Last night, while we were waiting for the tubby to get ready, The Bird sat on my lap and gave me ferberts on my neck to make "tooting noises".
"Oh no!" I said. "You tooted on me! Gross!!!"
This made her giggle with the innocence of a kid blowing ferberts and having that be the best thing EVER. Better than Disneyland. Better than ice cream. Better than a new dress. She continued to blow ferberts on me and I continued to make her laugh by saying she was tooting on me.
After a while, I started to tickle her when she leaned in to give a ferbert and she erupted in a fit of giggles. This went on for five minutes. There was so much laughing and bonding... it was a beautiful moment for me. There was no better place in the world at that moment than sitting in our kitchen, listening to my 4-year-old's laughter, while her sister sat next to us and watched and laughed. The Bean never made a move to get in on the action, suprisingly. She just sat there with her blankie and laughed with - and at - her sister.
After a while, I told The Bird to go give daddy a ferbert. As she ran off to make toot noises on his shoulder, The Bean climbed on to my lap. She smiled at me and leaned in for what I expected to be a ferbert on my neck.
Instead, she lovingly put her head on my chest, patted me softly on the shoulder, sighed deeply...
AND FARTED.
A full-on, no holds barred FART. At first, I was confused. Did what I think just happened... JUST HAPPEN???
And then she leaned back, looked at me with a twinkle in her eyes... and threw her head back and laughed like the evil genius she is.
Lest I think that it was a coincidence, she did it two more times. Sheer will-powered farts on my lap. Followed by hysterical laughing. Both hers... and mine.
Because I'm a good mom that way.
Later that night, when I was recounting what happened to Benny, I admitted that I really shouldn't have been surprised. She is HIS daughter, after all. He had the nerve to be offended that I was suggesting that he, himself, was able to toot through sheer willpower.
For about 15 seconds.
Before he demonstrated that it was, in fact, true.
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stories. Show all posts
Monday, February 24, 2014
Thursday, December 19, 2013
The Meaning of Christmas - Bird and Bean Style
The Bird is really getting into the holiday spirit this year. If by spirit, you mean that she wants anything and everything that has ever been or ever will be in existence.... and is something a princess ballerina would wear.
Which, in our household, means that she will be getting a baseball glove and a bat.
The Bean, on the other hand, has decided that what she wants most for Christmas is hot dogs and water. Because that's her favorite. Apparently, nutrition in our house has been way lax since she joined our little family. And Mommy needs a refresher course on Parenting 101. Also, she'll be getting a wand.
But, in an effort to get both girls to understand the true meaning of Christmas, we had a discussion about how it's more important to give than to receive, and how making someone else happy or smile is the best gift we can give ourselves. We talked about how some kids won't get much for Christmas and how we should try to be Santa's Helpers. We picked a tag off the Giving Tree at day care and went shopping for some of the families that need a little Christmas help. The girls were awesome and were very excited to pick out a Batman action figure and some fun t-shirts for other people. We only had a "moment" when The Bean threw a fit because she wanted a Minnie-Mouse shirt, too.
If by "moment" you mean that Mommy had to threaten to cancel Christmas unless she put the shirt away because THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU.
Ahem. Overall, it was a positive experience. And when we were driving home and talking about giving gifts to people, The Bean stated that she weally wanted to give her best fwiend, Ivy, a toy. And not just any toy... one of her very own toys.
Dude. DUDE. How huge is that? She got it! The 2YO got it! I got a little teary-eyed and said that of course!! Of course we can go to The Island of Misfit Toys (our basement) and pick out a very special toy to give Ivy. And at that, The Bird decided she'd get in on the action for her BFF, Emmy.
So, yesterday we began the tedious process of choosing which toy our friends would like. The Bean's first selection? A plastic chicken leg. Yes... that's what we call toys around our house. Problem? I talked her out of that because, you know... maybe Ivy doesn't have a kitchen to put the chicken leg in, mkay? So maybe something else that she can actually play with.
After a thorough inspection of all of their toys, both girls decided on little racing cars that their BFF's would really like. Rather than wrap them up (because who has wrapping paper on December 18??), I put an oversized bow on each of them and off we went. When we got to school, The Bird had to put her gift in her cubby until her friend got to school, but Ivy was there when The Bean got to class. It was so touching to watch her run over to her little friend and hand her the toy car with the bow and say "Merry Christmas, Ivy! I wuv you!" Seriously... this kid is too good for me. I explained to the teacher the whole story because I wanted her to be able to tell Ivy's mom why she got a gift from The Bean... and I certainly didn't want her mom to feel like she needed to go out and buy a gift for The Bean. This was about giving... not getting. And, you guys? Parenting win! She got it! She totally, completely got it! ASK ME ABOUT MY MAD PARENTING SKILLZ OVER THE HOLIDAYS! I GOTS LOTSA ADVICE!!!
That night, when I picked The Bird up from school, I saw that she still hadn't given Emmy her gift. So, I went with her when she handed it to her friend with a quick "Merry Christmas". Emmy wasn't sure what to make of the car, so The Bird went on to solemnly explain: "I'm giving you this car for Christmas. Because I don't play with it anymore, cuz I don't like it anymore. Because I'm a big girl. And big girls don't play with cars. So, that's why I'm giving it to you."
Face. Palm. So. Hard.
Back to the drawing boards.
Which, in our household, means that she will be getting a baseball glove and a bat.
The Bean, on the other hand, has decided that what she wants most for Christmas is hot dogs and water. Because that's her favorite. Apparently, nutrition in our house has been way lax since she joined our little family. And Mommy needs a refresher course on Parenting 101. Also, she'll be getting a wand.
But, in an effort to get both girls to understand the true meaning of Christmas, we had a discussion about how it's more important to give than to receive, and how making someone else happy or smile is the best gift we can give ourselves. We talked about how some kids won't get much for Christmas and how we should try to be Santa's Helpers. We picked a tag off the Giving Tree at day care and went shopping for some of the families that need a little Christmas help. The girls were awesome and were very excited to pick out a Batman action figure and some fun t-shirts for other people. We only had a "moment" when The Bean threw a fit because she wanted a Minnie-Mouse shirt, too.
If by "moment" you mean that Mommy had to threaten to cancel Christmas unless she put the shirt away because THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU.
Ahem. Overall, it was a positive experience. And when we were driving home and talking about giving gifts to people, The Bean stated that she weally wanted to give her best fwiend, Ivy, a toy. And not just any toy... one of her very own toys.
Dude. DUDE. How huge is that? She got it! The 2YO got it! I got a little teary-eyed and said that of course!! Of course we can go to The Island of Misfit Toys (our basement) and pick out a very special toy to give Ivy. And at that, The Bird decided she'd get in on the action for her BFF, Emmy.
So, yesterday we began the tedious process of choosing which toy our friends would like. The Bean's first selection? A plastic chicken leg. Yes... that's what we call toys around our house. Problem? I talked her out of that because, you know... maybe Ivy doesn't have a kitchen to put the chicken leg in, mkay? So maybe something else that she can actually play with.
After a thorough inspection of all of their toys, both girls decided on little racing cars that their BFF's would really like. Rather than wrap them up (because who has wrapping paper on December 18??), I put an oversized bow on each of them and off we went. When we got to school, The Bird had to put her gift in her cubby until her friend got to school, but Ivy was there when The Bean got to class. It was so touching to watch her run over to her little friend and hand her the toy car with the bow and say "Merry Christmas, Ivy! I wuv you!" Seriously... this kid is too good for me. I explained to the teacher the whole story because I wanted her to be able to tell Ivy's mom why she got a gift from The Bean... and I certainly didn't want her mom to feel like she needed to go out and buy a gift for The Bean. This was about giving... not getting. And, you guys? Parenting win! She got it! She totally, completely got it! ASK ME ABOUT MY MAD PARENTING SKILLZ OVER THE HOLIDAYS! I GOTS LOTSA ADVICE!!!
