Declan came downstairs, unaware that I had come home from work.
"Oh hey, Mom. You look angry. What happened?"
"Oh, I just had a very frustrating day."
"Oh. I thought maybe you had your period or something."
"What!?!?"
He quickly vacated my space, muttering to himself.
"And now she looks even angrier."
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Fuck Participation
Declan decided to try cross country camp this summer. It's a four-day, free little clinic in the morning sponsored by our school district. Unfortunately, not only was he one of the youngest kids, he also was the only one who wasn't on about four track teams. Apparently, my kid was the only one in the district who thought cross country sounded like something fun to try...
Despite these obstacles, he very much enjoyed the experience. On the last day, they participated in a competitive run of a mile and a half. He came in last. By a whole, whole lot. He was bummed.
"Mom, I couldn't catch anyone."
"Well, what did your coach say?"
"He said that he was really proud of me and that it was good that I'd finished and that he really hoped he would see me again next summer."
"Well, that's very encouraging!"
"I guess. He gave me this stupid green ribbon. It says 'honorable mention'. What most kids don't know is that when you get something that says 'honorable mention' what it really means is 'do better next time'.
Despite these obstacles, he very much enjoyed the experience. On the last day, they participated in a competitive run of a mile and a half. He came in last. By a whole, whole lot. He was bummed.
"Mom, I couldn't catch anyone."
"Well, what did your coach say?"
"He said that he was really proud of me and that it was good that I'd finished and that he really hoped he would see me again next summer."
"Well, that's very encouraging!"
"I guess. He gave me this stupid green ribbon. It says 'honorable mention'. What most kids don't know is that when you get something that says 'honorable mention' what it really means is 'do better next time'.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Quote of the Day
Conversation on the way home from a Sonic ice cream run between Isa and her dad.
"We were playing this trick on Ptara. It was so hilarious..."
"Wait. Who was there?"
"My girl scout troop. At Great Wolf Lodge."
"What's Ptara?"
"The girl we played the trick on."
"What's her name?"
"Ptara."
"What? Say it again. Slower."
"Pa Tar A"
"Her name is Ptara?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Dad. Ptara."
"What does she look like?"
"Well she has blonde hair. And a very round head."
"A round head?"
"Yes. Very."
"Do I have a round head?"
"Well it's rounder now than when you were younger."
Indeed.
"We were playing this trick on Ptara. It was so hilarious..."
"Wait. Who was there?"
"My girl scout troop. At Great Wolf Lodge."
"What's Ptara?"
"The girl we played the trick on."
"What's her name?"
"Ptara."
"What? Say it again. Slower."
"Pa Tar A"
"Her name is Ptara?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, Dad. Ptara."
"What does she look like?"
"Well she has blonde hair. And a very round head."
"A round head?"
"Yes. Very."
"Do I have a round head?"
"Well it's rounder now than when you were younger."
Indeed.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Quote of the Day
"Hey, Mom. What's that on facebook?"
"Oh, hey Dec. It's the Omaha Astronomical Society's picture of the day. It's the Andromeda galaxy."
Oh. that's the one that's going to slam in to our galaxy in 50 million years and probably destroy us."
Well, he certainly has the eternal optimism of a scientist.
"Oh, hey Dec. It's the Omaha Astronomical Society's picture of the day. It's the Andromeda galaxy."
Oh. that's the one that's going to slam in to our galaxy in 50 million years and probably destroy us."
Well, he certainly has the eternal optimism of a scientist.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Quote of the Day
Emily was helping me plant flowers.
"What are those pink ones named, Mom?"
"Impatiens."
"Does that mean that they take a reeeaaally long time to grow?"
"What are those pink ones named, Mom?"
"Impatiens."
"Does that mean that they take a reeeaaally long time to grow?"
Monday, April 30, 2012
The Bullshit Nobody Tells You
There are quite a few girls at my work right now who are expecting, or who very recently had babies. First and foremost, I'm super glad it's them and not me. But it did get me thinking about when I was having my little bundles of joy.
I was not one of those women who liked being pregnant. I like being a Mom, and love my kids beyond measure, but being pregnant sucked beyond words. And nobody told me it would. All I heard was how great it was. Your hair gets long and luxurious. You feel like more of a woman. You can eat whatever you want. The most dire warning was from my mother, who claimed things to get uncomfortable after about 10 centimeters.
First of all, my mother was hospitalized for weeks before she bore both of my brothers, which has to measure pretty darn high on the suck scale. Second, being the skeptic that I am, I found a damn ruler and looked at just how far 10 centimeters is. There is no way in fuck that is only "uncomfortable". I had no idea what I was in for.
I couldn't believe the bullshit that nobody tells you. While the result is undoubtedly the most wonderful, there is nothing about growing another human inside of you that doesn't suck. Nothing.
Yes, the prenatal vitamins do make your hair pretty great. Mostly what happens is that you stop losing your hair at the fairly rapid normal pace. Which, by the way, ceases the moment you give birth. Yes, that does mean that a bunch of your hair falls out. Sexy, huh? What's even better is that nobody tells you that all of your hair gets long and luxurious. All of it; leg hair, armpit hair... You even start growing hair where you didn't before, so you end up with long, beautiful belly hair. Nothing screams sexy like cornrows to cover your stretch marks.
I'm pretty sure my internal organs will never be the same. It's not as if there's a cavernous space in a woman's innards just waiting for occupancy from a little bundle of joy. Every little bit of room that the baby grows into displaces something. Your stomach can't hold much of anything without it coming back up in the form of heartburn. You can't breathe deeply anymore because your diaphragm can't get down very far. Your pelvis literally spreads out from the extra weight, which is every bit as uncomfortable as it sounds. And don't even get me started about the bladder.
Sleeping is a joke. You can't sleep on your back because your fetus will crush your kidneys. Seriously, that's what my doctor told me. Sleeping on your stomach is obviously out, unless channeling a high-centered turtle is relaxing to you. That leaves your side. But, you can't just roll over and doze off. Your fetus sticks out so much that the weight of it pulling down toward the mattress will actually strain your back muscles. And, don't forget that spread pelvis. So, what you end up having to do to avoid excruciating pain is to stuff pillows underneath your belly and in between your legs to support all of the extra weight. All of which must be repeated if you have to get up to pee, which you will about every two hours, or if you need to turn over, which you will. Then, right when you are drifting off, your little darling will start to kick you.
The first few times the baby kicks, it's magical. By the end, it's much less so. My doctor said that the reason they are much more likely to kick frequently at night is that during the day when mom is moving around, the walking motion rocks the baby to sleep. So, at night when you aren't moving around, it's soccer time for junior. If you are lucky, none of your organs will be close. Getting kicked in the bladder when you are trying to not get up for the sixth time that night to pee is awesome. By the end, it looks very much like one of the Alien movies. You can see a hand or foot move across your belly. Or walk around all day with a lopsided baby bump because the head is sticking out to one side. Not creepy at all.
Everything that you have come to know about your body is wrong. Your center of gravity is completely off. And it goes without saying, that you stick out further than you think. I was a classroom teacher during all three of my pregnancies, and I would occasionally misjudge my distance, take a corner a bit too sharply and whack a student with my fetus. There just isn't a good way to apologize for that, especially to a 14 year-old boy. Hopefully the therapy was limited.
