Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Bathroom Humor
Marcus complained to me the other day about the girls barging into the bathroom while he was using the toilet and how uncomfortable it is for him when they stand on either side of the toilet and watch. I agree, that would make for an uncomfortable moment especially because they have a habit of just standing there and staring, not blinking. Plus, being Marcus is a dude, accurate aim is everything in this case. However, I feel little to no sympathy. Uncomfortable? Trust me, you don't know uncomfortable until you've used a tampon with two extra pairs of eyes watching. Then try and explain what a tampon is to a 3 year old by answering hard hitting questions such as "Are you going to put that in your butt?" I don't want to hear it.
Friday, January 24, 2014
Mini Rant
I have a girlfriend who is going through the woes of early infancy. Of course I mean she has a brand new baby, not that she herself is an infant....just to clarify. Anyway, the baby sounds a lot like Alex in that they both share(d) a fondness for keeping their parents up for hours during the middle of the night for no apparent reason. So, as many frustrated mother's are known to do, my girlfriend took to Facebook to vent her frustration thus the reason for my frustration. Although I should specify it is not frustration with my girlfriend but with one asinine comment she received in reply. The comment basically stated to love every minute of that hours long sleep deprivation in the middle of the night because one day you'll look back fondly and miss it.
Sorry, girlfriend, you won't. What you will look back on in wonder is how you made it through without murdering anybody. You'll look back in amazement at how you felt you could run away and never look back only to come out of it relatively unscathed. You'll be absolutely perplexed how you didn't drink yourself into oblivion or self-medicate to get through it. To the people who respond with such ridiculousness you must be (or had been) pretty well medicated to think that the first three months of nighttime torture, aka the newborn stage, are anything but. To tell a new parent such is equally ridiculous and they probably know you're lying anyway so why not just give a friendly pat-on-the-back and move on.
Sorry, girlfriend, you won't. What you will look back on in wonder is how you made it through without murdering anybody. You'll look back in amazement at how you felt you could run away and never look back only to come out of it relatively unscathed. You'll be absolutely perplexed how you didn't drink yourself into oblivion or self-medicate to get through it. To the people who respond with such ridiculousness you must be (or had been) pretty well medicated to think that the first three months of nighttime torture, aka the newborn stage, are anything but. To tell a new parent such is equally ridiculous and they probably know you're lying anyway so why not just give a friendly pat-on-the-back and move on.
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Congratulations! Life Is Going To Suck!
A few friends of mine have recently either just given birth for the first time or announced their first pregnancy. Every time I hear their happy news I am over the moon happy for them. All of these women have been a part of my life for so many years that it's a natural reaction.
What I haven't quite figured out, though, is whether or not the reason I'm so happy for them is because I will have one more soul to commiserate with over how sh*tty parenthood can be. I won't deny I am thrilled that they will get to enjoy the more wonderful parts of being a parent such as when your two year old sniffs your neck and whispers sweetly in your ear "You smell like peanutbutterjelly." But I also won't deny that I look forward to the day when I see their child acting the fool my own does and all I can do is smile, shake my head, and say "Ah, I see so-and-so is at "that" stage of childhood" and then sit back and talk about all of the things we could be doing if it weren't for the existence of our spawns. Admittedly, those things generally revolve around merely sipping wine in peace but that's because I've lost all ability to think of anything more cool than that.
Children are difficult. Obviously. This Blog wouldn't have continued to exist if they were easy (and if I were slightly more stable). When they're newborns you're left wondering why the baby slept all night the night before but then wakes up every two hours the next night. When they become toddlers you're left pondering many a toddler mystery such as why did they start flipping out when I said it was time for lunch? I haven't made it out of toddler-hood just yet so I'll be sure to add more to the list but for now, that's enough.
In the end, I am thrilled that some of my closest girlfriends are joining me in the never ending quest to figure out why the hell we decided to have children. I just hope they are as equally unstable as I am because I wouldn't be able to stand it if they actually enjoyed motherhood, pfffttt...
What I haven't quite figured out, though, is whether or not the reason I'm so happy for them is because I will have one more soul to commiserate with over how sh*tty parenthood can be. I won't deny I am thrilled that they will get to enjoy the more wonderful parts of being a parent such as when your two year old sniffs your neck and whispers sweetly in your ear "You smell like peanutbutterjelly." But I also won't deny that I look forward to the day when I see their child acting the fool my own does and all I can do is smile, shake my head, and say "Ah, I see so-and-so is at "that" stage of childhood" and then sit back and talk about all of the things we could be doing if it weren't for the existence of our spawns. Admittedly, those things generally revolve around merely sipping wine in peace but that's because I've lost all ability to think of anything more cool than that.
