When you don't talk to your kids about the important issues, such as the Tooth Fairy, then someone else will. Someone really convoluted according to the conversation I had with my daughter.
TinaToothLoser: I have to wiggle my tooth, so it comes out.
Awesomeness: What happens when your tooth comes out?
TinaToothLoser: Well, first you wiggle, wiggle, wiggle. And then your tooth comes out. Then you put the tooth under your pillow. And then the Tooth Fairy comes. She leaves you a prize.
Aha! "A prize." Some generic trinket. If I'm not expected to give her cash, then hell, I'll just pick up a bunch of cheap crappy toys and be done with it. I'm super lucky.....
.....I wonder what she means by "prize." I'm lucky, but I'm also super lazy, so if she can just tell me what she wants, then I'll be set.
Awesomeness: What does the Tooth Fairy bring you for a prize?
TinaToothLoser: Um. Well. A pack of sheep.
Fuck.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Stay At Home Mom
I took the last couple of days off from work, which means I've gotten to spend a lot of time I don't normally get to with my kiddos. Long hours. Long, loud hours. Long, loud hours filled with Shaun the Sheep and cleaning up pee.
I am ready to go back to work now.
The one thing I will say about staying at home with my kids: I am now very afraid for their future. I expect to give them advice like, "No, you can't have cookies until after lunch," but I find that my life lessons have been geared a bit more toward:
I am ready to go back to work now.
The one thing I will say about staying at home with my kids: I am now very afraid for their future. I expect to give them advice like, "No, you can't have cookies until after lunch," but I find that my life lessons have been geared a bit more toward:
Stop wiping your boogers on my printer!
OH MY GOD! Get your damn face out of the toilet!
Hey, jackass, you got yourself stuck between the couch and the wall. Get yourself out.
We don't wash windows with our panties.
Nuh-uh. Magnets don't go in your butt.Maybe one of these days I can be a normal mom.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Nostalgia
Recently, my little PollyPastDweller has been recalling her fondest memories:
You remember when I was one year old and I missed you?
Well, when I was 4 years old I threw up, like this, "Bbbblllllllllllleeeeeeccccchhhhhh!" You remember that?
When I was a little baby, I used to squirm a lot, but now I hold still.
You remember when I was 3 years old and we went to the store and I was very loud?I assure you that all of that actually happened just the way she remembers.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Early Counting
The last couple of months have been taken up with some carefully planned lessons for HannahHomeSchool. What I wasn't planning for was having to create eighth-time's-a-charm-style revisions to my carefully laid lesson plans.
Take counting, for instance. I've just been working with her on sequence and it's been a struggle.
Flash cards = fail. Counting physical objects = fail. Counting along to music = fail.
It wasn't until we moved on to our plant segment that I found the magic trick. Hydroponic Venus Fly Traps, to be precise. They require 30 seconds of aerating twice per day. This has her counting to 30 twice every day. Finally something that works!
The plants died after sprouting about 1/8 of an inch, but I've told her that the more we aerate, the bigger her plants will get.
What? We know I'm a ridiculous liar. This is not new information.
So, every night, Hannah and her brother take care of the "plant." He likes to work the aerating pump, she counts and he occasionally helps with that too.
HannahHomeSchool: 27, 28, 29....
HowieHelperson: THURSDAY!!
Take counting, for instance. I've just been working with her on sequence and it's been a struggle.
Flash cards = fail. Counting physical objects = fail. Counting along to music = fail.
It wasn't until we moved on to our plant segment that I found the magic trick. Hydroponic Venus Fly Traps, to be precise. They require 30 seconds of aerating twice per day. This has her counting to 30 twice every day. Finally something that works!
The plants died after sprouting about 1/8 of an inch, but I've told her that the more we aerate, the bigger her plants will get.
What? We know I'm a ridiculous liar. This is not new information.
So, every night, Hannah and her brother take care of the "plant." He likes to work the aerating pump, she counts and he occasionally helps with that too.
HannahHomeSchool: 27, 28, 29....
HowieHelperson: THURSDAY!!
Friday, July 8, 2011
The Cutes
After almost a year in speech therapy, BobbyBlabberMouth is finally starting to open up and use his words to tell us what he needs. A year ago, he wouldn't say anything or even try to communicate with us non-verbally, so this is amazing for us. We finally know what our little boy wants.
He wants juice.
Lots and lots and lots of juice.
All day long, I'm pouring this kid juice.
He drinks so much of the stuff that I've had to start watering it down to a 75/25 water to juice ratio.
His pronunciation of the word 'juice' has been something of a small matter of contention between his father and me. Instead of 'juice' he says 'cutes'. I don't know why 'cutes', but it's friggin' adorable. I have a hard time correcting his word.
Awwww, cutes!
Then SallyScientist gave me a logical excuse to keep calling it cutes:
Bobby: I wanch cutes!
Awesomeness: Aw, buddy, you need cutes? (Please don't tell on me.)
Bobby: Yeah! Cutes!!
Awesomeness: Come get your cutes, bud.
Sally: It's water and juice. Water and juice makes 'cutes.'
Yes. Yes it does. Good call, kid.
He wants juice.
Lots and lots and lots of juice.
All day long, I'm pouring this kid juice.
He drinks so much of the stuff that I've had to start watering it down to a 75/25 water to juice ratio.
His pronunciation of the word 'juice' has been something of a small matter of contention between his father and me. Instead of 'juice' he says 'cutes'. I don't know why 'cutes', but it's friggin' adorable. I have a hard time correcting his word.
Awwww, cutes!
Then SallyScientist gave me a logical excuse to keep calling it cutes:
Bobby: I wanch cutes!
Awesomeness: Aw, buddy, you need cutes? (Please don't tell on me.)
Bobby: Yeah! Cutes!!
Awesomeness: Come get your cutes, bud.
Sally: It's water and juice. Water and juice makes 'cutes.'
Yes. Yes it does. Good call, kid.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Life and Death
The decision to keep LucyLearnsALot out of school for the next year was not an easy one. Or one that we even got to make without a degree of coersion. We felt strongly that she was ready to join her friends in a structured class environment and to learn things beyond what we've been teaching at home, but unfortunately the school system disagreed.
In short, we live too far away from work to send her to school near our house, but the schools near our work won't even consider taking her. Faced with this flagrant lack of cooperation, we did what any sane parent would do: we decided to homeschool and built our own curriculum.
Oh, I mean insane. Insane parents do that.
Sure, parents homeschool all the time. Parents who are actually home to parent. Moms and dads that aren't out of the house for about 60 hours every week. If you think about it mathmatically, though, one week is comprised of 168 hours, so 60 is not really that much. Who needs sleep anyway, AMIRIGHT?
Over the last month-ish, I've been slowly piecing together a series of lesson plans. As I go along, I've become more at peace with the idea of teaching her myself, since I like the idea of an element of exploratory self-guided discovery as a part of a learning agenda. I am totally ready for this.
