Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Temporary Insanity

I was on my way to Wal-Mart  when, as if on cue, the baby pooped

I decided to change him on the drivers seat of the mini-van before we went inside. 

As I was changing him, my car door barely tapped a black sporty car parked next to me. As I moved to pick him up - it tapped it again. And it was a TAP - a teeny tiny TAP.

Not a dent or scratch was made, but before I could gather my items to go inside a twenty-something girl emerged from her car and screeched at me:

"YOU!!!" You need to stop banging into my car!" 

She looked like a wild animal that was spewing young stupid girl venom at me. The look in her eyes was half-crazed and there was nothing to do but apologize.

I said I was sorry, and I was. I hadn't intended to tap her car. 

"What-EVER!" she snapped at me and then, without even inspecting her car, she went inside.

I got fired up. 

What a b*tch! All high and mighty in her sporty black car....she has no idea that within a few years she'll have put on about 30lbs and be changing diapers in her own minivan - now that will give her something to be bitchy about.

Then something happened to me - Rage? PMS? Oh wait - this is what could possibly be classified as temporary insanity. 

I took the dirty diaper (before you think I've totally lost my mind, I'd like to clarify that the diaper was wrapped and the poop was contained)  and put it on her windshield. I then put Jack back in his carseat and sped away.

It was a total rush. I suppose this is what happens after staying at home with children for 6 years, you finally crack and start hurling poop at people - kind of like a monkey in a cage.

I called Justin to let him know what I had done.

JUSTIN: Is this the kind of stuff you're out doing while I'm at work?

ME: Well, not everyday.

JUSTIN: Well, what about getting groceries?

ME: Oh, um, yeah, I kind of forgot about that. Wanna go out for dinner tonight?

JUSTIN: Abbie, go pick up the diaper.

ME: Never! No Way!


ME: Hello???

Ok, was I proud of what I had done? No, not really. 

Was it the nice, right thing to do? Definitely not. 

Did it feel good? Absolutely. I think those poop-hurling monkeys are onto something. 

Friday, August 26, 2011

Lost in The Mail

Today I had to sign a legal document (we're refinancing our mortgage) that declared that I'm worth nothing. That's awesome.

However, I would like to attach an addendum to this document to recognize a study conducted in 2007 by Salary.com that estimated a stay-at-home mom's annual salary at 
$138, 095.

I'm pretty sure I'll be getting a check any day now...

Thursday, August 25, 2011

R.I.P. Starfish

We got the girls Beta fish as a bribe for cleaning the toy room. They named them Rainbow and Starfish, respectively.

I prepped the girls regarding their fish's projected lifespan to which they were strangely delighted and dare I say - excited?

They made funeral plans for when their fish would die and discussed how they would decorate their graves. I think they were looking forward to hosting funerals.

So, I wasn't that concerned when we found Starfish belly-up in the bowl. Starfish was Hadley's fish - I should've known better.

She cried (for hours) and blamed herself for not being a good pet owner as she believed she just didn't love him enough.

She also decided that a grave would be too painful look at  - so a good old-fashion flushing would be best. However, now she refuses to use that toilet as it reminds her of Starfish's demise.

She has cleared her room of her stuffed animal fish as they too serve as a painful reminder of her departed pet.

Then as a tribute to Starfish, Hadley said a prayer into a plastic easter egg, sealed it up and placed it inside a cardboard box. She told us that whenever anything dies, she will say a prayer for it into an egg and place it into that box. I'm not sure why she is praying into plastic Easter eggs but last night, I didn't care to ask as her mourning for Starfish consumed most of the evening, and after a few hours of reassuring her that there would be water in heaven for him to swim in, I just wanted her to go to sleep.

Cameron watched Hadley's dramatic mourning of Starfish with a look of mild amusement. She had a half-grin on her face most of the night, and I started to think she might have killed him. I'm kidding. Kind of.

Hadley will be getting a new fish tonight and hopefully that will help ease the pain so she can resume using our toilet.

