Last Friday, D got a job! Yahoo and woo-hoo and hoo-dowgie and all that jazz. No seriously. I'm more than excited and exuberant and exultant and all those other 'ants. It's just that, well, I'm being selfish and whiney thinking about how that's going to affect me, myself and I.
I haven't missed the daily crunch of readying 3 things for school/pre-school/daycare. I haven't missed the yelling, the frantic search for shoes (where to they go overnight?) or the complete lack of nutritious breakfasts eaten at an actual table. Instant oatmeal and drinkable yogurt in the car are easy, but not, well, car-friendly.
I haven't missed the clingy drop-off. I haven't missed the tears or the pleading eyes or the whines to go with me.
I REALLY haven't missed the daycare bills!
I've actually been loving the hugs and kisses goodbye, #3 always standing at the door to wave me off, and the ecstatic greeting from my guys when I get home. I've been loving having more help with everything, even if it does come with some snark and fussiness.
Alas, my honeymoon is over. D starts "shadowing" which to my thinking is a nice way of saying he's working for FREE, next week, though his start date is the third.
Which means I'm back to all of the above, on Monday. #1 is not thrilled about going back to school-site daycare, but hopefully I can get D to run that drop-off. #3 will just be happy to GO! with mama and Wogi (#2).
I'll be shelling out again, and running a little crazier again. But, I'll have a happy D again too. It's not easy for such a mans man to sit back and let the wifey bring home the bacon, even if it's not his fault that he's out of a job. Now he'll be doing something he enjoys, and getting the support and training he has always longed for. And I really couldn't be happier, or prouder.
I just hope I'll still have all of my hair and my sanity by Christmas.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Matchy-Matchy
So, I think that, overall, the boys look like D. Sure, TT2 & 3 have my coloring, but their mannerisms and affectations are all D. TT1 is mini-D. I have this photo of them when #1 was about 1, and their expressions are EXACTLY the same. Too funny. Can't find it, or I'd post it, not like you care, but still.
On to my point.
I've got mini-D's running around. Now, when #2 was almost 2, he had a literal run-in with a bookcase at daycare. He ended up with the imprint of a hex-screw on his left forehead. There is still a dent there to this day.
As you may remember, #3 took a header off the upstairs railing a few weeks ago, and he has a lovely rug-burn scar on his left forehead.
D has some sort of rash/burn/psoriasis/eczema/?? on HIS left forehead.
And now, #1 has been assaulted by #3 with a Crayola radio, and is currently sporting a lovely 1-inch gash across his, you guessed it! left forehead.
I'm all for family resemblance, but this is getting re.donk.ewe.lus. And I'm just waiting for CPS to show up.
On to my point.
I've got mini-D's running around. Now, when #2 was almost 2, he had a literal run-in with a bookcase at daycare. He ended up with the imprint of a hex-screw on his left forehead. There is still a dent there to this day.
As you may remember, #3 took a header off the upstairs railing a few weeks ago, and he has a lovely rug-burn scar on his left forehead.
D has some sort of rash/burn/psoriasis/eczema/?? on HIS left forehead.
And now, #1 has been assaulted by #3 with a Crayola radio, and is currently sporting a lovely 1-inch gash across his, you guessed it! left forehead.
I'm all for family resemblance, but this is getting re.donk.ewe.lus. And I'm just waiting for CPS to show up.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
The Next Great Use For The Camera Phone
During a recent jaunt to our favorite warehouse store, for nothing more than Transformers wallies, we discovered the madness of the SUMMER CHRISTMAS PUSH. They have Christmas decorations, Halloween costumes and an excess of toys sure to give any red-blooded American child conniptions, all piled next to each other right by the freaking door.
I was immediately beseeched for paper and writing implement, which I was unable to provide. I was promised that we would never remember EVERYTHING they wanted to ask Santa, The Easter Bunny, leprauchans and every person they are remotely familiar with, for for their next eleventy holidays and birthdays.
Then, TT2 slanted me that sidelong, devious little smirk of his and stated, "You've got your phone, right? You can just take pichurs of it all and e-mail 'em to evybuddy on da cump-ooter.'
Maude save me from techhie children! This is what happens when kids meander Costco with a camera phone and a mission:
Anyone else notice how the photos get progressively blurrier? It's the kid crack. The plethora of merchandising madness, TV commercials, tiny parts and memories like elephants for everything parents wish they would forget, that turns kids into blithering idiots who can only repeat 'I wan dat, and dat, and dat, oh and dat, and dis, and dat...."