Until I got to the first lesson: death.
Lucy like to play roughly with her brother. She likes to sit on him and put various things around his neck: her hands, cords, blankets, etc. We have to watch them carefully while they're playing and strip them of anything that can be used as a garrote while they're playing unsupervised.
I'm a lot like a prison guard. I might put that on my resume.
The other day when Lucy grabbed her little brother by the neck and threw him into the couch, I'd had enough. She took a nice, long time out and we had a hard discussion about what happens to her brother when she puts her hands around his neck. It ended when I told her that when her brother can't breathe for too long, then he would go away forever and she would never see him again. I didn't stop describing the finality of choking her brother until she was bawling.
Later that same night, we were exploring some information that she wanted to know about seahorses. For some reason, this has become her favorite animal (this week). One of the videos we watched showed a seahorse having babies. It was my opportunity to explain to her how the male seahorses are the ones who have babies, which is different from other animals.
She was so fascinated that she wanted to watch an elephant have a baby too. And fish. And bunnies. And dogs.
We talked a lot that night about how some animals grow babies in their tummies and eventually push them out of their vagina (hiply referred to in my house as the 'gina) and other animals lay eggs that the babies grown in and then hatch from.
Our night of fun ended when she asked, "How you put babies in the mama?"
I bailed on that answer. I figured I'd already covered life and death in a matter of just a couple of hours. Sex can wait.
In short, we live too far away from work to send her to school near our house, but the schools near our work won't even consider taking her. Faced with this flagrant lack of cooperation, we did what any sane parent would do: we decided to homeschool and built our own curriculum.
Oh, I mean insane. Insane parents do that.
Sure, parents homeschool all the time. Parents who are actually home to parent. Moms and dads that aren't out of the house for about 60 hours every week. If you think about it mathmatically, though, one week is comprised of 168 hours, so 60 is not really that much. Who needs sleep anyway, AMIRIGHT?
Over the last month-ish, I've been slowly piecing together a series of lesson plans. As I go along, I've become more at peace with the idea of teaching her myself, since I like the idea of an element of exploratory self-guided discovery as a part of a learning agenda. I am totally ready for this.
Until I got to the first lesson: death.
Lucy like to play roughly with her brother. She likes to sit on him and put various things around his neck: her hands, cords, blankets, etc. We have to watch them carefully while they're playing and strip them of anything that can be used as a garrote while they're playing unsupervised.
I'm a lot like a prison guard. I might put that on my resume.
The other day when Lucy grabbed her little brother by the neck and threw him into the couch, I'd had enough. She took a nice, long time out and we had a hard discussion about what happens to her brother when she puts her hands around his neck. It ended when I told her that when her brother can't breathe for too long, then he would go away forever and she would never see him again. I didn't stop describing the finality of choking her brother until she was bawling.
Later that same night, we were exploring some information that she wanted to know about seahorses. For some reason, this has become her favorite animal (this week). One of the videos we watched showed a seahorse having babies. It was my opportunity to explain to her how the male seahorses are the ones who have babies, which is different from other animals.
She was so fascinated that she wanted to watch an elephant have a baby too. And fish. And bunnies. And dogs.
We talked a lot that night about how some animals grow babies in their tummies and eventually push them out of their vagina (hiply referred to in my house as the 'gina) and other animals lay eggs that the babies grown in and then hatch from.
Our night of fun ended when she asked, "How you put babies in the mama?"
I bailed on that answer. I figured I'd already covered life and death in a matter of just a couple of hours. Sex can wait.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
How Dare You!
In the daily struggle to keep things fair and balanced, we sometimes have losing moments. They're not all bad, though, because sometimes they turn into unexpectedly funny moments.
Mr. Awesomeness: Buddy, what do you want to watch?
Buddy: Wanna watch Wall-E!
Not Buddy: No! We watched Wall-E already. We need to watch Tangled.
Mr. Awesomeness: Honey, I think it's Buddy's turn to watch a movie. You got to pick a movie last time.
Not Buddy: No! Buddy already got a turn today.
Mr. Awesomeness: (failing at reverse psychology) Well, Buddy, it looks like you don't get to take your turn because your sister is being very selfish.
Not Buddy: I AM NOT A FISH!!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Short Circuited
When you ask me about my favorite part of the morning, I might respond in 4 different ways:
Check.
- When I walked into the kids' room to find NatureBoy completely nude, but his sister in the corner trying to hide the fact that she was wearing his pajamas.
- When the kids ran out of the room and I had to slow them down by reminding them that they forgot their clothes and NatureBoy said, "Sowwy Mama."
- When I asked the kids what they wanted to see and RebaRobotLover wanted to see Short Circuit, but her brother wanted to watch Pingu. She said, "But I gotta watch Number 5 before you watch Pingu." Taking turns. Awww.
- When I handed NatureBoy his cereal and he proceeded to stand behind me in the kitchen swinging his bowl around while singing the alphabet song. I told him to take his cereal to the table. Surprisingly, he did.
Check.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Koala Bear Diet
I love Nick Jr. Most of the time. Most of the time, they play fantastic programming that helps my kids learn an amazing amount of information. Sometimes, though, there's a 30-odd-year old dick on there singing about wanting to be a polar bear.
I've always had a certain amount of hatred for grown-ups who sing kid songs. Even when I was a kid, I wondered how the hell their life went that wrong.
So now PennyPretender wants to be a polar bear. That leads to this discussion:
PennyPretender: Mama, I want to be a polar bear!
Awesomeness: Ohmigod!! Then go be a polar bear! (I was eating dinner.)
PennyPretender: Mama, you want to be a polar bear too?
Awesomeness: No, honey. It's too cold where polar bears live. Snow is too cold for me.
PennyPretender: What kind of bear are you?
Awesomeness: I would be a grizzly bear.
PennyPretender: And what kind of bear is brother?
Awesomeness: He can be a koala bear (no lectures about what constitutes a "bear").
PennyPretender: So, I am a polar bear and you are a grizzly bear (it actually sounded like "greasy bear") and brother is a koala bear.
So, now that we had that all settled, I thought I could go back to eating dinner. I was only right for about 10 seconds before FreddyFishNabber decided to steal his sister's Goldfish crackers.
PennyPretender: NO! NO! THAT'S A BAD KOALA BEAR!! Mama, tell Koala Bear that koalas don't eat fish, they eat leaves.
Uh, yeah. It's one of those moments when I want to concentrate on being super impressed about the fact that she knows what koalas eat, but can't because I have to mediate. Explaining to a 2-year old that he's going to have to munch on koala-appropriate leaves is not an option. Explaining to a 5-year old that koala bears sometimes eat fish seemed like a better idea at the time.
PennyPretender: Daddy! Daddy! I am a polar bear and I live in the snow. Freddy is a koala bear. He eats leaves and fish.