Then there's the fun stuff unique to you. My oldest spent her entire time in my uterus with her feet cocked right near my sciatic nerve. So, every time she would kick it I would at best loose my balance and at worse pass out completely. Which happened twice in the bathroom at school. I also would puke at the taste of toothpaste. Think about that one for a second. I would get up, brush my teeth, puke, have to brush my teeth because I just puked, puke, and so on. Because starting your day pulling up your pants to the bottom of your boobs doesn't suck badly enough.
That was horrifying, when I learned how maternity pants worked. Yes, they actually go all the way over your belly. So does the underwear. It's hot. It is true that your boobs get big. But, between the belly hair, the complete loss of balance and the constant peeing it doesn't really matter. By that time you have come to the grim realization that your condition is completely the fault of the guy who is interested in your boobs, and you really aren't motivated to reward him at that point.
In fact, the only thing saving him is that you can't waddle fast enough to catch him to administer the beating he so clearly deserves. Sure honey, I don't mind if you have that beer with dinner. I don't miss it at all. In fact, I'd love to be the designated driver when you go out with your friends.
Oh, and by the way, after you give birth your boobs point down for the rest of your natural life. Sad little balled up sweat socks. With stretch marks. Goodbye Victoria's Secret bras forever.
The really crazy ones are those who want to do "natural" childbirth. These are batshit crazy women who plan to turn down drugs. I'm totally down with the natural lifestyle thing. But, as I said, I have looked up 10 centimeters and if there exists something to make that hurt less you should take it. Since we have the technology that we don't have to crouch in a hut and chew cocoa leaves I don't see why the fuck we would do that to ourselves. Yes, we women have been successfully birthing babies for millennia, and I'm willing to bet that any woman even 100 years ago would cut off an arm for a decent epidural.
As I said, it's all worth it. Really. But anyone who claims that being pregnant is a beautiful experience is on drugs. Literally very strong hallucinogens. And the bitch isn't telling any first-time moms why her world is really full of rainbows and unicorns.
I was not one of those women who liked being pregnant. I like being a Mom, and love my kids beyond measure, but being pregnant sucked beyond words. And nobody told me it would. All I heard was how great it was. Your hair gets long and luxurious. You feel like more of a woman. You can eat whatever you want. The most dire warning was from my mother, who claimed things to get uncomfortable after about 10 centimeters.
First of all, my mother was hospitalized for weeks before she bore both of my brothers, which has to measure pretty darn high on the suck scale. Second, being the skeptic that I am, I found a damn ruler and looked at just how far 10 centimeters is. There is no way in fuck that is only "uncomfortable". I had no idea what I was in for.
I couldn't believe the bullshit that nobody tells you. While the result is undoubtedly the most wonderful, there is nothing about growing another human inside of you that doesn't suck. Nothing.
Yes, the prenatal vitamins do make your hair pretty great. Mostly what happens is that you stop losing your hair at the fairly rapid normal pace. Which, by the way, ceases the moment you give birth. Yes, that does mean that a bunch of your hair falls out. Sexy, huh? What's even better is that nobody tells you that all of your hair gets long and luxurious. All of it; leg hair, armpit hair... You even start growing hair where you didn't before, so you end up with long, beautiful belly hair. Nothing screams sexy like cornrows to cover your stretch marks.
I'm pretty sure my internal organs will never be the same. It's not as if there's a cavernous space in a woman's innards just waiting for occupancy from a little bundle of joy. Every little bit of room that the baby grows into displaces something. Your stomach can't hold much of anything without it coming back up in the form of heartburn. You can't breathe deeply anymore because your diaphragm can't get down very far. Your pelvis literally spreads out from the extra weight, which is every bit as uncomfortable as it sounds. And don't even get me started about the bladder.
Sleeping is a joke. You can't sleep on your back because your fetus will crush your kidneys. Seriously, that's what my doctor told me. Sleeping on your stomach is obviously out, unless channeling a high-centered turtle is relaxing to you. That leaves your side. But, you can't just roll over and doze off. Your fetus sticks out so much that the weight of it pulling down toward the mattress will actually strain your back muscles. And, don't forget that spread pelvis. So, what you end up having to do to avoid excruciating pain is to stuff pillows underneath your belly and in between your legs to support all of the extra weight. All of which must be repeated if you have to get up to pee, which you will about every two hours, or if you need to turn over, which you will. Then, right when you are drifting off, your little darling will start to kick you.
The first few times the baby kicks, it's magical. By the end, it's much less so. My doctor said that the reason they are much more likely to kick frequently at night is that during the day when mom is moving around, the walking motion rocks the baby to sleep. So, at night when you aren't moving around, it's soccer time for junior. If you are lucky, none of your organs will be close. Getting kicked in the bladder when you are trying to not get up for the sixth time that night to pee is awesome. By the end, it looks very much like one of the Alien movies. You can see a hand or foot move across your belly. Or walk around all day with a lopsided baby bump because the head is sticking out to one side. Not creepy at all.
Everything that you have come to know about your body is wrong. Your center of gravity is completely off. And it goes without saying, that you stick out further than you think. I was a classroom teacher during all three of my pregnancies, and I would occasionally misjudge my distance, take a corner a bit too sharply and whack a student with my fetus. There just isn't a good way to apologize for that, especially to a 14 year-old boy. Hopefully the therapy was limited.
Then there's the fun stuff unique to you. My oldest spent her entire time in my uterus with her feet cocked right near my sciatic nerve. So, every time she would kick it I would at best loose my balance and at worse pass out completely. Which happened twice in the bathroom at school. I also would puke at the taste of toothpaste. Think about that one for a second. I would get up, brush my teeth, puke, have to brush my teeth because I just puked, puke, and so on. Because starting your day pulling up your pants to the bottom of your boobs doesn't suck badly enough.
That was horrifying, when I learned how maternity pants worked. Yes, they actually go all the way over your belly. So does the underwear. It's hot. It is true that your boobs get big. But, between the belly hair, the complete loss of balance and the constant peeing it doesn't really matter. By that time you have come to the grim realization that your condition is completely the fault of the guy who is interested in your boobs, and you really aren't motivated to reward him at that point.
In fact, the only thing saving him is that you can't waddle fast enough to catch him to administer the beating he so clearly deserves. Sure honey, I don't mind if you have that beer with dinner. I don't miss it at all. In fact, I'd love to be the designated driver when you go out with your friends.
Oh, and by the way, after you give birth your boobs point down for the rest of your natural life. Sad little balled up sweat socks. With stretch marks. Goodbye Victoria's Secret bras forever.
The really crazy ones are those who want to do "natural" childbirth. These are batshit crazy women who plan to turn down drugs. I'm totally down with the natural lifestyle thing. But, as I said, I have looked up 10 centimeters and if there exists something to make that hurt less you should take it. Since we have the technology that we don't have to crouch in a hut and chew cocoa leaves I don't see why the fuck we would do that to ourselves. Yes, we women have been successfully birthing babies for millennia, and I'm willing to bet that any woman even 100 years ago would cut off an arm for a decent epidural.
