I sometimes grossly underestimate the level of attention the Dictator pays to me when I'm talking. I really *should* know better by now, but sometimes I think that whatever I am talking about seems so boring that the Dictator would have no interest in listening to me anyways. I'm always wrong about this.
This weekend I noticed the Dictator's eye looked a little red. As the day went on, it got redder. A note had been sent out from school earlier in the week stating that pink eye was going around. The Dictator has never had pink eye, but I've seen lots of other kids when they've had it. I was 99.9% sure the Dictator had it. Blarg. :(
Trying to not alarm the Dictator, I asked ambiguous questions about how she was feeling and if any part of her body felt itchy. She told me "I feel like a giant broccoli" and "my fingernail itches". Hmmm....... No mention of her eye bothering her, and I didn't realize fingernails could itch.
I did have to randomly hold the Dictator still and look at her eye a few times, just to stay on top of the situation. The Politician and I did discuss pink eye a few times and talked about it while we were getting the Dictator ready for bed. I didn't think she was listening. She seemed too busy singing inappropriate songs as loud as she could while dancing around in front of the mirror. Naked. Yeah....that's how we do Sunday nights around here.
The next day, her eye looked all better, but I decided to just keep her home from school. In case it started to look worse or flare up after she was awake for awhile. I didn't even mention to her why she was staying home from school. I swear I didn't! We went to the mall, we saw Santa, we had lunch with friends, we spent too much money. We had a fun day together. We didn't talk about her eye at all! Not once all freaking day long!!
The next day the Dictator went to school. The Politician dropped her off with instructions from me to not mention pink eye or why she wasn't in school. I knew at that point it was not pink eye and she was not contagious. I didn't want to have people staring at her eye all day at school checking it, since I knew it was okay.
I went to get the Dictator from school. The first thing her teacher says:
"Her eye seemed fine today. A little red, but not oozy or pink eye looking. I think it's fine. I watched it just to be sure, but she seems a-okay"
At this point, I assume the Politician has dropped the ball.
Then her teacher says: "Sounds like you had a fun day yesterday! Did you get a lot of shopping done?"
Uh....yeah.....why would the Politician tell you about that? Hmmm.....
The Dictator comes running over to me.....
The Dictator: "Hi Momma! I told my teacher all about my pinky eye! I told her you took me shopping and to see Santa instead of school! Hurray! It was fun" and then the Dictator runs away with her friends. Sigh.....
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Twilight
I hate to admit this, but I actually kinda liked the "Twilight" movies. I know.....they are SO cheesy! I even read the books. All of them. I did want to stab my eye out multiple times while reading them, but the creepy corny romance of them compelled me to read until the end. How did that woman get published? The writing is just so tragically bad. Even for a teen novel. Although the story is interesting, and weird, and really just so wrong that you have to keep reading it to see how wrong it can get. Maybe I just answered my own question. Anyways....
On to the movies....
Yes....I have seen them all. Some of them on opening day, as was the case with the last one.
After we left the theater, I started to feel a little sad. No more Bella and Edward movies! I laughed at myself for having such a stupid thought on the drive home.
The next morning I was driving along and a song came on the radio. It made me think of "Twilight" and Bella and Edward. What??! I don't even know who I am anymore.....
At the heart of this movie, it's a propaganda piece for pedophilia, subordination of women and seems to set out to prove how stupid the human race really is. I mean...NOBODY noticed that the Cullens are vampires? Really??! Oh, they are just very pale and kind of weird acting and never seem to get any older or change at all. Yeah....that seems normal. Nobody has snuck into their house to check them out? Nobody has died in the process? I can't believe that none of the Cullens has taken a little 'snack break' while at school. If I had to repeat high school chemistry over and over again for hundreds of years, you bet I'd take a little bite out of somebody.
Whatever. Maybe we really are that dumb. Maybe I have vampires living next door to me. Although I'm doubtful of that, since all of my neighbors are bordering on their centennial anniversaries. Maybe it's a front....
Every time a new movie comes out, my female friends get all excited and giddy about going to see it. I hear about how it's this amazing love story that tugs at their heart strings. Say what? Edward is what? 150 years old?? Bella is 16-18 depending on the movie. Um....that's not legal. I don't care if he's a vampire. He's still an old dude. Just because his body stopped aging doesn't mean his brain did. Is Edward really that childish? How can they have anything in common? The Politician and I are only 2 years apart, and we have multiple conversations where I bring up something from my childhood that he is too young to remember. If 2 years can be a big difference, I can't imagine what well over 100 would be like. Think of the awkward conversations... "Hey Bella, remember when t.v. came out? Remember the great depression? Remember a time before telephones? Hey Bella.....lets jitterbug! Oh yeah...you don't know what that is." Is Edward really into teenage girl drama? Bella doesn't seem super mature, intelligent or superior in any way to her peers. I know she supposedly smells really great and all, but now that she's a vampire and she's not so smelly I wonder what's left to their relationship. Sex only gets you so far. I'm betting Edward and Bella get divorced. She seems to have the conversational skills of a gnat. Does nobody notice this? In the movies she barely speaks! She just makes moody faces and looks off in supposedly deep contemplation. Why is everyone okay with this creepy old dude hooking up with a teenage girl? I'm sorry , if some 150 year old guy came to my house and wanted to hook up with the Dictator you can bet there would be bloodshed. His blood. Vampire or no. I'd kill that guy. I can't even begin to imagine what the Politician might do if he found out.
I actually feel slightly bad for that guy when I think about it.
To make the whole situation horribly worse, in the last movie a new character is introduced. Bella and Edward's love child. Sheesh....this is literature these days? The movie portrays the 'baby' as a CGI created 'advanced child' who can communicate through touch with those around her. The creepy CGI baby knowingly looks at her family members right away from birth on. Even one of my most die-hard fan friends couldn't help but laugh when she saw the ridiculously fake looking face they had stuck on the kid.
Ok...fine...at this point in the story this doesn't even seem implausible anymore and kind of makes good sense in a weird way. But then! Jacob (the werewolf. I don't have time to cover all of this in my post!) imprints (oi yoi yoi) on the baby! Whaaaaaaaaat?! Ok....crossing the line a bit Stephanie Meyer. I guess it's supposedly okay because the baby is not really a baby. She's advanced. Hmmm....my daughter is advanced. Not as advanced as Reneesme (wtf kind of name is that?). Bella named her. This proves my point on the maturity level. Bella goes from rock to snail in the course of the 4 movies. Anyways...my daughter is advanced. She would probably be able to date a 12-14 year old at this point. Does that mean I'm going to take out a personals ad? Um...no. So now we are supposed to be okay with creep geriatric Edward doing the deed with Bella AND Jacob (who is 17 I believe? maybe 18?) falling in love with A BABY! I don't care if it's a vampire baby! It's a baby and it's a little gross! I guess he doesn't look at her 'in that way' but like a brother. I bet when she turns 7 and is an adult (accelerated growth) he's gonna want to be more than siblings. But that's okay...because she's 'full grown'. Have I boggled your minds yet?
There's also the part where the vampire baby nearly killed Bella while she was pregnant. God forbid she gets an abortion and saves her life! That would be killing a baby! Ugh. Pro-life propaganda is EVERYWHERE these days! Spare me, please. There is nothing romantic about nearly dying because you stubbornly want to have your 150 year old husbands demon baby. It again just shows this girl is batshit nuts and everyone just smiles and goes along with her stupidity.
The end of the movie shows a lovely, dewy faced Bella looking into Edwards eyes and Jacob walking holding Renesme's hand (she's maybe 6-8ish physically now?) and smiling at his future bride.
My mind is blown. I'm disgusted. It's creepy. Why does society think this is an okay message for teenage girls? Somebody help me understand!
In the end though.....I am loathe to admit I will miss these movies. Mostly because I enjoy looking at Taylor Lautner without a shirt on. Hey....we only have a 10 year age difference. Much better than Bella and Edward!
On to the movies....
Yes....I have seen them all. Some of them on opening day, as was the case with the last one.
After we left the theater, I started to feel a little sad. No more Bella and Edward movies! I laughed at myself for having such a stupid thought on the drive home.
The next morning I was driving along and a song came on the radio. It made me think of "Twilight" and Bella and Edward. What??! I don't even know who I am anymore.....
At the heart of this movie, it's a propaganda piece for pedophilia, subordination of women and seems to set out to prove how stupid the human race really is. I mean...NOBODY noticed that the Cullens are vampires? Really??! Oh, they are just very pale and kind of weird acting and never seem to get any older or change at all. Yeah....that seems normal. Nobody has snuck into their house to check them out? Nobody has died in the process? I can't believe that none of the Cullens has taken a little 'snack break' while at school. If I had to repeat high school chemistry over and over again for hundreds of years, you bet I'd take a little bite out of somebody.
Whatever. Maybe we really are that dumb. Maybe I have vampires living next door to me. Although I'm doubtful of that, since all of my neighbors are bordering on their centennial anniversaries. Maybe it's a front....
Every time a new movie comes out, my female friends get all excited and giddy about going to see it. I hear about how it's this amazing love story that tugs at their heart strings. Say what? Edward is what? 150 years old?? Bella is 16-18 depending on the movie. Um....that's not legal. I don't care if he's a vampire. He's still an old dude. Just because his body stopped aging doesn't mean his brain did. Is Edward really that childish? How can they have anything in common? The Politician and I are only 2 years apart, and we have multiple conversations where I bring up something from my childhood that he is too young to remember. If 2 years can be a big difference, I can't imagine what well over 100 would be like. Think of the awkward conversations... "Hey Bella, remember when t.v. came out? Remember the great depression? Remember a time before telephones? Hey Bella.....lets jitterbug! Oh yeah...you don't know what that is." Is Edward really into teenage girl drama? Bella doesn't seem super mature, intelligent or superior in any way to her peers. I know she supposedly smells really great and all, but now that she's a vampire and she's not so smelly I wonder what's left to their relationship. Sex only gets you so far. I'm betting Edward and Bella get divorced. She seems to have the conversational skills of a gnat. Does nobody notice this? In the movies she barely speaks! She just makes moody faces and looks off in supposedly deep contemplation. Why is everyone okay with this creepy old dude hooking up with a teenage girl? I'm sorry , if some 150 year old guy came to my house and wanted to hook up with the Dictator you can bet there would be bloodshed. His blood. Vampire or no. I'd kill that guy. I can't even begin to imagine what the Politician might do if he found out.
I actually feel slightly bad for that guy when I think about it.
To make the whole situation horribly worse, in the last movie a new character is introduced. Bella and Edward's love child. Sheesh....this is literature these days? The movie portrays the 'baby' as a CGI created 'advanced child' who can communicate through touch with those around her. The creepy CGI baby knowingly looks at her family members right away from birth on. Even one of my most die-hard fan friends couldn't help but laugh when she saw the ridiculously fake looking face they had stuck on the kid.
