Monthly Archives: January 2012

When Boys Don’t Want to Shop

You know the video-gaming habit has gotten really bad when the boys are thinking up crazy reasons to not leave the house EVER.  Yesterday, we had a long list of errands to run, and Jadon was trying to convince us that he should just stay home.
“I’ll just be crazy at the store,” he said.
’Nuff said, little man, you are probably right.  Let’s just get out the video games and numb your mind to any possible outside influences.  While I’m working on my brilliant parenting techniques, I should also pour a hefty teaspoon of Benadryl around naptime for our adult convenience.  But not before we serve up a yummy bowl of Cocoa Puffs and chocolate bars for breakfast.
With all those healthy influences, I don’t have any earthly idea why you would be crazy at the store.

Morning Discovery

Our 4-year-olds are explorers.  They are adventurers.  They are always looking for the next fun thing, the next little bit of trouble they can get into.  You just never quite know what you are going to get…as anyone with two 4-year-old boys might tell you.
Right now, they are fascinated with flashlights.  Because flashlights mean you are camping.  Or exploring in a dark cave.  Or looking for monsters in the woods.  Or sneaking up on Santa.  Flash lights are what Daddy has in his big tool box.  They are simply really, really cool things to have.
This is our Bullseye flashlight:
For any of you lame-o’s who aren’t aware, Bullseye is the horse in Toy Story who rides in and saves the day.  “Ride like the wind, Bullseye!”  (Yes, I have seen the movie about a gazillion too many times.)
Yesterday, in the wee, peaceful hours of the morning, I was getting ready for work…all by my lonesome since Jason was out of town.  (I’m pretty sure he has mistresses in several different towns now, although I’m not quite sure how he affords it, because very time he leaves, I go shopping to cope with the stress.)  I was in mid-shampoo sequence, with my eyes firmly squeezed shut.  I like to say that’s to keep the soap out, but really that’s when I pretend that I live in Hawaii and have a cabana boy waiting for me poolside with a nice, cold umbrella drink at the ready.  But I digress.
Anyway, I was mid-shampoo sequence, and in the barely-lit bathroom (I was trying not to wake anyone because then my Hawaii daydreams come to an end), I hear a little voice accompanied by hoof beats.  Yes, hoof beats.  Because Bullseye the flashlight makes galloping noises when he is working.
I opened one eye to see a pair of little brown eyes staring straight at me, in all my glory.  Jadon stood there, shining Bullseye’s light beam right on me, and as the galloping noise played in the background, he giggled and said, “I see you!”
Yep, yep you do.  Aloha, little dude, could you pass me that towel?

