Mommy's Juice!: August 2011   

Monday, August 29, 2011

From the Oldest to the Youngest, With Love

My Little Sister w/her husband &
her nephew Jackson
Here we go….  Trey, my eight-month old, is now fully mobile.  He started to crawl a couple of weeks ago and hasn’t stopped since. 

This actually doesn’t surprise me at all, when I was pregnant with Trey I constantly had what I call “alien baby.”  My stomach would move around from right to left to center with little feet and hands in constant movement.  Even the ultra-sound technician commented, “he’s going to be a wild one.”  I couldn’t have agreed more and warned my husband, “just wait, this one is going to be a handful.  He’s going to make Jackson look like an angel.”  To which he replied, “no way, Jackson will always be the wild one.”  And yet again, my husband has been proven wrong.  Okay, so Trey isn’t exactly “wild” yet, but his activity level is three times what Jackson’s was at his age.

Is this a second child thing?  They know they aren’t going to get the full attention their older siblings got so they go out of their way to make you take notice.  Or is it that mom slacked off a little on the second pregnancy and went ahead and drank all the cokes she wanted, ate all the ice cream she wanted, slept very little and chased older brother around all day? 

I suppose the more likely scenario is a baby boy watching his older brother and wanting so very badly to be able to do everything he does.  This is why Trey has taken to following Jackson around the house.  Wherever Jackson goes, Trey starts crawling behind as fast as he can so he doesn’t miss a single bit of the excitement. 

Jackson is already getting annoyed and I know it’s only bound to get worse.  Being an older sibling I can feel his pain.   Apparently a few days after my sister was born my parents woke up in the middle of the night to me standing in their bedroom screaming, “take her back, take her back!”  And so began many years of torture from older sister to younger.

I remember when they made us start taking a bath together.  I told her that there was a little man that lived in the drain and if she got too close he would suck her down.  I would sit through the entire bath and talk to the little man, just to make sure she knew I was serious.  This whole story was made up of course so that I could sit by the faucet where the water was always warmer. 

I can also take responsibility for teaching her to read.  Unfortunately I taught her how to do it backwards.  I guess I didn’t want her to look smarter than myself.  My little gig was up when we went out to eat and she asked if she could order for herself.  My parents sat by full of pride until she announced she’d like to have a P-U-7 to drink. 

I pushed her down the stairs which led to stitches in her chin.  I fed her poisonous berries which led to her stomach being pumped.  And I loved her more than any other person in my life through it all.

Who knows what stories Jackson will be telling one day about the pranks he played on his little brother.  I’m sure there will be plenty.  But for now, my advice to Jackson would be to start working on the cardio, because it looks like little brother is going to be a handful!

Thursday, August 25, 2011

The Friday Funnies #6


Happy, Happy, Friday to you, to you, to you!
(okay, so I have that damn birthday song from Sprout stuck in my head)



I’m guessing it isn’t a good sign when I pick up my infant from daycare and his teacher says to me, “you’re gonna have your hands full.”  Just a guess.

The Bear Hunt:
My husband and I were off to take the boys on a walk after work the other day.  As we passed our neighbor’s house and headed for the trail they informed us they had seen a bear on the trail earlier that day.  Assuming the bear would be long gone by then I joked with Jackson that we would go on a bear hunt and came up with clues that he should look for as we tracked the bear down.  Half way through our walk we stopped to let the dog swim in a creek.  As we turned to continue our stroll momma bear appeared in our path about 15 yards ahead.  “Jackson, look,” I exclaim as I point down the trail as if we are at the zoo, “it’s the bear, we found her!”  Meanwhile my husband is quietly responding, “turn around now, let’s go.”  “Wait, I want Jackson to see her.”  About this time momma bear hopped up on her hind legs and stands up to show us her full frame.   Zoo viewing over, hauling ass beginning!  I think I’ll save all future wildlife viewings for areas with protective glass.
 

