Category Archives: humor

Girl power

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gp

courtesy of: Pinup Girls https://www.booster.com/girl-power

Yesterday, Jenna had a preschool interview.

This consisted of me bringing her to the school, taking her to the class, and leaving her for 25 minutes while I silently panicked and attempted grown-up conversation with the admissions lady.

First amazing thing…. she didn’t care if I left her in a classroom full of strange kids. Here I am hovering, and she doesn’t even look at me when I ask if I can leave her there for a little bit. She’s busy making fake cupcakes, and gives me a preoccupied “sure” as she concentrates on pink sprinkles.

Back in the office with admissions lady. Now, I know this lady, I’ve had Sammy in this school for 2 years. I should not be this nervous. But, as she sits across from me, smiling gently and so composed looking…. I just start spewing out all sorts of information because I feel the need to talk. To say SOMETHING to fill the silence, and take up time while I wait to hear Jenna’s screams as she realizes she is actually very attached to me.

After I bare my soul for a seemingly endless amount of time, we walk down to the classroom. I look through the glass, wondering if I will see any signs of distress.

Nope. Rolling clay with the teacher.

I watch another girl pick up the rolling pin that Jenna just put down. I hear Jenna yell “hey, that’s mine!”  I watch the girl hand it back without a word.

We walk into the room, and I ask how did she do?

At this age, they don’t focus or really care about the fact that she is almost reading. They do focus on social skills. I am told that She “really knows what she wants”.

This is a nice way of telling me she really bossy.

We are driving home and I ask her how she liked playing with the kids?

“Mommy, I don’t like those 2 little girls.”

What little girls???

“The ones that tried to play with my oven.” They were behind me but I pushed her away with my back. Mommy, I don’t want to play with my oven with those girls.”

So, we need to work on sharing. But I’m kind of excited…. she is the first kid, the FIRST ONE that actually speaks out for herself at this age. I might be hated, SHE might be hated by other parents soon…. but I’m pretty sure she won’t be bullied. Now to make sure she’s not the bully….

I don’t want to succeed

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junk

courtesy of superhealthykids.com

This week, I had a plan.

Eat healthy, get back to working out every day.

I’m sabotaging myself, and not feeling guilty enough about it yet.

What do burger king onion rings, chocolate peanut butter brownies, skittles, Starbucks beverages, peppermint patties, and lots of chocolate ice cream have in common???

Equal contribution to my failure and gluttonous satisfaction.

And so, tomorrow…. probably…. I will do better.

5 year old angst

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A bull in a China shop

courtesy of attunity.com

The 5 year old has been sick for…..6 days now. However, he seems to be feeling better and is again showing signs of life.

I came home from work today and sat next to him on the couch after the babysitter left.

He’s not happy.

Seems he keeps wanting to do things that the sitter doesn’t want him to do.

It happened a lot today.

This bothers him.

“Mom, it’s not like I’m trying to be bad. I mean, I know sometimes I am, but I can’t help it….I’m just trying to have fun with my life!”

With this serious look on his face.

I think it’s a reasonable expectation for him to have….

But out of curiosity…. I ask him what kind of things was he doing?

At first he doesn’t remember. Then he wants to show me. Walks over to one of our living room chairs, proceeds to summersault onto the chair, head down, legs up in the air…. and knocks over a picture from the table next to him.

He’s mortified.

I think we may have realized why she was saying no….. maybe.

sick eggs and magical elixer

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elixer

Magical elixir… cures all sickness….unfortunately does nothing for wrinkles…..

 

 

We are sick over here. Of COURSE we are, because children live here…and children are germy little creatures.

It starts with Sammy usually, coughing, mucous, sneezing, fever, red nose, misery….. all the usual symptoms.

Last night we went to bed with Jenna feeling fine, and she woke up a few hours later barking like a seal.

Honestly, there is no point in trying to separate them when one gets sick…. you just have to wait for the inevitable to happen.

When the sickness hits, there are things we do. Routines we have. Requirements for the very survival of the sick person. These things include a liberal rubbing of Vicks onto the chest and back of the victim. Big vaporizer going full blast near the bed. Pillow to prop the head so there is less gurgly breathing as mucous pools during the night. Puke bucket always handy. Of course the necessary sick couch time, spent lounging in glassy-eyed misery, huddled under the special green blanket, cold rag on the head, watching movies on demand all day long.