Although, I have to admit the light-up light sabers are pretty awesome. If it wasn't for TT3 attempting to escape the cart every 2 seconds I totally would have challenged TT1 to a duel. Who's your mommy?! No. I am your mommy! Join me, and we will complete your training. With our combined strength! we will defeat the Emperor, and rule the Galaxy together as Mother and SON! Wait? What? I blacked out for a second.
Ahem, as I was saying...
Oh, and this is not the complete album of wonderfully composed photographs cluttering up my phone. I may need to add another data plan if they ever figure out how to message these things to everyone in my contacts. I guess I'd better start making that Christmas list and saving my pennies now huh? Thank goodness they already know they don't get everything they ask for!
I was immediately beseeched for paper and writing implement, which I was unable to provide. I was promised that we would never remember EVERYTHING they wanted to ask Santa, The Easter Bunny, leprauchans and every person they are remotely familiar with, for for their next eleventy holidays and birthdays.
Then, TT2 slanted me that sidelong, devious little smirk of his and stated, "You've got your phone, right? You can just take pichurs of it all and e-mail 'em to evybuddy on da cump-ooter.'
Maude save me from techhie children! This is what happens when kids meander Costco with a camera phone and a mission:
Anyone else notice how the photos get progressively blurrier? It's the kid crack. The plethora of merchandising madness, TV commercials, tiny parts and memories like elephants for everything parents wish they would forget, that turns kids into blithering idiots who can only repeat 'I wan dat, and dat, and dat, oh and dat, and dis, and dat...."
Although, I have to admit the light-up light sabers are pretty awesome. If it wasn't for TT3 attempting to escape the cart every 2 seconds I totally would have challenged TT1 to a duel. Who's your mommy?! No. I am your mommy! Join me, and we will complete your training. With our combined strength! we will defeat the Emperor, and rule the Galaxy together as Mother and SON! Wait? What? I blacked out for a second.
Ahem, as I was saying...
Oh, and this is not the complete album of wonderfully composed photographs cluttering up my phone. I may need to add another data plan if they ever figure out how to message these things to everyone in my contacts. I guess I'd better start making that Christmas list and saving my pennies now huh? Thank goodness they already know they don't get everything they ask for!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Ingenuity, Imagination, and other Enemies of the Toddler's Mom
So. As most moms of pre-schoolers know, the imagniation is a VERY powerful tool. It turns bedsheet tents into castles, stuffed lambs into dragons, and the favorite blankie into a flying carpet. Imagination is good.
Until it meets INGENUITY.
Ingenuity is the bane of my existence. TT3 is going to be renamed soon. His new name shall be MacGyver. How many kids can climb the face of a stainless steel fridge using their feet? The child stacks random toys, furniture and laundry baskets until he achieves the most stable ladder/staircase possible, then proceeds to mount the 8-foot bookcase, or deposit a binkie in the dining room chandelier for safekeeping. He knows how to use a screwdriver, hammer, drill and any spray bottle he comes across. He is obsessed with taking about my vacuum and using the parts for crazy experiments. He is not yet 2.
The child convinced his big brothers to daisy-chain bungee cords together, and string them from the upstairs railing down to the bottom handrail, then proceeded to show them how it might be possible to shimmy up the contraption to the top. Thankfully, he did not make it halfway before his weight sagged the cords.
No crayons, pens, pencils, paint or paper? Use your own poop and the wall! Or the crib currently penning you in your big-boy bed! Or the bed! Or the back of the dresser! Or the stair rail! It makes an excellent hair-styling medium. He told me he was making a 'moh-awk. Nike Ayedah.' (a mohawk, like Aidan). Now, I'm told imitation is the best sort of compliment, but I don't think that imitating a hairstyle using poop is a compliment at all. Call me crazy.
Then there are the cases of using shampoo to make the "slide" in the tub faster. The slide is just the angled part of the back of the tub. The kids' tub just happens to have less of an angle, making them actually slide once they get the teeny tushie backed up to the top. It's actually pretty hilarious. Until the tsunami of dirty bubble-water hits the floor.
And the using of daddys belt to make it easier to ride the dog. Because it's just like the cowboys on TV use to 'wie da boos. Noo-noo da boos.' Poor Lucy, she puts up with such humiliation. Do dogs feel humiliation? Probably.
Did you know that you can stand at the bathroom door and...well, lets just say it involves the vacuum cleaner hose attachment and "junk". I'll leave you to your fertile imaginations.
I could go on. And on. And on. But I won't. I feel I've left you with enough disturbing imagery for one day.
Until it meets INGENUITY.