When I got home from work on Monday Jackson could not wait to show me the “present” he had found me.  “Mommy, mommy, I have a present for you, look,” at this point he hands me a rotten apple that he had apparently found on the ground.  “Eat it, Mommy, eat it.”  Yummmmm!!

Jackson upon dressing himself earlier this week, “I look so cute in these shorts!”

A father at daycare, “Every day I ask (my daughter) what she did at school, and every day the answer is: Jackson.”  I got the impression that Daddy didn't really like the idea of his baby girl “doing” Jackson every day.

I had a new babysitter watch the boys for us last weekend.  The next day she sent me an email thanking me for the opportunity to spend time with my “well behaved and well-mannered boys.”  
My reply, “you either need a lot more work or you’ve emailed the wrong parent.”



Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Delete the Damn Evidence!


Why is it that men are so stupid?  Do they not understand that leaving incriminating text messages on their phones is not a good idea?  Did they not see what happened to Tiger Woods?  I’ve had a few tearful conversations recently with girls who’ve discovered more than they wanted to, all from a text check on the hubby’s phone. 

So men, not that I’m on your side or anything, but DELETE THE DAMN EVIDENCE!  Do not trust your wives to give you privacy.  We will read your text messages when you aren’t looking.  We will also listen in at the door you have closed when you want to have a private conversation.  We’ll check your Facebook page regularly to see what new “friends’ you’ve made and we’ll double check what you are chatting about.  Sorry, we can’t help it, it’s just a part of who we are.  Just like you can’t control the urge to scratch your balls in public, we can’t control the urge to see exactly what it is you are up too.  

Honestly, the only thing I’ve found on my husband’s phone is a back and forth game with his younger brother where they see who can send the most quotes from Slap Shot.  As for his Facebook page, the only interesting thing going on there are harmless conversations with his ex-girlfriend from High School.  Turns out she married one of their high school friends, has three kids now and is little Ms. Facebook, checking-in often to see how my hubby’s doing. 

I'm actually the one that set up my husband’s Facebook page.  He really had no interest in it.  In fact, he very rarely even checks it, so from time to time I go in for him, announce across the room who wants to be his friend and read off any new messages.  As I was doing this a few weeks back the ex popped up on instant chat with “hi, how’s it going?”  Well of course I decided to have a little fun with it!  I replied back with what I thought my husband would say, “everything sucks, how are you?” 

So began a back and forth harmless chat with me throwing in at least three compliments about what a fabulous wife I had.  Then out of nowhere she hits me with, “I asked (my husband) to move out.  Things were getting out of hand.  I actually have a restraining order against him.”  Ummm…this isn’t what I signed up for!

So I ponder: do I reply, do I tell my husband what I’ve been up too and let him reply, do I sign off and have her think my husband couldn’t give a crap about her troubles?  This is a tricky one, but in the end I decided (for once) to do the right thing. 
“Um, honey, your ex just popped up on chat.”
“Whatever.”
“No, I think you should come see what she has to say.”
“Why?”
“Just look.”
(dramatic pause as he notices the correspondence that has been taking place for about 20 minutes at this point)
“What the hell have you been doing?”

Lesson learned honey, I can’t be controlled, my nosey nature is like an addiction and your technology is my heroin.  Luckily, from what I’ve read so far, I don’t see in our immediate future your car against a tree while I run down the driveway with a golf club!

Sunday, August 21, 2011

May the Flat Butt's Stop Here!


Poor little Trey had to have tubes put in his ears on Friday.  It’s a bummer, especially because he is so young, but we had the same procedure done for Jackson almost two years ago and he hasn’t had any ear problems since, so I know it’s a good thing.  At our last appointment with the ear doctor he asked if I had a history of ear problems, “nope,” I replied, “we can blame my husband for this one, if they end up with bad hair that will be my fault.”

