Day #12 April's PAD Challenge entry:
So we decided to trade the kids for a puppy
There are days when I am so tired
Tired of cleaning up the same mess
Mess made by little kids who laugh
Laugh at me cleaning and cleaning and cleaning some more
More dirty rooms
Rooms littered with laundry
Laundry hiding the toys
Toys covering the floor
Floor speckled with spills
Spill splattered hands and faces
Faces that smirk and resist washing
Washing forever and ever…
So we decided to trade the kids for a puppy*
~2
*I am kidding; no children were exchanged for a pet. They are all accounted for and sniggering as I clean up yet ANOTHER mess.
This is Day 12 post for the Poem-A-Day Challenge: http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/
Today's prompt is: So We Decided to _______
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Photo Update and More
Here is a photo update from the other day’s post. I suggest if you have a heart condition or asthma, you refrain from looking. I will not be held responsible for the effects of the photos posted below.
At first glance the bathroom is a bit of a shock. Upclose it doesn’t get any better
Really if you notice the patterns in Brynn’s art, you will see she is quite brilliant… I would feel better about above mentioned art if I weren’t renting.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Too Young to Exorcise?
Lately I have been promoting ritualistic behavior, as if something dark has been my driving force. I’ve noticed a parade of days with similar patterns, and a eerie fog lingers in my little world.
It is something dreaded and fierce has entered my perfect family portrait; something that makes most “sane” men and women scream out in the middle of the night… the terrible twos!
At the crack of dawn, my sweet angel, Brynn wakes (that’s about 5am here in Arizona). She doesn’t wake happy and smiling. She wakes screaming for me and requesting that not only I carry her into the other room, but I should gather everything that is precious to her in the first trip. With multiple blankets and pillows, as well, as my beloved two year old, we trek into the living room to settle on the couch and begin our morning ritual.
Starting out with chocolate milk, which she insists screaming at me for… if we so happen to be out of chocolate, she will scream juice and stomp her feet. We have made some progress in this area; she has begun to ask me instead of yelling at me… well unless we are out of chocolate, which just pisses her off.
Most days I am fairly alert, but in the last week or so I have been feeling like I am getting sick; congested. Fearing the worst the last couple of days, I have taken a bit of benedryl before bed to ward of this ever creeping allergy/cold. Benedryl helps me sleep, but it lingers in the morning making it difficult to really wake up when needed.
Brynn takes full advantage of these groggy opportune moments. Her favorite has to be the cereal dump and crunch, which covers the living room rug with bits of whatever she was screaming for half an hour earlier. What started as a small amount of nutritious goodness, easily transformed into a substance quite like shards of glass to the bottoms of my bare feet.
The other day as I was arousing from a somewhat sleep-like state on my comfy couch, I noticed Brynn wasn’t close by. I immediately sat up and looked around… nothing.
“Brynn,” I said, not shouting for the other two were still asleep, “Brynn.” I heard a noise in the kids’ bathroom and carefully walked the long hall, and peered inside. There she was by the toilet, smiling at me. In her hands were several colorful sticks, which looked a lot like crayons. Oh they were crayons, thankfully they were bathtub crayons which she retrieved from her cabinet under the sink.
Now don’t make the mistake of thinking that bathtub crayons make this alright. She hadn’t only colored the bathtub. She colored the toilet, the cabinet, the floor AND the bathtub. I believe she even managed to scribble some on that MOST heinous toilet plunger.
ANYway, I managed to clean up most of the mess. Bathtub crayons are meant to be used IN a bathtub full of water, so there is a lingering stain on the outside of the tub, which will require bleach…. keep your fingers crossed that it will take care of it, otherwise when we move out of this apartment the end of the month…. well… I don’t want to talk about it.
(I managed to snap a few photos of the above stated incident…. I will post them later. )
I know my mother will read this, and I hope she feels bad for wishing this on me :-P.
~2
It is something dreaded and fierce has entered my perfect family portrait; something that makes most “sane” men and women scream out in the middle of the night… the terrible twos!
At the crack of dawn, my sweet angel, Brynn wakes (that’s about 5am here in Arizona). She doesn’t wake happy and smiling. She wakes screaming for me and requesting that not only I carry her into the other room, but I should gather everything that is precious to her in the first trip. With multiple blankets and pillows, as well, as my beloved two year old, we trek into the living room to settle on the couch and begin our morning ritual.
Starting out with chocolate milk, which she insists screaming at me for… if we so happen to be out of chocolate, she will scream juice and stomp her feet. We have made some progress in this area; she has begun to ask me instead of yelling at me… well unless we are out of chocolate, which just pisses her off.
Most days I am fairly alert, but in the last week or so I have been feeling like I am getting sick; congested. Fearing the worst the last couple of days, I have taken a bit of benedryl before bed to ward of this ever creeping allergy/cold. Benedryl helps me sleep, but it lingers in the morning making it difficult to really wake up when needed.
Brynn takes full advantage of these groggy opportune moments. Her favorite has to be the cereal dump and crunch, which covers the living room rug with bits of whatever she was screaming for half an hour earlier. What started as a small amount of nutritious goodness, easily transformed into a substance quite like shards of glass to the bottoms of my bare feet.
The other day as I was arousing from a somewhat sleep-like state on my comfy couch, I noticed Brynn wasn’t close by. I immediately sat up and looked around… nothing.
“Brynn,” I said, not shouting for the other two were still asleep, “Brynn.” I heard a noise in the kids’ bathroom and carefully walked the long hall, and peered inside. There she was by the toilet, smiling at me. In her hands were several colorful sticks, which looked a lot like crayons. Oh they were crayons, thankfully they were bathtub crayons which she retrieved from her cabinet under the sink.