Ok...fine...at this point in the story this doesn't even seem implausible anymore and kind of makes good sense in a weird way. But then! Jacob (the werewolf. I don't have time to cover all of this in my post!) imprints (oi yoi yoi) on the baby! Whaaaaaaaaat?! Ok....crossing the line a bit Stephanie Meyer. I guess it's supposedly okay because the baby is not really a baby. She's advanced. Hmmm....my daughter is advanced. Not as advanced as Reneesme (wtf kind of name is that?). Bella named her. This proves my point on the maturity level. Bella goes from rock to snail in the course of the 4 movies. Anyways...my daughter is advanced. She would probably be able to date a 12-14 year old at this point. Does that mean I'm going to take out a personals ad? Um...no. So now we are supposed to be okay with creep geriatric Edward doing the deed with Bella AND Jacob (who is 17 I believe? maybe 18?) falling in love with A BABY! I don't care if it's a vampire baby! It's a baby and it's a little gross! I guess he doesn't look at her 'in that way' but like a brother. I bet when she turns 7 and is an adult (accelerated growth) he's gonna want to be more than siblings. But that's okay...because she's 'full grown'. Have I boggled your minds yet?
There's also the part where the vampire baby nearly killed Bella while she was pregnant. God forbid she gets an abortion and saves her life! That would be killing a baby! Ugh. Pro-life propaganda is EVERYWHERE these days! Spare me, please. There is nothing romantic about nearly dying because you stubbornly want to have your 150 year old husbands demon baby. It again just shows this girl is batshit nuts and everyone just smiles and goes along with her stupidity.
The end of the movie shows a lovely, dewy faced Bella looking into Edwards eyes and Jacob walking holding Renesme's hand (she's maybe 6-8ish physically now?) and smiling at his future bride.
My mind is blown. I'm disgusted. It's creepy. Why does society think this is an okay message for teenage girls? Somebody help me understand!
In the end though.....I am loathe to admit I will miss these movies. Mostly because I enjoy looking at Taylor Lautner without a shirt on. Hey....we only have a 10 year age difference. Much better than Bella and Edward!
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Nutcrackers
Every once in awhile the Dictator just has a hard time saying a new word. This usually happens after she's learned too many new words at once and her little mouth just doesn't connect properly to her little brain. The first time I noticed this happening was when she came running to me yelling "Help! There is lots of bread!! Oh no! Bread! Bread on me! Bread on the ground!" Say whaaaat? Turns out bread=blood! There was indeed blood! She fell on the sidewalk and scraped up her little elbow pretty good. She was more concerned about the bread, er blood on the sidewalk than she ever was her elbow!
We've had lizards (scissors), alligators (escalators), sex (six. That phase sucked, since it was also a big counting phase), and lumpy hairs (gummy bears), along with many others.
I discovered the latest word challenge while we were at Target today. The Christmas stuff is up and proudly displayed throughout the entire store. Even the dog supply section was colorfully peppered with Christmas cheer. Antler hat and peppermint candy cane snacks for Fido? Check!
They also had a lovely selection of nutcrackers.
I'm not sure we've ever talked to the Dictator about nutcrackers before. We have a few, so she's seen them, but she's never really been curious and they are only up for a month or so at Christmas before they are packed away again. Yes...I have severe issues with people that break the boundary lines of decorating. There is to be no Christmas decorating before Thanksgiving! And you better take it all down New Years Eve weekend!
It actually felt a little wrong to be looking at the Christmas stuff. Especially since it's nearly 100 degrees here today. I was already breaking my own restrictions by having an iced peppermint mocha. A Christmas drink! The Dictator was having an iced gingerbread decaf latte. We were really feeling daring today! I wonder how those drinks taste warm? Living here in the desert, I doubt I'll ever know! We decided to be naughty and venture into the Christmas section.
There we were. Reveling in our defiance to traditions and actually contemplating buying Christmas-y type things! And then....the Dictator noticed the nutcrackers.....
"Oh Momma!" "Look!" "Aren't they pretty!" "I want one! I want a Butt Crack!" "Look at all the pretty Butt Cracks! Can I have one? Can I have a big, giant Butt Crack?" After a moment or two of confusion, I realized that Butt Crack does indeed equal nutcracker!
How could I say no? We bought the biggest Butt Crack, err...nutcracker we could find. The Dictator was overjoyed to show her new friend off to everyone we passed in the store and the cashier. "Look at my Butt Crack!" "It's a big one!"
Now that we are home, the Dictator and her Butt Crack are playing out in the yard together. Loudly playing in the yard together. I'm sure the neighbors love us. Although I have tried correcting her, and we are making progress. We've made it to Butt Cracker! Hey....that's a step in the right direction my friends!
We've had lizards (scissors), alligators (escalators), sex (six. That phase sucked, since it was also a big counting phase), and lumpy hairs (gummy bears), along with many others.
I discovered the latest word challenge while we were at Target today. The Christmas stuff is up and proudly displayed throughout the entire store. Even the dog supply section was colorfully peppered with Christmas cheer. Antler hat and peppermint candy cane snacks for Fido? Check!
They also had a lovely selection of nutcrackers.
I'm not sure we've ever talked to the Dictator about nutcrackers before. We have a few, so she's seen them, but she's never really been curious and they are only up for a month or so at Christmas before they are packed away again. Yes...I have severe issues with people that break the boundary lines of decorating. There is to be no Christmas decorating before Thanksgiving! And you better take it all down New Years Eve weekend!
It actually felt a little wrong to be looking at the Christmas stuff. Especially since it's nearly 100 degrees here today. I was already breaking my own restrictions by having an iced peppermint mocha. A Christmas drink! The Dictator was having an iced gingerbread decaf latte. We were really feeling daring today! I wonder how those drinks taste warm? Living here in the desert, I doubt I'll ever know! We decided to be naughty and venture into the Christmas section.
There we were. Reveling in our defiance to traditions and actually contemplating buying Christmas-y type things! And then....the Dictator noticed the nutcrackers.....
"Oh Momma!" "Look!" "Aren't they pretty!" "I want one! I want a Butt Crack!" "Look at all the pretty Butt Cracks! Can I have one? Can I have a big, giant Butt Crack?" After a moment or two of confusion, I realized that Butt Crack does indeed equal nutcracker!
How could I say no? We bought the biggest Butt Crack, err...nutcracker we could find. The Dictator was overjoyed to show her new friend off to everyone we passed in the store and the cashier. "Look at my Butt Crack!" "It's a big one!"
Now that we are home, the Dictator and her Butt Crack are playing out in the yard together. Loudly playing in the yard together. I'm sure the neighbors love us. Although I have tried correcting her, and we are making progress. We've made it to Butt Cracker! Hey....that's a step in the right direction my friends!
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Chatty Cathy
Everywhere we go people stop us to remark on the Dictators speech skills. She's been talking since she was 11 months old. I don't mean she would babble a few words that only I would understand. I mean she's been using real words in the correct context since 11 months old. At 15 months old she spoke around 200 words. By 18 months she spoke in sentences. I honestly can hardly remember a time before she was talking. To me, it seems that we have always been able to communicate through language of some form, even since birth.
So many of our friends lament about their children's own speech, wishing they spoke as well as the Dictator does. My friends.....listen closely to me......enjoy the silence. Enjoy it for as long as you have it. Once it ends, you will miss it more than you miss your 20 year old rear end.
The Dictator wakes up talking. Usually she's also poking my eyelids at the same time. Every day in our house starts the same way-
The Dictator: "Momma, the sun is up!"
Me: "Gosh darn the sun (remember, I am on a swearing strike! Must.Not.Swear. Must keep daughter in school to keep my own sanity.) I'm not quite ready to get up yet."
The Dictator: "Momma! The sun is uuuuuuuuuuuup! You need to be up too!"
I'm not sure why I fight it anymore. I always lose. It's like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun and expecting things to work out in your favor.
At this point in the conversation I usually roll over, and attempt to ignore the Dictator. That never works. Who can ignore a 25 pound octopus on your head? Fine. I'm up.
The Dictator: "Good job, Momma!"
At this point I hate my life. I hate the sun. I hate myself for not investing in black out curtains for every square inch of wall space and windows we have. I want to die. I want coffee. I want coffee first and then I want to die.
I now need to use the restroom. I know there's not a chance in heck (again, no swearing! I'm fitting in better and better with my Hobby Lobby visiting, bake sale-ing, church-going neighbors by the second!) I'm going to get to go alone. Here comes the Dictator!
The Dictator: "Momma, do you need to pee or poop? Do you want me to hold your hand? Do you need toilet paper? Do you need water? Do you want to flush or should I? Can I see it? Can I touch it? I need to go too! NOOOOO! I don't really need to go! The toilet will flush me! Can a toilet flush you? Can you actually flush down the toilet and into the ocean like in Nemo? What ocean does Nemo live in? My teacher says there are different oceans. Does Nemo know that? We should tell him. I need to go to Disney World and tell him. I'm hungry. I want cereal. Ummm...I do need to go potty. I need to take a dump. Ooops...I mean I need to poop, please."
Me: "Coffee......I need coffee......."
The Dictator: "I'll make it! Do you want black coffee or sugar coffee? Can I have coffee? I want it in the purple cup! I want the butterfly purple cup! I want sugar coffee today. I want whip cream on top! I don't want to eat breakfast, I just want coffee! Lets make coffee!"
I say nothing. I stumble to the coffee pot. I get cups. I get the butterfly purple cup. That's a losing battle. Let the kid have coffee. We have decaf. At least she can't talk while she's drinking. We make coffee.
The Dictator: "I LOVE coffee! I want to have coffee again tomorrow. Don't you just love coffee? Does Nemo drink coffee? I bet he does. I bet the Fresh Beat Band drinks coffee too. So they have energy to go on stage and sing songs. Wow! I love Fresh Beat Band songs! Don't you? Ahhh....... Get the beat...Fresh Beat Band!"
Keep in mind that this has all happened in approximately 10 minutes. Maybe 15. I try to move quickly from the bed to the coffee pot.
Now imagine that this continues All.Day.Long.
It seems cute, and fun, and awesome. Until you have a 3 foot tall barnacle attached to your leg that questions your every move. Why are you wearing those shoes today? You never wear those shoes? What IS that stuff on my sandwich? I don't like broccoli. I want lettuce. Now. Where are my shoooooooooooes? Heeeeelp! I can't find my shooooooes! Ahhhhhhh!
It's like having a talking tumor. There's no getting away from it. It follows you. It's part of you. It stares at you and questions your logic in everything you do. Every single little thing you do.
Yes, there are many merits to having an amazingly linguistic 2.5 year old. I can reason with her. I can give her complicated instructions and she follows them. I can give her consequences. She can tell me her likes, dislikes and notify me if someone has treated her poorly when she is not in my presence. We can plan our days together and she has a voice, a true voice, in the decisions we make as a family. I am amazed daily by my daughters poignancy.
I am also, however, exhausted by the end of the day.
I fantasize that I will lose my hearing just for a day. A day of silence. Sorry! I can't hear you!! Wish I could! Try again tomorrow! Ahhh.......
For all my friends with newborns and young toddlers. Enjoy the silence. Enjoy going about your business without getting the third degree. Soon your children will be talking. And talking. And talking. Remember, I warned you. I told you so!!
