school schedule a week early. So, we've been going to bed early and getting up early. The going to bed part is awesome. The getting up part sucks. For me and them. More for me. So, I'm left to deal with 2 tired, bored, excited, missing daddy kids. Yay!
I even broke down and took them to Target to each get a new toy, thinking it would buy me a few hours of quiet. Plus, I needed more wine. Ok, so we went to Target to get more wine and I was talked into getting them new toys while we were there. As soon as we got home, they tore open the boxes only to realize that the main part of the race set they picked was missing. We see, "Balls sold separately" written on the box. What the hell???? Who does that??? What's the name of this toy company because I'm sending them hate mail. I call around and no one sells the damn balls. Apparently, it's a new item and they are just getting bits and pieces in. I asked the man at Target why he hates me, but I didn't get a response.
I also go into some weird survival mode when Nick is out of town. But, instead of hunting for food and building shelter, I clean. I clean like I've never done it before. I wash anything that will fit in the machine. I scrub grout. I dust light fixtures. I have no idea why this kicks in when I'm single parenting. Maybe it's a way of keeping my sanity. Maybe it's a defense mechanism. Maybe it's a way to keep my hands busy so I don't hang the boys from doorknobs. I'm like a coke addict on a bender, but instead of snorting lines, I'm making awesome vacuum cleaner lines. I think I do this because I get all panicky when the house is out of order. My mental state may look like a frat house, but my physical world is nice and clean and pretty. Ahhh.........
I long for the days of my childhood when kids could spend the summer roaming freely. Riding bikes, playing at the park, flashlight hide and go seek, looking for frogs in the creeks. Unfortunately, thanks to all the jackass pedophiles and kidnappers, my children will never get that opportunity. They will never get that little bit of independence and I will never get that little break in the afternoon. But, I suppose me being emotionally drained and slightly insane is worth my boys being safe. Thank God Nick gets home tonight. I may just have to give him a swift kick in the ass when he walks in the door.
This week has been HELL! Nick has been gone all week AGAIN. I'm starting to think that he does it on purpose. The week last winter when we were frozen in our homes and couldn't even get out of the driveway, he was gone. 2 weeks ago when it was the hottest week on record and the flames of hell were shooting out of the ground.....gone. This week, the 2nd hottest week on record, and the freaking worst week of summer because it's the last one before school starts....gone. See. He leaves me here to deal with this crap on purpose. I hate him right now. I keep saying we need a pool, so I can hire a hot young Cuban pool boy. I may go buy a blow up pool today, hire said boy, so he can be here, fanning me with giant palm frond when Nick gets home tonight. Maybe I'll add in some bon bons too. Just to make a point.
The kids. Oh. My. God. These boys! They have apparently declared psychological warfare on me. They forget that I'm all they have right now. No one will know if I don't feed them, make them wear the same dirty underwear everyday. They just assume that they can beat me down and I'll continue to care for them. Idiots. The last week of summer is always the worst. Everything is now boring. It's too damn hot to even go get the mail. The pools are 120 degrees. All the camps are done, so I have no chance of leaving them and paying dearly for someone else to deal with them. There's also the excitement of school starting next week. Add all that in to the above paragraph. Oh, did I mention that I'm one of those crazy moms that makes my kids start their school schedule a week early. So, we've been going to bed early and getting up early. The going to bed part is awesome. The getting up part sucks. For me and them. More for me. So, I'm left to deal with 2 tired, bored, excited, missing daddy kids. Yay!
I even broke down and took them to Target to each get a new toy, thinking it would buy me a few hours of quiet. Plus, I needed more wine. Ok, so we went to Target to get more wine and I was talked into getting them new toys while we were there. As soon as we got home, they tore open the boxes only to realize that the main part of the race set they picked was missing. We see, "Balls sold separately" written on the box. What the hell???? Who does that??? What's the name of this toy company because I'm sending them hate mail. I call around and no one sells the damn balls. Apparently, it's a new item and they are just getting bits and pieces in. I asked the man at Target why he hates me, but I didn't get a response.