Mr. Awesomeness: Koala bears don't eat fish, where did you hear that?
I'm hiding.
This is almost like the time that she ate stale popcorn out of the backseat of the car and I absent-mindedly told her that, "When things don't taste good, they're probably not very good for you."
Parenting Fail # 163.
I've always had a certain amount of hatred for grown-ups who sing kid songs. Even when I was a kid, I wondered how the hell their life went that wrong.
So now PennyPretender wants to be a polar bear. That leads to this discussion:
PennyPretender: Mama, I want to be a polar bear!
Awesomeness: Ohmigod!! Then go be a polar bear! (I was eating dinner.)
PennyPretender: Mama, you want to be a polar bear too?
Awesomeness: No, honey. It's too cold where polar bears live. Snow is too cold for me.
PennyPretender: What kind of bear are you?
Awesomeness: I would be a grizzly bear.
PennyPretender: And what kind of bear is brother?
Awesomeness: He can be a koala bear (no lectures about what constitutes a "bear").
PennyPretender: So, I am a polar bear and you are a grizzly bear (it actually sounded like "greasy bear") and brother is a koala bear.
So, now that we had that all settled, I thought I could go back to eating dinner. I was only right for about 10 seconds before FreddyFishNabber decided to steal his sister's Goldfish crackers.
PennyPretender: NO! NO! THAT'S A BAD KOALA BEAR!! Mama, tell Koala Bear that koalas don't eat fish, they eat leaves.
Uh, yeah. It's one of those moments when I want to concentrate on being super impressed about the fact that she knows what koalas eat, but can't because I have to mediate. Explaining to a 2-year old that he's going to have to munch on koala-appropriate leaves is not an option. Explaining to a 5-year old that koala bears sometimes eat fish seemed like a better idea at the time.
PennyPretender: Daddy! Daddy! I am a polar bear and I live in the snow. Freddy is a koala bear. He eats leaves and fish.
Mr. Awesomeness: Koala bears don't eat fish, where did you hear that?
I'm hiding.
This is almost like the time that she ate stale popcorn out of the backseat of the car and I absent-mindedly told her that, "When things don't taste good, they're probably not very good for you."
Parenting Fail # 163.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Our Driveway Phone Crusher
The other day, on the drive in to work, I thought I lost my phone. I could clearly see myself tossing it into my purse before leaving the house, but it was nowhere in my purse, on the floor of the car, anywhere.
Mr. A and I immediately began to discuss what could have happened and, since we were only a few minutes away, whether or not we should turn around to find it. We had PunchlinePatty in the car with us. We sometimes forget that she listens to our conversations.
Awesomeness: I know I put it in my purse, it was one of the last things I did before I left the house.
Mr. A: Are you sure you didn't tip your purse over at some point?
Awesomeness: Yes. Right after I put my phone away, we left. I didn't have time to negligently toss my purse around. (I don't like to be accused of dumbassery.)
Mr. A: Okay, are you sure that the kids didn't get into your purse?
Awesomeness: They didn't have time. I grabbed my purse, grabbed my phone, tossed it in, then we left.
Mr. A: Are you sure it didn't fall out into the driveway somewhere?
Awesomeness: I sure hope not. If it fell into the driveway, we should go back and get it. If it wasn't crushed by a tire...
PunchlinePatty: Crushed by a tiger? Your phone was crushed by a tiger?!!
She spent the next 10 minutes asking us why a tiger was in our driveway. Was it a big tiger, with big teeth? Why did it crush Mama's phone?
It distracted me from the distress of potentially losing or running over my phone long enough that I remembered what happened to it.
I tossed it in my purse, but then remembered that the pants I was wearing that morning had pockets. It was in my pocket the whole time.
Mr. A and I immediately began to discuss what could have happened and, since we were only a few minutes away, whether or not we should turn around to find it. We had PunchlinePatty in the car with us. We sometimes forget that she listens to our conversations.
Awesomeness: I know I put it in my purse, it was one of the last things I did before I left the house.
Mr. A: Are you sure you didn't tip your purse over at some point?
Awesomeness: Yes. Right after I put my phone away, we left. I didn't have time to negligently toss my purse around. (I don't like to be accused of dumbassery.)
Mr. A: Okay, are you sure that the kids didn't get into your purse?
Awesomeness: They didn't have time. I grabbed my purse, grabbed my phone, tossed it in, then we left.
Mr. A: Are you sure it didn't fall out into the driveway somewhere?
Awesomeness: I sure hope not. If it fell into the driveway, we should go back and get it. If it wasn't crushed by a tire...
PunchlinePatty: Crushed by a tiger? Your phone was crushed by a tiger?!!
She spent the next 10 minutes asking us why a tiger was in our driveway. Was it a big tiger, with big teeth? Why did it crush Mama's phone?
It distracted me from the distress of potentially losing or running over my phone long enough that I remembered what happened to it.
I tossed it in my purse, but then remembered that the pants I was wearing that morning had pockets. It was in my pocket the whole time.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Captain Demando
My baby's finally talking. He's needed about 6 months of speech therapy to open up, but he's finally getting there. I can't believe the progress he's making too. He's not just saying words, but also answering questions. On top of that, he's actually asking for things he needs. Like tonight when we had a real conversation:
ChattyCharlie: I'm hungry.
Awesomeness: You need some food?
ChattyCharlie: Want crackers.
Awesomeness: You want some crackers, buddy?
ChattyCharlie: NOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!
Aw. That's my baby. My hungry, hungry, no cracker gettin' baby.
ChattyCharlie: I'm hungry.
Awesomeness: You need some food?
ChattyCharlie: Want crackers.
Awesomeness: You want some crackers, buddy?
ChattyCharlie: NOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!
Aw. That's my baby. My hungry, hungry, no cracker gettin' baby.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Is This A Trick?
I'm catching up on my reading when PatientPatty walks up and taps me on the shoulder.
PatientPatty: Mama.
Awesomeness: Yes, honey.
PatientPatty: Mama, can I wait for a little while?
Awesomeness: Um, what? I don't think I heard you right. What do you need?
PatientPatty: I want to wait for just a little while.
Awesomeness: Yeah....well, you can wait all you want. Go play.
She does. I get back to my reading. Ten minutes later:
PatientPatty: Mama.
Awesomeness: Yes, Patty.
PatientPatty: Can I wait just a little while longer?
Awesomeness: Knock yourself out.
PatientPatty: I'm very good at waiting.
Awesomeness: Yes you are.
PatientPatty: Mama.
Awesomeness: Yes, honey.
PatientPatty: Mama, can I wait for a little while?
Awesomeness: Um, what? I don't think I heard you right. What do you need?
PatientPatty: I want to wait for just a little while.
Awesomeness: Yeah....well, you can wait all you want. Go play.