So many of our friends lament about their children's own speech, wishing they spoke as well as the Dictator does. My friends.....listen closely to me......enjoy the silence. Enjoy it for as long as you have it. Once it ends, you will miss it more than you miss your 20 year old rear end.
The Dictator wakes up talking. Usually she's also poking my eyelids at the same time. Every day in our house starts the same way-
The Dictator: "Momma, the sun is up!"
Me: "Gosh darn the sun (remember, I am on a swearing strike! Must.Not.Swear. Must keep daughter in school to keep my own sanity.) I'm not quite ready to get up yet."
The Dictator: "Momma! The sun is uuuuuuuuuuuup! You need to be up too!"
I'm not sure why I fight it anymore. I always lose. It's like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun and expecting things to work out in your favor.
At this point in the conversation I usually roll over, and attempt to ignore the Dictator. That never works. Who can ignore a 25 pound octopus on your head? Fine. I'm up.
The Dictator: "Good job, Momma!"
At this point I hate my life. I hate the sun. I hate myself for not investing in black out curtains for every square inch of wall space and windows we have. I want to die. I want coffee. I want coffee first and then I want to die.
I now need to use the restroom. I know there's not a chance in heck (again, no swearing! I'm fitting in better and better with my Hobby Lobby visiting, bake sale-ing, church-going neighbors by the second!) I'm going to get to go alone. Here comes the Dictator!
The Dictator: "Momma, do you need to pee or poop? Do you want me to hold your hand? Do you need toilet paper? Do you need water? Do you want to flush or should I? Can I see it? Can I touch it? I need to go too! NOOOOO! I don't really need to go! The toilet will flush me! Can a toilet flush you? Can you actually flush down the toilet and into the ocean like in Nemo? What ocean does Nemo live in? My teacher says there are different oceans. Does Nemo know that? We should tell him. I need to go to Disney World and tell him. I'm hungry. I want cereal. Ummm...I do need to go potty. I need to take a dump. Ooops...I mean I need to poop, please."
Me: "Coffee......I need coffee......."
The Dictator: "I'll make it! Do you want black coffee or sugar coffee? Can I have coffee? I want it in the purple cup! I want the butterfly purple cup! I want sugar coffee today. I want whip cream on top! I don't want to eat breakfast, I just want coffee! Lets make coffee!"
I say nothing. I stumble to the coffee pot. I get cups. I get the butterfly purple cup. That's a losing battle. Let the kid have coffee. We have decaf. At least she can't talk while she's drinking. We make coffee.
The Dictator: "I LOVE coffee! I want to have coffee again tomorrow. Don't you just love coffee? Does Nemo drink coffee? I bet he does. I bet the Fresh Beat Band drinks coffee too. So they have energy to go on stage and sing songs. Wow! I love Fresh Beat Band songs! Don't you? Ahhh....... Get the beat...Fresh Beat Band!"
Keep in mind that this has all happened in approximately 10 minutes. Maybe 15. I try to move quickly from the bed to the coffee pot.
Now imagine that this continues All.Day.Long.
It seems cute, and fun, and awesome. Until you have a 3 foot tall barnacle attached to your leg that questions your every move. Why are you wearing those shoes today? You never wear those shoes? What IS that stuff on my sandwich? I don't like broccoli. I want lettuce. Now. Where are my shoooooooooooes? Heeeeelp! I can't find my shooooooes! Ahhhhhhh!
It's like having a talking tumor. There's no getting away from it. It follows you. It's part of you. It stares at you and questions your logic in everything you do. Every single little thing you do.
Yes, there are many merits to having an amazingly linguistic 2.5 year old. I can reason with her. I can give her complicated instructions and she follows them. I can give her consequences. She can tell me her likes, dislikes and notify me if someone has treated her poorly when she is not in my presence. We can plan our days together and she has a voice, a true voice, in the decisions we make as a family. I am amazed daily by my daughters poignancy.
I am also, however, exhausted by the end of the day.
I fantasize that I will lose my hearing just for a day. A day of silence. Sorry! I can't hear you!! Wish I could! Try again tomorrow! Ahhh.......
For all my friends with newborns and young toddlers. Enjoy the silence. Enjoy going about your business without getting the third degree. Soon your children will be talking. And talking. And talking. Remember, I warned you. I told you so!!
Friday, August 31, 2012
Preschool dropout
The Dictator starts school in just over 2 weeks. I'm excited. I dream of mornings snuggled under the covers blissfully sleeping in while my husband takes her to school. I keep fantasizing about deep cleaning, batch cooking meals to freeze for easier suppers, doing ALL the laundry in one day and yes....I admit, I also fantasize about watching a 'momma show' (Dance Moms. It's our little secret, okay?) all the way through without interruption.
In addition to the nearly fanatical excitement I feel about my daughter and I getting a much needed break from each other, and how uber happy I am that she is going to an excellent school that is going to truly nurture her amazing little brain and help it grow, I also feel the black cloud of dread hanging over me....
Reading the parent handbook, I notice they have a few 'zero tolerance' policies. I think to myself "Yay! I like this school! Be strict! Beat these kids into submission!". Then I see what the 'zero tolerance' policies are for.
1)Biting. Okay. I agree with this. The Dictator has experimented a few times with biting, but nothing much came of it. We bit her back when she bit us (I don't care if you feel this is the best way to handle it. It worked for us. Thank you.). She didn't like that! She stopped biting.
2)Bringing a gun or weapon to school. Yes. I 100% agree with this one.
3)Swearing. Whaaaaat?? Shit! Err.... I mean, shoot! The Dictator doesn't swear often (Thank you Lord above!), but when she does, she doesn't hold back. She loves the f-word, and she knows it's appropriate uses. Recently, while on vacation, we were at a busy theme park. It was hot. There were a ton of people. Too close to us. The Dictator doesn't really like people she doesn't know touching her. No thank you. Hands to yourself please. She very loudly, and clearly announced "There are so many fucking people here today!" In that moment, I had been thinking the exact same thing. It was true, and good God, she did use that phrase in exactly the right way! However, her school says it will expel her little sailor talking mouth if she does it at school. FML, or I mean Darn My Life, this girl isn't going to last a week.
4)Hitting. Sure. The Dictator is not really a hitter. There is an occasional incident, but nothing really malicious or overly crazy. I think we'll be okay there.
5)Overly sexual behavior or talk. *Sigh* I should go get my deposit back now and return her school clothes. I just know she can't go 4.5 hours without singing about getting on your back and screaming, or having a menage a trois. BTW, thanks again Katy Perry for that one. Luckily the Dictator believes that a menage a trois is playing ring around the rosy with three people. Although, I'm sure when she asks two other kids at school to have a menage a trois with her, it's not going to end well....
In addition to the nearly fanatical excitement I feel about my daughter and I getting a much needed break from each other, and how uber happy I am that she is going to an excellent school that is going to truly nurture her amazing little brain and help it grow, I also feel the black cloud of dread hanging over me....
Reading the parent handbook, I notice they have a few 'zero tolerance' policies. I think to myself "Yay! I like this school! Be strict! Beat these kids into submission!". Then I see what the 'zero tolerance' policies are for.
1)Biting. Okay. I agree with this. The Dictator has experimented a few times with biting, but nothing much came of it. We bit her back when she bit us (I don't care if you feel this is the best way to handle it. It worked for us. Thank you.). She didn't like that! She stopped biting.
2)Bringing a gun or weapon to school. Yes. I 100% agree with this one.
3)Swearing. Whaaaaat?? Shit! Err.... I mean, shoot! The Dictator doesn't swear often (Thank you Lord above!), but when she does, she doesn't hold back. She loves the f-word, and she knows it's appropriate uses. Recently, while on vacation, we were at a busy theme park. It was hot. There were a ton of people. Too close to us. The Dictator doesn't really like people she doesn't know touching her. No thank you. Hands to yourself please. She very loudly, and clearly announced "There are so many fucking people here today!" In that moment, I had been thinking the exact same thing. It was true, and good God, she did use that phrase in exactly the right way! However, her school says it will expel her little sailor talking mouth if she does it at school. FML, or I mean Darn My Life, this girl isn't going to last a week.
4)Hitting. Sure. The Dictator is not really a hitter. There is an occasional incident, but nothing really malicious or overly crazy. I think we'll be okay there.
5)Overly sexual behavior or talk. *Sigh* I should go get my deposit back now and return her school clothes. I just know she can't go 4.5 hours without singing about getting on your back and screaming, or having a menage a trois. BTW, thanks again Katy Perry for that one. Luckily the Dictator believes that a menage a trois is playing ring around the rosy with three people. Although, I'm sure when she asks two other kids at school to have a menage a trois with her, it's not going to end well....
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
If you wanna scream!
The Dictator does not typically listen to 'grown-up music', but when she does she manages to choose the most highly inappropriate music possible. Listed among her very favorite artists are Katy Perry, Lady Gaga, the "Call me maybe" girl (sorry "Call me maybe girl. I don't know your real name and I'm too lazy to google you) and most recently Usher. Yes, I know these artists have songs that should not be heard by my 2 year olds young and highly impressionable ears, but one can only take so many Wiggles tunes before the suicidal thoughts start to kick in.
In my defense, it started out pretty innocent. "Firework" has a nice message, right? Even "Call me maybe" really doesn't have anything horrible in it. Then along came Usher. And his amazingly over-sexed song "Scream". We've been listening to the song for awhile now, and I admit that I really didn't stop to listen to the lyrics. I heard lots of "ooh baby baby" and "if you wanna scream, yell". Okay, that seems fine. And look! The Dictator is happy in the backseat and is so cutely singing along! "Oohhh baby. Oooooh baby!" I even downloaded it on her iPod so she could listen to it as much as possible. *face palm*
I have realized that I need to stop taking the Dictator out in public.
Shopping the grocery store, the Dictator starts to sing. I, being the tired and perpetually naive parent that I am most mornings, can't help but think "Awww! My kid is really so frickin' cute! Look at everyone looking at her and how cute her little song is!" But then, I notice that the people looking aren't really smiling or making the "awww...." face that I would expect. You have to take in consideration that where we live we are either the youngest people by 30 years or among our peers, the only ones with all our teeth. It's a tough area to fit in to on a normal day. When you have a goose stepping daughter singing Usher, it gets a little harder to blend in.
Of all the lyrics in the song, The Dictator has latched on to the following:
Girl, tonight you're the prey, I'm the hunterTake you here, take you there, take you underImagine me whisperin' in your ear that I wannaTake off all your clothes and put somethin' on ya
The Dictator, who didn't feel like her performance had enough pizzazz then proceeded to shake her little hips and butt and go "ooooooh baby". WTF? I swear at this point the 2-3 75+ year old ladies in the aisle with me looked ready to pass out. The young kid stocking the store started laughing at this point. At least the Dictators performance was amusing to someone.
We decided we did not need any more groceries. Time to leave the store!