That night, when I picked The Bird up from school, I saw that she still hadn't given Emmy her gift. So, I went with her when she handed it to her friend with a quick "Merry Christmas". Emmy wasn't sure what to make of the car, so The Bird went on to solemnly explain: "I'm giving you this car for Christmas. Because I don't play with it anymore, cuz I don't like it anymore. Because I'm a big girl. And big girls don't play with cars. So, that's why I'm giving it to you."
Face. Palm. So. Hard.
Back to the drawing boards.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
50 Reasons Why We're Late
Full disclosure, I stole this idea from Suburban Jungle. And also? She's my new hero.
We're late. A lot. And although sometimes it's totally my fault, most of the time it's the fault of the Little Dictators to whom we provide food, shelter and unconditional love. And I can only console myself with the fact that pre-kids, I gave my mommy friends a lot of leeway when showing up late for something... because I had a feeling I would end up in a similar boat and didn't want karma to kick me in the face. Let this be a lesson for all of you Not Yet Parents or Never Want To Be Parents. Take it easy on us... we have a whole 'notha life going on.
So, in Suburban Jungle style, here is a list of reasons of why our little family is late all the live long day. I want to be clear that each of these things has happened at some point... some have happened at the same time because if we're going to be late, let's really make it worth our while. As twisted as my mind is, even I couldn't make up some of the ridiculousness that is listed below.
So here they are, in no particular order:
50 Reasons Why We're Late
1 - The Bean can't find her tie shoes. Because Mommy threw them away.
2 - There wasn't enough milk put into the Cheerios. Hostages were taken.
3 - The Bird's socks weren't smiling at her.
4 - It's not Tumblebus day at school, so we have no incentive to get moving.
5 - The kids made me drink and I had to sober up. Which is why we just decided to walk, mkay?
6 - Bonnie chewed on the corner of The Bean's blanket. Causing The Bean's face to melt off.
7 - We're not going to make it to Second Breakfast at school anyway, so who cares?
8 - I had to wrestle a badger. Which is to say I had to clip The Bird'stalons toenails .
9 - The Little Dictators wanted more bacon.
10 - The Little Dictators insisted on toenail polish because I had new polish on my toes.
11 - I lost track of time because I was hiding in the closet, eating the one slice of bacon left... and painting my toenails.
12 - The Bird's leotard is making her bummy itch.
13 - The Bird wants the leotard that The Bean is wearing.
14 - The Bean has taken off all of her clothes to go potty.
15 - The Bird tried to put The Bean's leotard on and got stuck.
16 - The Bean refused to let me help her put on underwear. And then got stuck in said underwear.
17 - The Bird discovered that The Bean was wearing her underwear and "She's already pooped in three pairs of my undies, Mama!!"
18 - While spinning around in circles, The Bean managed to run into the fridge eyeball first.
19 - The Bird had an imaginary owie that needed three bandaids.
20 - We couldn't find The Bean's Cat In The Hat socks.
21 - The Bird couldn't decide which baby she should take for Show&Share.
22 - The Bean had to go to timeout because she couldn't remember not to hit Mommy when she didn't get her way.
23 - The Bean had to go to timeout because the words "poopy butt" were banned after she said it to a little old lady at the store. And they certainly are banned at the breakfast table.
24 - The Bird called the The Bean "Earwax" and Mommy had to go into timeout so they didn't see her laugh hysterically, lest they decide that calling someone Earwax is encouraged in our family.
25 - Mommy can't find her phone.
26 - Mommy can't find her keys.
27 - Daddy has Mommy's keys. But left his phone home. So Mommy is keyless and upset.
28 - On the way out of the door, it comes to Mommy's attention that wait... WHY DID YOU TAKE YOUR SHOES AND SOCKS OFF???
29 - The Bird decided that shorts go much better with her winter coat than long pants.
30 - The braid in The Birds hair isn't quite perfect. START AGAIN, MOMMY.
31 - "We've only had 3 bran muffins each. We need 16."
32 - The Bean needs to poop.
33 - The Bird needs to poop.
34 - The Bird does not like the jacket she's supposed to wear.
35 - "But I wanna watch Super Why!! I never get to watch Super Why!" This, after two episodes of Super Why that morning.
36 - Mommy had to run in and get the vitamins she forgot to give them over breakfast. Because without them, both may end up with scurvy due to a lack of nutritional elements that chicken nuggets and peas don't provide.
37 - "It snowed!! DID YOU SEE IT SNOWED? WOOK AT DAT! IT SNOWED, MAMA! Wookit! Wookit! WOOKIT, MAMA! YOU ARE NOT WOOKING!!!"
38 - Time to eat snow.
39 - The dog got on top of the table and started eating the bran muffins the kids had left while taking their shoes off. So... we need more muffins!
40 - The Little Dictators found out that where we're going? Doesn't have cookies.
41 - "But whhhyyyyyy do I have to wear pants?"
42 - The Bird had a meltdown because I used The Bean's flyswatter to kill the moth, instead of her flyswatter.
43 - The girls got in a knock-down fight over who got to climb in the car first.
44 - The girls want to see the video Mommy just took of them fighting over who got to climb in the car first.
45 - The Bean needs a tissue for her nose. NOT THE TOILET PAPER YOU BROUGHT HER. Heads will roll.
46 - Desperately needed to read Go, Dog, Go! For the 32nd time.
47 - The Bean decided to wash her cup in the toilet.
48 - The Bean decided that her walls needed a splash of Crayon color.
49 - "I wanna do it!" is the refrain heard from both girls for everything from buckling their car seats to getting out of the car.
50 - Both girls were downstairs playing quietly and Mommy decided she was actually going to enjoy a cup of coffee, because that moment has been 4 years in the making. Fine. This one's on me.
We're late. A lot. And although sometimes it's totally my fault, most of the time it's the fault of the Little Dictators to whom we provide food, shelter and unconditional love. And I can only console myself with the fact that pre-kids, I gave my mommy friends a lot of leeway when showing up late for something... because I had a feeling I would end up in a similar boat and didn't want karma to kick me in the face. Let this be a lesson for all of you Not Yet Parents or Never Want To Be Parents. Take it easy on us... we have a whole 'notha life going on.
So, in Suburban Jungle style, here is a list of reasons of why our little family is late all the live long day. I want to be clear that each of these things has happened at some point... some have happened at the same time because if we're going to be late, let's really make it worth our while. As twisted as my mind is, even I couldn't make up some of the ridiculousness that is listed below.
So here they are, in no particular order:
50 Reasons Why We're Late
1 - The Bean can't find her tie shoes. Because Mommy threw them away.
2 - There wasn't enough milk put into the Cheerios. Hostages were taken.
3 - The Bird's socks weren't smiling at her.
4 - It's not Tumblebus day at school, so we have no incentive to get moving.
5 - The kids made me drink and I had to sober up. Which is why we just decided to walk, mkay?
6 - Bonnie chewed on the corner of The Bean's blanket. Causing The Bean's face to melt off.
7 - We're not going to make it to Second Breakfast at school anyway, so who cares?
8 - I had to wrestle a badger. Which is to say I had to clip The Bird's
9 - The Little Dictators wanted more bacon.
10 - The Little Dictators insisted on toenail polish because I had new polish on my toes.
11 - I lost track of time because I was hiding in the closet, eating the one slice of bacon left... and painting my toenails.
12 - The Bird's leotard is making her bummy itch.
