My son is so proud because he put his shoes on all by himself. We have no plans of going anywhere for a few hours, but he has been walking/tripping around the house with his shoes like this since early this morning. Of course will he not allow me to fix them because they were "all done myself".
While I applaud his independence I am revolted by what this is doing to my house. Yesterday we went to the Duck Derby, an outdoor festival. The event was a lot of fun but his shoes got so grimy that I am now cringing each time he takes a step. My plan was to clean those green germ/dirt carriers this morning but the little guy got to them first. Darn you Dollar General for having super cute and enticing bright green crocodile looking "frocs"! (If you don't know - "frocs" are fake Crocs.)
The good news? He has finally decided to settle in and watch a TV show, leaving my newly cleaned floor alone. The bad news? He absolutely refuses to take them off and so now the yicky is on my couch. I can't win. A stronger mother would fight the fight to get them off his feet but luckily it is the couch in the kids playroom and I don't sit there very often. I'm sure by the time I sit there the dirt will have rubbed off on my kids and I won't get any on me - and that is really what matters right?
P.S. I have to thank my new friend Tara for my pretty new blog makeover. She was so incredibly patient with me. Although I am very computer savvy as far as the things I do with my computer - with anything outside of my day to day stuff I am clueless!
Also, crazy small world story. I stumbled across Tara's website and saw that she does blog makeovers (see bottom right hand side of my blog and you can find a link to her site). I emailed her some questions on what she does and what I wanted for my blog, etc.
She wrote back and said she saw from my blog that I live in Kansas and said she used to live in Kansas - which was weird b/c she now lives in Canada. She went on to tell me about herself and one thing that she mentioned is that she does some marketing for her parents business. When I went back on her website to see the designs I could choose from for my blog, I ran across some of the ads she has done for her parents' business. The business is a place I have been to a million times - and some of you might have too. They own the great place in Shangri La on Grand Lake - Island Joe's Kentena! As usual, I'm sure I will be there many times over the summer.
I love things like that - it makes this big crazy world seem just a bit more welcoming.
Really I don't know what it is about this blog but it seems that each time I write about an inanimate object, that object then retaliates. I didn't even say anything mean about our Air Conditioner, I just mentioned it in one of my posts. Maybe it is just shy and doesn't like to be talked about in front of a crowd of the like 25 people who read this blog. I don't know what I did to the A/C, but I do know is that it sucked when it stopped working yesterday at 4:38 in the 1,000 degree afternoon.
At 4:39 I called my husband to let him know our house was possessed. These kinds of phone calls are not rare and I'm not sure he believed me because I don't think he believes more than 27% of what I say. I'm sort of the wife who cried wolf on about 300 different things - but this was real!
I was minding my own business being the best mom ever making spaghetti and banana bread and I noticed some really odd things happening around me.
Everything in our house seemed to be only 1/2 working. I noticed I was getting really hot but I heard the A/C running so I assumed I was warm from all the cheffing up of dinner I was doing. When I opened the fridge I thought the light looked to be a bit dim, but I don't cook a lot so I figured I just didn't know the true color. Next I noticed that the TV had sound only but no picture (I'm super observant - that TV had been on for quite awhile) and then I realized that although my stove said it was hot, it had been like 30 minutes since I had started the water to boil for the pasta and nothing was happening. I'm no Julia Childs but I know that the water should be at least warm at that point. A check of the microwave showed that it was only working at like 15% of its regular power. My phone started ringing but when I picked it up it was dead.
Okay this was all so strange - but SWEEEET, mommy didn't have to cook dinner. I'm definitely not good enough to come up with something for my kiddos to eat if we have only part of a microwave, 1/2 an oven, a non working stove and no telephone to order take out.
Hubby came home, confirmed that I was in fact not insane, which was a huge relief. Does this happen to you? You tell your husband that your car is making a weird noise and have begged him to listen to it for like a week because it is driving you crazy - then he drives it and nada - no noise? Those kinds of things happen to me at least 3 times a day. I feel like I'm getting Punk'd on a regular basis.