I do have to admit, that once home and away from the shame looks, I was kinda impressed with my girl. That song, albeit very inappropriate, has some pretty tough lyrics for a 2 year old! The fact that she could sing in time to the music, in tune and with emotion made my heart swell with pride. I mean, it could have been worse. It wasn't say, Nine Inch Nails singing "Closer" or anything. I'm sure she'll have that one memorized by the time she's three though....
In my defense, it started out pretty innocent. "Firework" has a nice message, right? Even "Call me maybe" really doesn't have anything horrible in it. Then along came Usher. And his amazingly over-sexed song "Scream". We've been listening to the song for awhile now, and I admit that I really didn't stop to listen to the lyrics. I heard lots of "ooh baby baby" and "if you wanna scream, yell". Okay, that seems fine. And look! The Dictator is happy in the backseat and is so cutely singing along! "Oohhh baby. Oooooh baby!" I even downloaded it on her iPod so she could listen to it as much as possible. *face palm*
I have realized that I need to stop taking the Dictator out in public.
Shopping the grocery store, the Dictator starts to sing. I, being the tired and perpetually naive parent that I am most mornings, can't help but think "Awww! My kid is really so frickin' cute! Look at everyone looking at her and how cute her little song is!" But then, I notice that the people looking aren't really smiling or making the "awww...." face that I would expect. You have to take in consideration that where we live we are either the youngest people by 30 years or among our peers, the only ones with all our teeth. It's a tough area to fit in to on a normal day. When you have a goose stepping daughter singing Usher, it gets a little harder to blend in.
Of all the lyrics in the song, The Dictator has latched on to the following:
Girl, tonight you're the prey, I'm the hunterTake you here, take you there, take you underImagine me whisperin' in your ear that I wannaTake off all your clothes and put somethin' on ya
And I've tried to fight it, to fight itBut you're so magnetic, magneticGot one life, just live it, just live itNow relax and get on your backIf you wanna scream yeah,
What, what, what??????!!!! The first time she ran through those lyrics, I don't think I believed my ears. The second time (she sung even more clearly! I curse all the time I have spent with this child on annunciation!) I knew exactly what song she was singing. So did everyone else around me.
What, what, what??????!!!! The first time she ran through those lyrics, I don't think I believed my ears. The second time (she sung even more clearly! I curse all the time I have spent with this child on annunciation!) I knew exactly what song she was singing. So did everyone else around me.
We decided we did not need any more groceries. Time to leave the store!
I do have to admit, that once home and away from the shame looks, I was kinda impressed with my girl. That song, albeit very inappropriate, has some pretty tough lyrics for a 2 year old! The fact that she could sing in time to the music, in tune and with emotion made my heart swell with pride. I mean, it could have been worse. It wasn't say, Nine Inch Nails singing "Closer" or anything. I'm sure she'll have that one memorized by the time she's three though....
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Boobie eaters
The Dictator was not breastfed. Not once. Ever. Not in the hospital. Not at home. Not anywhere.
I simply wasn't interested and she seemed to like her organic formula an awful lot anyways. Judge however you will. It's what worked for us, and we're both happy, healthy and well-fed.
With that all being said, the Dictator is becoming increasingly interested in her body and other people's bodies. She has been starting to notice differences between boys and girls. She is also trying to figure out how the heck babies get here, and why they do the things they do.
While out and about today, we saw a woman breastfeeding. The Dictator asked me what they were doing and I responded "She's feeding her baby breast milk. That's what some babies eat." The Dictator looked skeptical. Her follow up- "That baby is eating her boobie! What a meanie! Why isn't that Momma crying? That must hurt big!" There was really no trying to reason with her. Telling her milk comes out of a boob is like telling her that when we get home flying monkeys will be in her room and want to eat cookies with her. It's not part of her reality. Cows make milk. And it's chocolate flavored.
As we were walking by (I could feel some horrible comment coming on. Knowing the Dictator, I know that she is going to blab at any moment.) the Dictator very loudly told that breastfeeding woman and her 'meanie baby' off.
The Dictator: "You should really give that baby milk in a cup! He needs to grown up and stop being a baby. Boobies go in bras!"
Oh well....I didn't really like that store anyways.
I simply wasn't interested and she seemed to like her organic formula an awful lot anyways. Judge however you will. It's what worked for us, and we're both happy, healthy and well-fed.
With that all being said, the Dictator is becoming increasingly interested in her body and other people's bodies. She has been starting to notice differences between boys and girls. She is also trying to figure out how the heck babies get here, and why they do the things they do.
While out and about today, we saw a woman breastfeeding. The Dictator asked me what they were doing and I responded "She's feeding her baby breast milk. That's what some babies eat." The Dictator looked skeptical. Her follow up- "That baby is eating her boobie! What a meanie! Why isn't that Momma crying? That must hurt big!" There was really no trying to reason with her. Telling her milk comes out of a boob is like telling her that when we get home flying monkeys will be in her room and want to eat cookies with her. It's not part of her reality. Cows make milk. And it's chocolate flavored.
As we were walking by (I could feel some horrible comment coming on. Knowing the Dictator, I know that she is going to blab at any moment.) the Dictator very loudly told that breastfeeding woman and her 'meanie baby' off.
The Dictator: "You should really give that baby milk in a cup! He needs to grown up and stop being a baby. Boobies go in bras!"
Oh well....I didn't really like that store anyways.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Inappropriate
The Dictator has a flair for doing and saying the most inappropriate things at the absolute worst times.
I often hear other mothers talking about "Wouldn't it be so fun to know what's going on in my toddlers head?" The answer to that question is no. No, you do not want to know. Just trust me. You also don't want your toddler being able to vocalize their every thought and feeling. All.Day.Long. Whenever the mood strikes them.
The Dictator, who has a phenomenal grasp on the English language and it's use, is always surprising me with how much she knows and how much of what she knows she should not know. Imagine someone just turned off your social filter and you said anything and everything that popped into your head. This is every day life with the Dictator.
When moms lament about their children not talking yet, I just remind them that talking sounds great and it's all fun and games....until little Mikey drops the F-bomb in front of Grandma.
Here's some of my all time favorite inappropriate statements made by the Dictator-
While at dance class, the sound system made a very loud noise. The Dictator got startled and announced "Woah! That almost scared the shit out of me!" The Dictator who is still just a two year old and extremely literal then turned around and looked at her backside before stating "Nope! It's still stuck in my butt!"
At Walmart- The Dictator is crying going in the store because she doesn't want to go to Walmart she wants to go to Target instead. The Dictator "Momma! Nooooo.....not Walmart! It smells there and the people are yucky! I want to go to Target where the clean people are! Pleeeeease! I'll be good!"
After shushing her a million times and essentially gagging her with my hand to get her in the store she loudly and very clearly announces to the entire store "Look at all the fat people here Momma! Woah! There aren't that many fat people at Target!"
The Dictator sometimes requires a suppository these days. She thinks they are carrots because of the orange caps. We've tried to tell her otherwise, but once the Dictator decides on something there's really no changing her mind. While in the mall bathroom the Dictator is doing her business. She out of nowhere yells out "Momma! NO! I don't want you to put the carrot in my butt!" *Sigh* I'll never go to that mall again.....
The Dictator is trying to figure out where babies come from. Curious about how the baby gets in a woman's tummy the Dictator reasoned out that she must eat something that grows in there. Not ready to elaborate on this subject just yet, I decided to tell her "Yes! Absolutely! That is just how it happens. Way to go for figuring that out! She must just eat something!" The Dictator saw a very pregnant woman at Barnes and Noble (She always picks the quietest places to embarrass me!). She said "Hey there! You must have ate a LOT of something to get that big! That's a REALLY big baby!"
And my new personal favorite-
At her gym class we were doing a warm-up on the big red mat. The Dictator, who had just watched part of a documentary about World War 2 with her Daddy waits until the room goes quiet (seriously! The ONE FREAKING TIME the gym is quiet!) and then yells "Hey everyone! Lets goosestep!!" and proceeds to march around the room before ending in a highly inappropriate salute. Perhaps this would not have gone over as poorly had she not been the blondest, most blue-eyed German looking child in the room.
So the next time you find yourself wishing that your baby could talk to you, remember that little children just don't get what's socially acceptable, and I'm pretty sure even if they did they really wouldn't care. Our excursions together are getting more and more limited these days. So many places we just can't show our faces in again. I'm thinking by the time the Dictator is 3 we'll have to move to a new city and by 5 we'll most likely have to leave the country.
I often hear other mothers talking about "Wouldn't it be so fun to know what's going on in my toddlers head?" The answer to that question is no. No, you do not want to know. Just trust me. You also don't want your toddler being able to vocalize their every thought and feeling. All.Day.Long. Whenever the mood strikes them.
The Dictator, who has a phenomenal grasp on the English language and it's use, is always surprising me with how much she knows and how much of what she knows she should not know. Imagine someone just turned off your social filter and you said anything and everything that popped into your head. This is every day life with the Dictator.
When moms lament about their children not talking yet, I just remind them that talking sounds great and it's all fun and games....until little Mikey drops the F-bomb in front of Grandma.
Here's some of my all time favorite inappropriate statements made by the Dictator-
While at dance class, the sound system made a very loud noise. The Dictator got startled and announced "Woah! That almost scared the shit out of me!" The Dictator who is still just a two year old and extremely literal then turned around and looked at her backside before stating "Nope! It's still stuck in my butt!"
At Walmart- The Dictator is crying going in the store because she doesn't want to go to Walmart she wants to go to Target instead. The Dictator "Momma! Nooooo.....not Walmart! It smells there and the people are yucky! I want to go to Target where the clean people are! Pleeeeease! I'll be good!"
After shushing her a million times and essentially gagging her with my hand to get her in the store she loudly and very clearly announces to the entire store "Look at all the fat people here Momma! Woah! There aren't that many fat people at Target!"
The Dictator sometimes requires a suppository these days. She thinks they are carrots because of the orange caps. We've tried to tell her otherwise, but once the Dictator decides on something there's really no changing her mind. While in the mall bathroom the Dictator is doing her business. She out of nowhere yells out "Momma! NO! I don't want you to put the carrot in my butt!" *Sigh* I'll never go to that mall again.....
The Dictator is trying to figure out where babies come from. Curious about how the baby gets in a woman's tummy the Dictator reasoned out that she must eat something that grows in there. Not ready to elaborate on this subject just yet, I decided to tell her "Yes! Absolutely! That is just how it happens. Way to go for figuring that out! She must just eat something!" The Dictator saw a very pregnant woman at Barnes and Noble (She always picks the quietest places to embarrass me!). She said "Hey there! You must have ate a LOT of something to get that big! That's a REALLY big baby!"
And my new personal favorite-
At her gym class we were doing a warm-up on the big red mat. The Dictator, who had just watched part of a documentary about World War 2 with her Daddy waits until the room goes quiet (seriously! The ONE FREAKING TIME the gym is quiet!) and then yells "Hey everyone! Lets goosestep!!" and proceeds to march around the room before ending in a highly inappropriate salute. Perhaps this would not have gone over as poorly had she not been the blondest, most blue-eyed German looking child in the room.