13 - The Bird wants the leotard that The Bean is wearing.
14 - The Bean has taken off all of her clothes to go potty.
15 - The Bird tried to put The Bean's leotard on and got stuck.
16 - The Bean refused to let me help her put on underwear. And then got stuck in said underwear.
17 - The Bird discovered that The Bean was wearing her underwear and "She's already pooped in three pairs of my undies, Mama!!"
18 - While spinning around in circles, The Bean managed to run into the fridge eyeball first.
19 - The Bird had an imaginary owie that needed three bandaids.
20 - We couldn't find The Bean's Cat In The Hat socks.
21 - The Bird couldn't decide which baby she should take for Show&Share.
22 - The Bean had to go to timeout because she couldn't remember not to hit Mommy when she didn't get her way.
23 - The Bean had to go to timeout because the words "poopy butt" were banned after she said it to a little old lady at the store. And they certainly are banned at the breakfast table.
24 - The Bird called the The Bean "Earwax" and Mommy had to go into timeout so they didn't see her laugh hysterically, lest they decide that calling someone Earwax is encouraged in our family.
25 - Mommy can't find her phone.
26 - Mommy can't find her keys.
27 - Daddy has Mommy's keys. But left his phone home. So Mommy is keyless and upset.
28 - On the way out of the door, it comes to Mommy's attention that wait... WHY DID YOU TAKE YOUR SHOES AND SOCKS OFF???
29 - The Bird decided that shorts go much better with her winter coat than long pants.
30 - The braid in The Birds hair isn't quite perfect. START AGAIN, MOMMY.
31 - "We've only had 3 bran muffins each. We need 16."
32 - The Bean needs to poop.
33 - The Bird needs to poop.
34 - The Bird does not like the jacket she's supposed to wear.
35 - "But I wanna watch Super Why!! I never get to watch Super Why!" This, after two episodes of Super Why that morning.
36 - Mommy had to run in and get the vitamins she forgot to give them over breakfast. Because without them, both may end up with scurvy due to a lack of nutritional elements that chicken nuggets and peas don't provide.
37 - "It snowed!! DID YOU SEE IT SNOWED? WOOK AT DAT! IT SNOWED, MAMA! Wookit! Wookit! WOOKIT, MAMA! YOU ARE NOT WOOKING!!!"
38 - Time to eat snow.
39 - The dog got on top of the table and started eating the bran muffins the kids had left while taking their shoes off. So... we need more muffins!
40 - The Little Dictators found out that where we're going? Doesn't have cookies.
41 - "But whhhyyyyyy do I have to wear pants?"
42 - The Bird had a meltdown because I used The Bean's flyswatter to kill the moth, instead of her flyswatter.
43 - The girls got in a knock-down fight over who got to climb in the car first.
44 - The girls want to see the video Mommy just took of them fighting over who got to climb in the car first.
45 - The Bean needs a tissue for her nose. NOT THE TOILET PAPER YOU BROUGHT HER. Heads will roll.
46 - Desperately needed to read Go, Dog, Go! For the 32nd time.
47 - The Bean decided to wash her cup in the toilet.
48 - The Bean decided that her walls needed a splash of Crayon color.
49 - "I wanna do it!" is the refrain heard from both girls for everything from buckling their car seats to getting out of the car.
50 - Both girls were downstairs playing quietly and Mommy decided she was actually going to enjoy a cup of coffee, because that moment has been 4 years in the making. Fine. This one's on me.
Saturday, October 12, 2013
In Case You Were Thinking of Having Kids - Episode 2
This
is the second episode in a series of the good, the bad and the downright
beautiful moments of having children. Because none of MY girlfriends will be able to say that I didn't warn them.
-------------------------------
"I don't wanna go to bed!"
"You're not going to bed. You're going to take a tubby."
"And then what after the tubby?"
"Then we're going to read stories."
"And then what after we read stories?"
"Then we're going to brush our teeth."
"And then what after we brush our teeth?"
"Then we're going to read another story in bed."
"And then what after we read another story in bed?"
"Then we're going to go to bed."
"BUT I DON'T WANNA GO TO BED!!!"
In her defense, her premise never changed.
-------------------------------
"No, Hazel... I'm not going to go find your baby for you."
"WHY NOT?"
"Because... Mommy's off-duty this morning."
"(giggles) You said doody!"
She's totally ready for junior high.
-------------------------------
The easiest way to ruin a 2-year-old's life is to not let her use the ice dispenser on her own. Coincidentally, not letting the 2-year-old use the ice dispenser on her own also ruins the 36-year-old's life.
-------------------------------
Every morning I wake up, I think that maybe today is the day that I won't have to threaten to take away - or actually take away - The Bean's blankie because she's not listening or respecting my words. Or is outright laughing at my words and then doing exactly what I asked her not to do.
And then 5 minutes later, I'm all... "Maybe tomorrow will be the day."
-------------------------------
At the breakfast table:
"Poo-poo!" Giggle, giggle, giggle.
"POO-POO!" Giggle, giggle, giggle.
"Hey! What did I say about that word? We don't say that word. And we definitely don't say that word at the breakfast table. Next one who says that word goes in time-out, do you understand?"
"Yes, mama."
"Yes, mama."
As I walk towards the bedroom to finish getting dressed for the day:
"(whisper) Boo-boo."
"What did you say?"
"(softly) Boo-boo."
"With a b?"
"Yea... boo-boo."
*Blink*
"You are walking a FINE LINE, Millie."
-------------------------------
"Hey mama... my bummy hurts."
"Do you need to go poop?"
"Um..... YEA!"
Expect to have this conversation once a day for at least a year. Per child.
-------------------------------
"You never, never, never let me pick out my own clothes!!!"
"Oh really? You think I had a hand in that contraption you wore to school yesterday?"
"What's contrapshun?"
"Just put on your pants and let's go."
"NO! I WANNA WEAR MY SUNDRESS!"
"Hazel... it's 40 degrees outside. You wear a sundress to school and I go to jail."
"YOU'RE THE MEANEST MOMMY EVER!"
"Yes... but at least I'll be home to cook you dinner tonight."
-------------------------------
Before you make the mistake of thinking your 2YO and 3YO are old enough to watch Princess Bride, maybe your 36YO behind should watch it alone to jog your memory about what exactly is in the movie.
ROUS's? I don't think they exist.
EXCEPT THAT THEY DO. AND THEY WILL SCARE THE BEJEEZUS OUT OF YOUR KIDDOS.
-------------------------------
6 a.m. I open my eyes to see one of the two girls standing next to the bed. I can't tell who it is because IT'S 6 A.M.
"I wuv you, Mommy," she whispers.
I grab her, pull her into bed with me, kiss her cheek and we both fall back to sleep.
BEST. MORNING. EVER.
-------------------------------
"I don't wanna go to bed!"
"You're not going to bed. You're going to take a tubby."
"And then what after the tubby?"
"Then we're going to read stories."
"And then what after we read stories?"
"Then we're going to brush our teeth."
"And then what after we brush our teeth?"
"Then we're going to read another story in bed."
"And then what after we read another story in bed?"
"Then we're going to go to bed."
"BUT I DON'T WANNA GO TO BED!!!"
In her defense, her premise never changed.
-------------------------------
"No, Hazel... I'm not going to go find your baby for you."
"WHY NOT?"
"Because... Mommy's off-duty this morning."
"(giggles) You said doody!"
She's totally ready for junior high.
-------------------------------
The easiest way to ruin a 2-year-old's life is to not let her use the ice dispenser on her own. Coincidentally, not letting the 2-year-old use the ice dispenser on her own also ruins the 36-year-old's life.