She does. I get back to my reading. Ten minutes later:
PatientPatty: Mama.
Awesomeness: Yes, Patty.
PatientPatty: Can I wait just a little while longer?
Awesomeness: Knock yourself out.
PatientPatty: I'm very good at waiting.
Awesomeness: Yes you are.
Monday, April 25, 2011
It's Really, Really Day
I worry about my girl sometimes. She gets along okay in school, but she doesn't seem to enjoy it very much. I figure I'm in trouble, since this is preschool, so the hardest thing she has to do all day is trace a Q with a crayon. She's also turning 5 this year, which means that Mr. A and I have a hard choice to make about whether to send her to Kindergarten in August or to give her one more year to work on her communication and focus.
Comments like this make me think we should wait:
I'm positive that getting up at 6:30 in the morning is a drag, but she get's plenty of sleep, so I don't think that's it. She and her brother are usually up around that time anyway.
I couldn't think of what else to ask her, so I just started worrying for her future filled with homework that didn't involve cutting and gluing squares.
Then I heard her say:
Comments like this make me think we should wait:
Mama, school is really, really hard.It made me sad to hear her say that today. I asked if she was having trouble with her work, but she said, "No." Was she having problems with the other kids? "No, Mama, they're fine."
I'm positive that getting up at 6:30 in the morning is a drag, but she get's plenty of sleep, so I don't think that's it. She and her brother are usually up around that time anyway.
I couldn't think of what else to ask her, so I just started worrying for her future filled with homework that didn't involve cutting and gluing squares.
Then I heard her say:
Mama, my guitar is really, really lost.And then her brother grabbed her brand new sunglasses off of her face and demolished them faster than I could blink, which brought on:
Mama, my sunglasses are really, really broken!What a relief! She'll be fine. It's just Really, Really Day.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
A Star Is Born
This year we decided to get the kids Easter baskets that had more gifts they could trash my floor with enjoy and less candy for us them to eat. What we ended up with was a pink basket with "rock star" themed toys for her (that he would totally play with) and a big truck basket for him (no seriously, it just had a truck in it...I'm not even sure why they bothered with the basket).
While TommyTruckMan is using his new truck as a roller skate, SallySuperStar has decided that today is the first day of her illustrious career as a rock star.
SallySuperStar: Mama, I can't wait to be a star.
Awesomeness: Well, what are you going to do to become a star?
SallySuperStar: I'm going to put on my sunglasses.
Awesomeness: And then what?
SallySuperStar: And then I will be a star!
If only it were that easy....
Now if I can get her brother to stop making this face in every picture, he may be able to join her:
CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!
The only way I can get a normal picture of the kid is when I surprise him:
Happy Easter everyone!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Why I Will Never Eat Macaroni Again
Yesterday, SicklySuzie got sick. All over the place. I am generally useless in these situations, since I'm a sympathetic puker. All I could do is sit across the room, try not to look at her and take shallow breaths until Mr. A got it all cleaned up.
This happens often enough that we have a special bucket that we pull out, just in case she's ready for another round and can't make it to the toilet. After the episode, we gave it to her and reinforced that she should either use it or try to make it to the bathroom if she feels sick again.
A couple of minutes go by and Mr. A is just about done. I venture a glance at Suzie and she's sitting on the couch, cross-legged and shirtless with a bucket between her legs.
She looks up and notices that I'm staring at her.
SicklySuzie: Mama, why I have this bucket?
That's my girl.
Awesomeness: Honey, you just had a megaton of puke come out of you. You need the bucket in case there's some left.
SicklySuzie: Macaroni puke? I have lots and lots of macaroni puke.
Awesomeness: No, sweetie, I said 'megaton' not 'macaroni.'
SicklySuzie: I have lots and lots and lots of macaroni puke.
This is the point where I've completely lost interest in ever eating macaroni again.
Then she had to keep going.
SicklySuzie: This bucket is for my throw ups.
Awesomeness: Yes, honey, that's why you have a bucket.
SicklySuzie: But we don't play with our throw ups.
Awesomeness: Uh....
SicklySuzie: Playing with throw ups is BLEEEEEEEHHHHH!
Ugh.
This happens often enough that we have a special bucket that we pull out, just in case she's ready for another round and can't make it to the toilet. After the episode, we gave it to her and reinforced that she should either use it or try to make it to the bathroom if she feels sick again.
A couple of minutes go by and Mr. A is just about done. I venture a glance at Suzie and she's sitting on the couch, cross-legged and shirtless with a bucket between her legs.
She looks up and notices that I'm staring at her.
SicklySuzie: Mama, why I have this bucket?
That's my girl.
Awesomeness: Honey, you just had a megaton of puke come out of you. You need the bucket in case there's some left.
SicklySuzie: Macaroni puke? I have lots and lots of macaroni puke.
Awesomeness: No, sweetie, I said 'megaton' not 'macaroni.'
SicklySuzie: I have lots and lots and lots of macaroni puke.
This is the point where I've completely lost interest in ever eating macaroni again.
Then she had to keep going.
SicklySuzie: This bucket is for my throw ups.
Awesomeness: Yes, honey, that's why you have a bucket.
SicklySuzie: But we don't play with our throw ups.
Awesomeness: Uh....
SicklySuzie: Playing with throw ups is BLEEEEEEEHHHHH!
Ugh.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
The Life of a Guinea Pig
How GretaGuineaPigExpert found out about guinea pigs is anyone's guess, but tonight she gave me a complimentary guinea pig lesson.
GretaGPE: Mama, we need to go to the guinea pig store.
For whatever reason, she thinks that everything has its own store.
Awesomeness: What are we going to get at the guinea pig store?
Should be obvious, but what else am I talking about with a 4-year old?
GretaGPE: Well, we need to get a guinea pig.
Ah, so I was right.
Awesomeness: What do guinea pigs do?
GretaGPE: They poop in a cage.
Awesomeness: Okaaaaaay. What else do they do?
GretaGPE: Um, nothing. They just poop in a cage.
She's a smart cookie, because that does about sum them up.
GretaGPE: Mama, we need to go to the guinea pig store.
For whatever reason, she thinks that everything has its own store.
Awesomeness: What are we going to get at the guinea pig store?
Should be obvious, but what else am I talking about with a 4-year old?
GretaGPE: Well, we need to get a guinea pig.
Ah, so I was right.
Awesomeness: What do guinea pigs do?
GretaGPE: They poop in a cage.
Awesomeness: Okaaaaaay. What else do they do?
GretaGPE: Um, nothing. They just poop in a cage.
She's a smart cookie, because that does about sum them up.
This Is How We Do It
Earlier this evening, ClumsyCathy smashed her finger in a kitchen drawer.
ClumsyCathy: Ow! Mama my finger is broken!
I inspected the finger and found it to be very not broken.
Awesomeness: Honey, your finger is fine.
ClumsyCathy: But Mama, I broke it.