So the next time you find yourself wishing that your baby could talk to you, remember that little children just don't get what's socially acceptable, and I'm pretty sure even if they did they really wouldn't care. Our excursions together are getting more and more limited these days. So many places we just can't show our faces in again. I'm thinking by the time the Dictator is 3 we'll have to move to a new city and by 5 we'll most likely have to leave the country.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Magic Mike
Last night I got to escape for a few hours and enjoy some much needed "mom time" with my wonderful momma friends. While getting ready, I accidentally let it slip that I was going to a movie (mistake #1) and that the name of the movie was "Magic Mike" (mistake #2). This is the conversation that followed....
The Dictator: "Momma, where are you going?"
Me: "Out with Momma's friends. We're going to see a grown-up movie" (Not sure why I had to say the word 'movie'. I could have said anything. Dinner? Shopping? A meeting? You name it. Nope, I had to say "movie". It could have been the fact I was just plain exhausted. Could have been the fact that sometimes I'm just an idiot. You pick...)
The Dictator: "Momma! I want to go to the movie! I want to see 'Brave'! I'll get my shoes!"
Me: "You've seen 'Brave' three times already. It's Momma's turn to go to a movie tonight. We'll go to a movie together tomorrow. Okay?"
The Dictator: "What movie you gonna see Momma?"
Me: (In all my exhausted, stupid glory) "Magic Mike" FML.
The Dictator: "Momma, where are you going?"
Me: "Out with Momma's friends. We're going to see a grown-up movie" (Not sure why I had to say the word 'movie'. I could have said anything. Dinner? Shopping? A meeting? You name it. Nope, I had to say "movie". It could have been the fact I was just plain exhausted. Could have been the fact that sometimes I'm just an idiot. You pick...)
The Dictator: "Momma! I want to go to the movie! I want to see 'Brave'! I'll get my shoes!"
Me: "You've seen 'Brave' three times already. It's Momma's turn to go to a movie tonight. We'll go to a movie together tomorrow. Okay?"
The Dictator: "What movie you gonna see Momma?"
Me: (In all my exhausted, stupid glory) "Magic Mike" FML.
The Dictator: (Eyes now big and mouth wide open) "I want to see Magic Mike! I want to go toooooooooo!"
Seriously, "Magic Mike"?? What the hell were the movie producers thinking when they came up with this title? I swear it was just to screw with me. It had to be. Let's take a moment to think about this title. Magic! What 2 year old doesn't love magic?? We talk about magic every single day. Magic is fun, and awesome and totally something the Dictator wants to see. Then there's Mike. If you have a "Monsters Inc." obsessed toddler like I do, you will understand why putting the word "Mike" in anything is going to insight a fit of toddler mania. Putting the words together is too much for the Dictator to handle.
The Dictator: "I LOVE Magic Mike! I want to go! Pleeeeeeaaaase!"
Seriously, "Magic Mike"?? What the hell were the movie producers thinking when they came up with this title? I swear it was just to screw with me. It had to be. Let's take a moment to think about this title. Magic! What 2 year old doesn't love magic?? We talk about magic every single day. Magic is fun, and awesome and totally something the Dictator wants to see. Then there's Mike. If you have a "Monsters Inc." obsessed toddler like I do, you will understand why putting the word "Mike" in anything is going to insight a fit of toddler mania. Putting the words together is too much for the Dictator to handle.
The Dictator: "I LOVE Magic Mike! I want to go! Pleeeeeeaaaase!"
Me: "It's not about THAT Mike. It's a different Mike. A Mike just for Momma."
The Dictator was not pleased when I left the house last night.
This morning, I had forgotten about our conversation. The Dictator, who never forgets anything decided to remember our conversation while we were at the movie theater. Standing in line to get our tickets, a very busy, long line, we were talking about the different movie posters we saw as we passed by. Things were going well until we passed the "Magic Mike" poster. The Dictator, who is becoming quite a good little reader, suddenly got a very excited look on her face and yelled out as loud as she could "Momma! There's YOUR Magic Mike! It's a Mike just for YOU Momma!"
The Dictator was not pleased when I left the house last night.
This morning, I had forgotten about our conversation. The Dictator, who never forgets anything decided to remember our conversation while we were at the movie theater. Standing in line to get our tickets, a very busy, long line, we were talking about the different movie posters we saw as we passed by. Things were going well until we passed the "Magic Mike" poster. The Dictator, who is becoming quite a good little reader, suddenly got a very excited look on her face and yelled out as loud as she could "Momma! There's YOUR Magic Mike! It's a Mike just for YOU Momma!"
Friday, June 29, 2012
Traffic magic
The Dictator and I do not like traffic. We drive. A lot. Our typical week usually logs over 400 miles on the odometer and of those 400+ miles, at least 395 of them are used up just by us driving around together.
In an effort to keep the Dictator amused in the car, I taught her a game my mother showed me when I was little. Traffic light magic!
When you roll up to a red light, using the powers of your mind and your index finger like a wand, you can magically turn the light green if you wish hard enough. The Dictator, who albeit very clever, is also still only 2, and totally believes I have magical traffic powers. We stop at a red light, I watch the opposite light until it starts changing to yellow and then "concentrate on the light and wish it green!" The Dictator has been fascinated with my skills, and it's been a fabulous way to pass time in the car. Until today.....
We approach a red light
The Dictator: "Momma! The light is red! Quick! I will wish it green!"
I never said *she* had traffic powers!
The light is nowhere close to turning green. It just turned red. Stupid, effing traffic light. The Dictator is going to freak out any second!
The Dictator: "Momma! I'm concentrating! Why isn't the light turning green?"
She's in the backseat in her carseat grunting and straining to 'concentrate' now. Her face is actually getting quite red.
The Dictator: "MOMMA!!! The light is still red! My magic powers are broken! Oh no!!"
Now the Dictator is starting to cry. I feel like an ass, since I started this game with her. Although, I reiterate...I never told her SHE had magic powers!
The Dictator: "Momma! You do it! We need to go! I will help you concentrate!"
The Dictator is still grunting, groaning and now resembles a ripe tomato.
Thankfully, the light is now getting ready to turn green. Whew.
Me: "Say it with me....Green, green, green light!" The Dictator repeats it with me.
Magic! The light turns green!
The Dictator: "Momma! You did it! I helped you! When I get bigger, I can do it all by myself too, right?"
Me: "Yes!! Of course you can!" Hurray! She gave me an out on this one! This is actually going to end well!
The Dictator: "Fuck traffic. Let's go! Oh....and I think when I concentrated a little poop came out."
Oh dear...........
In an effort to keep the Dictator amused in the car, I taught her a game my mother showed me when I was little. Traffic light magic!
When you roll up to a red light, using the powers of your mind and your index finger like a wand, you can magically turn the light green if you wish hard enough. The Dictator, who albeit very clever, is also still only 2, and totally believes I have magical traffic powers. We stop at a red light, I watch the opposite light until it starts changing to yellow and then "concentrate on the light and wish it green!" The Dictator has been fascinated with my skills, and it's been a fabulous way to pass time in the car. Until today.....
We approach a red light
The Dictator: "Momma! The light is red! Quick! I will wish it green!"
I never said *she* had traffic powers!
The light is nowhere close to turning green. It just turned red. Stupid, effing traffic light. The Dictator is going to freak out any second!
The Dictator: "Momma! I'm concentrating! Why isn't the light turning green?"
She's in the backseat in her carseat grunting and straining to 'concentrate' now. Her face is actually getting quite red.
The Dictator: "MOMMA!!! The light is still red! My magic powers are broken! Oh no!!"
Now the Dictator is starting to cry. I feel like an ass, since I started this game with her. Although, I reiterate...I never told her SHE had magic powers!
The Dictator: "Momma! You do it! We need to go! I will help you concentrate!"
The Dictator is still grunting, groaning and now resembles a ripe tomato.
Thankfully, the light is now getting ready to turn green. Whew.
Me: "Say it with me....Green, green, green light!" The Dictator repeats it with me.
Magic! The light turns green!
The Dictator: "Momma! You did it! I helped you! When I get bigger, I can do it all by myself too, right?"
Me: "Yes!! Of course you can!" Hurray! She gave me an out on this one! This is actually going to end well!
The Dictator: "Fuck traffic. Let's go! Oh....and I think when I concentrated a little poop came out."
Oh dear...........
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Sleep
The Dictator does not sleep. I don't mean she's a bad sleeper, or that she has a hard time falling asleep.
I mean it exactly the way it sounds. Never have I seen a child sleep less than she does.
Napping?? What's that? The Dictator views nap time as a waste of time. Going to sleep before 11pm? Why would you do that? The best t.v. is on in the evening after all! Sleeping in after 7a? The SUN is up! We should be too!
First thing in the morning, I pull myself out of bed nearly crying with exhaustion.
The always bubbly little Dictator looks at me with a big smile and says:
"Good job Momma!! You did it! You woke up!"
Every.single.day.
Although I can smile about this later in the day, at the butt crack of dawn this is not the first phrase I want to hear.
Other parents often lament to me about how their children "Only nap for 1 hour a day" or "Little Suzie doesn't go to bed before 9pm and it's so tough". I honestly want to punch those parents right in the head.
When I tell people about my daughters sleep problems, I frequently get asked "Do you do activities to try to wear her out?" or "Have you given her melatonin". Apparently, these are the only things you need to do to get your child to sleep. The first of these questions is so idiotic that I can usually barely muster a response. No, I've never thought of doing things with my child to make her tired! What a novel idea! You mean she won't get tired sitting around all day?? Who knew! Seriously??????! The Dictator is currently in 7 activities. On a typical day we leave our house at 9:30a and return somewhere around 5pm. During that time we are swimming, dancing, doing gymnastics, playing at the park, and whatever activity I can think of that may have some small shred of hope of tiring her out (meaning she'll go to bed before 10p). As far as Melatonin? Melatonin can kiss my tired ass. The Dictator seems to GAIN energy from Melatonin. On the couple occasions we have tried, her super powers prevailed and she stayed up PAST her usual bedtime. The Dictator is a mutant. I clearly need to start researching how to raise an X-Man, because the Dictator simply can't be human.
Although, I have to admit, the Dictator does not get crabby when tired. In fact, she shows no signs of fatigue at all! Try being perky for 18+ hours a day! I don't know how the hell she does it! I can't do it. I stop being perky somewhere around 1pm. If I make it that long.
Typically, the Dictators merry little day continues on (and on and on and on) until a happy little Dictator eventually passes out. I don't mean that in the literal sense either. I mean, when my daughter 'goes to sleep' she really does pass out. Her little body eventually just gives out on her. She usually falls asleep still talking, and she continues to talk in her sleep.
Try years of sleep exhaustion. There's a reason that it's used as a form of torture. It really is! I feel like I'm wearing a bag over my head 90% of the time. I function in slow motion these days. Speak slowly to me and loudly. Repeat yourself frequently. Please be kind if I look at you with a blank stare and ask you to repeat yourself 10+ times. I am listening to you. If you really need my attention immediately, just tell me that you need to go potty. I seem to snap to attention every time that phrase is uttered around me!