Ingenuity is the bane of my existence. TT3 is going to be renamed soon. His new name shall be MacGyver. How many kids can climb the face of a stainless steel fridge using their feet? The child stacks random toys, furniture and laundry baskets until he achieves the most stable ladder/staircase possible, then proceeds to mount the 8-foot bookcase, or deposit a binkie in the dining room chandelier for safekeeping. He knows how to use a screwdriver, hammer, drill and any spray bottle he comes across. He is obsessed with taking about my vacuum and using the parts for crazy experiments. He is not yet 2.
The child convinced his big brothers to daisy-chain bungee cords together, and string them from the upstairs railing down to the bottom handrail, then proceeded to show them how it might be possible to shimmy up the contraption to the top. Thankfully, he did not make it halfway before his weight sagged the cords.
No crayons, pens, pencils, paint or paper? Use your own poop and the wall! Or the crib currently penning you in your big-boy bed! Or the bed! Or the back of the dresser! Or the stair rail! It makes an excellent hair-styling medium. He told me he was making a 'moh-awk. Nike Ayedah.' (a mohawk, like Aidan). Now, I'm told imitation is the best sort of compliment, but I don't think that imitating a hairstyle using poop is a compliment at all. Call me crazy.
Then there are the cases of using shampoo to make the "slide" in the tub faster. The slide is just the angled part of the back of the tub. The kids' tub just happens to have less of an angle, making them actually slide once they get the teeny tushie backed up to the top. It's actually pretty hilarious. Until the tsunami of dirty bubble-water hits the floor.
And the using of daddys belt to make it easier to ride the dog. Because it's just like the cowboys on TV use to 'wie da boos. Noo-noo da boos.' Poor Lucy, she puts up with such humiliation. Do dogs feel humiliation? Probably.
Did you know that you can stand at the bathroom door and...well, lets just say it involves the vacuum cleaner hose attachment and "junk". I'll leave you to your fertile imaginations.
I could go on. And on. And on. But I won't. I feel I've left you with enough disturbing imagery for one day.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Good Moms vs. Not So Good Moms
How can you tell the difference you ask? Here is my list of how to tell the good from the posers (and you can make a good guess as to which I am!):
***Just so we are all clear here - this is me making fun of the stereotypes I find in the school my kids attend. I am not pointing fingers or labeling anyone, nor am I passing judgements. Besides, I'd be the pot, since I totally fall into the "bad" mom group here. So sue me for attempting to instill a little self reliance, integrity and work ethic into my kids. I don't find it necessary or healthy to fight battles for my kids at this point in their lives - failure shapes the lessons we learn about life, teaches us coping skills, and helps develop a sense of self-worth and pride, once the tears and heartache subside. Sorry dudes, I am PARENTING, not befriending.
- Parent Teacher Club: Good moms go to meetings, volunteer, donate dinero and sew/bake/craft things for fundraisers. Not so good moms go to meetings, volunteer ideas they have no intention of seeing to completion, might buy something from a fundraiser, but wouldn't be caught dead running a carnival booth catering to rabid honey-badgers on
cracksugar. - Room
MothersParents: Good moms volunteer in the class weekly if not more. They closely resemble helicopter parents disguised as helpful classroom assistants. They organize class parties and solicit donations from all the other parents for said parties. Not so good moms wish they could volunteer, but are more afraid of their boss than they are of damaging the rep of their 1st grader because mommy never comes to school. They will send party donations to school with the kid, but areunwillingunable to bring said donations in person for the same reasons they don't volunteer. - Kiss n' Ride: Good moms avoid this line, and actually park the car, remove all children and walk them to their individual classrooms despite the loud protests of those too 'cool' for such treatment. Not so good moms rock the California Stop, flinging open the door while simultaneously shoving the kids out of the car, blowing kisses, sipping a caffeinated beverage, shouting reminders and tossing out the miscellaneous crap the kids forgot.
- Good moms chaperone every field trip, regardless of the snore factor. Not so good moms chaperone field trips they might find interesting, which, coincidentally, are the very same trips the kids do NOT want mom at. Go figure.
- Good moms pack a healthy, appetizing, nutritious and visually appealing lunch every. single. day. Not so good moms throw a lunchable, some packaged drink and sugar-laden snack in the bottom of the backpack and call it good. On really bad days,
weTHEY throw money and hope the kid remembers to give it to the lunch lady.
***Just so we are all clear here - this is me making fun of the stereotypes I find in the school my kids attend. I am not pointing fingers or labeling anyone, nor am I passing judgements. Besides, I'd be the pot, since I totally fall into the "bad" mom group here. So sue me for attempting to instill a little self reliance, integrity and work ethic into my kids. I don't find it necessary or healthy to fight battles for my kids at this point in their lives - failure shapes the lessons we learn about life, teaches us coping skills, and helps develop a sense of self-worth and pride, once the tears and heartache subside. Sorry dudes, I am PARENTING, not befriending.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)