-------------------------------
Every morning I wake up, I think that maybe today is the day that I won't have to threaten to take away - or actually take away - The Bean's blankie because she's not listening or respecting my words. Or is outright laughing at my words and then doing exactly what I asked her not to do.
And then 5 minutes later, I'm all... "Maybe tomorrow will be the day."
-------------------------------
At the breakfast table:
"Poo-poo!" Giggle, giggle, giggle.
"POO-POO!" Giggle, giggle, giggle.
"Hey! What did I say about that word? We don't say that word. And we definitely don't say that word at the breakfast table. Next one who says that word goes in time-out, do you understand?"
"Yes, mama."
"Yes, mama."
As I walk towards the bedroom to finish getting dressed for the day:
"(whisper) Boo-boo."
"What did you say?"
"(softly) Boo-boo."
"With a b?"
"Yea... boo-boo."
*Blink*
"You are walking a FINE LINE, Millie."
-------------------------------
"Hey mama... my bummy hurts."
"Do you need to go poop?"
"Um..... YEA!"
Expect to have this conversation once a day for at least a year. Per child.
-------------------------------
"You never, never, never let me pick out my own clothes!!!"
"Oh really? You think I had a hand in that contraption you wore to school yesterday?"
"What's contrapshun?"
"Just put on your pants and let's go."
"NO! I WANNA WEAR MY SUNDRESS!"
"Hazel... it's 40 degrees outside. You wear a sundress to school and I go to jail."
"YOU'RE THE MEANEST MOMMY EVER!"
"Yes... but at least I'll be home to cook you dinner tonight."
-------------------------------
Before you make the mistake of thinking your 2YO and 3YO are old enough to watch Princess Bride, maybe your 36YO behind should watch it alone to jog your memory about what exactly is in the movie.
ROUS's? I don't think they exist.
EXCEPT THAT THEY DO. AND THEY WILL SCARE THE BEJEEZUS OUT OF YOUR KIDDOS.
-------------------------------
6 a.m. I open my eyes to see one of the two girls standing next to the bed. I can't tell who it is because IT'S 6 A.M.
"I wuv you, Mommy," she whispers.
I grab her, pull her into bed with me, kiss her cheek and we both fall back to sleep.
BEST. MORNING. EVER.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
In Case You Were Thinking of Having Kids - Episode 1
This is the first in a series of the good, the bad and the downright beautiful moments of having children. So you can be both inspired and horrified at the exact same time. In the biz, we call that multi-tasking.
So I turned on Shaggy.
The look on her face was absolutely worth subjecting her to Shaggy.
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
Number of times in my life that I made pancakes prior to having kids: < 20
Number of times I've made pancakes in the last three years: 3,485
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
Played hide-and-seek with the kiddos tonight. Went into the bedroom where they were both hiding, and said: "Where could Hazel and Millie be hiding?" Millie pops up out of her hiding spot and screams: 'WHITE HEEEERRREEEE!!!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"What's the rule?"
"Um.... we don't show our private parts to our friends, anymore."
"Right. What do we do if our friends or anyone else shows us their private parts?"
"We say: 'You shouldn't show me that!' and then walk away."
"No. You run. You run away, okay?"
"Okay. Can I have a cookie, now?"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
The girls had a knock-down, drag-out, call-the-cops fight in front of the Home Depot paint color sample card station today. Because out of 5,000 colors and cards to choose from, they both went for the exact same color sample card.... one of 10 to choose from in that sample, but they both wanted THAT one.
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"I'm gonna sit next to Millie while we eat because she's my best friend, and I love her!"
"Yea?"
"Yea!"
"Millie, who's your best friend?"
"Hazo!!! And I wuv her!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"What's that smell, mama?"
"That's the lake effect... from Salt Lake. Because Salt Lake stinks."
"No it's not! It's not the wake effect. The car pooped!"
"What?"
"Yea! The car pooped!"
"Cars don't poop, Hazel."
"Yes dey do! The car pooped!"
"No, Millie... cars don't poop."
"THE CAR POOPED! THE CAR POOPED! THE CAR POOPED!!!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"Would you like it if I wiped MY bummy and then wiped the toilet paper on YOU?"
"No... that's not nice."
"Then why do you think it's okay for you to do that to your friend?"
"Um, cuz she said, she said, she said that I couldn't have the yellow crayon!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"Millie had a blow-out today. It got IN her shoes."
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"I wanna put on my pants!"
"Okay, then put on your pants!"
"No! I don't wanna put on my pants!"
"Do you want me to help you put on your pants?"
"No! I wanna put on my pants!"
"Then put on your pants!"
"NO!!! I don't wanna put on my pants!"
(Substitute pants for peeling a banana, eating a strawberry or playing with her dolly, and you've got Millie in a nutshell.)
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"Mama!! I was good today and didn't get a note or anything!"
"Yay! Does that mean that you were nice to all of your friends?"
"Uh-huh! And I didn't try to wipe my toilet paper on them, either."
Progress.
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"I want daddy to play Silverback."
"Oh yea?"
"Yea.... and you can be the giant."
"That's grrrrrreat."
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
After fighting with her about going to sleep tonight, I finally reached my limit and threatened to take out her ponytails if I had to come into the room one more time. That's right, I went nuclear.
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"Heeeeyyyy... Hazo said no to me!"
"What did I tell you about sticks and stones?"
"Words will hurt my bones!"
*Sigh*
"Fine. What did I say about tattletaling?"
"I not a tattletale!"
"Yes she is, mommy! She's tattling on me!!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
**********************************************************
Hazel wanted to dance ballet in her princess dress tonight. So I turned on Shaggy.
The look on her face was absolutely worth subjecting her to Shaggy.
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
Number of times in my life that I made pancakes prior to having kids: < 20
Number of times I've made pancakes in the last three years: 3,485
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
Played hide-and-seek with the kiddos tonight. Went into the bedroom where they were both hiding, and said: "Where could Hazel and Millie be hiding?" Millie pops up out of her hiding spot and screams: 'WHITE HEEEERRREEEE!!!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"What's the rule?"
"Um.... we don't show our private parts to our friends, anymore."
"Right. What do we do if our friends or anyone else shows us their private parts?"
"We say: 'You shouldn't show me that!' and then walk away."
"No. You run. You run away, okay?"
"Okay. Can I have a cookie, now?"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
The girls had a knock-down, drag-out, call-the-cops fight in front of the Home Depot paint color sample card station today. Because out of 5,000 colors and cards to choose from, they both went for the exact same color sample card.... one of 10 to choose from in that sample, but they both wanted THAT one.
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"I'm gonna sit next to Millie while we eat because she's my best friend, and I love her!"
"Yea?"
"Yea!"
"Millie, who's your best friend?"
"Hazo!!! And I wuv her!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"What's that smell, mama?"
"That's the lake effect... from Salt Lake. Because Salt Lake stinks."
"No it's not! It's not the wake effect. The car pooped!"
"What?"
"Yea! The car pooped!"
"Cars don't poop, Hazel."
"Yes dey do! The car pooped!"
"No, Millie... cars don't poop."
"THE CAR POOPED! THE CAR POOPED! THE CAR POOPED!!!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"Would you like it if I wiped MY bummy and then wiped the toilet paper on YOU?"
"No... that's not nice."
"Then why do you think it's okay for you to do that to your friend?"
"Um, cuz she said, she said, she said that I couldn't have the yellow crayon!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"Millie had a blow-out today. It got IN her shoes."
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"I wanna put on my pants!"
"Okay, then put on your pants!"
"No! I don't wanna put on my pants!"
"Do you want me to help you put on your pants?"
"No! I wanna put on my pants!"
"Then put on your pants!"