These occurrences were verified as bizarre and legit by him. However, he decided it was a "brown out" due to the excessive heat and not a ghost like I had hypothesized from some quick internet research using the last minutes of my computer battery and stolen wireless from my neighbor. We gathered the kiddos up and headed out to dinner. The kids were great during dinner and it was really fun family time. They actually both said they were tired and wanted to go right to bed when we got home - these things NEVER happen! What a perfect night!
We got home and realized the electricity issue had gotten even weirder and to make a long story short, we basically had none. We snuggled the kiddos into bed and then stared at each other. What does one do without a computer, TV and light? Obviously there is only one thing to do...
We played Scrabble by candlelight! As my husband says, we kicked it Abe Lincoln style. It was so much fun and a good reminder to us to take time to reconnect like this.
My husband won the first game and I won the second. Now if he reads this blog, I can tell you he will make some lame comment about how my "win" was not legit. But let me just tell you that it was an absolute accident and not in any way intentional when my foot hit the board and knocked all the letters off one moment after I took the lead in the game. I do not care that he next planned to put down a the word "zealot" on a triple word score - that does NOT count since the game was toppled onto the floor before he could do so. And my foot knocking the board over does not constitute a forfeit - that is just crazy talk. He is a sore loser!!!
I clearly have some left over anger issues from his suggestion that my involuntary foot jerk was anything other than an accident. Maybe kicking it Abe Lincoln style isn't as good for us as I thought. Now that our power is back on we should probably continue to veg out in front of the TV. That might be better for our marriage.
Oh my Lord, it is literally 375 degrees today. We just turned on our A/C a few days ago because my husband and I were playing a game to see how long we could go without it. Our house has an attic fan and so we can go longer without A/C than most people. Last year we made it until the weekend of the 4th of July. This year, not so much.
My husband came home to find me cleaning a bathroom and dripping sweat. He looked at our thermostat and it was 88 degrees in our house. He admitted defeat and asked me why the heck I was cleaning in such conditions. Because I'm stubborn, duh - I wanted to beat last year's record of July 4th. But that really has absolutely nothing to do with the idea that I'm stealing...
Did you notice that once you had kids your life got stickier? My husband has done some very scientific calculations and from what he can tell our life is 142% stickier than it used to be. I'm not a huge fan of sticky and so I am the mean mom who doesn't let her children have lollipops (although my friend Lindsey turned me on to lollipops that are like sweet tarts, no mess. They rule). One day my father in law took the kids to Sam's and then dropped them off at our house with a bag of 10,000 lollipops or something insane like that. I went on and on about what a nice treat they will be when the kids go to his house and visit him. I'm sure he got suckered into buying them and I think he was trying to pawn them off on me, but I played dumb.
Even though my children can make an extra special kind of mess with them, in this kind of heat nothing beats a Popsicle. Really I can't deny my kids these cold treats even though I have a long list of reasons as to why I should:
1) Too Sticky 2) Too Gooey 3) Too Icky 4) Too Sugary 5) Too Get Everywherey
I could go on and on, but I won't because I heard this idea the other day and think it might be the answer to my problems.
A friend of mine fills up the kiddie pool in the backyard, plops the kiddos in it and then lets them munch on Popsicles until their hearts' content. When they are done, she gives them a good rinse and voila! Happy, mess free children. Love it.
On days like today when you get a 3rd degree burn from just walking to the mailbox, you can always do the same thing in the bathtub.
There you have it, one of those "wow, I'm dumb because it never crossed my mind" ideas I should have thought of on my own, and might have if it weren't for the fact that my brain is melting from the heat.
I've always been one to enjoy a glass of wine or four. On evenings when we have a night together at home, my husband and I love to make dinner and share a bottle of wine. Those are rare occasions and it seems when those nights do come along we never have any wine in our house.