Now don’t make the mistake of thinking that bathtub crayons make this alright. She hadn’t only colored the bathtub. She colored the toilet, the cabinet, the floor AND the bathtub. I believe she even managed to scribble some on that MOST heinous toilet plunger.
ANYway, I managed to clean up most of the mess. Bathtub crayons are meant to be used IN a bathtub full of water, so there is a lingering stain on the outside of the tub, which will require bleach…. keep your fingers crossed that it will take care of it, otherwise when we move out of this apartment the end of the month…. well… I don’t want to talk about it.
(I managed to snap a few photos of the above stated incident…. I will post them later. )
I know my mother will read this, and I hope she feels bad for wishing this on me :-P.
~2
Friday, April 13, 2007
Five Minutes in Size Twos
***I don’t remember, but I think I originally wrote this for The Blue Doodle right after we moved here from Oklahoma… so back in September or October of 2006
Isn’t it strange how as we get older we forget about the things we enjoyed when we were young? I took my kids to the park today, and I don’t usually do that; I am a bad mother. I have little patience with my own children (the oldest really), and we don’t spend a lot of time doing things we really SHOULD be doing. My son was pouty because dad wouldn’t let sister go down the slide with him, so I decided it might be fun to swing. He got in his swing and I in mine, and I immediately took off.
Who can go higher? Of course I can, and I am extremely competitive so the challenge is on. The higher I got the more exhilarated I became. The wind in my hair and the jump in my stomach as my swing traveled down. The height I climbed and the speeding ground below. Why did I give this up? At what point in my life did this become a childish activity?
Those few moments on that swing freed me of all worries. As I flew through the air, guided only by my imagination, my eyes were closed and all the world’s ailments where bandaged. What else am I missing out on?
I have spent so much time viewing things from an adult perspective, that I forgot what it is like to see things as a child; to see the beauty in a rainbow, and the charm in making wishes. To roll down a hill, not worrying what I will be covered with and how sick it can make me… but rolling for the roll – the tingles in my stomach and that dizzy feeling when I stand to my feet.
Just maybe this is what is wrong with me. This is why I feel my life is lacking. A few moments as a child and all my worries will disappear. I don’t know. I can tell you this… if I move again, I am getting a swing set.
~2
Isn’t it strange how as we get older we forget about the things we enjoyed when we were young? I took my kids to the park today, and I don’t usually do that; I am a bad mother. I have little patience with my own children (the oldest really), and we don’t spend a lot of time doing things we really SHOULD be doing. My son was pouty because dad wouldn’t let sister go down the slide with him, so I decided it might be fun to swing. He got in his swing and I in mine, and I immediately took off.
Who can go higher? Of course I can, and I am extremely competitive so the challenge is on. The higher I got the more exhilarated I became. The wind in my hair and the jump in my stomach as my swing traveled down. The height I climbed and the speeding ground below. Why did I give this up? At what point in my life did this become a childish activity?
Those few moments on that swing freed me of all worries. As I flew through the air, guided only by my imagination, my eyes were closed and all the world’s ailments where bandaged. What else am I missing out on?
I have spent so much time viewing things from an adult perspective, that I forgot what it is like to see things as a child; to see the beauty in a rainbow, and the charm in making wishes. To roll down a hill, not worrying what I will be covered with and how sick it can make me… but rolling for the roll – the tingles in my stomach and that dizzy feeling when I stand to my feet.
Just maybe this is what is wrong with me. This is why I feel my life is lacking. A few moments as a child and all my worries will disappear. I don’t know. I can tell you this… if I move again, I am getting a swing set.
~2
Sunday, March 4, 2007
The Beauty of Age
I remember being a child and wishing for nothing more than to be grown up. I am sure we all did this when we were younger, and now wish we could take it back. Maybe spend a little more time being a kid.
I wanted to drive so badly. I remember just aching at fourteen to get behind the wheel of a car. If I was lucky, on the trip back from Grandmother’s house, my mom would let me drive some… what a feeling. Driving 25 mph on a 55 mph highway… trying my damnedest to keep from swerving all over the place; that woman had nerves of steel.
My son talks about driving now, he’s eight. Like that is EVER going to happen. I am never letting that kid have the wheel of my car, and just sit in the passenger seat and watch. That is crazy…
NO WAY!
He wants to grow up and drive. He’s even talking about getting married. He’s EIGHT!!! What are they teaching these kids in school? He’s a super smart kid, but we have the same dumb conversations I had with my mother…”Why can’t I just be grown up now?”
“Gabe, it’s not that great being a grown up,” I have to say.
“You get to drive and stay up late… you even get to eat ice cream for breakfast.” He is upset with me because I do occasionally eat ice cream for breakfast. That is one of the many perks of this grown up bit that I am happy to say I actually dig.
“Well, it’s not all that great. Besides you spend your whole life wishing for more. I wished I was sixteen too, so I could drive. Then I wished I was eighteen so I could smoke…”
“But you don’t smoke…” he interrupts.
“I know I don’t smoke… but I could if I wanted to, and that is the beauty of it.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Well you are eight, y’know? After eighteen you have twenty-one. Oh man twenty-one… good times. You can drink..”
“I can drink…” he says.
“No… alcohol,” he is looking at me very puzzled, “Like beer…”
“That’s a drug! Why would you want to drink that?”
“Man… I don’t know why you would want to; you just do. ANYway, at twenty-five your insurance drops, and I think you can rent a car.”
“Insurance? What is that?” I really didn’t think I was going to have to go into premiums and plan choices with my son, but you’d be amazed at the questions he asks, and if I can’t answer them… I fake it. Surely he will forget before he hits therapy in a few years, right? Skip ahead several minutes later, “Well…”
“After that it’s pretty much down hill… I think maybe all you have to look forward to after that is AARP.”