This of course got me thinking, what other traits do I hope the boys don’t inherit?  Well let’s just start with Dad since he is the one who gave them his crappy ears.  What other faults of his can we hope to avoid:
  1. His work ethic: I have never met a person that hates work as much as my husband.  I have never known him to enjoy a job, or even just moderately like one.  Unfortunately, unless one of his lottery tickets ends up a winner, he’ll be dreading Monday mornings for the rest of his life. 
  2. His dance moves: at my sister’s wedding she actually asked me if his dancing was serious.  It is SO BAD.  He is always the very whitest person on the dance floor. 
  3. His feet: they are GIANT!  I hate going shoe shopping with him because he can never find anything he likes in his size.  He also has abnormally long arms which makes finding shirts a nightmare.  My sister has suggested he may have Marfan Syndrome.

Obviously I’m far from perfect myself and I can only hope the boy’s don’t inherit some of my less favorable traits:
  1. My butt: it’s flat as a pancake.  Not that butt’s are as important to boys as they are to girls but if the pants half way down your ass look happens to go out of style my boys would look so “2008” with a flat but like mine.
  2. My hyperactivity: it may be a little late for this with the behavior Jackson has been displaying lately.  As he was screaming and running around a Red Lobster recently my mom just laughed with the hostess while saying, “payback is hell.”  Indeed.
  3. My impatience: literally my worst quality.  It’s the reason I speed, the reason I have typos all over my work and the reason my husband is constantly giving me crap for forgetting the most important ingredient at the grocery store (which happened to be a leek today).

We do have good traits too!  Let's hope Daddy hands down the following:

  1. His metabolism: that man eats more than anyone I know, barely works out, and still has the same body he had in his twenties.  It is truly remarkable and I hope the boys are blessed enough to inherit it.  Although the grocery bills will probably put us on the streets.
  2. His brains: okay, I admit it, my husband is smarter than me.  Another nickname my sister gave him was “Encyclopedia Britannica” because of his huge knowledge.  So yes, I hope the boys inherit his “book smarts,” but not his “street smarts.”  In that category his stock begins to plummet.
  3. His dimples: I fell in love with them immediately and lucky boys, they both came out with the cutest dimples you’ve ever seen!  Good one dad.

And now of course, what I hope the little devils get from mom:
  1. My sense of humor: not that Dad doesn’t have a good sense of humor, I just happen to have an exceptional one!
  2. My open-mind: I think it’s important to always look at both sides of a story, understand both sides of an argument and accept people for who they are.  I love trying new things, experiencing new places, music, literature, etc.  The hubby on the other hand has ordered the exact same dish at our favorite Mexican restaurant for the last ten years.  His motto: if it ain’t broke, why fix it.
  3. My Southern Charm: (okay, maybe charm isn’t the right word)  It bothers me greatly that my boys won’t grow up Southern.  I can only hope some of the south will rub off on them from mom.  May they drink sweet tea, always say please & thank you, respect their elders, play football on Friday nights, go barefoot in the summer, and say ya’ll with just a bit of twang!


Thursday, August 18, 2011

The Friday Funnies #5

I have to say this was most certainly a funny week.  Debating Ritalin….
Have a great weekend!


Trey, our 8-month old has an ear infection, on top of teething.  On Sunday night he was crying hysterically and nothing we did would stop it.  As I was putting our oldest to bed I suddenly heard silence.  I walked out to find my husband had taken the baby outside to his truck and was blasting Guns n Roses “Welcome to the Jungle” as loud as possible.  Redneck: yes. A little embarrassing for the neighbors to hear: yes. But quite frankly I could care less, it worked.

Is it wrong that when I play my son at Candy Land I REALLY want to win?


Jackson: Where did you put the chocolate?
Me: I hid it.
Jackson: Oh...well that's not good.

We are in potty training HELL!  My 3-year old has no problem peeing on the potty, but poop is a whole other issue.  In all he has probably pooped on the potty five times.  And yet, at a very busy park last weekend (with no restroom might I add) he informs me that he has to go poo.  And so we head into the woods.  Not once, but three times!  Did I mention I had forgotten wipes that day?  I got to use leaves to wipe his ass.  May I also mention, he hasn’t told me he had to go poop one time since that day in the woods.