As a working mom I've had many evenings where I wanted to chug some wine but like I said we never have it on hand - and I am also not a person who wants to drink alone. I would never break open a bottle of wine by myself but of course as soon as someone walks in the door to drink it with me I'm game to get that cork out!
But now, being the cost cutting people that we are trying to turn into, my husband recently brought home one of those good box wines that are so popular now. Ours is super cute. It is shaped like a barrel and apparently holds 4.5 bottles of wine and stays tasty for 40 days which is great because that is probably how long it will take us to finish it. Seriously - GENIUS.
The only issue is, that it is always "open" and so I no longer have that "well, I can't open it by myself" voice nagging me. So one night last week after a particularly trying day when my husband was working late and after my children were in bed, I had a glass of wine by myself! I was a bit nervous that this could start a nasty habit but really it was necessary that particular evening.
I grabbed a fancy glass, filled her up, plopped down on the couch, took a sip and sooo SAD, the wine had gone bad. I was not pleased that our dumb little barrel had turned on me. All day long it had been staring at me letting me know that when the time was right, it was there ready to soothe me. But that problem solver in a bottle started laughing at me on my first sip. YUCK. I tried a few more just to make sure - nope - gone bad.
The next morning I told my husband what a jerk the wine barrel was and that our cost cutting wine plan was a bust. So he tried a small taste and said it was fine. I tried it too and he was right, it was fine. So bizarre. Apparently the best ingredient in wine is the company you are with because we had a few glasses last night and it was delicious!
Here is what I'm thinking really happened... That wine barrel knew if it tasted too yummy that might have been a slippery slope into solitary mommy tipsyness and really no one needs that. I love my little barrel, it is so considerate.
E: "Mom, I met a new boy at school today. His name is Pete, but his real name is Peter and he is really nice. I like him and we played a lot. His favorite color is red and he likes trucks and dinosaurs. He has an older sister and he doesn't like princesses. Oh yeah and he has big ears."
I immediately dove into the mom required speech about how people can come in all shapes and sizes and look different from one another. I went on about how it doesn't matter how someone looks and she should not point out differences, blah, blah, blah. Literally 5 minutes of really good mom lessons there, I was making myself proud thinking I had dodged that bullet on her saying something hurtful to this sweet new friend.
E: "I already told him he had big ears."
Oh geez, poor little guy. His self esteem is ruined at the age of 4, and it was all my fault because I had not driven this point home earlier. He probably ran away from her and went straight to a therapy session that I definitely should foot the bill for.
I braced myself, imagining lots of tears, hurt feelings, and a parent-teacher conference in my future.
ME: "Well, what did he say when you said that?"
E: "He said, 'I know'."
Okay, I already like his parents. They are raising a great kid.
Even though he doesn't seem to have any long lasting issues from my daughter making such an observation on his outwardly appearance, I was still mortified.
I reiterated, "Honey, we don't talk about people's differences, that can hurt their feelings. How would you feel if someone said you have big ears?"
E: "But I don't have big ears so why would they say that?"
Why do these conversations never go like they write them in parenting books?
ME: "Well wouldn't it hurt your feelings if someone pointed out that you look different than them by saying that you have big ears?"
E: "Well, no, it wouldn't if I had big ears. And he isn't different mom, he just has big ears."
How did she end up looking like Gandhi, while I felt like a total moron? I dropped it and asked her to tell me more about her new friend. The more I discussed his alleged big ears the more I was making it seem as if something was wrong with him. The way my life goes, if I kept on with my point, she would probably go to school and tell this little guy that her mommy said he is funny looking.
Seriously, am I ever going to get this parenting thing down?
It must be a full moon because my children have gone completely insane in the past few days.
On Friday I was exceptionally busy with work and so I kind of let the children run wild for a bit while I was trying to get stuff done. It is awesome to work from home but the days the kids are out of school are a bit challenging.