R.I.P. Starfish - You were a good fish.

Starfish in happier times. 

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Reading, Writing and 'Rithmetic...

I've never been very good at Math. 

I've never been able to work the numbers in a way that would produce a correct answer. My mind just never twisted the right way. It just never clicked.

The efforts of many math teachers were met with frustration, apathy, or hostility as I just didn't get it and after a certain point, I just gave up.

I always knew that when I had children that they would eventually reach an age where I would be unable to help them with their homework.

I didn't know that age would be 6.

I was helping Hadley with her homework and she was instructed to make this pattern: circle, square, circle. Then repeat the pattern 3 times. 

So I thought she should draw circle square circle and then repeat - from the beginning - circle square circle. Hadley insisted that she should write circle square circle - and that the third circle counted as the first circle of the second sequence. 

Are you still with me? Really the specifics don't matter, but what does matter is that I had to call three people to double check Hadley's first grade math. 

For the record, I was correct. And there really is no joy in outsmarting a 6 year old. 

Later on....

ME: Justin, I'm in a slump. I have nothing to blog about.

JUSTIN: Why don't you blog about how you got confused helping Hadley with her math homework?

ME: Justin, my god, I don't want to write things that make me look stupid.

Justin shook his head at me and walked out of the room.

I realize I'm no genius, but I'm pretty darn sure I was just insulted. 

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Marc Jacobs and McDonalds

When summer began, I had three pairs of sunglasses. I'm now down to one. 

I've managed to hang on to my favorite pair - the Marc Jacob lenses that I bought in Las Vegas. 

These were a clearance rack purchase, but were still easily the most I've ever spent on a pair of sunglasses. I think I was woozy from the Vegas heat, because moms should never wear sunglasses that cost more than $9.99. 

To prove my point....

Today, I was in McDonald's Playland with Cameron and Jack.

We were having a good time in the ketchup/grease-scented bacteria trap, but it was time to go - Jack was crawling up strangers legs and spitting chewed-up cheeseburger chunks. I grabbed my keys, phone and - wait! - where were my sunglasses? 

I looked through the diaper bag, through my purse, under the table and then accused Cameron of swiping them. Suddenly it hit me - they were in the damn trash. I had placed them on the tray and must have tossed them when I was cleaning up.

I handed Jack over to my poor friend (who might now require chiropractic care, as she wasn't used to wrestling the 30lb eleven-month-old toddler man-child) and headed to the trash.

I pulled the can out & well, it was pretty gross. An older woman came to assist me (because she was crazy? I don't know...) and essentially told me to suck it up because if I could care for kids, then I could dig through a trash can. 

I suppose she was right, so I kept digging, and soon I found them - dripping in ketchup and salad dressing. 

As I turned around, I was met by laughing and pointing toddlers who seemed to get quite a kick out of the dumpster-diving side show.

Later, I felt ill. That trash can didn't just contain my sunglasses - I'm pretty sure it contained some sort of chicken-nugget virus. The bird flu, probably. Yes, I'm sure that's it. I now have the bird-flu. Thank you Vegas heat and thank you Marc Jacobs.   

I will hence-forth be purchasing my shades at the Hucks Food & Fuel Station.

Monday, August 15, 2011

So Close...

Today was the first day of school, and though Hadley seemed unfazed, I was a little jittery.

Because I've been a stay-at-home mom for the past six years, I haven't had much practice with waking the kids, getting them ready and out the door. 

We've never had to be anywhere at any certain time, and our day would usually unfold without much purpose or order. Well, that party's over. First grade might blow.

However, I was feeling pretty proud of myself as I walked out of school having dropped Hadley off on time.  

Not only was she on-time, she was also dressed with her hair-combed, teeth brushed, shoes on her feet - lunch and backpack in hand. 

All moms should pause briefly to celebrate these little victories...they're really all we have -aside from our hot mini-vans, of course.