After hitting my husband with a Nerf ball as he was walking out the door my 3-year old demanded I go outside and apologize or he would have to put me time-out.

It is very rare that I change hair styles, but feeling brave this week I decided to try adding a little red to my color.  When I got home my husband looked at me and said, “wow, purple?”  I cried for an hour.  Why do men speak?

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Creative Boredom Killer: Who is Your Celebrity Spouse and What Does that Tell You?

  

I wouldn’t by any means call myself an insomniac, but when woken up in the middle of the night (which let’s face it, with an eight month old, happens pretty much every night) it usually takes me at least an hour to get back to sleep.  During this hour it’s possible at least 1.3 million thoughts are running through my head:

-          What should I wear to work tomorrow?
-          Could I get by without a shower in the morning?
-          Is a pop-tart a healthy enough breakfast for a three year old?
-          Would yesterday’s “accident” be interesting enough to blog about?
-          Can I afford a maid?

If the random thoughts continue I have no chance of falling back to sleep.  I’ve found if I try to concentrate on one subject I’ll eventually bore myself to sleep.  Last week I found a subject to concentrate on that I wanted to share, you know, in case you ever need to bore yourself.

It started as an attempt to come up with the star I thought best to play myself and my friends in a movie.  Once I decided on all my friends I then started choosing actors for their significant others.  I would put these two stars together and ponder whether a relationship between them would mirror the relationship between my friends.  I actually found this experiment to be very revealing and often point-on to the real-life couple’s status or the status I could see them eventually reaching. 

I thought I would share a few of these with you as examples.  For the two or three of my friends who actually read this blog, don’t worry, none of the below are you!

Daryl Hannah and James Franco: oddly enough I can see this Hollywood fantasy couple as quite ideal for each other, regardless of the age difference. 
Reality Couple: Quite ideal for each other!  Odd, but ideal.

Julia Roberts & Josh Duhmel: ah, yes, the beautiful people with beautiful children. They laugh together and seem perfect to the outside world.  But inside their doors, things aren’t always perfect.
Reality Couple: Gorgeous and miserable!

Anne Hathaway & Mel Gibson:  quite obviously this Hollywood couple would be doomed for disaster.  Sweet girl next door meets total creep.
Reality Couple: Can you tell I don’t like this baby daddy?  Yep, I’ve smelt disaster from day one.

Renee Zellweger & Heather Ledger: interesting huh?  I haven’t quite been able to decide if this is a good match or not.  She could have been laid back enough for the late Ledger, or could she?
Reality Couple: Spot on.  I have no idea whatsoever if they should be together or not.  I guess only time will tell.

Angelina Jolie & Ben Affleck: she’s a stuck up bitch, he’s a cool guy. 
Reality Coupe: Oh wait, this real life couple is already divorced.  Couldn’t see that coming…..

Sandra Bullock & Dennis Quaid: PERFECT!  PERFECT!  PERFECT! 
Reality Couple: Okay, I admit it, this was actually me and my husband.  Excuse me?  Yes Sandra Bullock would play me.  Okay, maybe not Miss Congeniality Sandra Bullock but the Sandy that played Sidda from Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, yep that’s me!   

Give it a shot next time you need to kill some time.  You might be surprised at what you find out.  Be sure to come back and tell me!

Monday, August 15, 2011

I'm Sorry, Who Said That?



When I went to see my doctor for my annual exam last week I found myself asking a question that I never expected to come out of my mouth, “so if we decide to have another baby everything looks good, right?”  As  I heard this question asked my mind was screaming, “exactly who is this crack head that has taken over and how do we get rid of her?”

If you had asked me during the first year of my oldest son’s life whether we planned to give him a baby brother or sister the answer would have been a stern, “hell no!”  But after a few more months the thought of another child didn’t seem like such an utter nightmare.  After we had our second son I knew, beyond a doubt, we were done.  And yet, I still asked my doctor the question which opened the door to the thought.