Children are difficult. Obviously. This Blog wouldn't have continued to exist if they were easy (and if I were slightly more stable). When they're newborns you're left wondering why the baby slept all night the night before but then wakes up every two hours the next night. When they become toddlers you're left pondering many a toddler mystery such as why did they start flipping out when I said it was time for lunch? I haven't made it out of toddler-hood just yet so I'll be sure to add more to the list but for now, that's enough.
In the end, I am thrilled that some of my closest girlfriends are joining me in the never ending quest to figure out why the hell we decided to have children. I just hope they are as equally unstable as I am because I wouldn't be able to stand it if they actually enjoyed motherhood, pfffttt...
Monday, January 6, 2014
New Year, New Post
I suppose there isn't a better way to start the New Year than by posting a new blog about the New Year. Or, New Year's Eve specifically.
The evening began rather innocuously. We had been invited to a kid friendly New Years Eve party so, around 5:00, we made our way over with kiddos in tow. About 15 minutes after arriving I was regretting that decision as at least half a dozen children ran screaming through the house. Luckily, our hostess was on top of things and dinner was served very shortly thereafter which brought immediate silence. A second luckily was that the house was stocked to the gills with alcohol so those who weren't DD could silence the children in their minds. What? Yeah, I said it was a kid friendly New Years Eve party. In our group that means at 8:00 the kids get to ring in the New Year then go to bed while the adults continue to have fun.
With that being said, we opted for taking the girls home rather than staying through to midnight to avoid being on the roads with crazies and to avoid trying to get the girls to sleep in a strange house only to wake them a few hours later.
So, by 9:30 our girls were in their "own" beds (technically we've been staying at my in-laws for the last two weeks) and Marcus and I were hanging out when his parents came in from their own New Years Eve festivities which entailed the local town's celebration aimed towards families. On a whim (perhaps a slightly drunken one) I convinced Marcus to take the passes his parent's purchased and go check it out because I, in the 20+ years living in this town, have never made it to the local celebration. Grudgingly, Marcus agreed. I think he had already been once before so knew the disappointment that lay ahead.
Needless to say, without saying a word (is that redundant?), Marcus was right and after about half an hour we decided to go home and made our way back to the car. Marcus thought it would be fun to see how the other half lives (i.e. those who were partying hard at the local bars) and we took the long way to the car passing bars as we went. As we passed one place in particular we saw a friend of ours serving and decided to pay him a visit despite the fact it was packed. What we failed to notice was the place was packed with cougars and it wasn't until we had drinks in hand and a place to sit that we took a good look around and realized we were greatly outnumbered.
There is nothing more exhilarating than seeing a pack of cougars in action. One group of ladies in particular really caught our eye and we watched them with great interest. All were dressed for an occasion far fancier than a New Years Eve celebration at a local bar/Italian restaurant. In truth, they all looked fabulous but I suppose that's what sets a cougar apart from others. They all sipped their drinks as they shimmied but only slightly for fear of losing their spot at the bar. As I leaned-in to give our bartender friend a kiss over the bar I felt all eyes on me, probably trying to ascertain who the poorly dressed ruffian was moving in on their territory (in truth, I was dressed to be outside not in a bar competing for man flesh). I think they quickly wrote me off when our friend gave Marcus (in his well worn Virginia Tech hoodie) a jovial handshake and realized I was not a threat as I was there with an equally poorly dressed partner. Later I regretted not sending Marcus into the fray to see what constitutes cougar prey. Next time.
As the midnight hour struck Marcus and I gave each other a quick kiss then turned our attention to more important matters like how the cougars had somehow found the youngest guys in the bar to suck face with. They were questionably making out with the busboys but my judgment was skewed by this point in time and really, the idea of these well-dressed 40 something's sucking face with busboys is way more entertaining than what I'm sure is the truth.
Suffice to say, these poorly dressed, parents of two toddlers decided that midnight was late enough and we eventually made our way to the car and home. I learned a lot that night. One: Cougars get what they want. Two: Despite the fact I wasn't dressed like a Robert Palmer chick I apparently still have the ability to make others uncomfortable with my awesome presence. Then Marcus comes along and ruins it.