"NO!!! I don't wanna put on my pants!"
(Substitute pants for peeling a banana, eating a strawberry or playing with her dolly, and you've got Millie in a nutshell.)
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"Mama!! I was good today and didn't get a note or anything!"
"Yay! Does that mean that you were nice to all of your friends?"
"Uh-huh! And I didn't try to wipe my toilet paper on them, either."
Progress.
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"I want daddy to play Silverback."
"Oh yea?"
"Yea.... and you can be the giant."
"That's grrrrrreat."
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
After fighting with her about going to sleep tonight, I finally reached my limit and threatened to take out her ponytails if I had to come into the room one more time. That's right, I went nuclear.
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
"Heeeeyyyy... Hazo said no to me!"
"What did I tell you about sticks and stones?"
"Words will hurt my bones!"
*Sigh*
"Fine. What did I say about tattletaling?"
"I not a tattletale!"
"Yes she is, mommy! She's tattling on me!!"
You know... in case you were thinking of having kids.
Thursday, May 30, 2013
Short Stories
Time seems to fly by so fast these days and the girls are growing so quickly that I am completely overwhelmed with the thought of documenting it all. So... I haven't been. Brilliant, right?
I have this nonsensical fear that if I write about something that has happened, or write a letter to one of the girls about life these days, I'll forget something else that was just as funny/magical/dramatic and somehow, it lessens the spirit of this whole thing... which is to document our life as a family. To laugh at the absurd. To survive having two girls under the age of 4 or 8 or 10 or 15 or 30. To provide them a snapshot into our lives that they can look back at in 20 years to know more about me, more about Benny and more about what they were like as kids and what life was like "back in the day". One can only hope that they will at that time realize that at one point, their mother still had most of her marbles... and through these entries, they'll be able to track when, where and why she lost each one.
And also, there's the part where I subconsciously think two things at the same time: 1) I'll always have time to write about the birthday party, or the first potty words spoken to a little old lady at the store... and I'm sure I'll totally remember it tonight after the kiddos go to bed... if I have any energy left to do more than pour a whiskey and watch re-runs of Grey's Anatomy; and 2) If I don't write about them growing up... maybe they won't grow up. Maybe they'll just stay my babies forever and ever.
But here's the really stupid part about #1: I can't remember what I had for breakfast on any given morning, so how can I possibly remember these things that are going on in our life and try to write them down a day... a week... a month later? Because we all here in this little blog know that I don't have the energy to write anything more complicated than a Facebook status after the kiddos are asleep. I just can't. So I don't. As for #2? It's a working theory. See, I'm part mom, part scientist. So far, all of my experiments in denying reality have failed spectacularly. But I am nothing if not positive. And tenacious. Benny calls it theory tenacity. I call it survival.
And all of this is just a super long introduction into a few short stories that I have managed to remember from the last few months. So, without further ado....
Wuv. Eye. U.
It all started when I was trying to get Millie to say I Love You. She was just starting to put words together to form sentences and you know... parental competition with Benny had me trying to coax the first I Love You from her lips so that I could be all.... I win! She loved me first! Not that I would do anything so juvenile. Twice.
Anyway, I started doing the classic sign language for I Love You which entails pointing to my eye, then crossing my chest with my arms and then pointing at her. Yea... my bio also includes knowing three words in sign language. It's gonna take me places. Anyhoo, Millie really got a kick out of the movements and one night after I put her down and did the usual song and dance with the I Love You motions, she responded back with a Wuv. Eye. Uuuuuuu!
Just like that. It was awesome. And for the last few months (I'm sure it's more than a few, but I honestly can't remember when this first happened so let's just say "a few" and know that it means more than three but less than 12) this has been our routine. She has never gotten the hang of I Love You, or even I Wuv You... but who are we kidding? The Wuv Eye U is totally intentional. It's our little thing. Every night... "Wuv Eye U, Millie!" "WUV EYE UUUUUU, Mommy!" In a sweet, childish, sing-song voice. Over and over and over again.
It's... heaven.
Barbies
Holy geez. Before I had kids (and even after I had kids!), I swore that Barbie would not enter our home on the grounds that... OMG, I do not even want to get into this right now about everything that is wrong with Barbie. It's a whole post unto itself. But damn, Gina! You have little girls and POOF!!! Barbies just materialize OUT OF NOWHERE. We have not bought a Barbie for either girl, and our friends and family know better than to give them Barbies. And yet... THEY'RE HERE. In my home. Naked. On my kitchen table during dinner. Weirdly shaped hands and feet in the applesauce. Hair an unbridled mess. And the oldest, oblivious to the fact that my inner feminist is melting and bleeding from her eyes, innocently begs me to braid the Barbie's hair while she eats her chicken nuggets.
Ali
So, I don't know who Ali is. There's no Ali at school, as far as I know. Hazel doesn't know anyone by the name of Ali... but damn if every time I ask her what her dolly's name is, or what we should name the squirrel who keeps eating all of the birdseed and making Mommy's ears bleed, she doesn't say with a forthrightness and sincerity that you can't help but wish that all people had: "Ali. It's a she, and her name is Ali, Mommy."
For the record, it's actually a he and his name is Steve. Steve the Squirrel. Steve the Squirrel who is going to meet Mommy the Marksman if he doesn't stop making so much damn noise every morning at 6 a.m. But if calling him Ali and referring to him as her makes Hazel happy... well, Ali is a very nice name for a female squirrel.
Bonnie
So, we got a puppy a few months ago. We thought she was a blue heeler and since I grew up with a blue heeler, I was pretty excited about the prospect. Turns out she's part blue heeler, part terrier, part pain in my ass. She was supposed to be about 40 pounds. We'll be lucky if she gets to 20, which as we all know means smaller poops. So in that aspect, she hasn't fully ruined my life.
She's a good pup... just, you know... a pup. We weren't in the market for a puppy. We wanted a full-grown dog, because every kid should have a dog. Especially a dog that Mommy didn't have to train or yell at or kick or begin to loathe because it made her yell all the time. And I was finally past my trauma of trying to juggle kids and a dog which led to Bailey, our first dog, being sent to live with some friends. Because Mommy... Mommy just couldn't handle the thought of kids and a dog to take care of. And yet somehow, Mommy FORGOT ALL OF THAT. Mommy's good friends failed her by not reminding her of what a pain having a dog can be at times. But then someone dropped this little 2-month-old ball of fur off in the middle of the street. I met her, the kids met her.. and we all fell in love.
For a few weeks.
Then she got bigger and more.... terrier... who likes to bite and nip while she plays. And often that biting and nipping evolves to gnawing on the girls legs. Which means that I can't go a day without threatening to beat her. I don't actually beat her because that would be wrong and I would never condone that type of behavior.
But it sure is cathartic to threaten it.
My Little Laughing Sociopath
I suspect that one day, Millie is going to read this next entry and get upset or feel bad or, I dunno... go pack her kill bag. But I'm telling you.... this kid is going to be hard to discipline. She laughs at everything. She laughs when you're mad. She laughs when you're sad. She laughs when she's headbutted you... again. For the 14th time. She laughs even harder when she draws blood. Where Hazel gets upset that you're upset, Millie thinks it's HILARIOUS. Try putting a 2-year-old in a car seat who thinks it's super funny to see you sweating and mad at her. You try it and then tell me if you didn't at least think about flipping out on her just to see if that would work. Or throwing her through the window if she doesn't get her butt in the seat and stop trying to get out of the seat belt. Or (seriously, Millie?) pulling your hands away while you're buckling her up. Because her hands are actually stronger than your hands. It's 90 degrees outside, or it's raining/snowing/hailing outside and this little girl thinks that it's a good time to fight you getting into the car seat. But she does it while laughing like it's a big joke. And you know that yelling at her isn't the way to go. Because at the end of the day? She's just a damn happy kid. And who wants to be the person to make the kid cry just to get her in the car seat? I'm happy that I have a happy kid. I call her my little sociopath because, hey... every family has one. And honestly? In my family, it might be me. And I turned out okay. Mostly.