Truth be told, I knew Z-man had the box of Cheerios and I clearly knew that he is a 2 year old boy, but I didn't know the damage that could be done with a box that was already 9/10 empty. It was keeping him quiet and I have a dust buster and 2 dogs so I figured it would be worth it for the free time I was getting in return. So I got busy with my work.
After a little while, I started hearing a crunching noise and then realized it had been 45 minutes since I had laid eyes on the little goof ball. I got very nervous -and for good reason. He had taken every single Cheerio out of the box and somehow must have figured out how to clone because there were waaaaay more Cheerios around my kitchen and dining room than were in that box, I swear. The pantry door that he has been trying master for the past few weeks was wide open too. Just my luck this was the exact time he figured out how to get in there.
When I found him he was rolling on the tile covered in the Bisquick flour that had turned our kitchen into a winter wonderland and my guy into a little snowman. The crunch crunch noise I was hearing was the dried pasta noodles he was happily munching on. They were strewn across a bed of shredded cheese. His sister, trying to be helpful when I asked her to grab him some cheese for a snack (I guess I should have clarified. I meant string cheese, the kind they both eat like 5 times per day) had handed him a full bag of shredded sharp cheddar. Nice.
You could have fed a small country with the amount of food on our floor and my little guy was quite pleased with himself. I was not.
It took two days, but I finally got the last glob of Bisquick cleaned out of my grout. Tip - don't put water on Bisquick when you are trying to get it off your floor because then you just have to clean up pancake batter. Start with a vacuum. Oh well, I will know that for next time - and let's be honest here there will be a next time.
Not to be outdone, it was my daughter's turn. On Sunday I was sitting on the couch working in my freshly cleaned house. Are you noticing a theme here? Obviously I need to quit my job so that my house can remain in some sort of presentable shape. My daughter comes and snuggles up next to me and says:
"Mommy! Mommy! I have a surprise for you!"
99.2% of the time, this is a good thing. Usually she has drawn me a nice picture or she has made up a song for me, etc. Excited about what sweet thing she has done to show me her love, I asked what it was.
"I took all of yours and daddy's socks and t-shirts out of your dresser drawers and dumped them on to the floor." Wow, wasn't expecting that one.
"Why exactly did you do that?" I asked the obvious question.
"Because I wanted to make a mess." We've taught her to be honest. I guess we've done a good job.
Oh well, I guess it could be worse, she could have dumped all of our clean clothes on the gooey glob of Bisquick.
I stumbled across a blog and found this great idea. I think it is so cute as I struggle a lot with end of the year teacher's gifts. Luckily for me, our pre-school/mother's day out recently has started a deal where you just give money. You give what you are able to give, the amount is not disclosed. The money goes into a pool that is divided up by the percentage of hours a teacher works per week. The only issue with just giving money is that it lacks a personal element but for now I'll take it. I've been a much less stressed mom in the final days of each semester since this optional policy was instituted. No longer am I running around looking for a gift during my last few hours of freedom before they let my little maniacs out for break.
I'm sure once my children get into official school they won't have that gloriously easy group money gift option. Most definitely I would have reverted back to that crazed lunatic running around town looking for just the right thing that says "thank you for teaching my child his multiplication tables and oh by the way I'm sorry he put seven live frogs in your desk drawer" - but now I don't have to!
I found this on blogger Andi's site and she found it from another blogger. I'm new to this blogging thing but I think there is an endless world of bloggers out there, if you take some time to look you can find the most amazing stuff - but I'm rambling.
Anyway, I think it is a very personal and thoughtful idea for the person who spends so much of their time with your children. What makes it even easier for me is that my grocery store has an entire rack of gift cards from places all over, so you might be able to do this in one store!