“What’s that?” again with the questions. Damn it, kid… can you give me a moment of peace so I can think clearly for a moment? Can you stop talking long enough for me to remember why I wanted kids in the first place? Yeah I can’t wait till you’re grown up too… so you will know everything; or at least THINK you do.
“Well,” I look into his eyes and see that unconditional love he has for me. I see the spark… curiosity that makes up his brilliant mind. For a moment I grasp a hold of that childhood that quickly raced past me, and I remember exactly how he feels… that ache to be like my parents, because they were my world; I am his world. I smile and feel the spirit of my youth dancing in my head… answering the best I can, “you get free coffee at the gas station when you fill up…”
“But you don’t drink coffee,” he interrupts.
“I know I don’t drink coffee… but I could if I wanted to.”
~2
I wanted to drive so badly. I remember just aching at fourteen to get behind the wheel of a car. If I was lucky, on the trip back from Grandmother’s house, my mom would let me drive some… what a feeling. Driving 25 mph on a 55 mph highway… trying my damnedest to keep from swerving all over the place; that woman had nerves of steel.
My son talks about driving now, he’s eight. Like that is EVER going to happen. I am never letting that kid have the wheel of my car, and just sit in the passenger seat and watch. That is crazy…
NO WAY!
He wants to grow up and drive. He’s even talking about getting married. He’s EIGHT!!! What are they teaching these kids in school? He’s a super smart kid, but we have the same dumb conversations I had with my mother…”Why can’t I just be grown up now?”
“Gabe, it’s not that great being a grown up,” I have to say.
“You get to drive and stay up late… you even get to eat ice cream for breakfast.” He is upset with me because I do occasionally eat ice cream for breakfast. That is one of the many perks of this grown up bit that I am happy to say I actually dig.
“Well, it’s not all that great. Besides you spend your whole life wishing for more. I wished I was sixteen too, so I could drive. Then I wished I was eighteen so I could smoke…”
“But you don’t smoke…” he interrupts.
“I know I don’t smoke… but I could if I wanted to, and that is the beauty of it.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Well you are eight, y’know? After eighteen you have twenty-one. Oh man twenty-one… good times. You can drink..”
“I can drink…” he says.
“No… alcohol,” he is looking at me very puzzled, “Like beer…”
“That’s a drug! Why would you want to drink that?”
“Man… I don’t know why you would want to; you just do. ANYway, at twenty-five your insurance drops, and I think you can rent a car.”
“Insurance? What is that?” I really didn’t think I was going to have to go into premiums and plan choices with my son, but you’d be amazed at the questions he asks, and if I can’t answer them… I fake it. Surely he will forget before he hits therapy in a few years, right? Skip ahead several minutes later, “Well…”
“After that it’s pretty much down hill… I think maybe all you have to look forward to after that is AARP.”
“What’s that?” again with the questions. Damn it, kid… can you give me a moment of peace so I can think clearly for a moment? Can you stop talking long enough for me to remember why I wanted kids in the first place? Yeah I can’t wait till you’re grown up too… so you will know everything; or at least THINK you do.
“Well,” I look into his eyes and see that unconditional love he has for me. I see the spark… curiosity that makes up his brilliant mind. For a moment I grasp a hold of that childhood that quickly raced past me, and I remember exactly how he feels… that ache to be like my parents, because they were my world; I am his world. I smile and feel the spirit of my youth dancing in my head… answering the best I can, “you get free coffee at the gas station when you fill up…”
“But you don’t drink coffee,” he interrupts.
“I know I don’t drink coffee… but I could if I wanted to.”
~2
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Some Baby's Daddy
**OK, so this is a repost… I doubt anyone will remember it because it was WAAAAY back when… so read it and pretend it’s new.**
I remember 6th grade like it was yesterday. Sitting in science class watching The Miracle of Life, a very UNSEXY rendition of baby making, thinking there is no way in HELL I am ever popping a kid out of THERE. I am sure that was the whole point of making us watch the 2 1/2 hour flick… of course our parents had to sign a slip saying it was ok, and the girls watched it in one room and the boys in another. ANYway, I held pretty tight to this no kid thing all through highschool.
To understand more about making us watch this film, you need to understand a little more about the city in which I resided. I think it was on the high side of the states numbers for teen pregnancy. There were more than 10 girls in my graduating class (maybe almost 100) that had or were expecting kids. One girl was on number three when we walked off the stage with diploma in hand… so the flick didn’t deter everyone, and it sure didn’t deter the rest of us from having sex.
I actually started thinking about it after graduation, but only after witnessing the birth of my best friends daughter… which she conveniently named after me… poor girl. After that moment, I started to obsess. I know.. that is so unlike me (bleah). I was going to have a kid someday, not anytime in the near future. I still didn’t have the other half of my baby’s gene pool decided at that time, so I wasn’t in a real rush or anything. There was a plan too. I wanted to be married… maybe for a year then a kid. Like my mom, I figured I turned out ok (who am I kidding), so why mess up a good thing. I know better than anyone else, life doesn’t always go according to plan.
So, anyway, I meet this guy… a real weirdo, just the way I like ‘em. He’s 6′4″ 230 lb … long dark hair with the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Never wore pants, always these weird homemade shorts with cartoon characters on them…. a rainbow of converse all-stars and doc martins… Nose pierced - neck pierced… awesome drummer. I was weird too, don’t get me wrong here. I was not the normal, law-abiding citizen I am today. OK, maybe I am not normal… but I am law-abiding. Thus began the second longest relationship of my life… Let’s call this guy Ricardo, just for fun, and it sounds kind of foreign, exotic.