Awesomeness: You know what happens to broken fingers right?
ClumsyCathy: What?
Awesomeness: We cut them off. Are you ready?
I'm guessing the answer is no, because she ran away and still won't let me touch her.
ClumsyCathy: Ow! Mama my finger is broken!
I inspected the finger and found it to be very not broken.
Awesomeness: Honey, your finger is fine.
ClumsyCathy: But Mama, I broke it.
Awesomeness: You know what happens to broken fingers right?
ClumsyCathy: What?
Awesomeness: We cut them off. Are you ready?
I'm guessing the answer is no, because she ran away and still won't let me touch her.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
The Secret of the Kissue
SnottySuzie has a runny nose. We've been running after the poor girl for the last day with tissue after tissue. When she doesn't have one available, she'll use whatever's handy: her shirt, my shirt, her arm. We're trying to break her of that habit.
Yesterday, when I caught her wiping her nose on her shirt:
Awesomeness: Suzie, we don't wipe our nose on our shirt.
SnottySuzie: But, Mama, I don't have a kissue. (I think she tries to combine the name Kleenex with the word tissue.)
Awesomeness: Well, then go grab some toilet paper instead.
SnottySuzie: Nooooooooo! We don't wipe our nose with toilet paper. We wipe our butt with toilet paper.
Awesomeness: Yes, we wipe our butt with toilet paper, but it's also okay to wipe our nose with it.
SnottySuzie: I need a kissue. Then I blow my nose with a kissue. Then I wipe, wipe, wipe my nose with a kissue. Then that's how we get the Smurfs.
That has to be the most plausible explanation for the Smurfs I've ever heard.
Yesterday, when I caught her wiping her nose on her shirt:
Awesomeness: Suzie, we don't wipe our nose on our shirt.
SnottySuzie: But, Mama, I don't have a kissue. (I think she tries to combine the name Kleenex with the word tissue.)
Awesomeness: Well, then go grab some toilet paper instead.
SnottySuzie: Nooooooooo! We don't wipe our nose with toilet paper. We wipe our butt with toilet paper.
Awesomeness: Yes, we wipe our butt with toilet paper, but it's also okay to wipe our nose with it.
SnottySuzie: I need a kissue. Then I blow my nose with a kissue. Then I wipe, wipe, wipe my nose with a kissue. Then that's how we get the Smurfs.
That has to be the most plausible explanation for the Smurfs I've ever heard.
Friday, March 18, 2011
And So It Begins...
My kids almost never watch commercial television. I hate commercials. When they need ("need") to watch something, we have about a thousand movies and a good selection of programs to choose from on Netflix.
Aside from that, they end up watching Nick Jr. a bit, which is commercial-free television. The point is that, so far, I haven't been bothered with requests for the new cool 'Betsy Wetsy' or whatevertheheck toy is hot today. It's been bliss.
Until today...
ConsumerCathy: Mama, I want a Happy Napper!
Awesomeness: I'll give you a nap all right.
ConsumerCathy: No, Mama. A Happy Napper. I need a dragon one.
Awesomeness: What in the heck is a Happy Napper?
ConsumerCathy: Well, first it's a pillow and you zip it and a dragon comes out.
Then she sings a cutesy little song that I think is supposed to be the Happy Napper jingle.
All I could think was:
OH MY GOD, SOMEBODY BRAINWASHED MY BABY!!
I got curious and Googled Happy Nappers. Of course, they're "As Seen On TV". This always translates into "Nothing Like On TV"
I think this will also be her first lesson in disappointment called, "Want in one hand, shit in the other."
Aside from that, they end up watching Nick Jr. a bit, which is commercial-free television. The point is that, so far, I haven't been bothered with requests for the new cool 'Betsy Wetsy' or whatevertheheck toy is hot today. It's been bliss.
Until today...
ConsumerCathy: Mama, I want a Happy Napper!
Awesomeness: I'll give you a nap all right.
ConsumerCathy: No, Mama. A Happy Napper. I need a dragon one.
Awesomeness: What in the heck is a Happy Napper?
ConsumerCathy: Well, first it's a pillow and you zip it and a dragon comes out.
Then she sings a cutesy little song that I think is supposed to be the Happy Napper jingle.
All I could think was:
OH MY GOD, SOMEBODY BRAINWASHED MY BABY!!
I got curious and Googled Happy Nappers. Of course, they're "As Seen On TV". This always translates into "Nothing Like On TV"
I think this will also be her first lesson in disappointment called, "Want in one hand, shit in the other."
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Distraction
The other night, while I was trying to finish a post for my other blog, CameraHogCarla came by and wanted to play. I had been trying to work on this for a couple of days already and was determined to finally make some progress before I completely lost my train of thought.
Carla was persistent and eventually I had to take on an "if I can't beat her, I might as well join her" attitude.
I've found that the webcam can provide hours of entertainment. Here are some of the highlights from that night's fun:
Put this on a loop for about 2 hours and you'll get the full Awesomeness blogging experience:
Carla was persistent and eventually I had to take on an "if I can't beat her, I might as well join her" attitude.
I've found that the webcam can provide hours of entertainment. Here are some of the highlights from that night's fun:
My worst nightmare:
Mr. A's worst nightmare:
Put this on a loop for about 2 hours and you'll get the full Awesomeness blogging experience:
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Detoxing My 4-Year Old
My girl is a special kid. She doesn't do anything half-ass. Ham for the camera:
Wrestle her brother while hamming for the camera:
Getting sick:
The kid has been sick for almost a whole month now. I don't know precisely what she came down with this time, but I do know that, over the last month, she's been on 2 different antibiotics, 2 fever reducers, a cough suppressant, a laxative (sorry...) and now this Albuterol courtesy of a nebuilizer.
She's been a good sport about it. She doesn't complain about her medicine and has even gotten to a point where she'll remind us when it's about time for another dose.
That's when you know it's time to wean her off some of this shit. We're working on that. She no longer needs the fever reducers & the cough suppressant and is almost done with the laxative (again, sorry...). She's 2 days out from being done with the antibiotics and the Albuterol.
We cannot wait!! In the meantime, she's still her old charming self:
And who is that dirty white bunny?
Wrestle her brother while hamming for the camera:
She's been a good sport about it. She doesn't complain about her medicine and has even gotten to a point where she'll remind us when it's about time for another dose.
That's when you know it's time to wean her off some of this shit. We're working on that. She no longer needs the fever reducers & the cough suppressant and is almost done with the laxative (again, sorry...). She's 2 days out from being done with the antibiotics and the Albuterol.
We cannot wait!! In the meantime, she's still her old charming self:
And who is that dirty white bunny?
Monday, February 28, 2011
Parents' Time Out
I don't make friends easily. Getting out of the house, outside of work, is damn-near impossible. Getting out of the house without hubby or kids in tow: down-right impossible. I'm also a bit of a spaz, which pretty much works like friend repellent.