As I pondered why I may have had this impulse to inquire on future pregnancies I thought of the two pregnant women I encountered when arriving at the doctor’s office that day.  Both seemed so happy as they waited for their appointments as I sat dreading mine.  I guess a pang of jealousy actually hit me as I began reminiscing about when I was pregnant and how exciting a time it was.  Hence, this must be why a crazy person popped into my head and began instructing my mouth to ask the doctor outrageous things.

Jealousy at pregnant women?  Yes, I know this sounds impossible.  Who would want to be pregnant again?  But I must admit, both of my pregnancies were relatively easy and I actually found a lot of the benefits of pregnancy outweighed the negatives.  For instance:

When visibly pregnant:
-          cars actually stop for you when you’re crossing the road
-     strangers actually open doors for you and always offer to assist if they see you carrying anything that looks as if it could be heavy
-          assuming you shouldn’t be on your feet too long, those with more items in their cart at the grocery store will actually let you in front of them

And these are just the perks from strangers!  When your spouse knows you’re pregnant:
-          he allows you to sleep in most mornings, realizing of course that you need your rest
-          he lets you have the last piece of pizza, even though he really wants it, because he knows you are eating for two
-          he often brings home ice cream and other treats because he realizes how miserable you are without a glass of wine
-          my personal favorite: he doesn’t like for you to clean because the chemicals in the cleaning supplies could hurt the baby (now of course, we all know this isn’t true, but I didn’t see any reason in clearing that up for him)

During my second pregnancy I actually got put on bed rest for a period in my third trimester.  It felt like I had won the jackpot!  Breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed, no running after our 2 year old, no rushing around getting things ready for the new arrival…just Millionaire Matchmaker marathons, People Magazines and plenty of dessert!

So yes, I could definitely handle a third pregnancy.  A third child though??  Well that one I’m going to have to ponder a little longer…
     

Friday, August 12, 2011

Friday Funnies #4

I think I will always remember this as the week the terrible three’s kicked in.  Two’s were a joke compared to this.  Wish me luck over the weekend!

Happy Friday!



Tell me this little swing trick wasn’t freaking genius! 

Bad parenting move of the week: when the baby woke up at midnight crying because he had peed all over himself in the crib, was it bad of me to clean him up but leave the sheets on and simply move him to the opposite side of the crib?

Upon arrival at his friend’s birthday party the very first words out of my son’s mouth, “where is the cake?”

Jackson now insists on dressing himself and for whatever reason always puts his underwear and shorts on backwards.  So now I have a 3-year old with plumbers butt.

We’ve got ourselves a crawler!!  Trey, at almost 8 months, is now all over the place.  He literally doesn’t stop moving, which I totally expected from him considering when I was pregnant my stomach looked like something you would see on aliens. 

Is anyone surprised that Casey Anthony was voted most hated person in America?  I’m even less surprised that Spencer Pratt came in second.  What a tool he is!  In fact the only surprise for me was that Rosie O'Donnell didn’t make the top ten.  Who actually likes her?  Then there's Gene Simmons, yuck!  I could go on all day...

I was so excited when my brother-in-law sent Jackson a Snoopy Sno-Cone maker!  I remember having one when I was a kid and loved it!  Well, those days are over.  That thing is a total pain in the ass!  Unless your goal is to build arm muscles instead of just giving your kid a treat, I would suggest avoiding this little prize at all costs.

Did I mention that the recipe for the Sno-Machine juice called for one cup of sugar and half a cup of water??  Yet another reason to avoid the Peanuts crew.


Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Now Enrolling: Pinata Whacking 101



My son’s best friend at daycare is a boy named Joshua whose family is from Mexico.  “Joshie” as he is better known, is two months younger than Jackson and has been in his class since they were infants.  We were invited to Joshie’s 3rd birthday party this past weekend and Jackson literally could not wait for the party to start. 

