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!

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!

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!!

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....

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

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. 

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....

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.

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.