I also go into some weird survival mode when Nick is out of town. But, instead of hunting for food and building shelter, I clean. I clean like I've never done it before. I wash anything that will fit in the machine. I scrub grout. I dust light fixtures. I have no idea why this kicks in when I'm single parenting. Maybe it's a way of keeping my sanity. Maybe it's a defense mechanism. Maybe it's a way to keep my hands busy so I don't hang the boys from doorknobs. I'm like a coke addict on a bender, but instead of snorting lines, I'm making awesome vacuum cleaner lines. I think I do this because I get all panicky when the house is out of order. My mental state may look like a frat house, but my physical world is nice and clean and pretty. Ahhh.........
I long for the days of my childhood when kids could spend the summer roaming freely. Riding bikes, playing at the park, flashlight hide and go seek, looking for frogs in the creeks. Unfortunately, thanks to all the jackass pedophiles and kidnappers, my children will never get that opportunity. They will never get that little bit of independence and I will never get that little break in the afternoon. But, I suppose me being emotionally drained and slightly insane is worth my boys being safe. Thank God Nick gets home tonight. I may just have to give him a swift kick in the ass when he walks in the door.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
and that's why kids shouldn't play poker
I really don't enjoy playing board or card games with kids. They cheat, refuse to follow the rules, get bored 20 minutes into it and quit.... It's got to be like playing dominoes in the alzheimer's wing of a nursing home. But worse. At least those people have a reason for the insanity. Last night, during dinner, Henry announces that it's family game night and we should play cards. I think Nick and I rolled our eyes at the exact same time. But, we agree to his challenge. He picks Go Fish as his torture of choice.
We head up to the media room, because, well, with this heat, it's nice to sit in a room with no windows. I call it cave sheik. I get some cards and start dealing them out. I should mention here that Henry is obsessed with Las Vegas. Nick and I went alone a year ago and Henry still talks about it like he was there. I just happen to pull out a deck of cards from the Flamingo Hilton. He was stoked. Ok, back to the game. Wait, how many cards does each person get? Screw it because, as previously mentioned, they are just going to cheat anyway. I decided 7 sounds good, so everyone got 7 cards. Hud immediately looks at his cards, starts crying and throws them everywhere. Nice. One down. I wonder if Henry will break down as easily......
We start the game, and within 3 rounds, Henry has more cards than he can handle. Clearly he sucks at this game and I suspect he's already cheating. I "help" him organize his cards and sure enough, there's the damn "10" I had asked for in the previous round. See. Cheater. Maybe I should take him to Vegas after all.....he might be profitable.
By now, Nick is pissed because Henry isn't playing right. So, I add my therapist/referee hat to my pit boss/dealer hat already on my head and encourage my adult husband he can do this. It's only a game. Albeit a crappy game, but we should set an example (btw...I always feel weird saying that. I really shouldn't be setting examples for anyone). I manage to get both child and parent back into the game. At this point, the "take" pile is pretty close to the end, so there is hope. By now, Hud is curled up on the couch, telling us what cards each other has. I'm pretty sure he and Henry worked out some sort of master plan before we started.
We finish the game and Nick wins. I could tell he was proud of himself. Although, winning in that game is kind of like winning the soap box derby when everyone else shows up with cars made from wet cardboard and scotch tape.
So, this is why I hate family game night. Well, at least the old fashioned one. We've tried dominos, monopoly, uno and many corporate deemed "family games". I guess my family doesn't function like the commercials expect normal families to. We are much happier running around the house chasing each other, hiding and jumping out scaring the crap out of each other, or happily all on the couch, playing our electronics. At least no one can cheat at those games.
We head up to the media room, because, well, with this heat, it's nice to sit in a room with no windows. I call it cave sheik. I get some cards and start dealing them out. I should mention here that Henry is obsessed with Las Vegas. Nick and I went alone a year ago and Henry still talks about it like he was there. I just happen to pull out a deck of cards from the Flamingo Hilton. He was stoked. Ok, back to the game. Wait, how many cards does each person get? Screw it because, as previously mentioned, they are just going to cheat anyway. I decided 7 sounds good, so everyone got 7 cards. Hud immediately looks at his cards, starts crying and throws them everywhere. Nice. One down. I wonder if Henry will break down as easily......