Oh, also, I'm kind of an asshole. Especially about other people being assholes. Some people refer to it as a negative attitude, but I'm actually very positive about the fact that I hate jerks. See, I'm a super-shiny rainbow.
Anyway...
About 2 years ago, I was looking to connect with other parents that I could chit-chat with, share my experiences, learn from theirs, and whatever other things that people that like each other talk about. I found a forum where I was neck deep in some kind of weird Mom-petition. I didn't understand the rules or how to win.
I posted questions; they got ignored. I posted responses that I thought were insightful; I either got ignored or chastised for not following the strange script of semi-tolerant placating. It wasn't a very positive experience.
I was about to give up, when someone posted a link to one of the best blogs I've ever read. The series of posts that woman wrote crucified the Momzillas I'd been trying to fit in with and I loved every syllable of it. Then I noticed a curious thing: the blog was connected to a forum. No. Way.
It was there that I connected with a group of parents that I consider to be the best on the internet. What makes them so special? They don't judge. They're super supportive. They span a range of experiences in both birthing and raising children. And they're REAL.
We have parents who've adopted. Parents who delivered naturally at home. Moms who breastfeed and love it. Moms who breastfeed and hate it. Attachment parents. Detachment parents. Hell, we're even so cool, we have DADS on our "mommy" board.
Due to a few factors, this board died out. A big part of that was because the amazing blog was no longer being updated. Another huge factor: no new members. This was depressing for me. It meant that my only social interaction came from creating Sims and then making them talk to their friends. I realized that this was no substitute for my online posse.
The last couple of weeks, I took matters into my own hands. I've been hard at work creating a new playground for my motley group of misfit parents. It would be amazing if you would check it out. Join up, chat your ass off, have a blast, get to know this outstanding group of people that have helped me realize how normal a parent I really am:
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Accessorizing Lunch
Lunchtime in our house is not usually a special occasion. I make some sort of food and serve it up on a plate. One kid picks at it for 3 hours. The other kid dumps it on the floor, then eats it from under the table.
I've served the kids on a set of different-colored plastic plates for a long time now. (Or when I forget to do dishes, the kids tend to eat from disposable Tupperware or .... ah, disposable Tupperware lids...) The kids aren't usually that picky about the plate they get, so long as there's food on it.
Until today.
I made the kids some pancakes and took them to their table. SnootySally got pancakes on a green plate and FrankyFoodGrabber got the blue plate.
SnootySally: This is not MY plate. Mama, my plate is the blue plate, because blue is my favorite.
Awesomeness: It doesn't matter, honey, you have pancakes on your green plate and they're just the same as the ones on the blue plate. Can I get you a blue cup instead?
SnootySally: No, I need the blue plate.
Awesomeness: You don't need the blue plate, you just like it better.
SnootySally: But, but...
Awesomeness: (my patience is taking a potty break) Don't say "but, but" to me. You have pancakes; you have a fork, eat the damn pancakes.
SnootySally: But Mama, the blue plate matches my clothes and the green plate matches Franky's clothes.
Well, I'll be damned, they actually do. Since Franky hadn't gotten to the table yet, and she hadn't touched her plate either, I switched. I hope this doesn't start a matching trend. I only have 5 colors.
I've served the kids on a set of different-colored plastic plates for a long time now. (Or when I forget to do dishes, the kids tend to eat from disposable Tupperware or .... ah, disposable Tupperware lids...) The kids aren't usually that picky about the plate they get, so long as there's food on it.
Until today.
I made the kids some pancakes and took them to their table. SnootySally got pancakes on a green plate and FrankyFoodGrabber got the blue plate.
SnootySally: This is not MY plate. Mama, my plate is the blue plate, because blue is my favorite.
Awesomeness: It doesn't matter, honey, you have pancakes on your green plate and they're just the same as the ones on the blue plate. Can I get you a blue cup instead?
SnootySally: No, I need the blue plate.
Awesomeness: You don't need the blue plate, you just like it better.
SnootySally: But, but...
Awesomeness: (my patience is taking a potty break) Don't say "but, but" to me. You have pancakes; you have a fork, eat the damn pancakes.
SnootySally: But Mama, the blue plate matches my clothes and the green plate matches Franky's clothes.
Well, I'll be damned, they actually do. Since Franky hadn't gotten to the table yet, and she hadn't touched her plate either, I switched. I hope this doesn't start a matching trend. I only have 5 colors.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Yeah, Bugs. What Were You Thinking?
LucyLooneyTunesFan has been obsessed with Looney Tunes lately. It's cute. Her favorite (right now) is Marvin the Martian. She's apparently making plans to go to Mars and share a balloon with him...
Anyway, the one LTer who is on her naughty list right now: Bugs Bunny. How did he end up annoying her? Well, during one episode, he misses the left turn at Albuquerque (again) and ends up in a bull fighting ring. He pulls the usual Bugs Bunny bad ass moves and kicks the bull's butt. At one point, Bugs starts making fun of the bull:
Bugs Bunny: What a nin-cow-poop!
LLTF: Cow poop? No! We don't say cow poop. Cows are full of milk, not poop.
Oh, honey, I beg to differ. I had an easier time affirming that the tooth fairy wasn't real. I'll let her keep her cow theory for just a little while longer.
Anyway, the one LTer who is on her naughty list right now: Bugs Bunny. How did he end up annoying her? Well, during one episode, he misses the left turn at Albuquerque (again) and ends up in a bull fighting ring. He pulls the usual Bugs Bunny bad ass moves and kicks the bull's butt. At one point, Bugs starts making fun of the bull:
Bugs Bunny: What a nin-cow-poop!
LLTF: Cow poop? No! We don't say cow poop. Cows are full of milk, not poop.
Oh, honey, I beg to differ. I had an easier time affirming that the tooth fairy wasn't real. I'll let her keep her cow theory for just a little while longer.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
What Did I Miss Today?
Whenever I get home from work, I like to find out right away what kind of day my kids had. Did they eat? Did they nap? Was there anything unusual that went on that day that I need to be aware of?
There are days, like today, when I wished I never asked.
Mr. Awesomeness: Oh, by the way, apparently our daughter has been either sticking something between her teeth or picking at her gums with her fingernails. She's causing her gums to bleed because she wants the tooth fairy to come and leave her a present.
Awesomeness: ....what the.....?
Mr. Awesomeness: I already told her THERE IS NO TOOTH FAIRY.
ToothFairyCarrie: Aaaaaawwww!
Wow, I just got home. Home to an emo four-year-old who's getting yelled at for believing in the tooth fairy. Parenting books don't prepare you for this moment. Maybe one of these days, I'll write a parenting book that does.
Anyway, so I'm trying to smooth this over with reason.
