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.
Monday, July 16, 2012
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?
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