Just when you are starting to feel good about yourself a child will crush your self esteem. My 3-year-old daughter recently asked me, “Can I tell you something?” Usually what follows is I have to pee. or I want juice. So, I let my guard down. “Sure sweetie, what is it?” She smacked her lips together and after a dramatic pause said, “Well, your breath stinks and it’s a real problem.” Really? “That’s the truth,” she said, threw up her hands and walked away. It’s not like I suffer from halitosis. I enjoyed a cup of coffee. Now I have to pop mints to impress a toddler?
My daughter also mocks my bathing suit. “You can’t wear that in the water. That is a skirt.” No, it is my bathing suit. “A skirt,” she insists. Bathing suit. “Nope, a skirt.” We go back and forth until I realize I am arguing with a 3-year-old. I can’t win this battle. Quite frankly, it is her fault I have to wear a skirt. I rocked a bikini before I gave birth. Today I, once again, donned a skirt at the beach. My thighs still touch, but I no longer get a brush burn. (I would say this exercise thing is paying off.) I don’t think people were looking at me anyway. The real show was on a blanket nearby where a woman was shaving her boyfriend’s back. I am not kidding. Who just happens to have a razor in their beach bag? I have snacks, towels, sand toys and a Gillette Fusion Pro Glide. She obviously planned to do some manscaping AT THE BEACH. Think about that the next time you let the sand run through your toes. Now, that is a real problem.
I sat outside a coffee shop this morning for 30 minutes waiting for a friend. It was just what the doctor ordered. The sun was shining and birds chirping. The coffee shop is nestled in a small plaza behind an ornate iron gate. There is a long brick walkway leading to the entrance with trees scattered throughout. I cannot remember the last time I enjoyed a quiet moment alone. It was heaven until…. two crackheads appeared. The woman was wearing cut off jean shorts and a paper thin white tank top. The man looked like he hadn’t bathed in months. I don’t know the extent of their conversation, but she was cursing him out. I don’t think it was for using the last of the toothpaste. Together they walked to an ashtray outside a restaurant and lifted the lid. He held up a cigarette butt and looked to her for approval. If she nodded he carefully placed it in a plastic baggie. I am pretty sure that is close to rock bottom. They just haven’t realized it.
I closed my eyes for a brief moment as a gentle breeze caressed my hair. I was back in my happy place until.. a pungent odor smacked me in the face. Apparently I chose to sit near a toxic waste dumping site. One by one workers from nearby restaurants came outside to dump filthy water into a sewer grate.
Still, I was alone and nothing was going to make me leave. Well, that was until….a homeless man plopped down on another bench directly next to me. He reeked of alcohol and urine. If that wasn’t bad enough he let out the loudest, most vulgar fart I have ever heard. The noise was similar to an app on my son’s IPod. My children think passing gas is hysterical. This sound did not emerge from an electronic device.
I had to admit defeat and walk away. I will take my screaming children over this chaos any day of the week.
Call me crazy, but I don’t like to be lied to. I don’t care if it is December or April. Unfortunately, it is the day when people make things up without facing any consequences because they shout, “April Fools!” Oh, you aren’t really dying? I didn’t win the lottery? There is no such thing as bacon mouthwash? Well, you got me a-hole. I think I have a pretty good sense of humor, but I won’t be pulling any pranks today. I can share an awesome deal I just scored on Shutterfly. They have a coupon for 101 free prints. So, you can knock out the person who played an April Fool’s joke on you, take their picture and get a print for free. The deal expires tomorrow.
Another Hollywood actress has some advice on how you can be a better parent. (I just threw up in my mouth.) Jessica Alba has written a book called “The Honest Life: Living Naturally and True to You.” She says it is “super easy” to do the things in her book. The title alone makes me want to punch her. Among other things, Jessica recommends leaving plastics outside for a few days to off-gas the chemicals. Really? Clearly, she doesn’t have feral cats in her neighborhood. Plus, try telling your kid he or she can’t play with a toy until it airs out. Can you say meltdown?
She also recommends making your own baby food and giving yourself facials with coffee & yogurt. Then, whip up a batch of homemade laundry detergent. Who the hell has time for that? (Ain’t nobody got time for that.) I am lucky if I get to shower. My kids ate Gerber & Beechnut Baby Food and turned out just fine. As for coffee and yogurt facials? The only yogurt in my refrigerator has a sneaky bunny rabbit on the box. Jessica claims she does this crap on her own. She is a millionaire. I can’t afford to buy organic produce. I don’t read the labels on everything I buy. I enjoy Slim Jims and Diet Coke. My kids chug Kool aid. They are healthy and happy. I have other things to worry about. So, bite me Sue Storm.