We start the game, and within 3 rounds, Henry has more cards than he can handle. Clearly he sucks at this game and I suspect he's already cheating. I "help" him organize his cards and sure enough, there's the damn "10" I had asked for in the previous round. See. Cheater. Maybe I should take him to Vegas after all.....he might be profitable.
By now, Nick is pissed because Henry isn't playing right. So, I add my therapist/referee hat to my pit boss/dealer hat already on my head and encourage my adult husband he can do this. It's only a game. Albeit a crappy game, but we should set an example (btw...I always feel weird saying that. I really shouldn't be setting examples for anyone). I manage to get both child and parent back into the game. At this point, the "take" pile is pretty close to the end, so there is hope. By now, Hud is curled up on the couch, telling us what cards each other has. I'm pretty sure he and Henry worked out some sort of master plan before we started.
We finish the game and Nick wins. I could tell he was proud of himself. Although, winning in that game is kind of like winning the soap box derby when everyone else shows up with cars made from wet cardboard and scotch tape.
So, this is why I hate family game night. Well, at least the old fashioned one. We've tried dominos, monopoly, uno and many corporate deemed "family games". I guess my family doesn't function like the commercials expect normal families to. We are much happier running around the house chasing each other, hiding and jumping out scaring the crap out of each other, or happily all on the couch, playing our electronics. At least no one can cheat at those games.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Legos - 0 Me - 1
Let me start by saying how much I hate Legos. Ok, I'll give you they make some cool stuff and can keep the boys somewhat busy. But, the negatives totally outweigh the positives. With it being pretty close to the surface of the sun outside, we trekked off to Target to get some new entertainment for the miserable afternoons. I was hoping the boys would go for a new Wii game or maybe some Tylenol PM and wine, but they ran straight for that damn Lego aisle. Great. So, we start looking at the Alien sets, trying to find 2 that aren't too complex or that don't cost $75 (seriously???? $75 for plastic???? Are there Chinese children in a factory somewhere with little gnarled hands from cutting out all the pieces?????).
We settle on a set for each child, then we go get a toy for mommy....they had a sale on my favorite wine! Yippy!
Fast forward now to the assemble of the stupid things. We get all the pieces for each set laid out and I of course, have to start on Hud's first. I open the instruction book and there are no words. Just pictures. How can I tell if it's a black piece or a dark gray piece needed? Wait, does that have 6 holes or 8? OMG, how many tiny little button circle things are in this damn box???? I felt like a migrant worker, because the entire time, Hud is hovering over me asking me how much longer, why am I so slow, why am I hiding under the coffee table crying.....
After the 3rd attempt I get his little space ship constructed and move on to Henry's UFO. Ok, sigh of relief because at least his set has a lot of big pieces. I'm feeling pretty darn confident on this one. As I'm working away, impressed with how well I am doing, I hear Hud start to scream. Crap. He brings me his little space ship, which is now in 3 pieces. Have I mentioned that I hate Legos??? I put it back together, send him on his way and go back to work on Henry's UFO.
***now you can go back and read the last 3 sentences 4 more times because that's how it all went down***
I finally get Henry's UFO finished and explain to Hud that he's not even allowed to look at his spaceship anymore because I am tired of fixing it. Well, he apparently looked at it because it fell apart again. That's it! This is war! Screw you Legos! You suck!!!! I will beat you!!! I am a Texas woman and there is a secret weapon that all Texas women keep close at hand! My glue gun!!!! Bwuahahahahahaha!!! I plug that thing in and wait. Ok, so the dramatic part kind of ends here because it takes a good 10 minutes for the gun to heat up.
As soon as I see that little blobby of glue melt on the end of the gun, it is time. I start glueing the loose pieces together. That piece of crap fell apart again while I was working on it!!! What the hell?????!!! Ok, we need more glue. As I'm glueing more of it together I manage to get it on my finger. Fabulous. I have now melted half the skin off of my index finger. Oh, not to mention the 25 strings of glue that are now attaching me to the pile of glue covered Legos that was once a space ship. I refuse to lose this battle. I need more glue! I get out a pile of sticks and load up my gun.