I mean it exactly the way it sounds. Never have I seen a child sleep less than she does.
Napping?? What's that? The Dictator views nap time as a waste of time. Going to sleep before 11pm? Why would you do that? The best t.v. is on in the evening after all! Sleeping in after 7a? The SUN is up! We should be too!
First thing in the morning, I pull myself out of bed nearly crying with exhaustion.
The always bubbly little Dictator looks at me with a big smile and says:
"Good job Momma!! You did it! You woke up!"
Every.single.day.
Although I can smile about this later in the day, at the butt crack of dawn this is not the first phrase I want to hear.
Other parents often lament to me about how their children "Only nap for 1 hour a day" or "Little Suzie doesn't go to bed before 9pm and it's so tough". I honestly want to punch those parents right in the head.
When I tell people about my daughters sleep problems, I frequently get asked "Do you do activities to try to wear her out?" or "Have you given her melatonin". Apparently, these are the only things you need to do to get your child to sleep. The first of these questions is so idiotic that I can usually barely muster a response. No, I've never thought of doing things with my child to make her tired! What a novel idea! You mean she won't get tired sitting around all day?? Who knew! Seriously??????! The Dictator is currently in 7 activities. On a typical day we leave our house at 9:30a and return somewhere around 5pm. During that time we are swimming, dancing, doing gymnastics, playing at the park, and whatever activity I can think of that may have some small shred of hope of tiring her out (meaning she'll go to bed before 10p). As far as Melatonin? Melatonin can kiss my tired ass. The Dictator seems to GAIN energy from Melatonin. On the couple occasions we have tried, her super powers prevailed and she stayed up PAST her usual bedtime. The Dictator is a mutant. I clearly need to start researching how to raise an X-Man, because the Dictator simply can't be human.
Although, I have to admit, the Dictator does not get crabby when tired. In fact, she shows no signs of fatigue at all! Try being perky for 18+ hours a day! I don't know how the hell she does it! I can't do it. I stop being perky somewhere around 1pm. If I make it that long.
Typically, the Dictators merry little day continues on (and on and on and on) until a happy little Dictator eventually passes out. I don't mean that in the literal sense either. I mean, when my daughter 'goes to sleep' she really does pass out. Her little body eventually just gives out on her. She usually falls asleep still talking, and she continues to talk in her sleep.
Try years of sleep exhaustion. There's a reason that it's used as a form of torture. It really is! I feel like I'm wearing a bag over my head 90% of the time. I function in slow motion these days. Speak slowly to me and loudly. Repeat yourself frequently. Please be kind if I look at you with a blank stare and ask you to repeat yourself 10+ times. I am listening to you. If you really need my attention immediately, just tell me that you need to go potty. I seem to snap to attention every time that phrase is uttered around me!
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
The Dictator takes a dump
The Dictator is currently on a shit strike.
Potty training (which is more her training me to not go insane and kill us all in the process) has taken another striking halt.
My beautiful little daughter will gladly run to the potty, sit on it, and pee all day long. In fact, I'd say she's a bit obsessed with peeing in the potty. Why wouldn't she be? Every time she does it she gets a sticker, we turn on the bubble machine and she gets to have a dance party. Who wouldn't want that? I wish I got a prize every time I used the toilet! It's like liquid gold. The more she pumps out the more she can have. It's her own personal piggy bank and all she needs is a little water to 'flood the market'.
The Dictator, who up until a few weeks ago was on track to be 100% trained and done with diapers has since decided that "Pooping does not feel good and I will not do it again".
Trying to explain to a 2 year old that regardless of how she feels about pooping, poop will, inevitably happen, is about as easy as explaining how to build a rocket ship to my dog.
She looks at me with her little blue eyes and nods along as I tell her she needs to poop, must poop, poop WILL happen and *seems* like she's understanding everything I tell her. Then, she has to poop......
Today in the car-
The Dictator: "Momma, I have to poop!" (Tears and screaming)
We're on the third day of the poop pause and every moment is turning into agony. Imagine trying to hold it in for 3 days. Now imagine that in addition to trying to hold it in, you are also bi-polar (what 2 year old is NOT bi-polar??) and that you have only slept for a whopping total of 5 hours in 2 days. This, my friends, is a recipe for disaster.
Me: "I know. Pleeeeeeease just poop! You will feel better if you do! I promise! You can have anything you want if you poop! A pony?? Another trip to Disneyland? Your own personal amusement park in the backyard? Yes! Anything you want! Just pleeeeeeease take a giant dump and be done with it!"
I admit, this was not my best moment in parenting. Fail #1- telling her she can have anything. Yes, I've made this mistake before. She knows I'm weak. She preys on it! Fail #2- saying "giant dump". Anything related to your butt is funny to a 2 year old. Emphasizing a word or phrase related to your butt is even better. I've now stepped in the proverbial shit.
The Dictator: "I want to take a dump!"
Me: (Knowing this is going down a baaaad road, but still admitedly having to laugh when she said it) "We'll go home and poop on the potty real soon."
I'm hoping and praying that she'll forget that magical phrase and that perhaps she might just maaaaaybe actually use the toilet when we get home.
The word 'dump' was said many times while driving. The Dictator, who in a fit of mania from not sleeping, pooping or eating much (who can eat if they haven't pooped in 3 days?) is laughing like a mad woman in the backseat and saying dump again and again.
Please God, let her poop when we get home.
There was no pooping.
All morning and afternoon.
:(
We finally had to go out and get some errands done. The Dictator seems to have forgotten about needing to poop and her new favorite word for the moment. All seems to be well.....
We walk into the grocery store and get a cart. A nice employee comes over to say hi and give the Dictator a sticker. The Dictator looks right at him and announces-
"I need to take a dump!"
Craptastic. I think I've just won parent of the year. Who can compete with that bit of awesomeness?
The employee looks at me and looks at my daughter and slowly repeats back what he heard...
Employee: "Did you say you need to take a dump?"
The Dictator: "Yes!" Laughing like a crazy person because another adult has just said dump!
Employee: "Bathroom is in the back of the store"
That actually made me laugh. Well played grocery store man!
The grocery store man gives me a good glare which promptly makes me feel like a larger turd than I ever did before.
The Dictator did of course, not use the bathroom at the grocery store. She did sing a song while we looked at the potty, wash her hands and play with the hand dryer for awhile.
Eventually, I gave up. The evening was setting in and the Dictator was holding strong. How long can a person go without pooping? I need to google this......
The husband gets home. He is tired, but when he sees me he immediately seems to sense that saying "I'm tired" or "What's for dinner" will result in his untimely demise. The husband is informed of the situation. The husband, being the calm one in our family takes the Dictator to the bathroom and sits her on the toilet.
In the meantime I am sitting in the office looking up ways we can make her poop. We've already tried prune juice, extra fiber and Metamucil. The Dictator has the bowel control of an Olympic athlete. While scowering the internet for any shred of hope I can find I hear a little voice coming from the bathroom saying the most unbelievable thing.....
The Dictator: "I did it! I just took a dump!"
and she did.
"Momma, I want a pony!"
Looks like Daddy is now in charge of potty training.....and I'm never saying another word to my daughter ever, ever again.
Potty training (which is more her training me to not go insane and kill us all in the process) has taken another striking halt.
My beautiful little daughter will gladly run to the potty, sit on it, and pee all day long. In fact, I'd say she's a bit obsessed with peeing in the potty. Why wouldn't she be? Every time she does it she gets a sticker, we turn on the bubble machine and she gets to have a dance party. Who wouldn't want that? I wish I got a prize every time I used the toilet! It's like liquid gold. The more she pumps out the more she can have. It's her own personal piggy bank and all she needs is a little water to 'flood the market'.
The Dictator, who up until a few weeks ago was on track to be 100% trained and done with diapers has since decided that "Pooping does not feel good and I will not do it again".
Trying to explain to a 2 year old that regardless of how she feels about pooping, poop will, inevitably happen, is about as easy as explaining how to build a rocket ship to my dog.
She looks at me with her little blue eyes and nods along as I tell her she needs to poop, must poop, poop WILL happen and *seems* like she's understanding everything I tell her. Then, she has to poop......
Today in the car-
The Dictator: "Momma, I have to poop!" (Tears and screaming)
We're on the third day of the poop pause and every moment is turning into agony. Imagine trying to hold it in for 3 days. Now imagine that in addition to trying to hold it in, you are also bi-polar (what 2 year old is NOT bi-polar??) and that you have only slept for a whopping total of 5 hours in 2 days. This, my friends, is a recipe for disaster.
Me: "I know. Pleeeeeeease just poop! You will feel better if you do! I promise! You can have anything you want if you poop! A pony?? Another trip to Disneyland? Your own personal amusement park in the backyard? Yes! Anything you want! Just pleeeeeeease take a giant dump and be done with it!"
I admit, this was not my best moment in parenting. Fail #1- telling her she can have anything. Yes, I've made this mistake before. She knows I'm weak. She preys on it! Fail #2- saying "giant dump". Anything related to your butt is funny to a 2 year old. Emphasizing a word or phrase related to your butt is even better. I've now stepped in the proverbial shit.
The Dictator: "I want to take a dump!"
Me: (Knowing this is going down a baaaad road, but still admitedly having to laugh when she said it) "We'll go home and poop on the potty real soon."
I'm hoping and praying that she'll forget that magical phrase and that perhaps she might just maaaaaybe actually use the toilet when we get home.
The word 'dump' was said many times while driving. The Dictator, who in a fit of mania from not sleeping, pooping or eating much (who can eat if they haven't pooped in 3 days?) is laughing like a mad woman in the backseat and saying dump again and again.
Please God, let her poop when we get home.
There was no pooping.
All morning and afternoon.
:(
We finally had to go out and get some errands done. The Dictator seems to have forgotten about needing to poop and her new favorite word for the moment. All seems to be well.....
We walk into the grocery store and get a cart. A nice employee comes over to say hi and give the Dictator a sticker. The Dictator looks right at him and announces-
"I need to take a dump!"
Craptastic. I think I've just won parent of the year. Who can compete with that bit of awesomeness?
The employee looks at me and looks at my daughter and slowly repeats back what he heard...
Employee: "Did you say you need to take a dump?"
The Dictator: "Yes!" Laughing like a crazy person because another adult has just said dump!
Employee: "Bathroom is in the back of the store"
That actually made me laugh. Well played grocery store man!
The grocery store man gives me a good glare which promptly makes me feel like a larger turd than I ever did before.
The Dictator did of course, not use the bathroom at the grocery store. She did sing a song while we looked at the potty, wash her hands and play with the hand dryer for awhile.
Eventually, I gave up. The evening was setting in and the Dictator was holding strong. How long can a person go without pooping? I need to google this......
The husband gets home. He is tired, but when he sees me he immediately seems to sense that saying "I'm tired" or "What's for dinner" will result in his untimely demise. The husband is informed of the situation. The husband, being the calm one in our family takes the Dictator to the bathroom and sits her on the toilet.