As I said, it's all worth it. Really. But anyone who claims that being pregnant is a beautiful experience is on drugs. Literally very strong hallucinogens. And the bitch isn't telling any first-time moms why her world is really full of rainbows and unicorns.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Opposite
Emily was rattling on, immersed in some game about which we were all supposed to interested and actively involved. From what I could gather, she was describing various family members by saying the most opposite things possible, and we were to guess which one of us it was. It wasn't the most fun game she'd ever invented, but I was doing my best to be a good sport. I did not go unrewarded.
It was my turn to be described. I was a very small, two year-old black woman with blonde hair. Further, I was a terrible cook and married to a husband who was... wait for it...
blonde and rich. The Husband stopped playing. I didn't.
It was my turn to be described. I was a very small, two year-old black woman with blonde hair. Further, I was a terrible cook and married to a husband who was... wait for it...
blonde and rich. The Husband stopped playing. I didn't.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Priorities
"Hey Mom! Today is an awesome day!"
"That's an unusual sentiment for you this early in the morning. Why is it awesome today?"
"Because Mrs. Jackman is moving our seats around, and I'm sitting right behind Ronnie."
"Wait. Isn't that the kid that you don't like because he's mean to you and Jesus?"
"Yep!"
"But why..."
Declan interrupted me with a huge smile.
"Because if I'm right behind him I can throw stuff at his neck!"
"You know that if you do that you'll get in trouble, right?"
"Mom. Totally worth it!"
Sigh.
"That's an unusual sentiment for you this early in the morning. Why is it awesome today?"
"Because Mrs. Jackman is moving our seats around, and I'm sitting right behind Ronnie."
"Wait. Isn't that the kid that you don't like because he's mean to you and Jesus?"
"Yep!"
"But why..."
Declan interrupted me with a huge smile.
"Because if I'm right behind him I can throw stuff at his neck!"
"You know that if you do that you'll get in trouble, right?"
"Mom. Totally worth it!"
Sigh.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
More glitter!
I was hanging out in my office with the daughter of one of my friends yesterday. She wanted to do some crafts on the floor, so I got out my bin of supplies. Googly eyes, pipe cleaners, puffy balls, markers... It's a pretty cool box. Much to her dismay, none of my glitter pens worked.
"That's another one! In the trash! If none of your glitter pens work, what do you use instead?"
"Well, you know, I really don't use any glitter in my job."
She looked at me with a mix of disbelief and pity.
"You don't??"
She paused for a moment.
"You really should, you know."
She is totally right. I don't use nearly enough glitter at work. Think of how much more interesting a statistical training report would be if it were in purple glitter pen. I've decided. More glitter.
"That's another one! In the trash! If none of your glitter pens work, what do you use instead?"
"Well, you know, I really don't use any glitter in my job."
She looked at me with a mix of disbelief and pity.
"You don't??"
She paused for a moment.
"You really should, you know."
She is totally right. I don't use nearly enough glitter at work. Think of how much more interesting a statistical training report would be if it were in purple glitter pen. I've decided. More glitter.
No. For reals.
My side of a conversation today with my son.
"No, Declan. You may not have the laser you found online that will light things on fire."
"Yes, it would be convenient to light the grill from your room. Still no."
"I'm pretty confident that you are NOT the only kid on the entire earth whose Mom would say no."
"My suspicion is that even if I say no, you will ask me again tomorrow anyway."
Something tells me that I will be having this conversation many, many times in the near future...
"No, Declan. You may not have the laser you found online that will light things on fire."
"Yes, it would be convenient to light the grill from your room. Still no."
"I'm pretty confident that you are NOT the only kid on the entire earth whose Mom would say no."
"My suspicion is that even if I say no, you will ask me again tomorrow anyway."
Something tells me that I will be having this conversation many, many times in the near future...
Sunday, April 22, 2012
On Building a Successful Business Model
Perhaps because we are a bit nuts, our family often talks about starting our own diner-type food establishment. We think it would be fun, and frequently discuss the details. The Husband, Declan and I were discussing menu the other day.
"Oh! Mom! We should have ice cream! And... what do you call those things that beer comes in?"
"Pints?"
"No, no... Kegs! That's it! We should have ice cream and kegs of beer!"
That we should, son. I think we are off to an excellent start for our business plan.
"Oh! Mom! We should have ice cream! And... what do you call those things that beer comes in?"
"Pints?"
"No, no... Kegs! That's it! We should have ice cream and kegs of beer!"
That we should, son. I think we are off to an excellent start for our business plan.
Monday, April 9, 2012
My Sister Ron
Emily was attempting to have a detailed discussion with her older sister about middle names. Isabella was less interested, so Em was making up the gap by bombarding her with questions.
"Well Isa, what's your middle name?"
"Guess." Isa said without even breaking her gaze at the tv.
"What does it start with?"
"R"
"Is it Rachel?"
"No."
"Is it Ron?"
Em got her sister's attention.
"Ron?!?! Why the hell would my middle name be Ron?"
Emily beamed. She had achieved the engagement she wanted from her sister.
"Why wouldn't it be Ron? Do you have a problem with the name Ron?"
Isa looked at me.
"Why is she so weird, Mom?"
"Probably because she takes after her older sister."
After Isa eye rolled and huffed off, Em and I snuggled up and shared a giggle. Maybe I should change Isa's middle name to Ron...
"Well Isa, what's your middle name?"
"Guess." Isa said without even breaking her gaze at the tv.
"What does it start with?"
"R"
"Is it Rachel?"
"No."
"Is it Ron?"
Em got her sister's attention.
"Ron?!?! Why the hell would my middle name be Ron?"
Emily beamed. She had achieved the engagement she wanted from her sister.
"Why wouldn't it be Ron? Do you have a problem with the name Ron?"
Isa looked at me.
"Why is she so weird, Mom?"
"Probably because she takes after her older sister."
After Isa eye rolled and huffed off, Em and I snuggled up and shared a giggle. Maybe I should change Isa's middle name to Ron...
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
What???
Emily has found a new online game. It's basically a sim game, and the point is to run a disco. You can decorate it, play music, etc. She was bubbling on about it this morning, when I caught that she was excited because she had condomized her disco.
"I'm sorry, what? You condomized your disco?"
"Yep!"
"How exactly does one 'condomize' a disco?"
"Oh, you know, you can add decorations, and change the outfit of the DJ, and.."
"Oh!! You mean you customized your disco!"
"Yeah. that's what I said."
I decided to agree and save the "how one would condomize a disco" discussion for another day. A very distant day.
"I'm sorry, what? You condomized your disco?"
"Yep!"
"How exactly does one 'condomize' a disco?"
"Oh, you know, you can add decorations, and change the outfit of the DJ, and.."
"Oh!! You mean you customized your disco!"
"Yeah. that's what I said."
I decided to agree and save the "how one would condomize a disco" discussion for another day. A very distant day.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
You're Welcome!
So the other night Emily rolled up on The Husband with an empty plastic bottle and her best teacher voice.
"So. Dad. I heard you last night asking Mom about recycling. I can help you! It's really easy. See this triangle of arrows right here on the bottle? Well, if it has that, it can go in the recycling. And look. The very same arrow is on the recycling bin. It's just like the match game!"