Awesomeness: Honey, I'm sorry you're disappointed about the tooth fairy. You need your teeth, though. Your teeth help you eat. It's very hard to eat when your teeth are gone.
ToothFairyCarrie: Aaaaawwww! But Mama...."
Is this really an, "Aaaaawww! But Mama...." subject?
Can I go back to work now please?
Monday, February 7, 2011
You Never Come Over Anymore...
It's a frequent complaint of our childless friends. I'm sure every parent has heard it at some point. Beyond the usual tired excuse of it being a big hassle to pack kids up and get them out to someone else's house, there is another reason. A good one.
Destruction.
There's only so much of it that you can curtail. I don't care how good a parent you are, kids are kids. Especially when you consider that there are many different types of destruction. My kids hit them all at the Superbowl party we went to.
Destruction of Peace
Destruction of Person
Destruction of Property
Destruction.
There's only so much of it that you can curtail. I don't care how good a parent you are, kids are kids. Especially when you consider that there are many different types of destruction. My kids hit them all at the Superbowl party we went to.
Destruction of Peace
- Terrible twos=terrible tantrums. I was actually considering taking my son home early on in the visit. Five minutes in the door he started crying like someone kicked his favorite Wonder Pet. He missed nap time though, and I thought that once he slept for a little while, he'd be just fine. He did okay until he emptied out a 64-count box of crayons onto the floor and we took them away. He was hitting his head on the floor (carpeted, doesn't have the same effect as it does at home, where our floors are made of laminate material), kicking everyone that tried to touch him and screaming bloody murder the whole time. He did this in the middle of the game.
Destruction of Person
- One fat lip for a little girl, courtesy of my son's rock head.
- He got as good as he gave though, as an elbow ended up meeting his face at some point.
- One of our friends is about the right height that, when my son comes barreling around a corner, his rock head catches the friend right in the...rocks.
Destruction of Property
- An unknown quantity of Disney Princess accessories disappeared yesterday. I know my son ate one princess shoe and attempted to also swallow a ring. I saved it, but it's mangled now. Beyond those, I don't have a clue until he passes it all. I'm sure that we'll have some explaining to do if he poops at school tomorrow.
- A personal journal. Hope they liked my daughter's pictures of Purple Kangaroo. On every page. She did it in pencil, so it was easily erased, but she's a heavy-fisted artist, so you can still see the impressions.
- A pool table. Remember just a sentence ago, when I said that my girl got ahold of a pencil? Yeah. Our friend's pool table has light tan felt covering it. Now it has some lovely artwork covering it as well. We worked with our friend to clean it as thoroughly as possible, but the cleaners he had there couldn't get it out. We took our walk of shame out the door the second the game ended.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Name That Dog
NamelessNancy has always had a hard time with names. She didn't learn her own until she was 3. All of her best friends at school are named Boy and Girl. Sometimes the parents get really fancy and name their kid Thatoneboy or Theothergirl.
One exercise that we do with her, is challenge her to name her stuff animals. We might remember that we've had some success when she named her stuffed bunnyPervert Manager Herbert Nininger. Tonight, we had another victory with the naming of, not one, but two of her puppies.
The one with light pink spots is named Otter.
The one with dark pink spots is named Effer.
Effer?
One exercise that we do with her, is challenge her to name her stuff animals. We might remember that we've had some success when she named her stuffed bunny
The one with light pink spots is named Otter.
The one with dark pink spots is named Effer.
Effer?
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Anaconda Rides: $2.00
RubyRoughRider: Um, Mama.
Awesomeness: Um, Ruby. (This is how most of our conversations start nowadays.)
RubyRoughRider: Kitty is too small.
This statement makes me nervous.
Awesomeness: Kitty is too small for what, honey?
RubyRoughRider: Kitty is too small to sit on.
Awesomeness: Yes, honey. You shouldn't sit on the cat. She's too small to ride and you could really hurt her.
RubyRoughRider: But I can ride a anaconda.
Awesomeness: ...I suppose... (Who am I to crush her dreams?)
RubyRoughRider: Anaconda is big and I can ride and you can ride and I pay $2.00 and you pay $2.00.
I don't even know what to say to that.
She is still telling me about the anaconda.
Apparently he makes the noise, "Eeep, eeep." He also makes a swish, swish.
She is literally in my face right now telling me this. It's a good thing I took 4 years of typing.
Awesomeness: Um, Ruby. (This is how most of our conversations start nowadays.)
RubyRoughRider: Kitty is too small.
This statement makes me nervous.
Awesomeness: Kitty is too small for what, honey?
RubyRoughRider: Kitty is too small to sit on.
Awesomeness: Yes, honey. You shouldn't sit on the cat. She's too small to ride and you could really hurt her.
RubyRoughRider: But I can ride a anaconda.
Awesomeness: ...I suppose... (Who am I to crush her dreams?)
RubyRoughRider: Anaconda is big and I can ride and you can ride and I pay $2.00 and you pay $2.00.
I don't even know what to say to that.
She is still telling me about the anaconda.
Apparently he makes the noise, "Eeep, eeep." He also makes a swish, swish.
She is literally in my face right now telling me this. It's a good thing I took 4 years of typing.
2 a.m.
I like to be asleep at 2 a.m., Mr.BlabbyBobby. Instead, this morning I woke to the sound of your happy chatting. I was about to go back to sleep when you started yelling:
I know if I go into your room to quiet you, I'm going to end up either listening to you cry for an hour or putting you to sleep with me. Happy chatting and bye-byes are much better than either of those alternatives.
If your daddy heard you, he could have put an end to it, but he left his ears in his other pants last night. Do it again tonight, kid, and I will wake up your daddy and sic him on you.
Now I'm off for some coffee and NoDoz.
Bye! Byyyyyyyyyyyye! Bye!For half an hour.
I know if I go into your room to quiet you, I'm going to end up either listening to you cry for an hour or putting you to sleep with me. Happy chatting and bye-byes are much better than either of those alternatives.
If your daddy heard you, he could have put an end to it, but he left his ears in his other pants last night. Do it again tonight, kid, and I will wake up your daddy and sic him on you.
Now I'm off for some coffee and NoDoz.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Bad Liars + Batteries = Bath Time
GretaGameJunkie got a new Leapster for Christmas. She packs that thing around with her wherever she goes. I will say that those things are probably the best thing that ever happened to the battery industry. I'm not sure that it keeps a charge for an entire week of play.
The point is, Mr. Awesomeness gets tired of replacing the batteries so often and will often lie to Greta about what it will entail to fix her game. Some days he's a better liar than others. Today, he just got real lazy.
GretaGameJunkie: Daddy, I need some batteries for my game.
Mr. Awesomeness: Um, we're out of batteries.
GretaGameJunkie: Aaaaaaaw!
Greta, heartbroken, decides to come out and complain. I heard what her dad said, so I was ready to support his laziness.