Anyway the gift is a gift card booklet. You purchase a few $5 gift cards - to places like Starbucks, Borders, Bath & Body Works, Ice Cream Place, Movie Theater, or whatever. Then make a booklet with a themed page dedicated to each item. The booklet can be titled "What will ____ do for the summer?" (Insert the teacher's name). Then make a page for each gift card you purchased - i.e. "Go to a movie" and have a picture of some popcorn and candy and insert the gift card and so on.
It is a little difficult to explain, so to see how cute this can turn out you should check out Andi's page. Since I have not made one, I don't have one to show you but two years from now when I have to make one, I'll definitely post a picture. Until them I'm going to enjoy just writing a check and being done with it.
What are you doing right now? Probably not the same thing I am. Currently I am rifling through my wardrobe looking for something funky and rock starish. Where am I going you wonder? Well to my husband's CD release party of course!
You know how you do stupid things when you are in love?
When I first started dating my husband he had a really nice guitar and just strummed it but didn't really know how to play. Being the super thoughtful girlfriend I was, I got him guitar lessons for Christmas one year. So really the only person I can blame for all of this is myself. At the time I thought it was adorable. He had the one guitar, played the same chord his teacher taught him over and over again and made up funny songs about me.
Fast forward 10 years and about 13 guitars later (not like he has gone through 13 upgrading each time, we actually own 13). I couldn't tell you the last time I watched a TV show or had a conversation without background music of whatever he feels like playing at the moment. Everywhere you turn in my house there is a guitar. He is constantly asking me if we can put those guitar holder things on the wall in our living room. I keep looking at him like he has 6 heads. Maybe I should let him because they at least the darn guitars wouldn't be underfoot at all times. But I just don't see that as the direction I want to go with our decor.
His favorite place to leave them is propped up against the edge of the couch. At least once a day a child knocks one over onto the floor. I laugh the smallest laugh on the inside when that happens. If they were put away in their proper home in the basement these things wouldn't happen.
We have lived in several different cities since the days of those first guitar lessons and he has left many bands in his wake. Now that we have settled in the place we plan to be forever, he has formed a band that is serious. Well as serious as you can get when you practice about 3 times per month. As much as it drives me crazy when he comes home at 3AM from a gig, I gotta say I think the Also Rans are really good and they have made a name for themselves around here. My husband is actually the lead singer which is funny because until that happened, I didn't even know he sang.
Clearly being rock stars is not their primary source of income or really any source of income. They all work really hard in their day jobs and it is a great way for them to let off steam but I always thought it was just kind of a hobby. That is until one evening we had this conversation:
D: "If we got signed to a label and had to go on tour, would you and the kids go on the tour bus with me when school was out?"
ME: "Um, let's cross that bridge when we need to sweetie."
I need to keep in mind that he is the one (along with 2 other members of the band) who owns a company that directs and produces music videos, so obviously he knows more about that stuff than I do. Shows you how much I know. I wasn't even aware that the major labels were itching to sign a bunch of 30 something dads with gray hair.
I've discussed this with the other wives. We want to be supportive. They are allowed to tour as long as they are not gone for more than 2 days at a time, don't go further than Omaha and don't get tattoos.
Really, I'm not trying to sound negative. Like I said, I think they are really good and it is great that they have so much fun with it. And to be honest, it is kind of hot to see your husband as the lead singer of a band. I think the issues all lie with me. Seriously, what do I wear to a CD release party that the entire city has been invited to? Hurriedly combing Play Doh out of my hair and rubbing a combo of soap and water to erase a marker stain on my shirt as I run out the door after tucking two children in bed doesn't really scream rock star's wife, does it?
I don't remember where I heard this but I think it is such a sweet idea and if I ever get organized enough to do it, I'll be super impressed with myself.
Did you and everyone else you know get the book "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" by Dr. Seuss when you graduated high school? To put a little spin on this idea purchase the book for your child in kindergarten or first grade. At the end of the school year pick a teacher who had a big impact on your child and have them write a note in the jacket of the book. Continue to do this year after year without letting your child know and then present it to them at high school graduation. It will be great for your son or daughter to look back and see what the teachers said over the years. You could take it one step further even and ask all the teachers to write something within the same theme - maybe what they think your child will be when they grow up or their biggest wish for your child, etc.
