Breakfast surprise

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It was Saturday morning around 8am, and I heard chairs moving around downstairs in the kitchen, cabinets being opened, bags rustling.

Although it was a lot more commotion that it usually takes for the hubby to make his morning coffee, it just didn’t register to me that anything else might be going on.

I head downstairs with the three year old hanging on my back, and I get stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Husband is being used as a guard, I’m not allowed in the kitchen yet. Ok, I’ll go with it.

Sammy calls out finally, “don’t look!”

He comes and takes my hand, I must keep my eyes closed, and guides me to the kitchen. Being 5, he doesn’t take into account the various walls I might walk in to, but I only shoulder check one because I promise not to cheat and peek.

“Surprise!”

Sammy made us breakfast!

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A feast, of green bean crisps, pretzels, peanuts, pita chips, trail mix….oh, and those cute little cheese sandwich crackers from Trader Joe’s. Pretty much cleaned out the snacks…. We all got a heaping plate, and even a nice big glass (Oh geez, REAL glass!) of deliciously gritty iced tea, made with love and LOTS of powdered mix.

All of our places were set, and he waited indulgently for us to sit. Of course it was the most amazing breakfast ever!!

Me, Sammy, Jenna, and the hubby got the same thing. For some reason though, his big brother Jake got the supreme version full of whole granola bars, some fudge dipped, and LOTS of trail mix.

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breakfast of champions

 

Of course, we didn’t want to disappoint him, so I munched on that “breakfast” all day, and tossed what I could when he wasn’t looking. I did realize what a good amount of crap food we have….. and also how much I love pita chips….but mostly how much I love that little guy.

 

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…..

New things to fear

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We are going on vacation in a matter of days, flying away from here for a while. Looking forward to spending days together, it feels like it’s been forever!

Before we fly with the kids, I have all the normal stress of making sure the house is spotless, laundry all done, bills paid, bags packed, and making sure I have every possible problem figured out and solved before it happens.

But I find myself faced with a new concern, not sure it’s a problem yet, I hope it doesn’t become a problem….

I’ve been reading on various news sites about people who look suspicious, and by suspicious I mean dark complected and Arabic speaking…..who are reported by other passengers who are scared to fly with them. Just read about another instance today….. these people are detained, often miss their flights, are frisked and humiliated in front of others until ultimately they are let go, found to be not a risk after all.

The world is a crazy place right now. Will someone look at my husband, dark complected, Arabic…and think he poses a threat to them? Will they think by traveling with a white woman, he is trying to blend in, and make them more suspicious?

Will we make it on the plane?

I think we will, mostly. I do tend to think of worst case scenarios, if for no other reason than to just be prepared.

But it’s scary out there, for everyone.

We are all victims, and by “we”, I mean all of us, no matter what religion or nationality, who are not extremists. We, who are peace and family loving, no matter how we pray, or even if we pray. We who just want to live our lives, and let others live their own.

I pray for peace, for an end to the horrible things being done in the world by a group who has no business connecting themselves with Islam. And for an end to the horrible things being done to people who LOOK like they might be associated with a group that has no business connecting themselves with Islam…..

Until that day comes, I pray we can just get on that damn plane…..

 

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

Beyond clean…

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dirty

It’s funny how different people can define a concept in so many unique ways.

Take the concept of clean, for example. As in “A clean room”.

To my teen, this is a very loose concept, a fluid term, can’t be pinned down to any rigid standard…. certainly not by any standards of mine that might include Windex or a vacuum cleaner.

No…

His clean is so unstructured, so free…. free of the materialistic burden of bedspreads and dirty socks, free of the narrow-minded idea that toothpaste on the sink could ever be “unclean”. Indeed, the toothpaste is clean. The sink is clean. Together, they can only be MORE clean.

He must be evolving, my small mind tries to understand.

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I struggle with it.

I’m sure it’s my own fault. My faulty reasoning, that of an adult whose only remaining dream is to walk into his room without being disgusted.

I cracked today. Vacuumed up things that didn’t seem to belong on the floor by my antiquated reasoning. Toenails, fingernails, I don’t know what that other stuff is…..

Felt a small measure of peace, probably destroyed an ecosystem he was painstakingly trying to create.

Oh, I’m sure I will remain an embarrassment. Not enlightened enough to see beyond my superficial concept of clean. I hope he can forgive me one day, and learn to somehow live with my primitive addiction to Pine-sol and Clorox wipes.

….not so evolved……

 

 

Sick day benefits

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dreamstime.com

I’ve been sick for days and days…stabbing headache, sinus pressure, loads of mucous, dry/sore throat and general feelings of yuckiness.

I should have known what was coming….

Yesterday as I pulled up in the car line for Sammy to get in after school, I got a glimpse of him standing outside. Good lord, he looked like a zombie. Pasty faced and grimacing, he got into the car. “What is WRONG?”

“I don’t feel good…..” was his whispery, croaked response. And he promptly fell asleep within 10 seconds.

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So began our weekend. Highlights include a surprise puke appearance all over my comforter about 12am…. and puke returning for a cameo spot around 4am which I caught in the bucket with nary a drop spilled. YES!

He required carrying and babying….which I was happy to do. This morning he walked into the kitchen and gazed at me adoringly. Started telling me that he loves me so much, and thinks about me every day at school. He loves me even when I’m mean, and won’t let him play with his kindle. It has continued all day, all requests peppered with “please, thank you, I love you, I’m never going to stop loving you”.

He has a fever, but certainly not high enough for brain damage. I think this is just one of the nice little side effects of when this particular child gets sick… I’ll take it 🙂