In the meantime I am sitting in the office looking up ways we can make her poop. We've already tried prune juice, extra fiber and Metamucil. The Dictator has the bowel control of an Olympic athlete. While scowering the internet for any shred of hope I can find I hear a little voice coming from the bathroom saying the most unbelievable thing.....
The Dictator: "I did it! I just took a dump!"
and she did.
"Momma, I want a pony!"
Looks like Daddy is now in charge of potty training.....and I'm never saying another word to my daughter ever, ever again.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Hobby Lobby
The Dictator has an odd obsession with Hobby Lobby. I don't understand it. Maybe it's because it was the first word (other than her name) that she could read. She just loves the double b's in each word.
While driving home from IKEA today I asked her if she wanted to go home or to Hobby Lobby.
Me: "Hey, we can go home or we can go to Hobby Lobby. We need scrapbook paper and paint. Your choice."
The Dictator: "Woooo hoooo! Hobby Lobby! I want craft stuff! I want to paint!"
The Dicator loves to paint. Mostly herself. Sometimes a minimal amount of paint will show up on the paper or canvass, but usually her legs, arms, and face are a much better painting surface. Why she does this, I don't know, since this always results in her crying her little blue eyes out, because the Dictator does not like to be messy.
We pull up to Hobby Lobby. The Dictator can now see the sign from her spot in the backseat.
The Dictator: "Ooooohhhh! Hobby Lobby! Look! There are 4 B's! I love B's. Let's get paints."
When we get out of the car I can feel her little toddler heart beating with excitement. Honestly, her excitement gets me excited! I'm so glad we share this love of crafting and Hobby Lobby! Hurray! Life is wonderful!
We go into the Hobby Lobby. Yes, this is going to be an epic shopping experience, I can just feel it! I get a cart. Then I hear the words that every parent of a toddler dreads.......
The Dictator: "I have to poop"
Seriously??? NOW? Those of you without children may not understand why this is such a big deal. Sounds simple, right? Take her to the bathroom, stick her little tushy on the potty, she'll do her business and shopping will resume. Um...no. That's not even remotely close to how it goes down.
Along the way to the bathroom, Hobby Lobby has set up brightly colored, amazingly fun booby traps designed to make a momma's mad dash to the bathroom with her blue in the face from holding it in toddler drama and tear filled.
As we are dashing through the store (WHY do they put the bathroom at the BACK of the store??? I swear this is just to make my parenting life more difficult) we pass a bin of stuffed animals. What the hell are stuffed animals even doing at Hobby Lobby???
The Dictator: "Stuffed animals! I want a stuffed animal! Oh...pleaaaaaase! I want the elephant!"
I know there's going to be a poo-splosion any second, and I've been down this tear filled road before, so I just grab the damn elephant and continue to run.
We round the corner. Yes, we are going to make it! I WILL salvage this shopping trip!
What is that up ahead?? Squirt guns? Again, I question your logic Hobby Lobby. You are, after all, a CRAFT store. NOT a toy store.
The Dictator: "Oh My Gosh! (her new favorite phrase) Squirters! Can we get one squirter, please? I need to poop!"
Whatever. Yes, you may have a squirt gun.
Me: "Grab one! Let's go!"
The Dictator: "I want purple!"
Please just grab the darn squirt gun! Come on! Just take it!!!
The Dictator: "I want blue. Wait....I want green."
FML. I just grab all the colors I can see, throw them in the cart and continue our sprint.
I can now see the bathroom! Hurray! It's going to happen! We did it!!!!
Craptastic. :( In FRONT of the bathroom there is a large display of crayons and markers. Seriously?? Hobby Lobby, are you SURE you are a Mormon store? I'm starting to think "Satanical" is a more likely fit.
Me: "Lovee, I know you want the crayons, and as soon as you poop in the potty you can come out and pick which ones you want. Okay? We can take them home and open them and you can color all afternoon. Okay? It'll be great!"
The Dictator: (Thinking very hard about this) "Can I take the elephant and the squirters home too?"
Ohhh...you clever little manipulator you!
Me: "Yes, whatever you want! Pleeeeeease! We need to get you on the potty, NOW!"
The Dictator: "Ok. Hurray!"
We make it in the bathroom. There are no toilet seat protective covers. There is no toilet paper. I'm glad I never clean out my purse and still have wipes. Whatever, we can lysol her little rear end when we get home. We get The Dictator on the potty. She goes. Angels sing and heaven shines down on us. We did it!
As we are leaving the bathroom The Dictator remembers the crayons.
The Dictator: "Crayons! I want all the crayons! (FML. WHY did I have to say she could have ALL the crayons??)
Me: "Ok. Pick a few. You did so great! I am so proud of you for pooping in the potty!"
30 boxes of crayons later The Dictator is happy and we can proceed to the checkout.
What started as a 'quick trip' to Hobby Lobby has now taken well over an hour and our grand total? (you know...for the paint and scrapbook paper we went for) $66.58. that's not including the bottle of Aleve I consumed when we got home. I think this may break the record for world's most expensive bathroom break. Ever.
While driving home from IKEA today I asked her if she wanted to go home or to Hobby Lobby.
Me: "Hey, we can go home or we can go to Hobby Lobby. We need scrapbook paper and paint. Your choice."
The Dictator: "Woooo hoooo! Hobby Lobby! I want craft stuff! I want to paint!"
The Dicator loves to paint. Mostly herself. Sometimes a minimal amount of paint will show up on the paper or canvass, but usually her legs, arms, and face are a much better painting surface. Why she does this, I don't know, since this always results in her crying her little blue eyes out, because the Dictator does not like to be messy.
We pull up to Hobby Lobby. The Dictator can now see the sign from her spot in the backseat.
The Dictator: "Ooooohhhh! Hobby Lobby! Look! There are 4 B's! I love B's. Let's get paints."
When we get out of the car I can feel her little toddler heart beating with excitement. Honestly, her excitement gets me excited! I'm so glad we share this love of crafting and Hobby Lobby! Hurray! Life is wonderful!
We go into the Hobby Lobby. Yes, this is going to be an epic shopping experience, I can just feel it! I get a cart. Then I hear the words that every parent of a toddler dreads.......
The Dictator: "I have to poop"
Seriously??? NOW? Those of you without children may not understand why this is such a big deal. Sounds simple, right? Take her to the bathroom, stick her little tushy on the potty, she'll do her business and shopping will resume. Um...no. That's not even remotely close to how it goes down.
Along the way to the bathroom, Hobby Lobby has set up brightly colored, amazingly fun booby traps designed to make a momma's mad dash to the bathroom with her blue in the face from holding it in toddler drama and tear filled.
As we are dashing through the store (WHY do they put the bathroom at the BACK of the store??? I swear this is just to make my parenting life more difficult) we pass a bin of stuffed animals. What the hell are stuffed animals even doing at Hobby Lobby???
The Dictator: "Stuffed animals! I want a stuffed animal! Oh...pleaaaaaase! I want the elephant!"
I know there's going to be a poo-splosion any second, and I've been down this tear filled road before, so I just grab the damn elephant and continue to run.
We round the corner. Yes, we are going to make it! I WILL salvage this shopping trip!
What is that up ahead?? Squirt guns? Again, I question your logic Hobby Lobby. You are, after all, a CRAFT store. NOT a toy store.
The Dictator: "Oh My Gosh! (her new favorite phrase) Squirters! Can we get one squirter, please? I need to poop!"
Whatever. Yes, you may have a squirt gun.
Me: "Grab one! Let's go!"
The Dictator: "I want purple!"
Please just grab the darn squirt gun! Come on! Just take it!!!
The Dictator: "I want blue. Wait....I want green."
FML. I just grab all the colors I can see, throw them in the cart and continue our sprint.
I can now see the bathroom! Hurray! It's going to happen! We did it!!!!
Craptastic. :( In FRONT of the bathroom there is a large display of crayons and markers. Seriously?? Hobby Lobby, are you SURE you are a Mormon store? I'm starting to think "Satanical" is a more likely fit.
Me: "Lovee, I know you want the crayons, and as soon as you poop in the potty you can come out and pick which ones you want. Okay? We can take them home and open them and you can color all afternoon. Okay? It'll be great!"
The Dictator: (Thinking very hard about this) "Can I take the elephant and the squirters home too?"
Ohhh...you clever little manipulator you!
Me: "Yes, whatever you want! Pleeeeeease! We need to get you on the potty, NOW!"
The Dictator: "Ok. Hurray!"
We make it in the bathroom. There are no toilet seat protective covers. There is no toilet paper. I'm glad I never clean out my purse and still have wipes. Whatever, we can lysol her little rear end when we get home. We get The Dictator on the potty. She goes. Angels sing and heaven shines down on us. We did it!
As we are leaving the bathroom The Dictator remembers the crayons.
The Dictator: "Crayons! I want all the crayons! (FML. WHY did I have to say she could have ALL the crayons??)
Me: "Ok. Pick a few. You did so great! I am so proud of you for pooping in the potty!"
30 boxes of crayons later The Dictator is happy and we can proceed to the checkout.
What started as a 'quick trip' to Hobby Lobby has now taken well over an hour and our grand total? (you know...for the paint and scrapbook paper we went for) $66.58. that's not including the bottle of Aleve I consumed when we got home. I think this may break the record for world's most expensive bathroom break. Ever.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Are YOU mom enough?
I'm sure most everyone has seen the Time article "Are you mom enough?"
While the article has raised many questions and started many heated arguments, err...
I mean discussions....I don't think it really asks the questions I feel would qualify for such a title.
Questions that were failed to be asked:
Are you mom enough to listen to "The Fresh Beat Band" soundtrack every.single.time you are in your car for 5 months straight? I'm pretty sure that my CD player has it recognized at this point and could play the tracks without needing the CD.
Are you mom enough to sing along to every.single.song with your toddler every.single.time you drive?
Are you prepared to talk about underwear from sun-up to sun down, with topics ranging from- The history of underwear, the advantages to underwear wearing, the merits of a diaper free lifestyle and why it's inappropriate to ask friends daddies if they have Woody (from Toy Story) in their pants?
What about watching the same episode of Umizoomi for 3-4 hours a day every single day for 2 weeks? You must act surprised every single time you watch the episode and pretend like you don't know what's coming next. It must be as genuine as possible. The Dictator can detect sarcasm a mile away.
Or making a grilled cheese sandwich every single day using the same "Grilled cheese pan" (God forbid I use a different pan! All hell breaks loose!), farm cheese (The Dictator refers to cheddar as farm cheese. We don't know why), and "softy bread" (white bread)? Oh, and make sure you cut those crusts off!
How about letting your daughter give you a 'makeover' including hair and full make-up and then leaving the house that way? (She actually didn't do a bad job, but it *could* have gone poorly)
Are you willing to sing Elmo's Song in a very public place when your toddler gets hurt because it's the only thing that calms her down? You must sing the song using the "Elmo voice" and make sure to be over-dramatic with hand gestures and silly faces.
That my friends, is love. <3
Are you mom enough?
While the article has raised many questions and started many heated arguments, err...
I mean discussions....I don't think it really asks the questions I feel would qualify for such a title.