I think this idea is very sweet and I hope I am with it enough to remember it at the end of each school year. My guess is that I will remember then go on a mad dash throughout my house throwing everything out of closets and searching under couches and on top of the refrigerator for the book. I will eventually find it by mid-July and triumphantly call the teacher only to find out he/she is on a European vacation. But hey, at least I have this blog for my kids to read so they know I did have the best of intentions for them.
It's days like today when I wish I were my mother, or really I just wish that she lived next door to me instead of 5 hours away. This weekend we have two fancy schmancy parties to go to - clearly adults only. So excited! The last time I saw my rockstar/advertising/production company owning husband in a suit two days in a row was probably when we got married 8 years ago. That was possibly also the last time he shaved twice in a row as well - of course there is no guaranteeing that he will shave both nights this weekend. But nonetheless, I'm thrilled to have two grown up nights out!
Friday night is a fundraiser at the zoo and it's attire calls for "creative black tie". Last year was our first time to attend this event and I saw that people wore a million different types of outfits ranging from tiger striped dresses to tux jackets with shorts. On several occasions throughout the year I have thought "boy I should really get on deciding on what to wear to Jazzoo next June." My plan was to get super creative this year and wear something that is distinctively "creative black tie" - um yeah, the event is tomorrow and I only have the black part down. It's not my fault this was leap year and I ran out of time.
If I were my mother, right now I would be busily sewing away at a Sequined Wilma Flintstone dress completed by pearlized dinosaur bone high heels and a purse I chiseled from a rock. This outfit would go perfectly with the actual zebra fur cummerbund and bow tie and tail I would have made for my husband. PETA people don't get upset, she probably wouldn't really kill a zebra, but she is that creative so I wouldn't put it past her either. But alas, I am not my mother and as of right now I will be wearing my lbd (little black dress for those of you who don't know).
I've got my Saturday night attire ready as the invitation to that event didn't ask for anything stressful at all - it is your run of the mill Art Institute party. I can do that. But I am feeling inadequate on Friday's outfit. Any and all suggestions are welcome here.
To make it all worse, on Saturday morning my daughter's outfit for her "garden party" fashion show is due (yes my 4 year old is taking modeling classes - more on that later). Yet again, another reason my mommy needs to live either 1) inside my brain or 2) on my street. They want the girls to be creative in their outfits - like in a real fashion show where they wear outrageous things you would never actually wear walking down the street.
I told my 4 year old daughter that and explained how we needed to do something "different" She said, "Well I could always juggle. Oh wait, but I don't know how." So much for her input on this outfit.
Again, if it were my mother I would have hand sewn a flower that started out as a closed bud and with each step a petal would open up to finally reveal a handmade shimmering bumble bee costume at the end of the runway. Me, not so much. I have been to Michael's and The Dollar Store no less than 5 times buying and exchanging flowers, hats, watering cans, you name it all in high hopes of making something creative and coming up short. Again, any and all suggestions are not only welcome, but desperately needed.
I don't get it. Is my blog possessed or something? Every time I write something semi-negative, it comes back to bite me. Or maybe my husband has something to do with it because the two times I have done these semi-negative blogs they have been about him. Interesting...
Let me explain:
I sat down yesterday and wrote a snarky blog entry about how funny it was how my children act around their father but not around me. I hadn't posted it yet because it needed some editing but it went something like this:
So I had to go out of town again for work. Sadly I had to leave on my little guy's 2nd birthday. We had a small celebration (will celebrate big next weekend) and being so young he barely noticed I was leaving on his big day. It killed me to have to leave on his birthday but apparently not as much as it killed my husband. HeHe.