The evening began rather innocuously. We had been invited to a kid friendly New Years Eve party so, around 5:00, we made our way over with kiddos in tow. About 15 minutes after arriving I was regretting that decision as at least half a dozen children ran screaming through the house. Luckily, our hostess was on top of things and dinner was served very shortly thereafter which brought immediate silence. A second luckily was that the house was stocked to the gills with alcohol so those who weren't DD could silence the children in their minds. What? Yeah, I said it was a kid friendly New Years Eve party. In our group that means at 8:00 the kids get to ring in the New Year then go to bed while the adults continue to have fun.
With that being said, we opted for taking the girls home rather than staying through to midnight to avoid being on the roads with crazies and to avoid trying to get the girls to sleep in a strange house only to wake them a few hours later.
So, by 9:30 our girls were in their "own" beds (technically we've been staying at my in-laws for the last two weeks) and Marcus and I were hanging out when his parents came in from their own New Years Eve festivities which entailed the local town's celebration aimed towards families. On a whim (perhaps a slightly drunken one) I convinced Marcus to take the passes his parent's purchased and go check it out because I, in the 20+ years living in this town, have never made it to the local celebration. Grudgingly, Marcus agreed. I think he had already been once before so knew the disappointment that lay ahead.
Needless to say, without saying a word (is that redundant?), Marcus was right and after about half an hour we decided to go home and made our way back to the car. Marcus thought it would be fun to see how the other half lives (i.e. those who were partying hard at the local bars) and we took the long way to the car passing bars as we went. As we passed one place in particular we saw a friend of ours serving and decided to pay him a visit despite the fact it was packed. What we failed to notice was the place was packed with cougars and it wasn't until we had drinks in hand and a place to sit that we took a good look around and realized we were greatly outnumbered.
There is nothing more exhilarating than seeing a pack of cougars in action. One group of ladies in particular really caught our eye and we watched them with great interest. All were dressed for an occasion far fancier than a New Years Eve celebration at a local bar/Italian restaurant. In truth, they all looked fabulous but I suppose that's what sets a cougar apart from others. They all sipped their drinks as they shimmied but only slightly for fear of losing their spot at the bar. As I leaned-in to give our bartender friend a kiss over the bar I felt all eyes on me, probably trying to ascertain who the poorly dressed ruffian was moving in on their territory (in truth, I was dressed to be outside not in a bar competing for man flesh). I think they quickly wrote me off when our friend gave Marcus (in his well worn Virginia Tech hoodie) a jovial handshake and realized I was not a threat as I was there with an equally poorly dressed partner. Later I regretted not sending Marcus into the fray to see what constitutes cougar prey. Next time.
As the midnight hour struck Marcus and I gave each other a quick kiss then turned our attention to more important matters like how the cougars had somehow found the youngest guys in the bar to suck face with. They were questionably making out with the busboys but my judgment was skewed by this point in time and really, the idea of these well-dressed 40 something's sucking face with busboys is way more entertaining than what I'm sure is the truth.
Suffice to say, these poorly dressed, parents of two toddlers decided that midnight was late enough and we eventually made our way to the car and home. I learned a lot that night. One: Cougars get what they want. Two: Despite the fact I wasn't dressed like a Robert Palmer chick I apparently still have the ability to make others uncomfortable with my awesome presence. Then Marcus comes along and ruins it.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Arts And Crafts Are Dumb
Let me just preface this by saying I am not a crafty person. I try to be but the fact is I don't have extra googly eyes, pipe cleaners, or batting lying around the house all of which appear to be prerequisites before starting any arts and crafts project. So, when I do feel like an arts and crafts project is in order for the day it takes a lot of energy out of me because I have to improvise with what I have. Plus, like I said before, I am not a crafty person. I feel like the World's Best Mother just on the days that I break out the crayons so actually executing a real, honest to goodness project is the frickin' Nobel Prize for Mothers in my world.
Another hindrance to arts and crafts projects are the children for which said arts and crafts projects are designed for. Particularly my children. Take today for instance. I found online a cute design for a turkey using the hands and feet of the girls (not their literal hands and feet though at this point I'd say as long as they're participating who cares). So, I take Jo first and trace her foot. For a 1 year old she did remarkably well. Then it's Alex's turn. She refuses, I mean absolutely refuses to the point of tears, to let me trace her f****ing foot. What the f***. I don't know if she thought I was going to stab her foot with the pencil or if she thought her foot would fall off...I really don't know what was going on in her mind but, as per usual, I lost my sh*t and am now sitting here writing this post.