She paused for a moment, but received no response from her stunned father. She was unfazed.
Right before she turned on her heel and sauntered off, she cheerfully responded to what she was convinced her dad was thinking.
"And, you're welcome!"
"So. Dad. I heard you last night asking Mom about recycling. I can help you! It's really easy. See this triangle of arrows right here on the bottle? Well, if it has that, it can go in the recycling. And look. The very same arrow is on the recycling bin. It's just like the match game!"
She paused for a moment, but received no response from her stunned father. She was unfazed.
Right before she turned on her heel and sauntered off, she cheerfully responded to what she was convinced her dad was thinking.
"And, you're welcome!"
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Quote of the Day
Emily was trying to get me to hang out in the basement. She mistook my having other stuff to do as an aversion to the basement itself.
"Come on, Mom, it's great down here! There's not an alligator problem or anything!"
Good to know.
"Come on, Mom, it's great down here! There's not an alligator problem or anything!"
Good to know.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Nuts and Penises
Shortly after the kids went back to public school, we had to sign a permission slip for Isabella to take health class. You know, the "health"class. We signed it, and explained to her a bit about what she could expect.
Today, I called her from work to ask about her day.
"Oh, it was pretty good. I had my first health class."
"Oh yeah? How did that go?"
"Well, I was expecting it to be all about gross stuff, like balls and penises and stuff, but all we talked about were genes. So, I dodged that bullet today."
Immediately, I could hear Em start chanting in the background conga-style.
"Penis, penis, pe-NIS! Penis, penis, pe-NIS!"
Isa sighed.
"Mom, I really hope she doesn't behave this way when she takes health class."
Me, either. I don't need the phone call about my daughter adding to health class with a penis chorus.
Today, I called her from work to ask about her day.
"Oh, it was pretty good. I had my first health class."
"Oh yeah? How did that go?"
"Well, I was expecting it to be all about gross stuff, like balls and penises and stuff, but all we talked about were genes. So, I dodged that bullet today."
Immediately, I could hear Em start chanting in the background conga-style.
"Penis, penis, pe-NIS! Penis, penis, pe-NIS!"
Isa sighed.
"Mom, I really hope she doesn't behave this way when she takes health class."
Me, either. I don't need the phone call about my daughter adding to health class with a penis chorus.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Arks and the Elderly
Declan and I were out running errands and I insisted that he report on his first few days back at public school.
"Well, I had music for the first time Thursday. The teacher is pretty nice, but I didn't know the words to any of the songs so I didn't really sing. Oh, and one of the songs was about that Christian story. You know, the one where a senior citizen builds an ark and has two of everything? Which totally isn't even possible. The song was okay, though."
"Well, I had music for the first time Thursday. The teacher is pretty nice, but I didn't know the words to any of the songs so I didn't really sing. Oh, and one of the songs was about that Christian story. You know, the one where a senior citizen builds an ark and has two of everything? Which totally isn't even possible. The song was okay, though."
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Moon Disposal
"Mom!!!"
"Yes, Em?"
"Our new calendar says there's a new moon on January 23!"
"Yes."
She rolled her eyes in the back of her head, and held her hands out in front of her as if she were ready to catch an anvil.
"Well, what are they going to do with the old moon?!?!?"
"Yes, Em?"
"Our new calendar says there's a new moon on January 23!"
"Yes."
She rolled her eyes in the back of her head, and held her hands out in front of her as if she were ready to catch an anvil.
"Well, what are they going to do with the old moon?!?!?"
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
On the Good of Goblets
Isabella was telling me how much she liked living in Omaha, while enjoying a refreshing drink of water from one of our new glasses.
"I mean, seriously Mom. We're much closer to the art museum and the zoo. The house is beautiful. I mean, I'm drinking out of a freaking goblet here!"
"I mean, seriously Mom. We're much closer to the art museum and the zoo. The house is beautiful. I mean, I'm drinking out of a freaking goblet here!"
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Takes One to Know One
Declan and Emily were arguing. Declan was insisting that Em was lying about something. I don't even know what about, mostly because I wasn't paying attention.
"I'm NOT!"
"You are. You are totally lying. I should know; I lie all the time."
What? I started listening a bit more closely.
"I'm TOTALLY NOT lying, Declan! I SWEAR!"
"And there you go. That's what I say every time I lie."
Great. Just great.
"I'm NOT!"
"You are. You are totally lying. I should know; I lie all the time."
What? I started listening a bit more closely.
"I'm TOTALLY NOT lying, Declan! I SWEAR!"
"And there you go. That's what I say every time I lie."
Great. Just great.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Parental Controls
This morning I found my son going back and forth between the computer and the Wii. He would watch a little bit of You Tube video, then click a few times in the settings section of the game console. I asked him what he was doing.
"Oh, I'm getting rid of the parental controls on the Wii."
We bought our Wii used, and so many of the settings we didn't put in place. We wouldn't have put them on in the first place, but hadn't gotten around to taking them off. So, I wasn't upset at all with him, but curious.
"Yeah? Why are you doing that? Is there something it won't let you do?"
"No, not at all. I'm doing it for Dad."
"Really?? How so?"
"The parental controls were annoying him, so I'm fixing it for him."
The eight year-old fixing the parental controls for the adult. Probably not exactly what the good folks at Nintendo had in mind...
"Oh, I'm getting rid of the parental controls on the Wii."
We bought our Wii used, and so many of the settings we didn't put in place. We wouldn't have put them on in the first place, but hadn't gotten around to taking them off. So, I wasn't upset at all with him, but curious.
"Yeah? Why are you doing that? Is there something it won't let you do?"
"No, not at all. I'm doing it for Dad."
"Really?? How so?"
"The parental controls were annoying him, so I'm fixing it for him."
The eight year-old fixing the parental controls for the adult. Probably not exactly what the good folks at Nintendo had in mind...
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
The Simple Life
Declan informed me (as he has done before) that his pretty sure when he gets older, he's not going to get a wife or kids.
"Yeah? Why not?"
"Well, they are very expensive. If I have kids I have to buy them stuff, like beds and stuff, and if I don't have any kids then I can spend that money on stuff I want. Like motorcycles. ...I just want to live an uncomplicated life."
"Yeah? Why not?"
"Well, they are very expensive. If I have kids I have to buy them stuff, like beds and stuff, and if I don't have any kids then I can spend that money on stuff I want. Like motorcycles. ...I just want to live an uncomplicated life."
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Change is good!
Whew! Whoever thought that moving over Thanksgiving weekend was a good idea is an idiot! Wait. That was me. I'm still looking at boxes, can't find the hardware to two of the kids' beds and the one that doesn't need hardware broke in the move. The weird thing is that I couldn't be more thrilled.
Change is tough. So is admitting when you went down the wrong path. However, if you don't you can't right yourself. I don't regret that we tried living in a small town. Had things been a bit different, I think it just might have worked out great. But, they weren't and it didn't. There were a few wonderful people there, but it just turns out we're city people. We just didn't fit in. Fitting in, as it turns out, is very important to small town social success. Diversity and uniqueness just aren't welcome. Feared a little, even.