Ricardo didn’t want kids, and I told him that I wasn’t planning on pursuing a long drawn out relationship with someone who didn’t share the same goals in life…. so I don’t know why we stuck it out so long. So to make a long weird story as short as I can … when we finally started talking about having kids, we were able to come up with a set of “ideas” (if you will) on how to raise our child. I want to share these with you because I feel that they might be of use when or if you decide to have children of your own:
1. We were not going to let our child’s feet ever touch the ground. He would be carried whenever possible, and led to believe that it would be unholy for his feet to touch anything other than the finest cloth or flower petals.
2. Ok this one is really bad. We were going to tell him over and over that he was the new messiah and leader of all people.
3. The child shall be homeschooled, because you don’t learn anything in public school other than how to have (really bad) sex and do drugs.
4. He shall learn many foreign languages and be well cultured in the arts.
5. We would try a new form of discipline. This is hard to explain, but it entails when he does something wrong to punish the parent.. ie “If you do that again.. I am going to beat your mother”. Instilling a great amount of guilt for his actions.
I know there are more, but I really can’t remember, it’s been a long time. I know you are all curious…. did they have a kid together?
HA! Wouldn’t you like to know! I am not telling, SUKKA! I’ll leave that to the imagination, or those who know the WHOLE story.
ANYway, use those child rearing ideas if you like… or feel free to add to or embellish if you will. Let me know how your kids turn out… I am curious too.
~2
I remember 6th grade like it was yesterday. Sitting in science class watching The Miracle of Life, a very UNSEXY rendition of baby making, thinking there is no way in HELL I am ever popping a kid out of THERE. I am sure that was the whole point of making us watch the 2 1/2 hour flick… of course our parents had to sign a slip saying it was ok, and the girls watched it in one room and the boys in another. ANYway, I held pretty tight to this no kid thing all through highschool.
To understand more about making us watch this film, you need to understand a little more about the city in which I resided. I think it was on the high side of the states numbers for teen pregnancy. There were more than 10 girls in my graduating class (maybe almost 100) that had or were expecting kids. One girl was on number three when we walked off the stage with diploma in hand… so the flick didn’t deter everyone, and it sure didn’t deter the rest of us from having sex.
I actually started thinking about it after graduation, but only after witnessing the birth of my best friends daughter… which she conveniently named after me… poor girl. After that moment, I started to obsess. I know.. that is so unlike me (bleah). I was going to have a kid someday, not anytime in the near future. I still didn’t have the other half of my baby’s gene pool decided at that time, so I wasn’t in a real rush or anything. There was a plan too. I wanted to be married… maybe for a year then a kid. Like my mom, I figured I turned out ok (who am I kidding), so why mess up a good thing. I know better than anyone else, life doesn’t always go according to plan.
So, anyway, I meet this guy… a real weirdo, just the way I like ‘em. He’s 6′4″ 230 lb … long dark hair with the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Never wore pants, always these weird homemade shorts with cartoon characters on them…. a rainbow of converse all-stars and doc martins… Nose pierced - neck pierced… awesome drummer. I was weird too, don’t get me wrong here. I was not the normal, law-abiding citizen I am today. OK, maybe I am not normal… but I am law-abiding. Thus began the second longest relationship of my life… Let’s call this guy Ricardo, just for fun, and it sounds kind of foreign, exotic.
Ricardo didn’t want kids, and I told him that I wasn’t planning on pursuing a long drawn out relationship with someone who didn’t share the same goals in life…. so I don’t know why we stuck it out so long. So to make a long weird story as short as I can … when we finally started talking about having kids, we were able to come up with a set of “ideas” (if you will) on how to raise our child. I want to share these with you because I feel that they might be of use when or if you decide to have children of your own:
1. We were not going to let our child’s feet ever touch the ground. He would be carried whenever possible, and led to believe that it would be unholy for his feet to touch anything other than the finest cloth or flower petals.
2. Ok this one is really bad. We were going to tell him over and over that he was the new messiah and leader of all people.
3. The child shall be homeschooled, because you don’t learn anything in public school other than how to have (really bad) sex and do drugs.
4. He shall learn many foreign languages and be well cultured in the arts.
5. We would try a new form of discipline. This is hard to explain, but it entails when he does something wrong to punish the parent.. ie “If you do that again.. I am going to beat your mother”. Instilling a great amount of guilt for his actions.
I know there are more, but I really can’t remember, it’s been a long time. I know you are all curious…. did they have a kid together?
HA! Wouldn’t you like to know! I am not telling, SUKKA! I’ll leave that to the imagination, or those who know the WHOLE story.
ANYway, use those child rearing ideas if you like… or feel free to add to or embellish if you will. Let me know how your kids turn out… I am curious too.
~2
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Well… Is She Pretty?
Growing up, the majority of my friends were male. My best friend was a guy up until my senior year, when Brenda hit the ranking of full time best friend. She was close enough to a guy… she could definitely hold her own in a belching contest… and fuckin’ cussed like a sailor (last time I saw her she still had her old potty mouth.. hehe.. Love you Bren). ANYway… I think I can safely say I know LOTS about the male brain.
I have always been the friend… rarely the girlfriend… that was just weird. On multiple occasions me and my “brothers” would load up my trunk with boards and head off to somewhere exciting. I drove… and took the pictures, delivered the moral support and offered advice when I could. When it came to their “girlfriends,” I can always shake my head in disgust.
Guys in general go for one type of girl… you know the one, and it’s usually the one who breaks their hearts later on. But it is strange how this girl can some how magically intoxicate this boy… and somehow no matter what she does to him… he will always forgive her and take her back… she knows he will… she is absolutely sure she is a “goddess” and in his eyes… yeah she is.
I won’t lie… some of my friends girls were the biggest bitches I have ever met… and I was forced to hang out with them on occasion. I can get along with anyone… but ask me if I liked it. Just smile and nod, Tomara, pretend that you care about her clothes, makeup, hair… pretend that that outfit is “the bomb”… bleah.