I think the rest of Sunday went just fine, it was apparently Monday morning when all hell broke loose. Monday was the first day of our daughter's week long day-camp. Having dealt with situations like this a million times, I know how to handle these things. You must begin to talk up the new adventure the evening before and discuss all the friends she will make and how she will do all sorts of arts and crafts projects and how she will get to run around a park, blah, blah, blah. The more you talk about it, the more she gets used to the idea of doing something new. I'm guessing dad didn't do those things or the "episode" she had at camp would not have occurred.
From the account I heard from my husband, they got to the park and didn't know where to go. After 4 attempts of trying to dump her off with the wrong camp counselors, she was in tears. Finally he found the correct place but there was no way she was going at this point. She screamed and cried and refused to go. The camp is from 9:00 AM to 12:00 PM and apparently the first half hour of her time was spent red faced and chasing dad back to his car just to be promptly returned to the counselors and so on and so forth. Finally he was able to free her death grip from his legs and left to a meeting at the zoo for which he was now thirty minutes late.
My mother-in-law had thrown her back out and so last minute there was no one to watch our son for the day therefore my husband had to take our bonkers 2 year old with him to film some stuff at the zoo. Apparently the little guy had lots of fun for the first twenty minutes but then he saw the carousel and it was all over. He wanted to ride that thing more than anything in his 2 year old little world. Unfortunately it just wasn't something my husband had time for since he was there working and so a fit of colossal proportions ensued. Complete with kicking, hitting and screaming on the ground, face in dirt. I find this really amusing because I was just telling my mother the other day that neither of my children had ever done that. Well I guess I can still say that they have never done that to me. Hehe. I'm horrible.
Again, easy solution to that problem. Take snacks with you. It is a joke in our family that Z-man can be talked out of anything for "a food" -that is what he calls all food. It could be the biggest fit you've ever seen with blood curdling screams and all and you just say "Z do you want a food?" Next silence, a smile, "yes, yes" - tantrum over.
I get back in town that evening and took my daughter to camp the next morning. We talked about all the fun things she would do when she got there and upon arrival she jumped out of the car and ran to hug her counselors. She couldn't have been more excited to be at camp and barely acknowledged me as I waved goodbye.
A couple of hours later I returned to pick up a smiling child with art projects galore in hand. When I asked her how her day was she told me it was "top notch." See, that is how you drop a child off at camp. Not rocket science. Seriously - Men!
I didn't even post that blog, so I'm not sure how karma figured it out but once again, just like with the LandCruiser, I'm being punished for saying not so nice things that involve my husband.
So here we are a day later. Drop off at camp didn't start out all that great. My daughter took a major spill running up the steps, there was some blood and serious rage that the camp's band aids do not have ScoobyDoo on them. After searching every square inch of the park for a water fountain to refill the water bottle that she dumped out on her fall, I was out the door leaving my sobbing child with her counselors. Okay not quite as successful as the day before's drop off but I was still out of there in 15 minutes - a full 15 minutes quicker than my husband got out.
I did a couple of errands and walked back into my house to the phone ringing.
"Hi, this is Angela from camp. E broke her butterfly hair clip about 35 minutes ago and has not stopped crying since. She wants you to come get her."
I asked to talk to E and in between sobs I heard something about a windy dentist, blue butterfly clip and mean tennis shoes. Later I found out that she was upset because the wind blew the butterfly clip the dentist had given her out of her hair and a child stepped on it in with his tennis shoes but he didn't mean to.
My child was inconsolable. No matter how many times I told her I could buy her a new blue butterfly clip and that it was okay, she was not going to budge. This child of ours is a sweetheart but boy is she stubborn. I had no choice but to go and get her. I know how she gets and I could not let her ruin everyone else's fun at camp. So long to my couple of hours of getting things done around the house.
So you see, there seems to be a pattern here as each time I say bad things about something related to my husband on this blog, karma kicks me in the tush for it. Maybe I will learn a lesson from this, but really what in the world would I write about if I couldn't make fun of him?