It was very clear (in that people actually said this) that the fact that we didn't go to church made them suspicious. No matter that some who did regularly attend were not exactly models of grace and love. What would Jesus do? Apparently vandalize cars and prank call in the middle of the night. And those are the adults. Weird we didn't want to join up, huh?
The fact that The Husband doesn't hunt was also apparently cause for alarm, at least among the menfolk. Because it's the guy who is uncomfortable killing stuff for fun that you should not want your kid around. The sheriff who shot an unarmed man in front of his kid - totally fine. The peacenick who gardens and doesn't own a gun is exactly who you should try to run out of town.
The strangest to me, though is the stuff we never saw coming. It was very disturbing to people that The Husband walked to the store. Really. It was the topic of much discussion in the gas station and other local hot spots. It was concluded by everyone that this was obviously due to him being unemployed and having lost his license because of drunk driving. Obviously there is no other reasonable conclusion.
Even considering all of this, I was concerned that moving would scar my kids forever. For the youngest two, the small town is all they knew; it's where they grew up. Home. As it turns out, all three couldn't get out fast enough. As we were leaving in the van for the very last time and shouting goodbye to everything (very Walton's goodnight-style), my son remained quiet. "Don't you want to say good bye to Casey's?" I asked. "Nope. I never want to think about this shithole town again." Well, there you have it. So much for his anxiety over leaving.
I don't blame him. He had it the worst. His last year in school his was getting into fights and just having trouble sorting everything out in his head. An older group of boys picked on him on the bus, calling him gay. His classmates made fun of our last name because it is Hispanic. His friends constantly reminded him that he was going to hell because he didn't go to church. I don't think things were going to get better for him. Just a side note - the school in our new neighborhood prints everything in both English and Spanish. Not only do I doubt he'll be mocked for our last name, I bet people will finally be able to pronounce it!
We are now close to all of the stuff we really like to do - the zoo, children's museum, theater, and the art museum. We have a great house in a neighborhood we love. Not to mention that I shaved 48 minutes off my drive to work. Each way.
Yep, change is good. Check that. Change es bueno!
Change is tough. So is admitting when you went down the wrong path. However, if you don't you can't right yourself. I don't regret that we tried living in a small town. Had things been a bit different, I think it just might have worked out great. But, they weren't and it didn't. There were a few wonderful people there, but it just turns out we're city people. We just didn't fit in. Fitting in, as it turns out, is very important to small town social success. Diversity and uniqueness just aren't welcome. Feared a little, even.
It was very clear (in that people actually said this) that the fact that we didn't go to church made them suspicious. No matter that some who did regularly attend were not exactly models of grace and love. What would Jesus do? Apparently vandalize cars and prank call in the middle of the night. And those are the adults. Weird we didn't want to join up, huh?
The fact that The Husband doesn't hunt was also apparently cause for alarm, at least among the menfolk. Because it's the guy who is uncomfortable killing stuff for fun that you should not want your kid around. The sheriff who shot an unarmed man in front of his kid - totally fine. The peacenick who gardens and doesn't own a gun is exactly who you should try to run out of town.
The strangest to me, though is the stuff we never saw coming. It was very disturbing to people that The Husband walked to the store. Really. It was the topic of much discussion in the gas station and other local hot spots. It was concluded by everyone that this was obviously due to him being unemployed and having lost his license because of drunk driving. Obviously there is no other reasonable conclusion.
Even considering all of this, I was concerned that moving would scar my kids forever. For the youngest two, the small town is all they knew; it's where they grew up. Home. As it turns out, all three couldn't get out fast enough. As we were leaving in the van for the very last time and shouting goodbye to everything (very Walton's goodnight-style), my son remained quiet. "Don't you want to say good bye to Casey's?" I asked. "Nope. I never want to think about this shithole town again." Well, there you have it. So much for his anxiety over leaving.
I don't blame him. He had it the worst. His last year in school his was getting into fights and just having trouble sorting everything out in his head. An older group of boys picked on him on the bus, calling him gay. His classmates made fun of our last name because it is Hispanic. His friends constantly reminded him that he was going to hell because he didn't go to church. I don't think things were going to get better for him. Just a side note - the school in our new neighborhood prints everything in both English and Spanish. Not only do I doubt he'll be mocked for our last name, I bet people will finally be able to pronounce it!
We are now close to all of the stuff we really like to do - the zoo, children's museum, theater, and the art museum. We have a great house in a neighborhood we love. Not to mention that I shaved 48 minutes off my drive to work. Each way.
Yep, change is good. Check that. Change es bueno!
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Quote of the Day
Emily rolled up on me last night before she went to bed and began striking various poses.
"Hey Mom. Thanks for making me with this body. You did a really great job. It's perfect!"
Someone does not struggle with self-esteem.
"Hey Mom. Thanks for making me with this body. You did a really great job. It's perfect!"
Someone does not struggle with self-esteem.
Quote of the Day
Emily was trying to lift her brother's leg to throw him. He just stood there and looked at her. He finally deigned to insult her.
"You have the upper body strength of a gerbil."
"You have the upper body strength of a gerbil."
Christians vs. Gravity
Emily bounded down the stairs and demanded an answer.
"Mom. Do Christians believe in gravity?"
"Yes. I believe that most of them do. However, I'm pretty sure that gravity doesn't care who believes in it."
Saying that you don't believe in something certainly doesn't make it not so. If anyone should concede this to another group it should certainly be Christians. One would think, anyway.
"Mom. Do Christians believe in gravity?"
"Yes. I believe that most of them do. However, I'm pretty sure that gravity doesn't care who believes in it."
Saying that you don't believe in something certainly doesn't make it not so. If anyone should concede this to another group it should certainly be Christians. One would think, anyway.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Calling BS on Grandma & Grandpa
We went to my parents' last weekend. My cousin was getting married, so we just made a trip out of it. The Husband was doing some work, I was reading in the living room, and my parents were in the kitchen with the kids. I didn't see it, but my parents committed some sort of PDA of which my children did NOT approve.
"Eeeewww! Gross!"
"What? Without that sort of thing your Mommy wouldn't be here."
"Grandma. We know that you adopted Mom."
"Eeeewww! Gross!"
"What? Without that sort of thing your Mommy wouldn't be here."
"Grandma. We know that you adopted Mom."
Friday, November 11, 2011
Quote of the Day
"Hi Mom! I'm done with my bath."
"Isa. Come here. Why are your eyelids yellow?"
"Oh! I couldn't find any eyeshadow, so I used a marker."
"Isa. Come here. Why are your eyelids yellow?"
"Oh! I couldn't find any eyeshadow, so I used a marker."
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Hahahahahahaha
So I was very alarmed today. Months ago, I agreed to install this program that is supposed to help me keep track of my finances. I've never looked at it again. It does, every now and then, send me little emails and reminders. All of which I ignore.
This morning, however, I had an email waiting for me in my inbox that warned of a "low checking account balance". I freaked. I had just checked last night, and all. seemed well until payday Friday. I had enough for gas and groceries, and all the bills could wait a few days. So it was really, really bad if my checking account was empty. Gas and groceries are pretty high on the important list.