My mother has always said that you are only as pretty as you act.. and it’s funny because if these girls looked anything like they acted… their bodies would be covered with oozing pus-filled boils.
ANYway… the point of all of this nonsense:
Yesterday after I got off work, I had to pick my son up from the after school program. On the way back to our apartment he started on about the kids in school and what he did during the day, etc. He went on about this girl, Morgan, in his class. He has talked about her before, saying she is mean to him. I had explained, previously, that that just meant that she liked him, and he would usually get upset and just walk away.
SO, anyway the bad news… Morgan had to sit close to him in reading groups before.. but now… she sits right next to him.
“Well, is she pretty?” I asked.
He was starting to blow me off, “She thinks she is a princess, and she is mean to me…”
“Is she pretty?” I am persistent..
“She doesn’t act pretty… so no she’s not.” I couldn’t help but smile. It tickled me that I have instilled that in him… already.
For a moment I felt like I had accomplished this HUGE thing… He didn’t like her because she was ugly to other people… and him… because she thinks she is better than everyone else… heh…
Right now he doesn’t like her, but in a couple of years, when those hormones kick in… he’ll be carrying her books to class and mixing her chocolate milk… boys - Will they EVER learn?
~2
For some weird reason this saying just popped in my head - my deceased ex-step grandmother use to say, “She thinks she’s hot shit on a golden platter… and really she’s just a cold turd on a paper plate”hahahahaha… that kills me
I have always been the friend… rarely the girlfriend… that was just weird. On multiple occasions me and my “brothers” would load up my trunk with boards and head off to somewhere exciting. I drove… and took the pictures, delivered the moral support and offered advice when I could. When it came to their “girlfriends,” I can always shake my head in disgust.
Guys in general go for one type of girl… you know the one, and it’s usually the one who breaks their hearts later on. But it is strange how this girl can some how magically intoxicate this boy… and somehow no matter what she does to him… he will always forgive her and take her back… she knows he will… she is absolutely sure she is a “goddess” and in his eyes… yeah she is.
I won’t lie… some of my friends girls were the biggest bitches I have ever met… and I was forced to hang out with them on occasion. I can get along with anyone… but ask me if I liked it. Just smile and nod, Tomara, pretend that you care about her clothes, makeup, hair… pretend that that outfit is “the bomb”… bleah.
My mother has always said that you are only as pretty as you act.. and it’s funny because if these girls looked anything like they acted… their bodies would be covered with oozing pus-filled boils.
ANYway… the point of all of this nonsense:
Yesterday after I got off work, I had to pick my son up from the after school program. On the way back to our apartment he started on about the kids in school and what he did during the day, etc. He went on about this girl, Morgan, in his class. He has talked about her before, saying she is mean to him. I had explained, previously, that that just meant that she liked him, and he would usually get upset and just walk away.
SO, anyway the bad news… Morgan had to sit close to him in reading groups before.. but now… she sits right next to him.
“Well, is she pretty?” I asked.
He was starting to blow me off, “She thinks she is a princess, and she is mean to me…”
“Is she pretty?” I am persistent..
“She doesn’t act pretty… so no she’s not.” I couldn’t help but smile. It tickled me that I have instilled that in him… already.
For a moment I felt like I had accomplished this HUGE thing… He didn’t like her because she was ugly to other people… and him… because she thinks she is better than everyone else… heh…
Right now he doesn’t like her, but in a couple of years, when those hormones kick in… he’ll be carrying her books to class and mixing her chocolate milk… boys - Will they EVER learn?
~2
For some weird reason this saying just popped in my head - my deceased ex-step grandmother use to say, “She thinks she’s hot shit on a golden platter… and really she’s just a cold turd on a paper plate”hahahahaha… that kills me
Monday, January 8, 2007
Santa, Ignorance & Baby Jesus
***I wrote this for the draw: “Many persons have a wrong idea of what constitutes true happiness. It’s not attained through self gratification, but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.” - Helen Keller (submitted by Carolyn 6/10/05)***
We live vicariously through our children, especially around the holidays. As we get older, Christmas becomes less about us, but more about our kiddos. I especially like watching their smiling faces as they race to see what Santa has left them under the tree.
My son will be nine next month, and I thought it was time that I dropped the “Santa” bomb on him. I really didn’t want to tell him, but he had been talking about how the kids at school says “Santa is fake”, and he was so certain that those kids were full of bologna. I was sure I could pull it off again this year… like always he just rips the presents open… never looking at the tags to see which are from us and which are from the jolly man in red.
We made a longASS road trip to Oklahoma to spend the holidays with family there. DH (Dear Husband for those just tuning in) thought it might be a good idea to open presents with his parents in Edmond, Saturday night… so the kids had time to play in plain view of Nanny and Papa before we made yet another trip to my mom’s in Elk City (about 2 hours away) Christmas morning. I was worried that this early present presentation would stir problems with the Santa gifts on Monday morning… being that I don’t mark anything from Santa; Gabe just assumes Santa came and left him all the good stuff.
After milling it over and over in my head, I thought I should tell him… Monday morning was going to come and Santa wouldn’t bring anything, because the turkey would have opened them all Saturday night.
Gabe has grandparents in Midwest City, and I promised him that we would drive over and visit them a bit while we were close. SO… we go and visit for a while, and on the drive back I try to muster the courage to shatter all his magically hopes and dreams of this fictional bearded fellow.
“Gabe… I need to talk to you about something.” I mumbled.
“Oh, yeah… ” he went on and on about some other stuff.. non related material. He’s good at making no sense whatsoever.
“There once was this guy who liked to surprise the children on Christmas morning with gifts, etc….” I couldn’t really remember where I was going with this… so I made up some stuff. I really should have looked into this before I started into my story, “He wanted to surprise all the good children this time of year… to show the importance of giving… um, what do you think about this?”