Sprite, a.k.a. “Magical Elixer” is called for in mass quantities. Sick eggs and toast, without which, survival would be impossible.

So this is what we are having for breakfast today. Sick eggs, toast, sprite. Taking bites between blowing noses and discussing our percentage of feeling better. (Sammy reports 65 percent today….)

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Sick eggs and toast. guaranteed to keep you alive another day.

 

perfect kid vs gestapo mom

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paper

Last night the husband noticed some wallpaper had mysteriously gone missing on one of the bathroom walls, the one the kids take a bath in before bed each night.

Ironically (you’ll see why later), he blamed Sammy initially… although I was leaning towards Jenna. This morning, as I rushed through the routine of feeding the kids, and packing up for his school and my work, I questioned Sammy as the husband made his coffee and listened.

“Did you peel off the wallpaper in daddy’s bathroom?”

Big eyed silence is what I get in return.

Then a very slow head shake, and a small voiced “No, Jenna did it.”

“Really??? You saw Jenna do it and you didn’t tell me?”

Now, I can already tell he’s lying. If he saw his sister doing ANYTHING he could tell on her for, he would be yelling for me in a heartbeat. And the big eyes… the big scared eyes of a little lying boy…..

I give him a few chances to come clean, he doesn’t. I pull out the God card, “you know God sees everything we do, right? You wouldn’t want to let Him see you lying, right?” And all the other stuff about how telling a lie is worse than the actual bad thing he might have done and does he want to just think again about what he’s saying??

Daddy steps in, as thought I’m the gestapo.

“No! He said he didn’t do it, he’s a good boy!” Lots of hugging from daddy, me rolling my eyes.

So poor Jenna is blamed, even though I know she didn’t do it. And there is no punishment, but still, it’s not sitting well with me. I need him to learn and understand that telling the lie, and throwing his sister under the bus isn’t how to handle getting caught. Even though, to daddy, his guilty appearance means absolutely nothing. Because he is perfect. Just like when he hits his little sister, and she screams at him, it’s HER fault for having a big mouth… not his for hitting her. This is what we deal with over here.

We are in the car for about 5 minutes when he admits he did it. I tell him we need to call Daddy and let him know so he doesn’t bother Jenna about it. As soon as I get the husband on the phone, Sammy starts to sob, and I get yelled at for terrorizing him, and he has the nerve to tell me that he probably only admitted it to stop being tortured by me. The guy still doesn’t believe he did it!

Now, he’s guilty for thinking Sammy’s perfect all the time… and I’m guilty for thinking he’s perfect sometimes but at least these moments bring me back to reality.

Although I fumed this morning, silently…. I decided to forgive him this afternoon and called to see how his day was going. He still likened me to a war criminal with cruel interrogation tactics. I can do nothing but tell him he is lucky to have me, or our perfect son would grow up thinking he truly can do no wrong.

I can deal with my son being a normal 5 year old. I can deal with my husbands rose-colored glasses. I will be the gestapo mom if I need to be, and perfectly thankful for the opportunity to do it.

 

Taco salad can predict the future

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Taco-Salad

I want a taco salad.

I don’t want to make one, I want one from taco bell. I don’t eat these very often, but today I want one.

I resisted the urge all day, but tonight it’s calling to me from across the road as I stir this delicious dinner of vegetables with green curry. I’m not being sarcastic here, it’s really good.

But it’s not a taco salad and so is not going to satisfy me.

I couldn’t get one for myself.  I was rushing with the kids to get them home and in bed, having just brought soup to my own mom who isn’t feeling well. She told me not to come, but I knew she would eat the soup… ended up driving home later than I thought, and although I pass taco bell, I just couldn’t justify wasting the time for myself.

Running upstairs to get them to bed, see the oldest sitting on her bed, hasn’t gone out with her friends yet. PERFECT.

“Please, can you get me a taco salad?”

I get a stare.

“You don’t need a taco salad. I’m doing you a favor”

I throw out another please but don’t have time to grovel as I start the bed time ritual for the two little ones.

Soon after, I hear her leave the house. I begin to think along the lines of “wow, she’s really getting it for me…. awwww, she didn’t have to, that’s so nice.”

But time passes, and she doesn’t come back. I notice a text on my phone. It’s from her, she’s going out with her friends. I’ve lost hope.