Co-Dependent No More

Or How to Cope Without Your Cell Phone
After having witnessed the panic and near-psychological destruction caused by separation from one’s cell phone, I have decided to create this handy-dandy guide to surviving without technology for short periods of time without completely going berserk and driving your parents bat-shit crazy.  (This is a guide for teens, namely teenage girls, but it might be applicable to guys, too.  I’m just not sure yet, as my current experience is with Queen of the Damned…er, I mean a teenaged girl.)
I realize that nothing, NOTHING could possibly be worse than being stuck for days on end without your lifeline to the outside world.  I mean (eye roll) imagine literally having to get off the school bus because your life is already awful because you can’t drive yet, and THEN to top it all off, your inconsiderate dad has TAKEN your iphone to be repaired without your permission.  So here you are, stuck in your own house, surrounded by your parents and siblings (GAG!), having nothing but homework and OMG conversation to entertain you until you go back to school the next day.  You can’t text.  You can’t call you friends to complain about the fact that your dad TOOK your phone to get fixed.  You can’t use ANY of your aps.  And on top of everything else, your freakin’ facebook friends are probably not going to think you are DEAD.  Just great.  (Cue REM’s It’s the End of the World As We Know It.)
So what’s a girl to do?  Well, calm down, Princess.  I’m here to help.  Here’s a handy-dandy list of things you can do to a) take your mind off the dire situation or b) remind yourself that hey, maybe things aren’t so bad after all.  You’re welcome.
  • First of all, take the pillow off of your head.  You are not helping anyone by burying yourself alive, and really it’s not doing anything except making your mascara run and your hair frizz.  Get out of bed and find something to do.  Like take the dog for a walk or read a book.  (They are the chunky paper thingies on the bookshelf.)
  • Next, don’t worry.  Your friends will know you are alive when you see them tomorrow at school.  You can reassure them that no, you have not become Amish overnight, nor have you taken your vows to enter the convent.  You can tell them all about how your terrible parents deprived you of your ghetto taped-up phone with the shattered face and took it to the repair shop and even paid for it so that it could be fixed for you, and you can tell them all about how it’s going to probably take DAYS for it to be returned to your possession.  Just think of the sympathy you’ll probably get.
  • You could play a game with the family.  You know, your sister loves to play board games, and we would love it if you would join us.  (Stop poking your eyeballs out.  It could be fun.)
  • You could also clean your room, do your laundry, and get some quality time in with your menagerie of pets.  While these are all suggestions right now, by Saturday they will be demands by your evil parents, so if you do them now, they might possibly seem more pleasant.
  • You could do what we did back in the Olden Days.  We took walks.  Or rode bikes.  Or even played on skateboards, shot hoops, or walked to a friend’s house.  All of these things are distinct possibilities, and while I realize now that they might ruin any chances of you EVER having any social life whatsoever, they are decent activities.  Yes, you will have to go without status updates and the instant gratification of constant socialization, but I think you will be ok.
  • Oh, and also the next time you decide to stage a sit-in (or stand-out…or whatever you want to call it), it would be less humorous to your parents if the conversation doesn’t go something like:

          Us:  When you are done with practice, call us.
          You:  (MAJOR eye roll)  HOW am I supposed to CALL you if I don’t have a PHONE?!
          Us:  The gym has a phone you can borrow right behind the front desk.  Just ask to use it.
          You:  (Shoulder shrug and foot stomp) Oh Ma Gawd, I am NOT going to use a LAND LINE!          Are you EVEN serious right now?!  I’ll just wait outside in the FREEZING COLD.
          Us:  (Unintelligible mingling of words and laughter as we drive away)
P.S.  Your cell phone is repaired and ready to be picked up, but this is so entertaining that we might just wait a couple more days just to see how you handle it.


In previous years, I was always anxious to jump into resolutions headfirst with crazy levels enthusiasm and a fire in my belly that refused to burn out for…oh, wow, at least a whole day.  These resolutions have included things such as:
  •  Losing weight
  • Exercising more
  • Not cussing (pffft…funny!)
  • Being nice to everyone
  • Spending more time with family
  • Taking less naps (borderline hilarious)
  • Dusting and cleaning the house every week

 You know, crazy stuff like that.  But this year, I have come to my senses.  First of all, I didn’t come up with something immediately.  As you will notice, it is now January 5, a full five days after the start of the new year.  Either I have decided to embrace my life of procrastination (quite likely), or I have taken these five days to fully meditate on the seriousness of the situation.  Since past resolutions have failed to have any staying power whatsoever, it has become apparent that the process of coming up with the resolutions must be one of utter sobriety and clarity.  (And now, my friends, we are wading knee-deep in the B.S. pool.)
So, without further ado, a modified list of resolutions, based on past failures and (hopefully) future successes:
Lose Weight
By the end of the year, I will still be able to squeeze my butt into the same tired old denim that I’m squeezing it into this year.  If that happens, I will yell ‘HOORAY!’ and celebrate with a large slice of cheesecake.
Exercise More
Instead of asking the kids to bring me the remote, I will find it myself.  If there is not a dent in the couch in the exact shape of my butt at the end of 2012, we will consider this one a success.
No Cussing
I will refrain from using the same 4-letter words more than twice in a row in front of the same kid.  This should cut down on kid repetition incidents, thereby cutting down on those embarrassing little ‘teacher conference comments.’
Be Nice to Everyone
Be nice to smart people and people who do not annoy the everloving @#$#%#* out of me.  (You don’t have to be Einstein…just not the ‘I seen it!’ people that are always interviewed by news crews, k?)  This is about as good as it gets people.  I mean, I can TRY to be nice to those other people, but if they push my buttons, I make no guarantees.
Spend More Time With Family
This one is cool.  For the most part, my family is pretty awesome.  (I’m talking the immediate-family part.  Don’t get me started on the extended-not-under-our-roof-peeps, because we could get into some issues there.)
Take Less Naps
Take Naps.  Honestly, I kind of like taking naps, and I’m thinking it helps me with the whole being nice thing.  I’m pretty sure napping is going to have to remain a part of my routine in order for me to accomplish some of my other resolutions (like not stabbing people…I should add that one).
Dust and Clean Every Week
Watch at least one episode of Hoarders every week.  This way, I can feel really good about the fact that I may or may not have dusted and cleaned recently.  I have no dead animals or dirty diapers lying around my house, nor do I have mountains of unused clothing or furniture that is buried beneath creepy ‘collectibles,’ so I think I’m good.  Time for a nap.
So there you have it.  The list of 2012 resolutions.  Check back with me in 2013 to see how I’ve done.  Hopefully, there will be lots of naps, less road rage, and I’ll still be squeezing into my faded old mom-jeans.  See how I’ve set myself up for success?