“We should really be focusing on the birth of baby Jesus?” he goes into.
“um… I guess, but that is not what I am saying,” I don’t go into the religious aspect of the holiday, mainly due to the fact I am agnostic. I don’t push religion on him, so he gets his baby Jesus stories from somewhere else… not sure really where. “Basically what I am trying to say is how likely is it for one guy to bring gifts to all the boys and girls all over the world?”
“Are you saying he isn’t real?” I look over at him and he is starting to tear up… DAMMIT!! Why did I do this… look at him, all teary eyed and sad-like. I just broke his heart. I can hear it now, years down the road in therapy, he’s going to talk about the day his mother told him Santa didn’t exist, and how it ruined his life… FOREVER… shit.
“Oh baby, what I am trying to say is that you’re old enough now to know the truth, we all have to carry on the tradition… Santa is in here (I point to my chest like a dumb ass)… he lives in all of us. We have to honor his memory by giving to others,” etc, etc. I go on to tell him that it is his civic duty not to mention this to anyone, to make sure his sister gets to experience this all for herself… that as long as he doesn’t say anything… he will continue to get gifts from “Santa”… “
Why are you crying? Are you mad at me for not telling you, or are you mad at me for telling you?”
“I dunno why I am crying. I just am.” He chokes out.
Damn it if that wasn’t the shittiest thing I have ever done. I ruined that kid’s ideas and beliefs… all the magic and wonder… bleah. He still promised not to say a word and he would help to make other’s happier by giving selflessly and anonymously.
SO… this kid has a big mouth and told everyone at Nanny and Papa’s house that Santa isn’t real.
THEN… to make things worse on me… he thought I was lying and kept saying that Santa was going to leave something for him at home and he would get it when we returned to Phoenix… GEEZ… I can’t win with this kid.
To sum it up… ignorance = happiness
~2
We live vicariously through our children, especially around the holidays. As we get older, Christmas becomes less about us, but more about our kiddos. I especially like watching their smiling faces as they race to see what Santa has left them under the tree.
My son will be nine next month, and I thought it was time that I dropped the “Santa” bomb on him. I really didn’t want to tell him, but he had been talking about how the kids at school says “Santa is fake”, and he was so certain that those kids were full of bologna. I was sure I could pull it off again this year… like always he just rips the presents open… never looking at the tags to see which are from us and which are from the jolly man in red.
We made a longASS road trip to Oklahoma to spend the holidays with family there. DH (Dear Husband for those just tuning in) thought it might be a good idea to open presents with his parents in Edmond, Saturday night… so the kids had time to play in plain view of Nanny and Papa before we made yet another trip to my mom’s in Elk City (about 2 hours away) Christmas morning. I was worried that this early present presentation would stir problems with the Santa gifts on Monday morning… being that I don’t mark anything from Santa; Gabe just assumes Santa came and left him all the good stuff.
After milling it over and over in my head, I thought I should tell him… Monday morning was going to come and Santa wouldn’t bring anything, because the turkey would have opened them all Saturday night.
Gabe has grandparents in Midwest City, and I promised him that we would drive over and visit them a bit while we were close. SO… we go and visit for a while, and on the drive back I try to muster the courage to shatter all his magically hopes and dreams of this fictional bearded fellow.
“Gabe… I need to talk to you about something.” I mumbled.
“Oh, yeah… ” he went on and on about some other stuff.. non related material. He’s good at making no sense whatsoever.
“There once was this guy who liked to surprise the children on Christmas morning with gifts, etc….” I couldn’t really remember where I was going with this… so I made up some stuff. I really should have looked into this before I started into my story, “He wanted to surprise all the good children this time of year… to show the importance of giving… um, what do you think about this?”
“We should really be focusing on the birth of baby Jesus?” he goes into.
“um… I guess, but that is not what I am saying,” I don’t go into the religious aspect of the holiday, mainly due to the fact I am agnostic. I don’t push religion on him, so he gets his baby Jesus stories from somewhere else… not sure really where. “Basically what I am trying to say is how likely is it for one guy to bring gifts to all the boys and girls all over the world?”
“Are you saying he isn’t real?” I look over at him and he is starting to tear up… DAMMIT!! Why did I do this… look at him, all teary eyed and sad-like. I just broke his heart. I can hear it now, years down the road in therapy, he’s going to talk about the day his mother told him Santa didn’t exist, and how it ruined his life… FOREVER… shit.
“Oh baby, what I am trying to say is that you’re old enough now to know the truth, we all have to carry on the tradition… Santa is in here (I point to my chest like a dumb ass)… he lives in all of us. We have to honor his memory by giving to others,” etc, etc. I go on to tell him that it is his civic duty not to mention this to anyone, to make sure his sister gets to experience this all for herself… that as long as he doesn’t say anything… he will continue to get gifts from “Santa”… “
Why are you crying? Are you mad at me for not telling you, or are you mad at me for telling you?”
“I dunno why I am crying. I just am.” He chokes out.
Damn it if that wasn’t the shittiest thing I have ever done. I ruined that kid’s ideas and beliefs… all the magic and wonder… bleah. He still promised not to say a word and he would help to make other’s happier by giving selflessly and anonymously.
SO… this kid has a big mouth and told everyone at Nanny and Papa’s house that Santa isn’t real.
THEN… to make things worse on me… he thought I was lying and kept saying that Santa was going to leave something for him at home and he would get it when we returned to Phoenix… GEEZ… I can’t win with this kid.
To sum it up… ignorance = happiness
~2
Saturday, October 7, 2006
The Moving Story Part 2
I know I wrote the first part of this a while back ago, and believe me it hasn’t been far from my mind. I am still going through boxes, and I actually found my jar yesterday… so I will do a draw later on. Shit… I still haven’t written for the last one… or did I?