To cope with it, I carry a pillow with me in the car so I can scream into it prior to pulling out of the driveway/day care and at stoplights. Free therapy.
So, while it's possible that reading that about herself and the fact that I called her a sociopath might lead to her being upset, it's 100 times more likely that she'll laugh about it. God, I hope that when she's reading this in 20 years, she still laughs about stuff like that.
March, April and Mayhem
Since March, my work travel schedule has been insane. I have racked up more frequent flier miles than I know what to do with. And, joy of joys... Benny's schedule has been a beast, too. This is life in 2013. Benny and I have engaged in what can only be described as baton parenting. One of us leaves for a work trip and comes back, only to have the other one leave for a trip within a couple of days. Thank God our kiddos are resilient. The only way I've gotten through the last three months of travel hell is to tell myself that it isn't always like this. And that if we could make it through May, the worst of it is over. Well, we made it through May with most of our sanity intact. We celebrated with a camping trip... the first for our little family. And I cannot adequately describe how refreshing that trip was for my soul.
When I was a kid, I have great memories of camping with the family, playing kick the can, going on bear hunts and giggling all night in the tent with my sisters. These day, when I've got on my Mommy hat, I'm usually the bad guy telling the kiddos to get back to their room and no more going potty... you've gone potty 15 times in the last 20 minutes, you've got nuthin' left to get out. But when I heard the giggles and laughs and "poopy butt's" that normally get them sent to timeout, coming from the camper at 10 at night, I let them be. I let them make memories. I let them love each other and life.
The laughing... well it was just part of the whole beautiful trip. A trip where they ate hot dogs and s'mores fresh from the campfire. They played in the stream. They caught fish. They made mud pies. They found night crawlers and named each one of them and moved them from one side of the campground to the other... including a stop on Mommy and Daddy's arms. They went on a bear hunt. They were amazed by everything and wanted to see and touch and smell and hear everything. They sat around the campfire staring, hypnotized, into the flames. They pooped in the woods. They got dirty.
They laughed and the birds in the trees were envious of the glorious sound.
And my life? Complete.
I have this nonsensical fear that if I write about something that has happened, or write a letter to one of the girls about life these days, I'll forget something else that was just as funny/magical/dramatic and somehow, it lessens the spirit of this whole thing... which is to document our life as a family. To laugh at the absurd. To survive having two girls under the age of 4 or 8 or 10 or 15 or 30. To provide them a snapshot into our lives that they can look back at in 20 years to know more about me, more about Benny and more about what they were like as kids and what life was like "back in the day". One can only hope that they will at that time realize that at one point, their mother still had most of her marbles... and through these entries, they'll be able to track when, where and why she lost each one.
And also, there's the part where I subconsciously think two things at the same time: 1) I'll always have time to write about the birthday party, or the first potty words spoken to a little old lady at the store... and I'm sure I'll totally remember it tonight after the kiddos go to bed... if I have any energy left to do more than pour a whiskey and watch re-runs of Grey's Anatomy; and 2) If I don't write about them growing up... maybe they won't grow up. Maybe they'll just stay my babies forever and ever.
But here's the really stupid part about #1: I can't remember what I had for breakfast on any given morning, so how can I possibly remember these things that are going on in our life and try to write them down a day... a week... a month later? Because we all here in this little blog know that I don't have the energy to write anything more complicated than a Facebook status after the kiddos are asleep. I just can't. So I don't. As for #2? It's a working theory. See, I'm part mom, part scientist. So far, all of my experiments in denying reality have failed spectacularly. But I am nothing if not positive. And tenacious. Benny calls it theory tenacity. I call it survival.
And all of this is just a super long introduction into a few short stories that I have managed to remember from the last few months. So, without further ado....
Wuv. Eye. U.
It all started when I was trying to get Millie to say I Love You. She was just starting to put words together to form sentences and you know... parental competition with Benny had me trying to coax the first I Love You from her lips so that I could be all.... I win! She loved me first! Not that I would do anything so juvenile. Twice.
Anyway, I started doing the classic sign language for I Love You which entails pointing to my eye, then crossing my chest with my arms and then pointing at her. Yea... my bio also includes knowing three words in sign language. It's gonna take me places. Anyhoo, Millie really got a kick out of the movements and one night after I put her down and did the usual song and dance with the I Love You motions, she responded back with a Wuv. Eye. Uuuuuuu!
Just like that. It was awesome. And for the last few months (I'm sure it's more than a few, but I honestly can't remember when this first happened so let's just say "a few" and know that it means more than three but less than 12) this has been our routine. She has never gotten the hang of I Love You, or even I Wuv You... but who are we kidding? The Wuv Eye U is totally intentional. It's our little thing. Every night... "Wuv Eye U, Millie!" "WUV EYE UUUUUU, Mommy!" In a sweet, childish, sing-song voice. Over and over and over again.
It's... heaven.
Barbies
Holy geez. Before I had kids (and even after I had kids!), I swore that Barbie would not enter our home on the grounds that... OMG, I do not even want to get into this right now about everything that is wrong with Barbie. It's a whole post unto itself. But damn, Gina! You have little girls and POOF!!! Barbies just materialize OUT OF NOWHERE. We have not bought a Barbie for either girl, and our friends and family know better than to give them Barbies. And yet... THEY'RE HERE. In my home. Naked. On my kitchen table during dinner. Weirdly shaped hands and feet in the applesauce. Hair an unbridled mess. And the oldest, oblivious to the fact that my inner feminist is melting and bleeding from her eyes, innocently begs me to braid the Barbie's hair while she eats her chicken nuggets.
Ali
So, I don't know who Ali is. There's no Ali at school, as far as I know. Hazel doesn't know anyone by the name of Ali... but damn if every time I ask her what her dolly's name is, or what we should name the squirrel who keeps eating all of the birdseed and making Mommy's ears bleed, she doesn't say with a forthrightness and sincerity that you can't help but wish that all people had: "Ali. It's a she, and her name is Ali, Mommy."
For the record, it's actually a he and his name is Steve. Steve the Squirrel. Steve the Squirrel who is going to meet Mommy the Marksman if he doesn't stop making so much damn noise every morning at 6 a.m. But if calling him Ali and referring to him as her makes Hazel happy... well, Ali is a very nice name for a female squirrel.
Bonnie
So, we got a puppy a few months ago. We thought she was a blue heeler and since I grew up with a blue heeler, I was pretty excited about the prospect. Turns out she's part blue heeler, part terrier, part pain in my ass. She was supposed to be about 40 pounds. We'll be lucky if she gets to 20, which as we all know means smaller poops. So in that aspect, she hasn't fully ruined my life.
She's a good pup... just, you know... a pup. We weren't in the market for a puppy. We wanted a full-grown dog, because every kid should have a dog. Especially a dog that Mommy didn't have to train or yell at or kick or begin to loathe because it made her yell all the time. And I was finally past my trauma of trying to juggle kids and a dog which led to Bailey, our first dog, being sent to live with some friends. Because Mommy... Mommy just couldn't handle the thought of kids and a dog to take care of. And yet somehow, Mommy FORGOT ALL OF THAT. Mommy's good friends failed her by not reminding her of what a pain having a dog can be at times. But then someone dropped this little 2-month-old ball of fur off in the middle of the street. I met her, the kids met her.. and we all fell in love.