Well, I managed to get the spaceship put together. It looks like the Sanford and Son truck and I'm pretty sure I can hear the theme song to that show when I look at it. The legos are the bricks and the hot glue is now mortar. There are a few pieces missing. My counter is covered in hot glue blobs. I have 2 burns. But, damn it, it's in one piece and my child is happy. So screw you Legos. This time, I won!
We settle on a set for each child, then we go get a toy for mommy....they had a sale on my favorite wine! Yippy!
Fast forward now to the assemble of the stupid things. We get all the pieces for each set laid out and I of course, have to start on Hud's first. I open the instruction book and there are no words. Just pictures. How can I tell if it's a black piece or a dark gray piece needed? Wait, does that have 6 holes or 8? OMG, how many tiny little button circle things are in this damn box???? I felt like a migrant worker, because the entire time, Hud is hovering over me asking me how much longer, why am I so slow, why am I hiding under the coffee table crying.....
After the 3rd attempt I get his little space ship constructed and move on to Henry's UFO. Ok, sigh of relief because at least his set has a lot of big pieces. I'm feeling pretty darn confident on this one. As I'm working away, impressed with how well I am doing, I hear Hud start to scream. Crap. He brings me his little space ship, which is now in 3 pieces. Have I mentioned that I hate Legos??? I put it back together, send him on his way and go back to work on Henry's UFO.
***now you can go back and read the last 3 sentences 4 more times because that's how it all went down***
I finally get Henry's UFO finished and explain to Hud that he's not even allowed to look at his spaceship anymore because I am tired of fixing it. Well, he apparently looked at it because it fell apart again. That's it! This is war! Screw you Legos! You suck!!!! I will beat you!!! I am a Texas woman and there is a secret weapon that all Texas women keep close at hand! My glue gun!!!! Bwuahahahahahaha!!! I plug that thing in and wait. Ok, so the dramatic part kind of ends here because it takes a good 10 minutes for the gun to heat up.
As soon as I see that little blobby of glue melt on the end of the gun, it is time. I start glueing the loose pieces together. That piece of crap fell apart again while I was working on it!!! What the hell?????!!! Ok, we need more glue. As I'm glueing more of it together I manage to get it on my finger. Fabulous. I have now melted half the skin off of my index finger. Oh, not to mention the 25 strings of glue that are now attaching me to the pile of glue covered Legos that was once a space ship. I refuse to lose this battle. I need more glue! I get out a pile of sticks and load up my gun.
Well, I managed to get the spaceship put together. It looks like the Sanford and Son truck and I'm pretty sure I can hear the theme song to that show when I look at it. The legos are the bricks and the hot glue is now mortar. There are a few pieces missing. My counter is covered in hot glue blobs. I have 2 burns. But, damn it, it's in one piece and my child is happy. So screw you Legos. This time, I won!
Monday, August 1, 2011
At ease boys
Of course there are so many obvious joys to parenting. But, there are just as many gross creep me out moments that go along with it. Things all those stupid books I over paid for never mentioned. My first realization of this was when I was changing Henry's diaper as a baby and he managed to blow crap all over the wall while I was mid wipe on him. Sure, I cleaned it, but every time I looked at that wall, all I saw was a crime scene. There might have well been a chalk outline of me on the floor in the fetal position as well. We had to move.
On to my story..... Every night, we take the kids for one last vein drain before we go to sleep. It really does help them not get up 40 times a night to pee. Or at least it's supposed to. I'm still working on that theory and when I find that it is wrong, I'll be letting our pediatrician know. Nick, was as usual, working, packing for the gym, watching something shiny roll by, so I went upstairs to take Henry to do one last pee. First off, the kid is 65lbs and almost as tall as me. Add in all that dead sleep weight and getting that boy out of bed is no easy task. It's kind of like calf roping, only the point is not to lose my balance and have him fall on me. I manage to get him to the bathroom, and get him into position.....only to realize he's got a raging, um...fully excited, um......ok so he was pointing at the ceiling. But not with his fingers. Great. So, as he starts to pee, of course it goes straight up. In a split second I am forced into a decision. Do I let the golden shower continue to spray every surface in the bathroom, or reach down and push that little soldier towards the ground. Well, the germaphobe in me takes over and there I am, trying not to look or think about what I'm doing while keeping the pee going into its intended vessel. Ugh. Gross. Will he need therapy now? Will I?