I myself was also a little excited about the party.  Truth be told I had never been to a Mexican fiesta before and was interested to see what was in store.  I can’t even begin to tell you my disappointment when we arrived and I saw a grill with burgers and hot dogs on it.  I thought for sure we’d be feasting on homemade tamales and tacos.

My disappointment was quickly cured though when I looked in the corner and saw the biggest piñata I have ever seen in my life!  A life size clown sat smiling at me and I knew a good time was about to be had.  As I listened to Selena singing in the background I said to Joshie’s grandmother that I had never seen such a large piñata.  To which she replied, “oh that’s nothing, you should see the ones we have in Mexico.”  When is that party and how do we get an invite??

When piñata time finally arrived the kids all lined up for their turn to take a whack, birthday boy first of course, and Jackson was right behind him.  I watched on with pride as Jackson grabbed the stick and went for his first hit.  That pride was quickly replaced with utter embarrassment as my baby gently tapped the clown over and over with the force of a feather landing to the Earth.  Thank God his father was not there to witness this!

After Jackson’s turn the Latino kids went on one after another, hitting this poor clown like he had just robbed their mother.  I could not have been more impressed with the intensity they put into every swing.  I silently thought to myself, “no wonder Latino’s are so much better at baseball, look at the practice they are getting at such a young age.”

By the time the stick was put back in Jackson's hands that poor clown was about to collapse.  But I can promise you, that collapse wasn’t happening on Jackson’s turn.  Again, he gently tapped his new friend with no effort whatsoever.  I decided then and there that I would be starting a piñata whacking class immediately.  I couldn’t possibly take him to another party and risk this embarrassment happening again.  From the looks of the other white boy taking swings, I have a feeling I’d have quite a few students enrolled. 

Three more kids after Jackson and the clown was history.  Candy fell out of the sky like it was Christmas and all the kids scattered.  And can I just tell you which kid scored the most?  That’s right, my boy!  Pride returned as I stuffed his lollipops, Reese’s and Snickers into my pockets.  Then suddenly, that pride turned into guilt, as in my mind the thought occurred, “isn’t it just like a white man to let the minorities do all the work while he reaps all the benefits?”  Damn stereotypes!   

Monday, August 8, 2011

Love at First Sight? Not Exactly....


People love to ask the question, “how did you meet your husband?”  I’d be a liar if I said it didn’t interest me to hear how other couples met as well.  Usually it’s something boring like, “we went to college together,” or “we met through a mutual friend.”  But every now and then you actually get a good one that starts off with something like “I had gone to Vegas with some friends for the weekend,” those are the ones that I like to hear.

For me, my story starts off with, “when I first met him I actually hated his guts.”  And this is no exaggeration whatsoever.  I truly thought at that time that my future husband was one of the rudest, laziest, obnoxious people I had ever met.  And because he was going through his “Phish Phase” he also had bad hair!  I guess he thought hippy long was in, when in fact, if you combine hippy long with frizzy what you come out with is so, so, very far from in.

We met at work.  At the time I was the Front Desk Supervisor at an athletic club and he was, for all intents and purposes, the pool boy.  It was his job to come in each night and clean the hot tubs and pools, while also straightening up the weight room.  This was one of probably four jobs he held at the time and if his work ethic showed anything I ‘m going to guess it was at the bottom of his list of priorities.

For some reason, he seemed to think it was okay to come to work and clock-in, then leave, come back at the end of the night, do his six hour job in twenty minutes and clock-out.  This meant in his absence I was left picking up sweaty towels and recycling water bottles.  Of course I could have snitched on him, but I was too cool for that.  Instead I just complained about what a douche bag he was to my co-workers, who all seemed to absolutely love him and think he was just the greatest guy ever.