ANYway, where did I leave off? Oh yeah movers are gone, in bed with DH talking about how shitty the day was… and how could it get worse?
Tuesday, DH had to go in to work.. .they were having some sort of server problems while we were trying to deal with the movers and he was unable to go in… so he headed off, and I am left at my mother’s with kiddos.
I, of course, am going back and forth to the house trying to make it presentable… so maybe it will sell, and the boy is already going stir crazy and I am a wreck. blah blah blah.. I withdraw him from school… get kiddos shot records, etc.
We go to dinner with friends, and I head back to mom’s while DH goes and helps another friend with their wireless and drinks a few beers… I needed the break.
We get up super early Wednesday to get on the road.. I of course get to drive the truck with BOTH kids, and it early so it’s not too bad… both are tired and kinda sleepy. We set off on our trek.
We stop frequently and DH decides he wants Gabe to ride with him.. leaving me with Brynn… who hates her car seat. I guess it’s good I handle it much better than he does.. and she cried herself to sleep more than a few times. I think I will stick some photos in here from the drive.
She looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping.. you would never have thought the noises she made before she reached this serene place were imaginable.
We stopped Wednesday evening and stayed somewhere… crap I can’t even remember it. This is the first time I have stayed in a hotel with kids… and it sucks. I am used to rocking the baby to sleep and then laying her in her bed. We brought along the play pen for her to sleep in, but she ended up just sleeping with us, because I couldn’t get her to sleep.
Thursday morning we get up, go get breakfast, and get back on the road. There are so many cool places to stop on the way, too bad we didn’t. I did get to stop close to the petrified forrest because Gabe needed to GO. While the boys were in the bathroom, Brynn and I roamed around a bit, and I got some pics of her
We get to Phoenix around 3 I think, and we are staying in a hotel downtown across the street from where DH works.
He works Friday and I am in the hotel with kiddos all day. Brynn is a screamer, and I really felt sorry for those staying in adjacent rooms.
ANYway Saturday we sign our lease for our new apartment, and DH goes back to work. Me and the kids run around spending money and getting our place ready to move in.
We are still in the hotel until Tuesday, but our stuff should arrive on Monday. I go ahead and enroll Gabe in school… and we have an incident there… before I even get him fully enrolled… bad sign.
I have Brynn in the stroller so I don’t have to hold her in the office, so I can get the papers filled out as fast as possible. So she is getting pissed and starts screaming… imagine that. I ask Gabe, “Hey why don’t you take your sister out in front of the office and just stroll her back and forth?” Easy task, right?
GEEZ, no.
Less than five minutes later a women comes in dragging him by the arm.. with my daughter in the stroller, and says that Gabe was pushing her out front, and dumped the whole thing over, and I should probably check her to make sure she is ok.
FUCK.. we haven’t even started school here yet, and already off on the wrong foot.
Monday the movers would be here and Gabe would be in school.. and all should be well with the world… whatEVER.
~2
ANYway, where did I leave off? Oh yeah movers are gone, in bed with DH talking about how shitty the day was… and how could it get worse?
Tuesday, DH had to go in to work.. .they were having some sort of server problems while we were trying to deal with the movers and he was unable to go in… so he headed off, and I am left at my mother’s with kiddos.
I, of course, am going back and forth to the house trying to make it presentable… so maybe it will sell, and the boy is already going stir crazy and I am a wreck. blah blah blah.. I withdraw him from school… get kiddos shot records, etc.
We go to dinner with friends, and I head back to mom’s while DH goes and helps another friend with their wireless and drinks a few beers… I needed the break.
We get up super early Wednesday to get on the road.. I of course get to drive the truck with BOTH kids, and it early so it’s not too bad… both are tired and kinda sleepy. We set off on our trek.
We stop frequently and DH decides he wants Gabe to ride with him.. leaving me with Brynn… who hates her car seat. I guess it’s good I handle it much better than he does.. and she cried herself to sleep more than a few times. I think I will stick some photos in here from the drive.
She looks so peaceful when she’s sleeping.. you would never have thought the noises she made before she reached this serene place were imaginable.
We stopped Wednesday evening and stayed somewhere… crap I can’t even remember it. This is the first time I have stayed in a hotel with kids… and it sucks. I am used to rocking the baby to sleep and then laying her in her bed. We brought along the play pen for her to sleep in, but she ended up just sleeping with us, because I couldn’t get her to sleep.
Thursday morning we get up, go get breakfast, and get back on the road. There are so many cool places to stop on the way, too bad we didn’t. I did get to stop close to the petrified forrest because Gabe needed to GO. While the boys were in the bathroom, Brynn and I roamed around a bit, and I got some pics of her
We get to Phoenix around 3 I think, and we are staying in a hotel downtown across the street from where DH works.
He works Friday and I am in the hotel with kiddos all day. Brynn is a screamer, and I really felt sorry for those staying in adjacent rooms.
ANYway Saturday we sign our lease for our new apartment, and DH goes back to work. Me and the kids run around spending money and getting our place ready to move in.
We are still in the hotel until Tuesday, but our stuff should arrive on Monday. I go ahead and enroll Gabe in school… and we have an incident there… before I even get him fully enrolled… bad sign.
I have Brynn in the stroller so I don’t have to hold her in the office, so I can get the papers filled out as fast as possible. So she is getting pissed and starts screaming… imagine that. I ask Gabe, “Hey why don’t you take your sister out in front of the office and just stroll her back and forth?” Easy task, right?
GEEZ, no.
Less than five minutes later a women comes in dragging him by the arm.. with my daughter in the stroller, and says that Gabe was pushing her out front, and dumped the whole thing over, and I should probably check her to make sure she is ok.