For a few weeks.
Then she got bigger and more.... terrier... who likes to bite and nip while she plays. And often that biting and nipping evolves to gnawing on the girls legs. Which means that I can't go a day without threatening to beat her. I don't actually beat her because that would be wrong and I would never condone that type of behavior.
But it sure is cathartic to threaten it.
My Little Laughing Sociopath
I suspect that one day, Millie is going to read this next entry and get upset or feel bad or, I dunno... go pack her kill bag. But I'm telling you.... this kid is going to be hard to discipline. She laughs at everything. She laughs when you're mad. She laughs when you're sad. She laughs when she's headbutted you... again. For the 14th time. She laughs even harder when she draws blood. Where Hazel gets upset that you're upset, Millie thinks it's HILARIOUS. Try putting a 2-year-old in a car seat who thinks it's super funny to see you sweating and mad at her. You try it and then tell me if you didn't at least think about flipping out on her just to see if that would work. Or throwing her through the window if she doesn't get her butt in the seat and stop trying to get out of the seat belt. Or (seriously, Millie?) pulling your hands away while you're buckling her up. Because her hands are actually stronger than your hands. It's 90 degrees outside, or it's raining/snowing/hailing outside and this little girl thinks that it's a good time to fight you getting into the car seat. But she does it while laughing like it's a big joke. And you know that yelling at her isn't the way to go. Because at the end of the day? She's just a damn happy kid. And who wants to be the person to make the kid cry just to get her in the car seat? I'm happy that I have a happy kid. I call her my little sociopath because, hey... every family has one. And honestly? In my family, it might be me. And I turned out okay. Mostly.
To cope with it, I carry a pillow with me in the car so I can scream into it prior to pulling out of the driveway/day care and at stoplights. Free therapy.
So, while it's possible that reading that about herself and the fact that I called her a sociopath might lead to her being upset, it's 100 times more likely that she'll laugh about it. God, I hope that when she's reading this in 20 years, she still laughs about stuff like that.
March, April and Mayhem
Since March, my work travel schedule has been insane. I have racked up more frequent flier miles than I know what to do with. And, joy of joys... Benny's schedule has been a beast, too. This is life in 2013. Benny and I have engaged in what can only be described as baton parenting. One of us leaves for a work trip and comes back, only to have the other one leave for a trip within a couple of days. Thank God our kiddos are resilient. The only way I've gotten through the last three months of travel hell is to tell myself that it isn't always like this. And that if we could make it through May, the worst of it is over. Well, we made it through May with most of our sanity intact. We celebrated with a camping trip... the first for our little family. And I cannot adequately describe how refreshing that trip was for my soul.
When I was a kid, I have great memories of camping with the family, playing kick the can, going on bear hunts and giggling all night in the tent with my sisters. These day, when I've got on my Mommy hat, I'm usually the bad guy telling the kiddos to get back to their room and no more going potty... you've gone potty 15 times in the last 20 minutes, you've got nuthin' left to get out. But when I heard the giggles and laughs and "poopy butt's" that normally get them sent to timeout, coming from the camper at 10 at night, I let them be. I let them make memories. I let them love each other and life.
The laughing... well it was just part of the whole beautiful trip. A trip where they ate hot dogs and s'mores fresh from the campfire. They played in the stream. They caught fish. They made mud pies. They found night crawlers and named each one of them and moved them from one side of the campground to the other... including a stop on Mommy and Daddy's arms. They went on a bear hunt. They were amazed by everything and wanted to see and touch and smell and hear everything. They sat around the campfire staring, hypnotized, into the flames. They pooped in the woods. They got dirty.
They laughed and the birds in the trees were envious of the glorious sound.
And my life? Complete.
Saturday, March 30, 2013
Parents Suck. The End.
It's nearly midnight, and I can't sleep. I know what's keeping me up, and I know that I won't sleep until I purge my system, so to speak... therefore, I write.
Disclaimer: This is going to come off sounding like I'm holier than thou, and I really don't care. It's going to come off sounding like I'm complaining, and I really don't care. I know it's neither. I'm getting this off my chest because what happened today was insanity. And by the way, I'm a fierce competitor. And my girls will be, too. But seriously? This was just too much.
Today, Benny and I took the girls to an Easter Egg Hunt. And there's your first clue as to what the coming vent will entail.
We had gone to the South Ogden hunt last year and had a wonderful experience. My plan was that we would take them again this year, but we got a late start on the morning and before we knew it, it was too late to make it. So, we decided just to hit the hunt at the Dinosaur Park. We took the kiddos and let them play on playground while they set up each age groups hunt. The hunt was supposed to start at 10:30, and at about 10:15, they opened up the gates for all of the 1-4-year-olds to stand around the outside of the small field and stare at the hundreds of eggs just waiting for them. Unfortunately, there was some miscommunication somewhere down the line as to start-time, and we stood there staring at the eggs for 30 minutes.
With kids from age 1-4, you can imagine that after a while, some of them just couldn't take it. There were sobs, screams and tantrums galore. But not my girls. They stood their quietly watching the eggs... I like to think they were planning their attack. I imagine that Hazel's attack plan went a little like this:
"I'm gonna get THAT pink one, and then THAT pink one, then THAT pink one, and then THAT pink one!"
While Millie's was more:
"I'm gonna stay by sissy and do what she does, mkay?"
And had I known what was about to happen, I would have pulled them aside and said: "Look kiddos, what I'm gonna need you to do is run to the middle of the field and start picking up eggs." Yea, that would have been the way to do it.
It's midnight and I still can't believe what happened. I'm still disheartened by the insensitivity of parents. I'm still aghast at just... everything.
There are no words to describe how my heart broke when those two little girls - who stood waiting patiently, without crying or screaming, for 30 minutes staring at a field of plastic eggs - did not get a SINGLE egg because the parents of the other children there swarmed on the field like locusts helping their children pick up the eggs.
This, after the management repeatedly asked parents to stay back and only let children on the field. It was announced repeatedly prior to the hunt and I was all: WE KNOW ALREADY! LET'S GET GOING!
I think that Benny and I were the only ones there that got it, because when they finally let the kids go, the rest of the parents pushed and shoved their way to the front of the swarm and helped their kiddos pick up the eggs. Some even doing it on hands and knees, effectively blocking any forward progress for anyone behind them.
After staring at them patiently all morning, suddenly, my girls couldn't see the eggs. Shoot, I couldn't see the eggs. Their view was blocked by the legs of all of the parents in front of them. Benny and I stood back and watched it happen. Because at that point, there was no way we could have done anything to help. We were just as shut out as the girls were. I kept scanning the ground behind the mass to see if maybe someone had overlooked one or two eggs... but nothing. I'm not sure the hunt even lasted a minute... and the eggs were all gone. Every single one of them. Our girls were in the middle of the field emptyhanded.... watching kids with buckets absolutely brimming with eggs running around excitedly. Seriously? You helped your kid get THAT many eggs and didn't think that maybe it was too much? Or that maybe they didn't need your help and you should have stepped back?
To their credit, neither cried. Hazel was sad, though. She just held on to Benny's leg and looked around with a question on her face. She didn't really understand what had happened. Millie was fine... because she's still to young to understand that adults are super stupid sometimes and also... that she'd gotten screwed.