Questions that were failed to be asked:
Are you mom enough to listen to "The Fresh Beat Band" soundtrack every.single.time you are in your car for 5 months straight? I'm pretty sure that my CD player has it recognized at this point and could play the tracks without needing the CD.
Are you mom enough to sing along to every.single.song with your toddler every.single.time you drive?
Are you prepared to talk about underwear from sun-up to sun down, with topics ranging from- The history of underwear, the advantages to underwear wearing, the merits of a diaper free lifestyle and why it's inappropriate to ask friends daddies if they have Woody (from Toy Story) in their pants?
What about watching the same episode of Umizoomi for 3-4 hours a day every single day for 2 weeks? You must act surprised every single time you watch the episode and pretend like you don't know what's coming next. It must be as genuine as possible. The Dictator can detect sarcasm a mile away.
Or making a grilled cheese sandwich every single day using the same "Grilled cheese pan" (God forbid I use a different pan! All hell breaks loose!), farm cheese (The Dictator refers to cheddar as farm cheese. We don't know why), and "softy bread" (white bread)? Oh, and make sure you cut those crusts off!
How about letting your daughter give you a 'makeover' including hair and full make-up and then leaving the house that way? (She actually didn't do a bad job, but it *could* have gone poorly)
Are you willing to sing Elmo's Song in a very public place when your toddler gets hurt because it's the only thing that calms her down? You must sing the song using the "Elmo voice" and make sure to be over-dramatic with hand gestures and silly faces.
That my friends, is love. <3
Are you mom enough?
Bad Guys
While eating lunch today the Dictator and I were talking about our upcoming Disney trip next week.
In preparation we were talking about Disney movies and the characters in each one. We somehow got on the subject of bad guys and started naming all the bad guys we know. I could tell the wheels in the Dictators mind were turning, and soon she asked me "Momma, why are they bad guys? Why aren't they nice?" What a tough question!
I tried to give her an honest answer, without being too involved or scary- "Some people are bad guys because they are sad. They might be sad because they don't like what they look like, or maybe they really want something and can't have it and it makes them angry and mean. Maybe they don't have any friends. Maybe something scary or bad happened to them and it made them angry and want to make others scared. Lots of bad guys are just sad people, or lonely people."
My beautiful little Dictator was really thinking all of this through and then told me "Momma, sometimes I'm a bad guy. I am mean. I don't want to be a bad guy, but sometimes I just am." I told her "Sometimes we are all bad guys. Sometimes we say and do things that are mean and hurtful to other people. Sometimes we hurt other people and make them sad. The important thing is that we say we are sorry and do our very very best to never be a bad guy again. Being a good citizen, a good person, and a good friend is much better than being a bad guy."
After that the conversation went back to seeing Mickey Mouse, where we were going to eat, and what crappy souvenirs I would be blowing our retirement fund on.
Later though, while getting ready to leave, the Dictator came running down the hall and into her room.
She gave me the biggest hug and told me "Momma, next time I see a bad guy I'm going to tell them that It's okay bad guy, don't be sad. I will be your friend."
Bless her little toddler heart. I think I will try to follow her example and do the same. :)
In preparation we were talking about Disney movies and the characters in each one. We somehow got on the subject of bad guys and started naming all the bad guys we know. I could tell the wheels in the Dictators mind were turning, and soon she asked me "Momma, why are they bad guys? Why aren't they nice?" What a tough question!
I tried to give her an honest answer, without being too involved or scary- "Some people are bad guys because they are sad. They might be sad because they don't like what they look like, or maybe they really want something and can't have it and it makes them angry and mean. Maybe they don't have any friends. Maybe something scary or bad happened to them and it made them angry and want to make others scared. Lots of bad guys are just sad people, or lonely people."
My beautiful little Dictator was really thinking all of this through and then told me "Momma, sometimes I'm a bad guy. I am mean. I don't want to be a bad guy, but sometimes I just am." I told her "Sometimes we are all bad guys. Sometimes we say and do things that are mean and hurtful to other people. Sometimes we hurt other people and make them sad. The important thing is that we say we are sorry and do our very very best to never be a bad guy again. Being a good citizen, a good person, and a good friend is much better than being a bad guy."
After that the conversation went back to seeing Mickey Mouse, where we were going to eat, and what crappy souvenirs I would be blowing our retirement fund on.
Later though, while getting ready to leave, the Dictator came running down the hall and into her room.
She gave me the biggest hug and told me "Momma, next time I see a bad guy I'm going to tell them that It's okay bad guy, don't be sad. I will be your friend."
Bless her little toddler heart. I think I will try to follow her example and do the same. :)
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
#MomFail
Wanna feel like a failure at life?
Forget to shave your legs before taking your child to swim class.
As the Dictator is merrily floating around the pool giving orders to her
instructor and generally having a happy little time, I am stuck sitting on the side
of the pool with my legs only half in the water. My hairy knees? Right at eye level and
on display for all passerby's (or should I say floater-by's) to see. Wonderful. Just freaking wonderful.
Want more failure points??
As you are getting out of the pool attempt to perform an embarrassing acrobatic manuever as
you slip on the step, flap your arms about like a large chicken and then barely grab the handrail before
your face has a close encounter with the pool decking.
Score- Pool:1, Momma:0
Forget to shave your legs before taking your child to swim class.
As the Dictator is merrily floating around the pool giving orders to her
instructor and generally having a happy little time, I am stuck sitting on the side
of the pool with my legs only half in the water. My hairy knees? Right at eye level and
on display for all passerby's (or should I say floater-by's) to see. Wonderful. Just freaking wonderful.
Want more failure points??
As you are getting out of the pool attempt to perform an embarrassing acrobatic manuever as
you slip on the step, flap your arms about like a large chicken and then barely grab the handrail before
your face has a close encounter with the pool decking.
Score- Pool:1, Momma:0
Monday, May 21, 2012
How to get to Sesame Street
When your toddler asks you "Where is Sesame Street? How can I get there?"
DO NOT respond with the following.....
The Dictator: "Momma, where is Sesame Street?"
Me: (I just got up. I barely understand what she's saying to me. 4 hours of sleep total and no coffee yet. Is is trash day? What time do we have to leave today? Huh?) "Ummm......it's down the street, make a left, go four blocks, make another left, go two blocks, turn right and then go through the tunnel and you are at Sesame Street" (Shoot...did I just say tunnel??)
The Dictator: "Momma, can we GO to Sesame Street? I wanna go through the tunnel!"
Me: (Shit!) "Um....no.....not today.....they are repairing the giant slide and Sesame Street is closed today"
(FML! What did I just say?? Did I say giant SLIDE? WTH was I thinking??)
The Dictator: "I wanna go on the giant slide!! (Of course you do) I wanna go now!"
Me: "Remember, Sesame Street is closed today. We can go another time, okay?"
The Dictator: (After some screaming, and I swear an obscenity or two about Sesame Street's choice of days to stage a closure) "Ok Momma. I will go check our calendar."
Why the hell did I give her a calendar again??? This is going to end in an epic meltdown in a few days.
DO NOT respond with the following.....
The Dictator: "Momma, where is Sesame Street?"
Me: (I just got up. I barely understand what she's saying to me. 4 hours of sleep total and no coffee yet. Is is trash day? What time do we have to leave today? Huh?) "Ummm......it's down the street, make a left, go four blocks, make another left, go two blocks, turn right and then go through the tunnel and you are at Sesame Street" (Shoot...did I just say tunnel??)
The Dictator: "Momma, can we GO to Sesame Street? I wanna go through the tunnel!"
Me: (Shit!) "Um....no.....not today.....they are repairing the giant slide and Sesame Street is closed today"
(FML! What did I just say?? Did I say giant SLIDE? WTH was I thinking??)
The Dictator: "I wanna go on the giant slide!! (Of course you do) I wanna go now!"
Me: "Remember, Sesame Street is closed today. We can go another time, okay?"
The Dictator: (After some screaming, and I swear an obscenity or two about Sesame Street's choice of days to stage a closure) "Ok Momma. I will go check our calendar."
Why the hell did I give her a calendar again??? This is going to end in an epic meltdown in a few days.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Pinterest Partay!
I hosted a Pinterest party this weekend. What a total blast! When talking to friends about my idea, everyone said they had never heard of such an event before. Could *I* possibly be the creator of the Pinterest party??
I'm totally taking credit for this one!
Never heard of a Pinterest party?? Well, of course you haven't! After all, I came up with it and you probably weren't invited. :( Sorry. Nothing personal. I just probably don't know you, and therefore don't want you visiting my house at night. Although had you shown up with baked goods, I more than likely would have let you in. I'm a sucker for brownies.
Everyone made an item they found off of Pinterest. Our theme? For the home. Ahh...I love, love, love home goods! Dry erase calendars, coasters, vases, plant pots...these are the things that make my heart go pitter patter. I can't help but get all giddy when I pin something pretty for my house. I actually make a lot of stuff, so there's a good chance I will shortly have that item sitting somewhere in my home. The color, style and personalizing options dominate pretty much all my free time thoughts (I know...what are those?!).
We all brought a food item we found on Pinterest too. It was quickly determined that if you give 10 women a choice on any type of food to bring to a party, chances are high we will pick a dessert. With chocolate. And peanut butter. Too much sugar.....oh the sweet pain......
We ate, did a white elephant gift exchange with our Pinterest items and all ended up with an amazing new item for our home, and so full of sugar we could fly .
Can't wait for the next Pinterest party. Our next theme? All about me! We're making something that is personal to us. Something we like to give as a gift or make, or something that has a special meaning to us. So many ideas floating through my head! Lucky for me, my little Dictator likes to paint, mod podge and color. So many crafts, so little time!
I'm totally taking credit for this one!
Never heard of a Pinterest party?? Well, of course you haven't! After all, I came up with it and you probably weren't invited. :( Sorry. Nothing personal. I just probably don't know you, and therefore don't want you visiting my house at night. Although had you shown up with baked goods, I more than likely would have let you in. I'm a sucker for brownies.
Everyone made an item they found off of Pinterest. Our theme? For the home. Ahh...I love, love, love home goods! Dry erase calendars, coasters, vases, plant pots...these are the things that make my heart go pitter patter. I can't help but get all giddy when I pin something pretty for my house. I actually make a lot of stuff, so there's a good chance I will shortly have that item sitting somewhere in my home. The color, style and personalizing options dominate pretty much all my free time thoughts (I know...what are those?!).
We all brought a food item we found on Pinterest too. It was quickly determined that if you give 10 women a choice on any type of food to bring to a party, chances are high we will pick a dessert. With chocolate. And peanut butter. Too much sugar.....oh the sweet pain......
We ate, did a white elephant gift exchange with our Pinterest items and all ended up with an amazing new item for our home, and so full of sugar we could fly .
Can't wait for the next Pinterest party. Our next theme? All about me! We're making something that is personal to us. Something we like to give as a gift or make, or something that has a special meaning to us. So many ideas floating through my head! Lucky for me, my little Dictator likes to paint, mod podge and color. So many crafts, so little time!
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