FUCK.. we haven’t even started school here yet, and already off on the wrong foot.
Monday the movers would be here and Gabe would be in school.. and all should be well with the world… whatEVER.
~2
Monday, September 25, 2006
Sweetness
I smile as she covers me with sugar coated kisses
Love glazed with only the sweetness that she possesses
My heart belongs to her… she will one day own this world
I hope she thinks of me while she makes those big decisions
I hope she thinks of me when she feels alone and needs advice
I hope I can return the favor of warming her heart when she needs it the most
For right now, she is the sparkle in my eye, the dimple in my cheek,
and the glow that radiates from my very being
My Lovely Brynn
Love glazed with only the sweetness that she possesses
My heart belongs to her… she will one day own this world
I hope she thinks of me while she makes those big decisions
I hope she thinks of me when she feels alone and needs advice
I hope I can return the favor of warming her heart when she needs it the most
For right now, she is the sparkle in my eye, the dimple in my cheek,
and the glow that radiates from my very being
My Lovely Brynn
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Toilet Fairies
Being a parent makes you do evil things. We constantly lie to our children about stuff, and it’s overlooked. We tell them it’s not right to lie to us.. but sure it’s ok if we mislead them. They are young and believe anything we tell them… anything.
Santa, the Easter bunny… every year we find a handfull of things to decieve them with. I am sooooooo guilty of doing this. It is so much fun. Every year we draw out the Santa thing to our advantage. You better clean your room, or Santa will not bring you that new bike. You better do your homework because Santa will know you’re making bad grades.
Oh I have a smart kiddo. He’s eight and I am not sure how much longer I can pull off the Santa thing. He’s already asking questions and I have a hard time coming up with the answers:
“So Mom, we don’t have a fireplace… how does Santa get in?” he asks.
“Um…. he has a special key he uses just for those families who are too poor to have a fireplace.”
“But Mom, if Santa rides in a sleigh, and his reindeer are only capable of flying 55 miles miles per hour… Really I think he would have to travel much slower being that his sleigh is more like a convertible… and it’s cold… not to mention he has no windsheild… How can he cover the distance possible to leave presents for all the boys and girls in the world?”
“Ask dad.”
SO… anyWAY… I am guilty of the best deception… and one I am sure he will mention in therapy in years to come. The Toilet Fairy.
AH yes.. the Toilet Fairy. I have managed to convince my son that there is a fairy that flushes the toilet for you in public places. Yes it’s creepy, and I think it’s one of the most brilliant things I have EVER come up with.
Depending on the place, I sometimes make him go in the women’s room with me.. because one - I don’t trust him in the men’s room alone, and two - there are lots of freaky child molesters out there… and I don’t want my kid to take some weirdo’s candy or help someone find their puppy…
SO… I go in the stall with him… and he makes me turn around… cause he’s a boy, and I might see his “private parts”… he finishes… and the toilet automatically flushes.
“Wow! Hey Mom, How does it know I am done pee-ing?” he asks me.
“Well… there is a little fairy in the wall that sits and waits for you to finish…”
“What? You mean there is something in there that watches me pee…”
“A Fairy”
“One of those little things with wings?”
“Yep”
“Mom… that kinda freaks me out!”
“Yeah me too… but it’s just one of those things you get use to, you know?”
“Well I don’t like it,” he says.
“Yeah well wait till you get older… life is full of disappointment.”
He’s gotten use to it now… does a little dance to put on a show for the toilet fairies. Man, being a parent is awesome!!
Yeah I know I am going to hell… better on my terms though
~2
Santa, the Easter bunny… every year we find a handfull of things to decieve them with. I am sooooooo guilty of doing this. It is so much fun. Every year we draw out the Santa thing to our advantage. You better clean your room, or Santa will not bring you that new bike. You better do your homework because Santa will know you’re making bad grades.
Oh I have a smart kiddo. He’s eight and I am not sure how much longer I can pull off the Santa thing. He’s already asking questions and I have a hard time coming up with the answers:
“So Mom, we don’t have a fireplace… how does Santa get in?” he asks.
“Um…. he has a special key he uses just for those families who are too poor to have a fireplace.”
“But Mom, if Santa rides in a sleigh, and his reindeer are only capable of flying 55 miles miles per hour… Really I think he would have to travel much slower being that his sleigh is more like a convertible… and it’s cold… not to mention he has no windsheild… How can he cover the distance possible to leave presents for all the boys and girls in the world?”
“Ask dad.”
SO… anyWAY… I am guilty of the best deception… and one I am sure he will mention in therapy in years to come. The Toilet Fairy.
AH yes.. the Toilet Fairy. I have managed to convince my son that there is a fairy that flushes the toilet for you in public places. Yes it’s creepy, and I think it’s one of the most brilliant things I have EVER come up with.
Depending on the place, I sometimes make him go in the women’s room with me.. because one - I don’t trust him in the men’s room alone, and two - there are lots of freaky child molesters out there… and I don’t want my kid to take some weirdo’s candy or help someone find their puppy…
SO… I go in the stall with him… and he makes me turn around… cause he’s a boy, and I might see his “private parts”… he finishes… and the toilet automatically flushes.
“Wow! Hey Mom, How does it know I am done pee-ing?” he asks me.
“Well… there is a little fairy in the wall that sits and waits for you to finish…”
“What? You mean there is something in there that watches me pee…”
“A Fairy”
“One of those little things with wings?”
“Yep”
“Mom… that kinda freaks me out!”
“Yeah me too… but it’s just one of those things you get use to, you know?”
“Well I don’t like it,” he says.
“Yeah well wait till you get older… life is full of disappointment.”
He’s gotten use to it now… does a little dance to put on a show for the toilet fairies. Man, being a parent is awesome!!
Yeah I know I am going to hell… better on my terms though
~2
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