When my husband leaves town he stuffs a bag full of clothes I picked out for him and walks out the door after a quick kiss good-bye. I have to travel for work every so often and getting out that door just isn't quite as simple.
It usually starts out about five days ahead of time. Do laundry. Every iota of it so in the event that our 4 year old decides she needs to wear her tutu on top of her favorite pair of jeans coupled with just the right shade of pink top, it will be ready for her. Or so my 2 year old has enough clean pajamas to endure whatever it is that he does to them during breakfast. Clean the house. God forbid the person who is going to watch the children while I am gone see a dust bunny. Plan carpools. Boy, this is a rough one. Since both of my children are still in car seats it is like conducting an orchestra to try and figure out who has enough space in their car to get one or two of my children somewhere. Plan meals. I married my husband in large part because he is a fabulous cook and I am not. However, my husband works very hard and has no time to cook and he pays no attention to nutritional value whatsoever. Everyone says the kids won’t starve if they eat gummy bears and Cheez Its every meal for two days but really, am I going to take that chance? I don’t think so.
After six pages of type written instruction to their father and grandparents and explaining to my daughter that she might need to show daddy where we keep some things like toothpaste, I sulk out the door knowing doom is inevitable. About thirty minutes into the flight I start to relax and begin reading parenting magazines but all the while I am making notes of the things I completely forgot to tell my husband and will email him as soon as this plane lands. Yes, email; you have to get these things in writing.
After that email sends, I really begin to think things are going to be okay and I actually start to enjoy my time away. Although it is work, I do have a few moments here and there in my hotel room where I can watch what I want on TV, paint my nails and call a friend to chat.
Flying back home, I am a bit nervous about what is in store for me. I know my house will be a disaster, no question on that one. My husband is so sweet, he always tells me the night before I come home how he and the kids are cleaning up for me. I gotta be honest I don’t think I have ever walked in and thought wow our house looks so sparkly! I think he cleans kind of like the kids do. “Let’s put away this game, but wait let’s work on this puzzle first” and “okay all shoes go in the bin by the door, but let’s put our shoes on and run around outside for a minute”, “please bring all dishes to the sink; oh let’s have a snack” and so on.
All was going well for awhile and after several successful trips coming home to children that were still breathing, I started to comfortably slack a bit on my leaving town preparations. A trip recently made me rethink that decision. I tell you, you let your guard down for one second…
I had to leave for about five days. Each evening I spoke to the kids and blew many kisses over the phone so I knew they were still alive and accounted for. I was thrilled to see them when they picked me up at the airport. My daughter was fast asleep in her car seat when I went to kiss her but my sweet boy was wide-awake and so excited to see me. I ran around to his side of the car and he smiled that minimal tooth grin of his. Horror!
“Um Dan, what’s wrong with Zachy’s teeth?” I squealed.
“I don’t know. What’s wrong with Zachy’s teeth?” he asks me.
“Well part of them are missing.” I answered flatly.
This black space was as glaring to me as if my eyelid was being held open and a flashlight was touching my eyeball. Dan had not even noticed this major infraction on my baby in the five days I had been gone. The poor kid had two chipped teeth!
Don’t get me wrong, I am not blaming Dan for the incident in which this occurred because he was at work all day and most likely was not there for the spill that resulted in marring my precious little guy’s perfect smile, however I am floored that he did not even notice it. Obviously I have no choice but to go back to the six pages on instructions before my next departure but with one addition, item #338, please check all body parts daily for accuracy.
Originally an Okie, I ended up in Kansas City by way of Lawrence, KS, Chicago, IL and Denver, CO. My husband and I have 3 kids.
As of a few weeks ago I am a full time stay at home mom. Boy oh boy, let's see how this goes.
My blog covers all the dumb stuff we do around here and believe me there is a lot of it.