I get him back in bed, come downstairs and tell Nick about how I think I just molested our child. He of course starts laughing and tells me his "trick" he's used on the kids before. Something about pushing on the erea above the um, unit.....I don't know b/c I was now experiencing post traumatic stress disorder and hid in the closet, licking shoes.
See, these are the moments no one tells you about. I know we have all had them. Some of us more than others. Pretty sure I'm in that latter group. I'm pretty sure Henry doesn't know a thing. Me however....well I'll need lots of meds and group therapy to move past this. Wait, there's still pee all over their bathroom. Great. Now we have to move again.
***and yes, I realize that my first 2 posts are about urine. But, that's my life.
On to my story..... Every night, we take the kids for one last vein drain before we go to sleep. It really does help them not get up 40 times a night to pee. Or at least it's supposed to. I'm still working on that theory and when I find that it is wrong, I'll be letting our pediatrician know. Nick, was as usual, working, packing for the gym, watching something shiny roll by, so I went upstairs to take Henry to do one last pee. First off, the kid is 65lbs and almost as tall as me. Add in all that dead sleep weight and getting that boy out of bed is no easy task. It's kind of like calf roping, only the point is not to lose my balance and have him fall on me. I manage to get him to the bathroom, and get him into position.....only to realize he's got a raging, um...fully excited, um......ok so he was pointing at the ceiling. But not with his fingers. Great. So, as he starts to pee, of course it goes straight up. In a split second I am forced into a decision. Do I let the golden shower continue to spray every surface in the bathroom, or reach down and push that little soldier towards the ground. Well, the germaphobe in me takes over and there I am, trying not to look or think about what I'm doing while keeping the pee going into its intended vessel. Ugh. Gross. Will he need therapy now? Will I?
I get him back in bed, come downstairs and tell Nick about how I think I just molested our child. He of course starts laughing and tells me his "trick" he's used on the kids before. Something about pushing on the erea above the um, unit.....I don't know b/c I was now experiencing post traumatic stress disorder and hid in the closet, licking shoes.
See, these are the moments no one tells you about. I know we have all had them. Some of us more than others. Pretty sure I'm in that latter group. I'm pretty sure Henry doesn't know a thing. Me however....well I'll need lots of meds and group therapy to move past this. Wait, there's still pee all over their bathroom. Great. Now we have to move again.
***and yes, I realize that my first 2 posts are about urine. But, that's my life.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Here we go....once again
I think there are 4 or 5 of you that were followers on my old blog. I use the term blog extremely loosely because 8 entries over 2 years hardly qualifies as a blog. Also, I haven't posted on it in so long that Google will let me read it, but not post on it. I think they dumped me. That's ok. Like a psychotic cat lady, I can just change my name and show up at Google's door again.
So I am happy to be launching Crap I think of v.2.0. I have been inspired in recent days to stick with this and just let it all out. Some of you may be offended (but if you are a friend and you think I am writing about you, unless your name is mentioned unclench your butt b/c I'm not), some of you may think I'm nuts (which is fine b/c I already do) and some of you may get a good laugh. Obviously, I am shooting for the 3rd option here. So, that being said.....
Every once in a while, we all have those moments in our relationships that remind us how we have just become too damn comfortable with each other. Some couples pick their noses with the other person right there. Some use the "facilities" with the door wide open for everyone in the house to enjoy (which I'm sure they don't). Last night, Nick and I sat on the couch in the media room. Saturday night. Watching a marathon of Diners, Drive ins and Dives. Bonding by ignoring each other playing games on our electronic device of choice. Bitsy is between us. I look down and see a wet spot by her on the couch. Oh Lord, did she pee on the couch???? I give you the conversation that followed:
Me: Did she pee???? Is that pee???