Germ Warfare

What the hell, Santa?!  What ever happened to leaving a lump of coal in a sock?  That would be sufficient.  Believe me, I would get the hint, and I would be better next year.  (Ok, probably not, but still.)
It started about two weeks before Christmas.  Fabulous enough.  Let the barf fest begin.  The littles began in their traditional way of kicking off a good old-fashioned plague by waiting until the middle of the night, when much to their unsuspecting parents’ dismay, gagging noises were heard from far down the hallway.  Being the loving, nurturing mommy that I am, my first thought was, ‘Can this shit EVER happen during daylight hours?’  And that was quickly followed by, ‘Oh, Dear Lord, please let that be the cat hacking on a giant hair ball.’
But oh noooo, it was Kid #1, starting the barf parade that would continue for almost three weeks.
One by one, they all fell like dominoes.  Not a blanket was left in the house.  Our meager laundry facilities were no match for the mountains of putrid blankets and pajamas and towels our children produced.  I lost count of the number of bottles of detergent, bleach, sanitizer, and other miscellaneous crap we went through during the Scourge of 2011.  People kept telling me that maybe I shouldn’t spray the children with bleach and such, but nay, nay!  Every time one of the little germ-mongers came at me with that foul-smelling vomit breath, I swear I was tempted to hose them down.  (There, there sweet little pumpkins, Mommy is here.)
But there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel.  We made it to Christmas Eve, and everyone was well.  Healed!  (I’m using my best televangelist voice here, waving arms above my head in the air, and requesting all your money—cashier’s check would be acceptable.)  Healed, I say!  Witness the miracle right here before your very eyes!
Except.  (Imagine foreboding music playing, signifying that some more shit is about to go down.)
Here’s the deal.  Santa finished his business at about 10:00, snuck some of the candy from the stockings, and went to bed.  At approximately 11:00 p.m. Santa’s entire digestive tract was overtaken by mutant alien life forms from hell.  Santa then spent the next 6-ish hours running back and forth from the bedroom to the bathroom, intermittently praying for death and cursing his petrie-dish children for being the carriers that they evidently are.  (Ok, I’ll confess, Santa is me…for those of you who were still wondering.  And if I’ve ruined the magic and wonder of your Christmas by bursting your Santa bubble, just wait until you hear about the barf in the stockings.)
Anyway.  Merry Christmas.  Where’s the Pepto?  I made it through the initial “Look what Santa brought!” and “Oh my gosh, it’s just what I wanted!” and all that stuff, and then I quietly slithered upstairs to die while Jason was left behind in the wreckage to put batteries in approximately a gazillion toys and charge half a gazillion electronics and do uploads and downloads and gift cards and Nerf guns and a whole bunch of other fun stuff that I vaguely remember.
Happy New Year!