So I opened up the email and it was concerned that the balance in my account had dropped below $500. Really? Now I will never use this program for sure. If it believes that $480 is a "low" balance in my checking account, then it clearly has no concept of what an average balance is! Low balance... Where was this piece of shit program when my account had six dollars? That, mint.com, is a low balance. A I have three kids and bills balance. Mint.com, you can suck it.
This morning, however, I had an email waiting for me in my inbox that warned of a "low checking account balance". I freaked. I had just checked last night, and all. seemed well until payday Friday. I had enough for gas and groceries, and all the bills could wait a few days. So it was really, really bad if my checking account was empty. Gas and groceries are pretty high on the important list.
So I opened up the email and it was concerned that the balance in my account had dropped below $500. Really? Now I will never use this program for sure. If it believes that $480 is a "low" balance in my checking account, then it clearly has no concept of what an average balance is! Low balance... Where was this piece of shit program when my account had six dollars? That, mint.com, is a low balance. A I have three kids and bills balance. Mint.com, you can suck it.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Quote of the Day
Declan was helping his Dad sort laundry. The Husband was going through them, and in true dudes-doing-laundry fashion, was throwing them at Dec for appropriate sorting. The system was actually working pretty well. Until they got to one of my bras, that is. It was an old one that I haven't worn in a very long time. Since about the time my oldest was born.
"Here comes one of your Mom's bras!"
"Oh, man. It's see-through."
"Yeah? What do you think about that?"
"Well, I'm disappointed and a little grossed out."
"Your Mom used to wear bras like that all the time!"
"That's great Dad. One more image to keep me up at night. Thanks a lot."
"Here comes one of your Mom's bras!"
"Oh, man. It's see-through."
"Yeah? What do you think about that?"
"Well, I'm disappointed and a little grossed out."
"Your Mom used to wear bras like that all the time!"
"That's great Dad. One more image to keep me up at night. Thanks a lot."
Holidays and the Lord
Okay, so if you've been reading this since the beginning, you know that The Husband and I don't have that old-fashioned, down-home, small-town embrace of religion. We don't discourage our kids from exploring religion, but we also didn't feel right about brainwashing them with any one in particular. Especially if we are not convinced ourselves.
Anywho, the kids all have very different perspectives on the subject. Emily considers herself religious, and Declan just doesn't understand it. He just can't get his very logic-driven head around blindly believing in something that there is absolutely no physical proof of whatsoever. He also is very put off by all the war and violence he sees on the television in the name of religion. Long story short, he's shaping up to be quite the little Agnostic.
My parents are very religious. Very. And their disappointment with me, and most importantly how I am wantonly throwing my children to the wolves of eternal damnation, is without limit. Religion is just something we have decided not to discuss.
So the kids and I went trick-or-treating the other night in my hometown with my Mom. It was a lovely, unseasonable warm evening and the streets were chock full of happy kids and happy parents.
We were pulling up on a street that looked particularly promising, and arguing erupted from the back seat.
Emily: "You HAVE to tell her, Declan!"
Declan: "Shut UP! No I don't!"
Emily: "But she's a Grandma - that means she has to be accepting!"
Declan: "No!!"
Emily: 'Grandma, Declan doesn't believe in God."
Declan:"Damn it, Emily! Why do you have talk about that today of all days?!? Don't you have any respect for holidays?!?"
I would like to hereby propose that on all holidays going forward that no discussion of the validity of religion be allowed between family members who do not agree on said topic. Actually, I'm pretty sure that every day is a holiday somewhere....
Anywho, the kids all have very different perspectives on the subject. Emily considers herself religious, and Declan just doesn't understand it. He just can't get his very logic-driven head around blindly believing in something that there is absolutely no physical proof of whatsoever. He also is very put off by all the war and violence he sees on the television in the name of religion. Long story short, he's shaping up to be quite the little Agnostic.
My parents are very religious. Very. And their disappointment with me, and most importantly how I am wantonly throwing my children to the wolves of eternal damnation, is without limit. Religion is just something we have decided not to discuss.
So the kids and I went trick-or-treating the other night in my hometown with my Mom. It was a lovely, unseasonable warm evening and the streets were chock full of happy kids and happy parents.
We were pulling up on a street that looked particularly promising, and arguing erupted from the back seat.
Emily: "You HAVE to tell her, Declan!"
Declan: "Shut UP! No I don't!"
Emily: "But she's a Grandma - that means she has to be accepting!"
Declan: "No!!"
Emily: 'Grandma, Declan doesn't believe in God."
Declan:"Damn it, Emily! Why do you have talk about that today of all days?!? Don't you have any respect for holidays?!?"
I would like to hereby propose that on all holidays going forward that no discussion of the validity of religion be allowed between family members who do not agree on said topic. Actually, I'm pretty sure that every day is a holiday somewhere....
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Quote of the Day
Emily was helping me fold laundry. Well, to be completely accurate she was sitting near me while I was folding laundry.
"Mom, what's this one? Oh! Grooooss! It's a bra!"
She continued after a brief pause.
"You know, Mom. You should really buy a bra that has sparkles on it or something so it's not as disgusting as your regular ones."
The Husband perked up from the other room.
"Yeah! Sparkles!"
Sparkles are not exactly a comfortable, breathable fabric prized in undergarments. Nope. No sparkles. Jerks.
"Mom, what's this one? Oh! Grooooss! It's a bra!"
She continued after a brief pause.
"You know, Mom. You should really buy a bra that has sparkles on it or something so it's not as disgusting as your regular ones."
The Husband perked up from the other room.
"Yeah! Sparkles!"
Sparkles are not exactly a comfortable, breathable fabric prized in undergarments. Nope. No sparkles. Jerks.
Parenting > Dignity
I am the proud new owner of a minivan. Okay. Proud may be pushing it a bit. I am the reluctant and slightly bummed owner of a minivan.
Much like elastic waist pants and sun visors, this is something that I swore I would die before I ever owned. I'm still holding out on the visor and pants, by the way. Just saying.
The thing with the minivan is that it is incredibly convenient. It was just getting difficult cramming the three kids into the backseat of the Jetta. Basically what I'm hoping to do is trade my cool card and last shred of dignity to avoid even more hideous behaviors.
Here's the thing. I found myself turning into my dad without the van. It is all the kids' fault, of course. They couldn't leave each other the hell alone.
"Mom! Declan's touching my leg!"
"Mom! Emily is sleeping on my arm!"
"Mom! Emily keeps saying 'bearp' over and over at me and WON'T! SHUT! UP!"
Whack! "OOOwwwwww!"
I found myself saying the most unimaginable things. I actually at one point threatened to stop the car. I couldn't believe it, either. What was even more terrifying is that I really, really meant it. I would totally have stopped the car. It was time to act before it was too late.
In my defense, I did buy the most tricked out, badass minivan I could find. It has an awesome stereo, automatic doors and seat warmers. And to cater to the cold wuss that I am, it has remote start. Did I mention the seat warmers?
Unfortunately, no manner of gadgetry or DVD screens can change the fact that I drive a fucking minivan. I have exchanged my last bit of at this point totally imagined cool factor to be sure that I don't throw one of my offspring from a moving compact for saying "bearp" once too often. I am officially middle-aged. Most terrifying of all is that it's not as traumatic a transformation as I'd always imagined.