After this revelation… a little passive aggressive texting back and forth, me trying to ensure she feels guilty and suddenly realizes how much she loves and appreciates me, and how much I DO FOR HER… her focusing more on the fact that I seem to be upset about a taco salad, and not the meaning BEHIND IT….

Because this obviously means that I will end up in “a home”. Alone. Discarded as soon as I am no longer useful.

Currently working on a way of avoiding this, while also ensuring all remaining children find it impossible to say no to me for any reason.

 

 

 

 

The Christmas Bidet

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bidet

It’s usually very predictable, what I get my dad for gifts.

He likes going to movies, he likes to read. He likes the leisure/sweatsuit look… preferable with a collar that can “pop”.

We’ve gotten him things to fit these well known and comfortable interests…. but this Christmas I went off the map. I strayed from the formula.

I told my sister first, “I got dad a bidet for Christmas.”

her response?

“Fabulous!”

I got him other stuff too. The token gift cards for dinner and a movie….an awesome and sentimental collage blanket….couple other small things. And the bidet. We have the same one in a couple of our bathrooms, super easy to install and use.

For some reason I really thought he’d think it was kind of cool, trendy…. finally, a gift he would never guess!

As he opened it, and looked at me with a puzzled frown, I tried to sell him on the finer points.

“You’ll save so much money on toilet paper!”

“It’s really hygienic!…..not that you aren’t hygienic…..er…. I wouldn’t know of course…….”

awkward.

loss of eye contact.

aaaaand moving on to other gifts…….. bidet sits lonely, possibly wondering why people are revolted at the thought of cleaning their behinds with its superior skills.

Probably didn’t help that I forgot the token movie/dinner gift cards in my car, and they are still sitting on the dash–waiting for their moment of appreciation.

So now dad, who is slightly paranoid, is no doubt wondering if he smells bad, or if I find him dirty, and looking for a hidden meaning behind my well intentioned gift.

I can’t wait to see him again and see if that uncomfortable chuckle keeps happening when we look at each other.

Lesson learned. Never, never buy things for your parents that might give them the impression that you suspect they have dirty butts. Even if you do suspect it…. it can never be mentioned.

Parent/child bond…. traumatized.

 

 

 

 

Vegas is broken

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We booked this trip months ago, way before we realized the cold weather we were fleeing from in Ohio was actually going to be on vacation itself… in Vegas… the same week as us.

So, ok…as I tracked the weather I made sure to pack winter hats, coats, gloves, blankets. Just in case….

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This while friends at home were enjoying the 70’s in December…..

But that’s ok. Because we can still enjoy this.

And then, funny, how did I not pick up on the fact that we booked at the same hotel, the same hotel we always stay in….as the republican presidential debate??

Instead of the regular huge Christmas tree, there was a CNN stage and tent structure set up outside that I would half heartedly tell my husband to go out and stand by so we could watch him on TV from inside the room. He didn’t do it.

And so on the night of the debate, a wintery, blustery, freezing night in Vegas….. we sat inside our room as the lobby beneath us swarmed with security, police, and the press. Then we watched most of the debate on CNN, as it went on below us.

We finally left in time to catch the Volcano show at the Mirage. The kids loved that last year, we were there in December then as well…. funny how much warmer it was. And funny that just a year ago the volcano show ran about every 30 minutes well into the night (we had the view from our hotel window), and now it only shows a couple times a night, three times on weekends.

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freezing…and waiting

We stood there, freezing….waiting….. with the crowd of other hopeful volcano watchers around us. We continued to freeze, and wait, until finally a red flashing light started at the top of the volcano, instead of the smoke and lava it was supposed to spew. It was broken.

Next night, it wasn’t quite so windy… we wanted to catch the Bellagio fountains at night, Jenna especially wanted to see it. So we trudged down the street, kids bundled and warm, us not quite so warm. Wow, it looked like the fountain was going off over and over, how often was it running?

Finally got there, no music, just the fountain blasting constantly. Seemed like they were testing it, maybe cleaning it, something. Kind of cool to see, but lacking the magic, the choreography, the emotion…. snapped some photos but left disappointed.

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Jenna commented that Vegas was broken.

It DID seem kind of broken!

Even trying to get a picture of all of us together, so accidentally easy last year…. didn’t come together quite so well this time.

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I guess sometimes you can’t escape the little trying moments that make life so….interesting at times.