In my attempt to make the girl's day just a little more fun than average I have been thwarted and turned what was a pretty good day into a slightly sucky one. So, here I am, stewing over the whole thing and finishing the project by myself. If Alex and Jo ever say that their mom never did any fun arts and crafts projects with them I'll refer them to this post.
Another hindrance to arts and crafts projects are the children for which said arts and crafts projects are designed for. Particularly my children. Take today for instance. I found online a cute design for a turkey using the hands and feet of the girls (not their literal hands and feet though at this point I'd say as long as they're participating who cares). So, I take Jo first and trace her foot. For a 1 year old she did remarkably well. Then it's Alex's turn. She refuses, I mean absolutely refuses to the point of tears, to let me trace her f****ing foot. What the f***. I don't know if she thought I was going to stab her foot with the pencil or if she thought her foot would fall off...I really don't know what was going on in her mind but, as per usual, I lost my sh*t and am now sitting here writing this post.
In my attempt to make the girl's day just a little more fun than average I have been thwarted and turned what was a pretty good day into a slightly sucky one. So, here I am, stewing over the whole thing and finishing the project by myself. If Alex and Jo ever say that their mom never did any fun arts and crafts projects with them I'll refer them to this post.
 |
| Let's just call it like it is. This is MY stupid arts and crafts project. |
Sunday, November 10, 2013
She Didn't Start The Fire
There are definitely some differences between my parenting decisions and Marcus's. I tend to take into account both of the girl's ages and then base my decisions on what is or is not appropriate for them. Marcus, not so much.
For example, the conversation we just had went a little something like this:
Me (looking at potential Christmas gifts for Alexandra): I'm getting a kick out of the fact Alex is into more "boy" type toys than "girl" toys. Like, here's a toy firefighter set that she would think is so cool. She loves to pretend she's a firefighter.
Marcus: Yeah. We should get a squirt gun so she can practice putting out fires.
Me: *pause* As in real fires?
Marcus: Yeah.
Me: *pause* She's 2.
Marcus: So?
Me: Do you really think it's a good idea to teach her how to start fires? Next thing I know she's outside setting fire to the lawn (side note: good luck with that because it's nothing but sand).
Marcus: I'm not teaching her how to start a fire! She isn't going to figure out how to do that!
Me: She's no dummy, she'll figure it out quickly. I don't think it's such a good idea to be starting fires so Alex can play fireman.
Marcus: I don't see what the problem is.
*and scene*
I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that my well-educated husband thinks allowing a 2 year old to practice putting out fires is a good idea, although he did agree to let it slide until she's 3. He insists I'm being overprotective and giving Alex more intelligence credit than what is due. I simply don't think we should be encouraging anyone to start a fire for the thrill of putting it out, especially not at the age of 2. I'm pretty sure Sparky the Fire Dog® would be less than thrilled at this prospect. Also, it should come as no surprise that Marcus doesn't know who Sparky the Fire Dog® is.
For example, the conversation we just had went a little something like this:
Me (looking at potential Christmas gifts for Alexandra): I'm getting a kick out of the fact Alex is into more "boy" type toys than "girl" toys. Like, here's a toy firefighter set that she would think is so cool. She loves to pretend she's a firefighter.
Marcus: Yeah. We should get a squirt gun so she can practice putting out fires.
Me: *pause* As in real fires?
Marcus: Yeah.
Me: *pause* She's 2.
Marcus: So?
Me: Do you really think it's a good idea to teach her how to start fires? Next thing I know she's outside setting fire to the lawn (side note: good luck with that because it's nothing but sand).
Marcus: I'm not teaching her how to start a fire! She isn't going to figure out how to do that!
Me: She's no dummy, she'll figure it out quickly. I don't think it's such a good idea to be starting fires so Alex can play fireman.
Marcus: I don't see what the problem is.
*and scene*
I am still trying to wrap my head around the fact that my well-educated husband thinks allowing a 2 year old to practice putting out fires is a good idea, although he did agree to let it slide until she's 3. He insists I'm being overprotective and giving Alex more intelligence credit than what is due. I simply don't think we should be encouraging anyone to start a fire for the thrill of putting it out, especially not at the age of 2. I'm pretty sure Sparky the Fire Dog® would be less than thrilled at this prospect. Also, it should come as no surprise that Marcus doesn't know who Sparky the Fire Dog® is.
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