It is February, but still looks like December in my house. My 3-year-old daughter won’t let me take down her Christmas tree. It’s just a small artificial tree tucked in the corner of the playroom. She pleaded with me to leave it up when I took the other decorations down. I figured she would forget about it a few days later. She did not. I’ve tried to get rid of it, sneaking around as the Grinch while she slept. The next day, she scanned the room like the Terminator demanding to know, “Where is my tree?” I told her we cannot leave it up all year. “Why not?” Well, because we have a full set of teeth, wouldn’t wear a NASCAR t-shirt to a funeral or put a confederate flag in the window of our pick up truck. We are part of the Target shopping middle class and we will act like it damn it! She pleaded with me, “But it is pretty!” I thought about my reason for wanting to tuck it away in the closet despite her tears. Would I be embarrassed if we had company? Who cares! I’m not living in Downton Abbey. (Am I the only one who thought they lived in DownTOWN Abbey?) There won’t be any surprise royal visitors. Those chicks aren’t above me anyway. They marry their cousins.
If age didn’t come with wrinkles and belly fat it would be an incredible thing. The older you get the less you care what other people think of you. The tree is staying put. We may even decorate it for Valentine’s Day, Easter, etc. (Cue: Banjo)
I just called my father to ask if he would watch my daughter while I picked up my 5-year-old son from school. I knew he would say yes, but offered a bribe anyway. “If you come over I will give you a body wash,” I said. “What?” he sounded confused. “I will give you a body wash,” I repeated in a sweeter voice. He seemed disgusted, “You will give me a what?” I have a closet of toiletries from extreme couponing. We won’t have to buy deodorant ever again. Need floss? I got you covered. Earlier today my father asked, “Do you have anymore of that soap you gave me? I really like it.” I was offering him Right Guard Total Defense Body Wash NOT to wash his body. “That soap stuff,” I stuttered. It dawned on me when I hung up the phone how disturbing my first offer must have sounded. I am sure that may be normal in some parts of West Virginia, but not here. I love my Dad, but I think I just threw up in my mouth.
I love how the mind of a 5-year-old works. Tonight my son demanded I explain step by step the proper way to wish on a star. I didn’t know there was a right and wrong way either. Apparently, some snotty kid at school told him his wishes weren’t coming true because he wasn’t following the “wish making rules.” Clearly that kid broke the rules too because he is still living in a trailer park. (Oh, no she didn’t!)
I thought about telling my son wishing on a star won’t guarantee anything. I couldn’t burst his bubble. I only tear down people I don’t know. Besides, I am guilty of wishing on stars every now and then. Well, a few were airplanes, but I’m still hopeful I will have Ryan Gosling’s baby.
My son listened to my every word with bated breath. I told him he had to find a star, close his eyes tight and jump around like a monkey. After watching him go airborne a few times I admitted that part was a joke. “Mom, this is serious,” he warned me. My father once told us we had to say “Schuz-butt” every time we hit a card in the game Slapjack. My sister and I would argue while my Dad laughed in hysterics, “I said Schuz-butt first! No, I said Schuz-butt before you!” If you can’t use your kids for your own entertainment what good are they?
I told my son to put his hands together and say, “I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish come true tonight.” Then, he made his wish. Was it for peace on Earth? Did he want to end world hunger? Nope. “I wish,” he paused. “I could be the real Spiderman.” This is going to end in tears.
My children are going through withdrawal. I didn’t take away potato chips or candy. Their video game consoles are still intact. Geez, I am not a monster. I took away their grandparents. It had to be done. My mother has the flu. Of course, I am concerned about her well being. This woman gave birth to me. She is my best friend. However, I will admit the first thing that came to mind was “I hope the kids don’t get it.” I can take a cough. There is medicine to treat a fever. I can’t deal with three kids projectile vomiting. God created the vomit virus so the world wasn’t full of Duggar families. It’s birth control.
I have become the person who hears a sneeze or cough and dives for cover like a soldier in combat. I was at the library last week and overheard a mother say, “Well, he has a cold.” I picked up my daughter and power walked out of there. Why the F*** are you at the library. Yes, there are probably more germs on the books than in a bowl of bar nuts. However, I don’t need your kid hacking on mine. Here is the thing about the library, they will let you borrow the books. I know, it is crazy! So, take your kid home and read.
My children see my parents everyday. My Mom called tonight, “I miss my grandbabies.” It has only been 48 hours since we were last at their house. The truth is my kids miss them too, but right now it is every man for himself. Grandma will have to wait until she is healthy.
My daughter has learned a lot from Dora the Explorer. She knows “Hola” means “Hello.” From time to time she butchers the Spanish language by making up words. “Bolanenero, Molameno” apparently means “Let’s Go!”
Swiper taught her you can’t trust everyone and have to protect your stuff. She may be taking things a little too far. This morning she loaded up her backpack for our daily adventure:
After we got past the damn troll (who does this guy think he is trying to stop an unsupervised young girl and his monkey from crossing bridges?) I discovered this in her backpack. I think she got the Nickelodeon show confused with Goodfellas.