I told my husband this is going to be one of those vacations that will be so much better after we get home… you know that kind?

Despite the weather, despite Vegas being broken…. things did still pull together by the end. We got dessert every night, celebrating Jenna’s 3rd birthday all week long as we counted down to the main event….

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It was adorable how the waiter wasn’t sure of how to spell Jenna… so he covered it really heavily in sprinkles 🙂

After two times of being disappointed in the broken Volcano, it finally got it’s act together….

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And on our last day in Vegas…. the wind stopped 🙂

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It’s ok Vegas…. we still love you.

 

Accidental nudity happens

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eyes

I had just worked out, showered, and was getting dressed. Had my pants on, had my bra on, and noticed as I was getting my shirt on that Jenna was playing with my phone, telling me to “say cheese”.

Oh, I did… I said cheese, with  my shirt over my head… wondering if she was really taking pictures.

As I took the phone away, I see she was indeed snapping photos, shadowy headless photos of me getting dressed.

Planning to delete those later, I head downstairs with my Jenna-bean, feeling rushed and wanting to get out of the house to start our day.

Oh… before we leave, wouldn’t it be cute to record a birthday message from Jenna to her cousin? The girls are 11 days apart, and I hope she is as thrilled to get a message from Jenna as we are to send it.

So we do the birthday message in all it’s adorableness. Upload to Facebook… Oh, but I can’t tag her from my phone…… No problem, I will just jump on the laptop and do it really fast.

And guys, that split second decision is what saved the world of Facebook from the horror of my partially clothed, headless, shadowy self…. that somehow Jenna uploaded in all it’s glory, complete with the caption “bfffghfghddfhg”…. which is exactly how I felt when I saw it.

A moment of panic as I forgot how to delete, how to do anything but stare in shock and kind of moan a little. Noticing I have one “like” already.

I figured it out. The image is gone.

And I kind of chuckle to myself, as I realize this is the closest thing I will ever come to a “leaked nude photos” kind of scandal…..

A grand tradition

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Sammy had another loose tooth. It’s been really hanging on for the last few days, despite the fact he could make it lie down in his mouth and we could see the tooth coming up under it. It just wouldn’t let go.

Yesterday it got to be a little much. He couldn’t chew anything because his top teeth kept hitting the loose one, and hurting him. I had to cut up everything for him, and still he didn’t want to chew. Got him a milkshake just for the calories.

Didn’t want to brush his teeth.

I half-heartedly tried to pull it out, but I know I choked at the last second and instead of pulling it, I just made it bleed.

I needed a professional.

Someone with impeccable references, who knows just the right way to handle a skittish kindergartner, still new to the tooth pulling game.

My dad.

The guy has decades of experience, and a box full of baby teeth to prove it.

He’s the one we went to when we couldn’t stand it anymore.

The great thing about it was, he was willing to pretend with you, like he was just going to wiggle it…. but we all knew what we wanted to happen.

There were 5 of us kids, so he had plenty of time to polish his skills. It went something like this…….

Someone would alert dad about the loose tooth. Usually the person suffering from it. It would be a dance back and forth, the kid wanting to show him, wanting him to ultimately pull it out, but afraid and so then backing up…. making him promise NOT to pull it out.

Ok…Ok  he’d say… I’ll just LOOK at it. Just wiggle it a little. He had to make sure it was ready, dad was never one to undertake the task prematurely.

He’d get the tissue, dry off the tooth, allow us to bob and weave away from the hand, talking softly and keeping calm so as not to spook us.

We’d work up to keeping our mouth open, letting him hold on to that tooth….and he’d place a steadying hand on a shoulder.

Probably with some internal countdown, 3….2….1….. YANK!  Suddenly, the hand is gone… the tooth……is gone!

And there would be dad, holding up the bloody tissue, with tooth nestled inside.

Of course, since we always pretended he wasn’t going to pull it, there was some excitement, jumping around, Oh my gosh, my tooth is out! Rinsing out with warm water, and proudly displaying the new space in our mouth.

It was such a relief.

So Sammy joined the ranks tonight. Stopped at dads for an emergency tooth pulling, he performed as brilliantly as always. Sammy came home and stuffed himself with snacks, grateful for the ability to chew without pain or care. Brushed teeth happily, went to bed smiling.

Another satisfied customer. toothaa