Then one day, my negative opinion of the future father of my children, was changed.  (and for the record, this occurred after he had cut his hair!)  He called in to let me know he was running late that day.  Surprise, surprise!  I had been having a particularly bad day and I guess it was evident in our conversation because he asked what was bothering me.  I believe I rattled off a few things then hung up the phone.  An hour later, when his sorry ass showed up for work, he walked up to my desk with three items.  He said, “I didn’t know which one of these would cheer you up but I figured at least one would work.”  At that point he handed me:
1. A candy bar
2. A Diet Coke
3. A Beer

Every negative emotion I had towards this boy man had suddenly changed.  Don’t ask me why this small token of kindness touched me the way it did, but it had happened.  A few weeks later we went out for drinks and from there it’s history.. 

No, it was far from love at first site, but it’s our story, and so far it’s been a pretty good one!    

Friday, August 5, 2011

The Friday Funnies #3

My Little "Prince"

Another Friday, another funny wrap up of the week.
Happy Friday to all!!  Make it a good one!

I walked in on my 3-year old in the bathroom with a jar of Vaseline, a soap dispenser and a hairbrush, staring intensely in the mirror while greasing his hair up like Emilio Estevez in the Outsiders.  When I asked him what he was doing he replied, “I have to be a prince.”  Well there you go.  Three baths later I think the gunk is finally gone.

Me: "Jackson, why is Trey crying?"
Jackson: "I hit him in the head."
Me: "Can’t you come up with anything better than that”
Seriously, the kid’s going to be a terrible poker player.

I’ve noticed the Wordless Wednesday trend for mommy bloggers.  Love the idea, unfortunately as the senior voted Most Talkative at Northeast Guilford High School class of ’93, I would feel uncomfortable ever going wordless.  Gotta keep the rep up you know?

When you get an email, text and voice message from three different friends apologizing for their behavior the night before, you know a good time was had by all!

You don’t realize how much you yell until you can’t do it.  I was sick this week and lost my voice.  I can’t tell you how many times I went to yell and only heard a faint whisper come out.  A true miracle for my son, and possibly my husband too!

If the good people of Italy didn’t hate American’s before, I’m just going to guess a visit from the Jersey Shore has changed their minds.

“Here comes the train!” – comment made to me while I had the 3-year old in the stroller and the baby in the Bjorn walking through a Fair last weekend.  That person had a beer in their hand, I did not…

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Which Course Includes Nuggets?


When you have children the term “dinner party” usually means burgers and hot dogs on a grill served around 5:30pm.  So when my husband informed me on Sunday that we would be attending a “dinner party” with two other couples and their children I just assumed this would be the scenario.  Turns out I was quite wrong.

Our Chef for the evening was one of my husband’s close friends who is recently divorced.  He has two children of his own but this was his ex-wife’s night with the kids leaving him solo.  I have to believe that the initial purpose of this dinner was to be a boy’s night, and that this idea had been overruled by one of the female attendees, which you better believe was not me.  I'm all for boys night, it just means a return girls night coming my way soon!

The other reason I am under the belief this was to be a boy’s night would be the menu.  In addition to our Chef, my husband, myself and our two boys, also in attendance were another married couple with a nine-year old daughter and six-year old son, along with my husband’s best friend, his current girlfriend and his 6 year old son.  You got it, five kids!

When we arrived it was already 6:30pm and the food was just being prepped.  Our son eats at 6:30 almost every night and he’s on the late end for most kids his age.  After running around acting crazy, jumping off of bunk beds, and screaming their cute little heads off for the first fifteen minutes, every kid in that house was STARVING.  One by one they popped into the kitchen asking “when are we going to eat?”  After hearing that question at least 296 times, at last our Chef announces its time for the “first course.”  I’m sorry, did he say “first course?”  Kids don’t do “courses”!!  Especially kids who are already an hour past supper time!  But at least it was something.  Well, at least we thought it was something until the course hit the table and all four kids went running in the opposite direction near tears.  A caprese salad.   As an adult, I thought it was possibly one of the best caprese salad’s I have ever eaten, but I can understand why my 3-year old was a little turned off.  At least the baby stayed at the table and watched.