GretaGameJunkie: Daddy said there's no more batteries for my game.
Awesomeness: I'm very sorry that we don't have any batteries.
GretaGameJunkie: But I need them!
Awesomeness: Are those tears?
GretaGameJunkie: Yeah...I need more batteries.
Awesomeness: Are your tears turning into batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: No, Mama. I need Daddy to get my batteries.
Awesomeness: Did Daddy say we have lots and lots of batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: Yes. We have lots and lots of batteries.
Awesomeness: Where do we have lots and lots of batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: (immediately perking up) In the drawer, I'll go get them.
Awesomeness: (dammit!)
Sure enough. Lots and lots of batteries just where we always keep them. As soon as he heard that she was running after the drawer full of batteries, Mr. Awesomeness ducked out of his office.
Mr. Awesomeness: You can't just tell her there's no batteries?
Awesomeness: Dude, she fact-checked me. Really, that was a bad lie. Bad battery liars have to give the kids a bath tonight.
Guess who's giving the kids a bath while I'm typing out this post...
I cannot believe that worked.
The point is, Mr. Awesomeness gets tired of replacing the batteries so often and will often lie to Greta about what it will entail to fix her game. Some days he's a better liar than others. Today, he just got real lazy.
GretaGameJunkie: Daddy, I need some batteries for my game.
Mr. Awesomeness: Um, we're out of batteries.
GretaGameJunkie: Aaaaaaaw!
Greta, heartbroken, decides to come out and complain. I heard what her dad said, so I was ready to support his laziness.
GretaGameJunkie: Daddy said there's no more batteries for my game.
Awesomeness: I'm very sorry that we don't have any batteries.
GretaGameJunkie: But I need them!
Awesomeness: Are those tears?
GretaGameJunkie: Yeah...I need more batteries.
Awesomeness: Are your tears turning into batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: No, Mama. I need Daddy to get my batteries.
Awesomeness: Did Daddy say we have lots and lots of batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: Yes. We have lots and lots of batteries.
Awesomeness: Where do we have lots and lots of batteries?
GretaGameJunkie: (immediately perking up) In the drawer, I'll go get them.
Awesomeness: (dammit!)
Sure enough. Lots and lots of batteries just where we always keep them. As soon as he heard that she was running after the drawer full of batteries, Mr. Awesomeness ducked out of his office.
Mr. Awesomeness: You can't just tell her there's no batteries?
Awesomeness: Dude, she fact-checked me. Really, that was a bad lie. Bad battery liars have to give the kids a bath tonight.
Guess who's giving the kids a bath while I'm typing out this post...
I cannot believe that worked.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Cookie Monster
Every year, Mr. A's boss gives him a tin of Kirkland European cookies. It takes us an eternity to finish off these tins because we're not huge cookie eaters. (I mean that both figuratively and literally.) Never fear, CalvinCookieMonster has been making a vehement volunteer pitch to help move this along.
Just yesterday, it started as soon as he woke up:
Awesomeness: Good morning sunshine! Did you have good sleeps? (don't judge, he's a 2-year old)
Calvin: *excitedly jumping up and down* COOKIE!
Awesomeness: No, baby, we don't eat cookies right now.
We have the tin out on the breakfast bar (which I know is mighty contradictory to the fact that we don't eat them for breakfast) and every time anyone walked over that way:
Calvin: COOKIE!
I would ask if he was hungry, and he would get excited and run over to the breakfast bar:
Calvin: COOKIE! COOKIE! COOKIE!
At one point, yesterday, there were 4 adults standing near the cookie tin. Calvin must have thought that, surely, one of us could get him what he needed.
Calvin: COOKIE! COOKIE! COOKIE!
This did not end well. As soon as the four of us moved away without producing a single cookie for him, he melted down into a screaming, kicking fit. Thankfully, our company thought it was funny in a pathetic way and were not planning to stay for very long.
Today, we are hiding the cookie tin.
Just yesterday, it started as soon as he woke up:
Awesomeness: Good morning sunshine! Did you have good sleeps? (don't judge, he's a 2-year old)
Calvin: *excitedly jumping up and down* COOKIE!
Awesomeness: No, baby, we don't eat cookies right now.
We have the tin out on the breakfast bar (which I know is mighty contradictory to the fact that we don't eat them for breakfast) and every time anyone walked over that way:
Calvin: COOKIE!
I would ask if he was hungry, and he would get excited and run over to the breakfast bar:
Calvin: COOKIE! COOKIE! COOKIE!
At one point, yesterday, there were 4 adults standing near the cookie tin. Calvin must have thought that, surely, one of us could get him what he needed.
Calvin: COOKIE! COOKIE! COOKIE!
This did not end well. As soon as the four of us moved away without producing a single cookie for him, he melted down into a screaming, kicking fit. Thankfully, our company thought it was funny in a pathetic way and were not planning to stay for very long.
Today, we are hiding the cookie tin.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
His Name Is...
Every night at bedtime, we do the stuffed animal shuffle. We allow CarrieCritterHoarder to keep 2 of them in her bed. Before we put a limit on it, she thought 16 was a reasonable number. So a part of our nightly routine is to determine which to of her million "favorites" will make the cut.
Last night, her first choice was The Grinch. For her second choice, she selected a fuzzy, white bunny that she's had since she was a baby.
Carrie: Oh, my bunny! I love my bunny! He's my best friend.
Awesomeness: I'm glad he's your best friend. You've had him since you were a baby.
Carrie: Yeah, his name is Pervert Manager.
Awesomeness: .......Um, what was that honey?
Mr. Awesomeness: .......Um, did she just call her rabbit Pervert Manager?
Awesomeness: That's what I heard. Honey, what was your bunny's name again?
Carrie: His name is Pervert Manager. Just like the bunny on Curious George.
Ooooooooh! Okay. In one episode of Curious George, the monkey is visiting his friend Bill, and Bill introduces George to his rabbits. One of the rabbits is named Herbert Nininger. (Yeah, I don't get it either, but whatever. It beats Pervert Manager.)
Last night, her first choice was The Grinch. For her second choice, she selected a fuzzy, white bunny that she's had since she was a baby.
Carrie: Oh, my bunny! I love my bunny! He's my best friend.
Awesomeness: I'm glad he's your best friend. You've had him since you were a baby.
Carrie: Yeah, his name is Pervert Manager.
Awesomeness: .......Um, what was that honey?
Mr. Awesomeness: .......Um, did she just call her rabbit Pervert Manager?
Awesomeness: That's what I heard. Honey, what was your bunny's name again?
Carrie: His name is Pervert Manager. Just like the bunny on Curious George.
Ooooooooh! Okay. In one episode of Curious George, the monkey is visiting his friend Bill, and Bill introduces George to his rabbits. One of the rabbits is named Herbert Nininger. (Yeah, I don't get it either, but whatever. It beats Pervert Manager.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)