Hmm. I bet elastic pants are quite comfortable...
Much like elastic waist pants and sun visors, this is something that I swore I would die before I ever owned. I'm still holding out on the visor and pants, by the way. Just saying.
The thing with the minivan is that it is incredibly convenient. It was just getting difficult cramming the three kids into the backseat of the Jetta. Basically what I'm hoping to do is trade my cool card and last shred of dignity to avoid even more hideous behaviors.
Here's the thing. I found myself turning into my dad without the van. It is all the kids' fault, of course. They couldn't leave each other the hell alone.
"Mom! Declan's touching my leg!"
"Mom! Emily is sleeping on my arm!"
"Mom! Emily keeps saying 'bearp' over and over at me and WON'T! SHUT! UP!"
Whack! "OOOwwwwww!"
I found myself saying the most unimaginable things. I actually at one point threatened to stop the car. I couldn't believe it, either. What was even more terrifying is that I really, really meant it. I would totally have stopped the car. It was time to act before it was too late.
In my defense, I did buy the most tricked out, badass minivan I could find. It has an awesome stereo, automatic doors and seat warmers. And to cater to the cold wuss that I am, it has remote start. Did I mention the seat warmers?
Unfortunately, no manner of gadgetry or DVD screens can change the fact that I drive a fucking minivan. I have exchanged my last bit of at this point totally imagined cool factor to be sure that I don't throw one of my offspring from a moving compact for saying "bearp" once too often. I am officially middle-aged. Most terrifying of all is that it's not as traumatic a transformation as I'd always imagined.
Hmm. I bet elastic pants are quite comfortable...
Quote of the Day
Isa opened the silverware drawer and began to pull out spoons.
"One, two, three four, five, six seven..."
"Wait. Seven?? There's only five of us. Are you getting spoons out for dinner?"
"Oh, no, Mom! I'm trying to break a World Record!"
"By counting spoons?"
Exasperated eye roll.
"No. Mom. The record for number of spoons balanced on the face at once. The record is only 15!"
"One, two, three four, five, six seven..."
"Wait. Seven?? There's only five of us. Are you getting spoons out for dinner?"
"Oh, no, Mom! I'm trying to break a World Record!"
"By counting spoons?"
Exasperated eye roll.
"No. Mom. The record for number of spoons balanced on the face at once. The record is only 15!"
Monday, October 31, 2011
Quote of the Day
"Uh, Mom, what is that?" Emily asked skeptically as she peered into her lunch bowl.
"It's pasta alfredo. You'll love it."
"Yeah, you're probably right, Mom," she said brightly. "Just because something smells really gross doesn't mean it will taste gross..."
Her confidence in my culinary ability is just overwhelming.
"It's pasta alfredo. You'll love it."
"Yeah, you're probably right, Mom," she said brightly. "Just because something smells really gross doesn't mean it will taste gross..."
Her confidence in my culinary ability is just overwhelming.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Bring It!
Emily: "Dad, let's go wrestle!"
"Okay."
Over her shoulder, "Oh and bring your ass... so I can kick it!"
Atta girl.
"Okay."
Over her shoulder, "Oh and bring your ass... so I can kick it!"
Atta girl.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Stupid Dr. Jones
So, I would like to say right up front that every story you have ever heard about toilet training is total bullshit. Nobody's kid has ever been totally toilet trained at 18 months. Maybe they got lucky and dropped one in the toilet once, but trust me when I tell you that it was probably an accident and that kid went on to shit his or her pants for a very long time after that. For some reason parents want everyone else to think their kid sprung from the womb and asked for the toilet paper. I think this is very disillusioning to new parents who don't know that this is total bullshit. Like us.
My oldest daughter resisted toilet training like a champ. She's always been extremely stubborn, and when you are small you control what you can. At age three, about all you can make the call on is if you eat your dinner or throw it and if you poop in your pants. My daughter chose the latter.
We actually got to the point where Isa would realize that she had to poop, go find a pull up (because we made her wear underwear during the day), take off her underwear, put on her pull up, poop, remove her pull up and throw it away. This really pissed me off. Not only was she clearly capable of going by herself, her chosen process was actually more complicated than just going in the fucking toilet. She would just rather skid mark every pair of underwear and frustrate her parents. Awesome.
Well, she went in for her yearly doctor's check-up. Dr. Jones asked her if she was still wearing pull ups. She said yes. He asked why, and she brightly replied it was because she liked pull ups. Ugh.
Dr. Jones told her in a very stern voice that she wasn't going to wear any more pulls ups and that when we got home, Mom and Dad were going to throw them all away. He said that she was a big girl and that she wasn't allowed to wear diapers anymore. She was very bummed. I was very skeptical.
We did it, albeit without much optimism. We threw away all the pull ups in the house. Except for Declan's. Those we hid.Because we were trying to potty train him, too. Yeah, our house totally did not smell like a park shelter bathroom all the fucking time or anything. It's very difficult to keep your sanity and dignity while parenting. That's how mumus and elastic waist pants happen.
Well, that daughter of mine decided that if she couldn't poop in a pull up that she just wouldn't poop at all. For FOUR days! The Husband and I decided to just wait her out. It couldn't stay in there forever, right???
On evening four, The Husband and I were sitting at the dining room table discussing important grown up things. Isa wandered over by us on her way to the kitchen. By this point, she was walking a little bowl-legged and holding her butt. She was talking to herself, so The Husband and I stopped to hear what she was saying.
All we caught as she waddled by with old-man-frog-ass was "Stupid Dr. Jones!"
As I sat, watching my daughter who would rather stagger around with days worth of poop turtle-ing out of her ass than just use the damn toilet, exhausted from not getting a good night's sleep in years, almost certainly encrusted with some sort of soil from one of the babies, and pregnant with yet another darling little girl I wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of the next person who claimed that her kid was toilet trained in only four days. Because that person, whomever she was, was a lying fucking bitch.
My oldest daughter resisted toilet training like a champ. She's always been extremely stubborn, and when you are small you control what you can. At age three, about all you can make the call on is if you eat your dinner or throw it and if you poop in your pants. My daughter chose the latter.
We actually got to the point where Isa would realize that she had to poop, go find a pull up (because we made her wear underwear during the day), take off her underwear, put on her pull up, poop, remove her pull up and throw it away. This really pissed me off. Not only was she clearly capable of going by herself, her chosen process was actually more complicated than just going in the fucking toilet. She would just rather skid mark every pair of underwear and frustrate her parents. Awesome.
Well, she went in for her yearly doctor's check-up. Dr. Jones asked her if she was still wearing pull ups. She said yes. He asked why, and she brightly replied it was because she liked pull ups. Ugh.
Dr. Jones told her in a very stern voice that she wasn't going to wear any more pulls ups and that when we got home, Mom and Dad were going to throw them all away. He said that she was a big girl and that she wasn't allowed to wear diapers anymore. She was very bummed. I was very skeptical.