Mommy, though... Mommy was near tears. Because I could only think about Hazel's excitement as she held on to her basket and waited for the signal to go... her excitement at seeing all those eggs... her pure joy when we told her she was going to get to hunt for Easter Eggs that morning. And then to end up with nothing? Thank goodness for big sunglasses. Sure, it was nice when one of the mothers who walked by and saw the empty baskets had her son give the girls eight from his stash of about 30. I had to bite my tongue and actually thank this woman... who was part of the problem. I had to THANK her. I couldn't say to her in that moment that it wasn't the number of eggs that was the problem... it was the "hunt" that had been spoiled. The sheer excitement of finding an egg, claiming it as your own, putting it in your basket and then running on to the next one. Our kids, if they'd had access to the eggs, probably would have ended up with maybe five each. And they would have found those on their own... and would have been absolutely proud of those five eggs... and it would have been a great memory.
This parenting stuff is madness sometimes and there are times that yes... you do the wrong thing. And I get it. I do. But to see how every parent today behaved? As though their child was the only one there? And who cares what the rules are and how many people you hurt to get them what you think they deserve simply because they're your child? How can they sleep at night? What did they teach their child today?
It's MIDNIGHT and I'm still shocked by it. Years ago, a friend of mine told me that she doesn't take her kids to public Easter Egg Hunts because of the parents. And when she told me, I won't lie... I thought maybe she was being overly protective or dramatic. Now I know... she was spot on.
And that's why I'm joining the ranks of parents who will never take her kids to a public Easter Egg Hunt again.
Disclaimer: This is going to come off sounding like I'm holier than thou, and I really don't care. It's going to come off sounding like I'm complaining, and I really don't care. I know it's neither. I'm getting this off my chest because what happened today was insanity. And by the way, I'm a fierce competitor. And my girls will be, too. But seriously? This was just too much.
Today, Benny and I took the girls to an Easter Egg Hunt. And there's your first clue as to what the coming vent will entail.
We had gone to the South Ogden hunt last year and had a wonderful experience. My plan was that we would take them again this year, but we got a late start on the morning and before we knew it, it was too late to make it. So, we decided just to hit the hunt at the Dinosaur Park. We took the kiddos and let them play on playground while they set up each age groups hunt. The hunt was supposed to start at 10:30, and at about 10:15, they opened up the gates for all of the 1-4-year-olds to stand around the outside of the small field and stare at the hundreds of eggs just waiting for them. Unfortunately, there was some miscommunication somewhere down the line as to start-time, and we stood there staring at the eggs for 30 minutes.
With kids from age 1-4, you can imagine that after a while, some of them just couldn't take it. There were sobs, screams and tantrums galore. But not my girls. They stood their quietly watching the eggs... I like to think they were planning their attack. I imagine that Hazel's attack plan went a little like this:
"I'm gonna get THAT pink one, and then THAT pink one, then THAT pink one, and then THAT pink one!"
While Millie's was more:
"I'm gonna stay by sissy and do what she does, mkay?"
And had I known what was about to happen, I would have pulled them aside and said: "Look kiddos, what I'm gonna need you to do is run to the middle of the field and start picking up eggs." Yea, that would have been the way to do it.
It's midnight and I still can't believe what happened. I'm still disheartened by the insensitivity of parents. I'm still aghast at just... everything.
There are no words to describe how my heart broke when those two little girls - who stood waiting patiently, without crying or screaming, for 30 minutes staring at a field of plastic eggs - did not get a SINGLE egg because the parents of the other children there swarmed on the field like locusts helping their children pick up the eggs.
This, after the management repeatedly asked parents to stay back and only let children on the field. It was announced repeatedly prior to the hunt and I was all: WE KNOW ALREADY! LET'S GET GOING!
I think that Benny and I were the only ones there that got it, because when they finally let the kids go, the rest of the parents pushed and shoved their way to the front of the swarm and helped their kiddos pick up the eggs. Some even doing it on hands and knees, effectively blocking any forward progress for anyone behind them.
After staring at them patiently all morning, suddenly, my girls couldn't see the eggs. Shoot, I couldn't see the eggs. Their view was blocked by the legs of all of the parents in front of them. Benny and I stood back and watched it happen. Because at that point, there was no way we could have done anything to help. We were just as shut out as the girls were. I kept scanning the ground behind the mass to see if maybe someone had overlooked one or two eggs... but nothing. I'm not sure the hunt even lasted a minute... and the eggs were all gone. Every single one of them. Our girls were in the middle of the field emptyhanded.... watching kids with buckets absolutely brimming with eggs running around excitedly. Seriously? You helped your kid get THAT many eggs and didn't think that maybe it was too much? Or that maybe they didn't need your help and you should have stepped back?
To their credit, neither cried. Hazel was sad, though. She just held on to Benny's leg and looked around with a question on her face. She didn't really understand what had happened. Millie was fine... because she's still to young to understand that adults are super stupid sometimes and also... that she'd gotten screwed.
Mommy, though... Mommy was near tears. Because I could only think about Hazel's excitement as she held on to her basket and waited for the signal to go... her excitement at seeing all those eggs... her pure joy when we told her she was going to get to hunt for Easter Eggs that morning. And then to end up with nothing? Thank goodness for big sunglasses. Sure, it was nice when one of the mothers who walked by and saw the empty baskets had her son give the girls eight from his stash of about 30. I had to bite my tongue and actually thank this woman... who was part of the problem. I had to THANK her. I couldn't say to her in that moment that it wasn't the number of eggs that was the problem... it was the "hunt" that had been spoiled. The sheer excitement of finding an egg, claiming it as your own, putting it in your basket and then running on to the next one. Our kids, if they'd had access to the eggs, probably would have ended up with maybe five each. And they would have found those on their own... and would have been absolutely proud of those five eggs... and it would have been a great memory.
This parenting stuff is madness sometimes and there are times that yes... you do the wrong thing. And I get it. I do. But to see how every parent today behaved? As though their child was the only one there? And who cares what the rules are and how many people you hurt to get them what you think they deserve simply because they're your child? How can they sleep at night? What did they teach their child today?
It's MIDNIGHT and I'm still shocked by it. Years ago, a friend of mine told me that she doesn't take her kids to public Easter Egg Hunts because of the parents. And when she told me, I won't lie... I thought maybe she was being overly protective or dramatic. Now I know... she was spot on.
And that's why I'm joining the ranks of parents who will never take her kids to a public Easter Egg Hunt again.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Brain Freeze
The difference in The Bird and The Bean as demonstrated by free samples of an ice cream sandwich at Costco:
The Bean: Immediately shoves the entire quarter of a sandwich into her mouth at once, causing a brain freeze... leading to screams of pain and a wide open mouth full of half-chewed ice cream sandwich which in a desperate attempt to avoid further stares, I blow into... because it seemed like the only solution at the moment.... blowing on ice cream in my nearly 2-year-olds mouth.
The Bird: After delicately nibbling on her ice cream sandwich for five minutes, simple physics occurs and the ice cream melts to the point that it slips out from between the sandwich, which causes a chain reaction of screaming, tears and outright hysteria. Sobs for Mommy to put the melted ice cream back into the sandwich are heard throughout the warehouse and my explanation about why that is simply not possible are met with more screams and heartbreak.
Which is why we now only sample room temperature products at Costco.
The Bean: Immediately shoves the entire quarter of a sandwich into her mouth at once, causing a brain freeze... leading to screams of pain and a wide open mouth full of half-chewed ice cream sandwich which in a desperate attempt to avoid further stares, I blow into... because it seemed like the only solution at the moment.... blowing on ice cream in my nearly 2-year-olds mouth.
The Bird: After delicately nibbling on her ice cream sandwich for five minutes, simple physics occurs and the ice cream melts to the point that it slips out from between the sandwich, which causes a chain reaction of screaming, tears and outright hysteria. Sobs for Mommy to put the melted ice cream back into the sandwich are heard throughout the warehouse and my explanation about why that is simply not possible are met with more screams and heartbreak.
Which is why we now only sample room temperature products at Costco.
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