Twenty minutes later the “second course” was ready.  The kids returned to the table only to take one bite out of a crab cake and immediately start screaming.  The crab cake itself was fantastic, but our Chef didn’t consider the fact that the aioli he was serving with it was spicy enough to bring tears to the eye.  

At this point the dads are pretty much telling Chef Genius, “the kids have to eat, is there anything the kids can eat?”  

Another half hour into this nightmare the “third course” was served: lobster ravioli.  If there is one thing that almost all kids can agree on its pasta.  All four dug in like they hadn’t eaten in days, cheering for our Chef with mouths full.  He had finally, at 8:30pm, twenty minutes after my son’s bedtime, knocked it out of the park.  He was toasted, his name was chanted, he was for those five glorious minutes, a hero.

When the “fourth” and final course was served, the kids were already sated and therefore unable to complain about the delicious Ahi tuna steaks they had turned their noses up at.  They went back to playing like maniacs in this world of “after bedtime” while the adults enjoyed the last of a delicious dinner and tasty wine that was truly a treat for each of us.  It’s just a shame that this treat couldn’t have been enjoyed the entire night, as opposed to only at the end.  Next time I'd suggest chicken nuggets for the first course!   

Monday, August 1, 2011

Blue Dishes and a Little Barf

Checking Out the New Place


When it became quite obvious that the old-school 1920’s cabin with slanted floors, mice in the ceiling, and grass growing out of the sideboards, was not a practical home for our toddler, my husband and I decided it was time to quit pretending we were cool and admit we were now uncool parents who needed an uncool house for our kids to grow up in.  As luck would have it a brand new duplex was built in our neighborhood right around this time and we were fortunate enough to purchase it.  Granted, this is a small duplex that was delivered on the back of a semi truck, but considering we live in one of the most expensive zip codes in the nation it feels like country club living to us.  Our old log cabin, full of so much character and history, was replaced with a new beginning, empty of any character whatsoever but necessary. 

Never, in my entire life, had I lived in a brand new home.  The smell, the clean floorboards, the appliances that still had the stickers on, and the very best part, my first ever dishwasher!  My parents decided to spring for one after my sister and I had moved out and they had officially lost their manual labor dishwashers.  I could not wait to put this glorious new addition in my life to use.

We moved in shortly before Christmas when my son was 1 and a half.  My first order of business was to get a Christmas tree and start making our memories.  For my husband, who was also living in his first ever brand new home, getting settled seemed less of a priority than trying to make sure we didn’t mess a single thing up.  Me, I’m more of a realist, I knew with a toddler in the house there wasn’t a chance that new smell was going to last long.  And as usual, I was right! 

Christmas Eve we had our first get together at the house with another couple and their two young girls.  Not fifteen minutes into the visit out of nowhere their 3 year old began projectile vomiting all over the brand new carpet in our living room.  I could just see my husband cringe as the first of many smelly, unpleasant occurrences took place in home sweet home.    

Shortly after the New Year, when pulling dishes out of my new favorite appliance, I noticed they all had a blue tint to them.  WTF??  My husband, while telling me how I don’t know how to do anything right, refilled the washer and ran it again.  Low and behold, blue dishes again, and again, and again.  Granted, neither of us had a dishwasher background, but could we seriously be that lost in the past that we couldn’t figure this out.  Hell, if I can figure out how to put an app on an iphone I damn well better be able to figure out how to run a dishwasher.  So I began taking it apart, piece by piece, and as I disabled the silverware tray the culprit appears: a blue crayon, conveniently placed there by our son.  Mystery solved.

Since then our poor brand new home has suffered the colored murals of a 2-year old on the walls, red wine stained carpets, stickers stuck to toilets and floors that seem impossible to remove, and many numbers of other mishaps which often bring a good chuckle, and often don’t.  Through it all I continue to comfort my husband, who is heart-broken over what could have been, with a simple fact: we’re just creating the character I was looking for and I love it!