Nick: I don't know (not even looking away from his phone. How is he going to know if it is or isn't if he doesn't look. Pretty sure he's not the Great and Powerful Oz)?
Me: Well, smell it!
Nick: Not right now. In a minute.
Me: No, now. I need to know what kind of "wet" this is.
Nick:........... (see, I've lost him and he's now more interested in his game than whatever animal body fluid this might or might not be on our couch).
Me: Fine, I'm getting one of those wet butt wipe things from the kids' bathrooms and figuring it out. (Yes, I feel that I'm the girl and as an act of chivalry, he should be dealing with this mess. There are no dragons to slay, no one locks me in a castle, no one else is trying to woo me away. The pee is all I have here).
I blot said stain and in the darkness, start blotting at it and squinting to see any signs of yellow.
I now realize that I had asked him to smell it. I also realize that instead of him saying, "hell no, you do it" I was answered with "in a minute". See? Too comfortable. 10 years ago, when we were first dating, a similar incident happened involving one of my cats, explosive diarrhea (not me, the cat) and flinging poo. There was so much laughter involved that it is still a story we tell today. See, I'm telling y'all about it right now. This incident last night however, reminded me that as we grow together, we get so used to each others insanity and crazy requests, that we really don't react anymore. We know that if we handle it a certain way, it will resolve itself. So, maybe getting comfortable isn't all bad. Sometimes it is a great way to avoid a fight. Or in Nick's case, avoid sniffing what could have been dog pee.
***In case you are wondering, it was slobber. Still to determine whether it was Nick's or the dog's.
So I am happy to be launching Crap I think of v.2.0. I have been inspired in recent days to stick with this and just let it all out. Some of you may be offended (but if you are a friend and you think I am writing about you, unless your name is mentioned unclench your butt b/c I'm not), some of you may think I'm nuts (which is fine b/c I already do) and some of you may get a good laugh. Obviously, I am shooting for the 3rd option here. So, that being said.....
Every once in a while, we all have those moments in our relationships that remind us how we have just become too damn comfortable with each other. Some couples pick their noses with the other person right there. Some use the "facilities" with the door wide open for everyone in the house to enjoy (which I'm sure they don't). Last night, Nick and I sat on the couch in the media room. Saturday night. Watching a marathon of Diners, Drive ins and Dives. Bonding by ignoring each other playing games on our electronic device of choice. Bitsy is between us. I look down and see a wet spot by her on the couch. Oh Lord, did she pee on the couch???? I give you the conversation that followed:
Me: Did she pee???? Is that pee???
Nick: I don't know (not even looking away from his phone. How is he going to know if it is or isn't if he doesn't look. Pretty sure he's not the Great and Powerful Oz)?
Me: Well, smell it!
Nick: Not right now. In a minute.
Me: No, now. I need to know what kind of "wet" this is.
Nick:........... (see, I've lost him and he's now more interested in his game than whatever animal body fluid this might or might not be on our couch).
Me: Fine, I'm getting one of those wet butt wipe things from the kids' bathrooms and figuring it out. (Yes, I feel that I'm the girl and as an act of chivalry, he should be dealing with this mess. There are no dragons to slay, no one locks me in a castle, no one else is trying to woo me away. The pee is all I have here).
I blot said stain and in the darkness, start blotting at it and squinting to see any signs of yellow.
I now realize that I had asked him to smell it. I also realize that instead of him saying, "hell no, you do it" I was answered with "in a minute". See? Too comfortable. 10 years ago, when we were first dating, a similar incident happened involving one of my cats, explosive diarrhea (not me, the cat) and flinging poo. There was so much laughter involved that it is still a story we tell today. See, I'm telling y'all about it right now. This incident last night however, reminded me that as we grow together, we get so used to each others insanity and crazy requests, that we really don't react anymore. We know that if we handle it a certain way, it will resolve itself. So, maybe getting comfortable isn't all bad. Sometimes it is a great way to avoid a fight. Or in Nick's case, avoid sniffing what could have been dog pee.
***In case you are wondering, it was slobber. Still to determine whether it was Nick's or the dog's.
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