We did it, albeit without much optimism. We threw away all the pull ups in the house. Except for Declan's. Those we hid.Because we were trying to potty train him, too. Yeah, our house totally did not smell like a park shelter bathroom all the fucking time or anything. It's very difficult to keep your sanity and dignity while parenting. That's how mumus and elastic waist pants happen.
Well, that daughter of mine decided that if she couldn't poop in a pull up that she just wouldn't poop at all. For FOUR days! The Husband and I decided to just wait her out. It couldn't stay in there forever, right???
On evening four, The Husband and I were sitting at the dining room table discussing important grown up things. Isa wandered over by us on her way to the kitchen. By this point, she was walking a little bowl-legged and holding her butt. She was talking to herself, so The Husband and I stopped to hear what she was saying.
All we caught as she waddled by with old-man-frog-ass was "Stupid Dr. Jones!"
As I sat, watching my daughter who would rather stagger around with days worth of poop turtle-ing out of her ass than just use the damn toilet, exhausted from not getting a good night's sleep in years, almost certainly encrusted with some sort of soil from one of the babies, and pregnant with yet another darling little girl I wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of the next person who claimed that her kid was toilet trained in only four days. Because that person, whomever she was, was a lying fucking bitch.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Know Your Audience
Emily was scheming on my candy bar.
"Mom, can I have a bite of that?"
"No, babe. It's almost gone and I don't have enough for your brother and sister, too."
"Puleeeeeeeease?"
She lowered her chin, put on her best little smile and batted her eyelashes.
"Em. Do the doe eyes ever work on me?"
"No."
"Has it ever, even once, in your whole life ever worked on me?"
"Never. Oh! I forgot! That shit only works on boys! Have you seen Dad?"
"Mom, can I have a bite of that?"
"No, babe. It's almost gone and I don't have enough for your brother and sister, too."
"Puleeeeeeeease?"
She lowered her chin, put on her best little smile and batted her eyelashes.
"Em. Do the doe eyes ever work on me?"
"No."
"Has it ever, even once, in your whole life ever worked on me?"
"Never. Oh! I forgot! That shit only works on boys! Have you seen Dad?"
Friday, October 14, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Quote of the Day
I switched the family from cow milk to almond milk last week. I've been doing more reading about dairy and it's link to juvenile diabetes and a host of circulatory diseases. They all really liked the almond milk. In fact, Declan was particularly excited about the change.
"You know, I'm totally fine with giving up all dairy all together."
"Really? Why's that?"
"Well, to be honest, drinking cow boob milk is pretty creepy."
You know, when you present it that way...
"You know, I'm totally fine with giving up all dairy all together."
"Really? Why's that?"
"Well, to be honest, drinking cow boob milk is pretty creepy."
You know, when you present it that way...
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Quote of the Day
Emily: "If we were vegan, then we could only have pizza with just vegetables."
Declan: "Which I would go crazy about! And fondue would be fon don't."
Declan: "Which I would go crazy about! And fondue would be fon don't."
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Quote of the Day
Declan: "Mom, I think when I grow up, I'm going to invent a robot that's afraid of tangelos."
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Keep that Moderation Out of My Juice!
Emily: "Mom, I'm just going to throw out water and milk because I know those, but I want to know if some drinks are healthy."
"Okay. Shoot."
"What about Gatorade?"
"No, not healthy."
"Okay, I'll stop drinking that. How about juice. You know, real juice?"
"Well, in moderation it's fine."
Rather impatiently: "No, Mom. I said real juice."
"Okay. Shoot."
"What about Gatorade?"
"No, not healthy."
"Okay, I'll stop drinking that. How about juice. You know, real juice?"
"Well, in moderation it's fine."
Rather impatiently: "No, Mom. I said real juice."
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Quote of the Day
Declan: "When someone is speaking into a bunch of microphones, like the president giving a speech or something, from a distance it kind of looks like he's speaking into a bunch of robot penises."
A Fool and Her Money...
Emily was rummaging around the house collecting change. We'd been to the zoo and she saw a stuffed animal that she would apparently live a tragic, unfulfilled life without. She came running out of the master bedroom waving a dollar; her largest find thus far.
"Oh, that's my dollar." says Declan
"No, I found it in Mom and Dad's room." Emily counters
"Yeah, I left it in there the other day. It's mine for sure."
"AAAGGGHH! Fine. Here. But why every time I find a dollar it's yours? You are just SAYING that they are your monies!"
"Oh, that's easy. I only have one dollar, but you always find the same one."
"Well, you should put it in safer places, then."
Declan walks away with yet another dollar, snickering.
"Oh, that's my dollar." says Declan
"No, I found it in Mom and Dad's room." Emily counters
"Yeah, I left it in there the other day. It's mine for sure."
"AAAGGGHH! Fine. Here. But why every time I find a dollar it's yours? You are just SAYING that they are your monies!"
"Oh, that's easy. I only have one dollar, but you always find the same one."
"Well, you should put it in safer places, then."
Declan walks away with yet another dollar, snickering.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Aging Gracefully
Emily was patiently explaining to her father precisely why he was starting to look old.
"Well, you have a beard. And glasses and lots of white hairs."
He asked her if I looked old as well.
"Not yet. But Wait!"
She ran in to the bathroom and came out with my bottle of foundation. Which I haven't worn in months. Maybe years.
"Here Mom. If you start to look like Dad, just put on this!"
"Well, you have a beard. And glasses and lots of white hairs."
He asked her if I looked old as well.
"Not yet. But Wait!"
She ran in to the bathroom and came out with my bottle of foundation. Which I haven't worn in months. Maybe years.
"Here Mom. If you start to look like Dad, just put on this!"
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Quote of the Day
Isa: "Mom, is everyone in the family flexible?"
"No, your Dad isn't very flexible, either. You and him are alike in that way."
Declan: "Don't worry, Isabella, everyone has some sort of disability."
"No, your Dad isn't very flexible, either. You and him are alike in that way."
Declan: "Don't worry, Isabella, everyone has some sort of disability."
On Good Lies
My son tried to run past me and get upstairs with a box of cereal. I stopped him immediately and reminded him that cereal is not allowed upstairs. Mostly because I'm pretty sure they don't actually eat it, but instead dump it all over the floor and dance on top of it. That is the only possible explanation for the mess that always results. So, no cereal upstairs.
He reluctantly plodded back toward the kitchen and grumbled in protest.
A few minutes later he came by with a kitchen trash bag.
"Isa needs a trash bag to clean her room!" He spat at me as he sprinted toward the stairs.
"Wait! What's in the trash bag?!?"
"Ugh. You busted me."
He had poured several handfuls of cereal in the trash bag to get it by me. The only reason it failed is that Isa doesn't clean her room. Ever.
I'm going to have to work to stay ahead of this little guy when he's a teenager...
He reluctantly plodded back toward the kitchen and grumbled in protest.
A few minutes later he came by with a kitchen trash bag.
"Isa needs a trash bag to clean her room!" He spat at me as he sprinted toward the stairs.
"Wait! What's in the trash bag?!?"
"Ugh. You busted me."
He had poured several handfuls of cereal in the trash bag to get it by me. The only reason it failed is that Isa doesn't clean her room. Ever.
I'm going to have to work to stay ahead of this little guy when he's a teenager...
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