I had done it. The first day morning rush was over. Victory! I really had it together.

Then as I was walking to the parking lot, I got this text from a friend:

Damn it. Soooo close.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Breaking News

A new study published in the Journal of Social, Evolutionary and Cultural Psychology has found that whining is the most annoying sound in the world. 


This is ground-breaking information. How much time and money was spent on that study?

This information has been known to mothers since the very first toddler was placed in time-out in the cave for clubbing his sister, but I suppose its nice to finally have proof.

Breaking News: The Sky is Blue and Whining is Annoying

PS. Should the need arise to extend or further this study, please contact me as I would like to volunteer my children. Thank you.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

First Grade and First Tears...

Hadley shows off her missing two-front teeth. She will start
first grade next week.
I'm not particularly sentimental regarding my children's milestones. I never have been. Watching them grow and achieve is awesome and very rewarding, but it has always just failed to trigger my tear button. 

I thought maybe I was weird. Why wasn't I crying with the other moms on the first day of Kindergarten? Should I be faking it? Could I pinch myself hard enough to well up tears?

On Hadley's first day of Kindergarten, I simply said good-bye and sent her on her merry way. Truthfully, I was relieved to lessen my load, as I was about a million months pregnant and expecting a new baby. She would only be gone for three hours, and although it was three hours daily, it wasn't much different than pre-school.

No tears from this mom - - Until this week when the mere thought of sending Hadley to first grade doesn't just bring tears to my eyes - it has me sobbing. Sobbing. Of course, this puzzles me....

I've stayed at home raising Hadley for the past 6 years. Since the day she's been born, its been her and I - at home hanging out, laughing, playing, fighting, screaming, eating, traveling, shopping, crafting, and learning - both of us together. I taught her the basics like how to hold a cup, how to write her name, how to tie her shoes and she, in turn, taught me how to be a mom.

The days that often seemed mundane and sometimes long, when I now look back, add up to so much. They add up to everything.  

I'm going to miss making her lunch and our quiet time in the afternoon.  So much of me doesn't want her to go. I need more time. Six years suddenly doesn't seem like enough, but she's going and I'll watch her go. She's ready, even if I'm not.

Look out first grade - here comes Hadley! 

Be good to my baby girl.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

The Family Pet

I'm not really a pet person. I'm a mom and am no longer capable of taking care of anything that I did not birth myself.

Currently with three children, I'm at capacity and not one more living thing would stand a chance around here. 

That being said, we have a cat. 

Poor cat.

Back in 2003, not only was I a pet person, I was also, obviously, an insane pet person as I shelled out $300 for a cat. That's not a typo - $300. 

Justin and were newlyweds. We were young. We were most certainly ripped off.

We found a woman who ran a cattery. Yes, a cattery. This is a real thing or might just be a fancy name for a feline hoarding facility.

After driving two hours to pick up our new little fur-ball, we discovered that the cattery, located in Washington Indiana, was a mobile home in a trailer park.

We knocked on the door, and we were nearly knocked off the steps as a cloud of smoke rolled out to meet us along with the woman who lived inside the Marlboro and cat-piss scented trailer.

She motioned us inside - where we met by at least 30 cats. As we were politely shaking cats from our legs and brushing them off our laps, she yelled for her husband to bring out the kitten. 

We then cut the check, got the papers and got the hell out.

I did, however, ask her one question before we left  - I just had to know.

"How many cats do you have?" I asked.

She answered me with "I never tell anyone my number."

I'm pretty sure thats because she, herself, had no idea.

On the way home, we discussed a name for our new pet.

Justin decided that since he was pure-bred and had papers that he should have a royal sounding name. I told him there wasn't anything royal about that cat's roots and that we should name him Bubba, but he persisted and named him Prince William. I'm not kidding. 

However we call him Willie.

Willie was soon diagnosed with ringworm, herpes and an undescended testicle. Yep, our $300 pure-bred was a parasite ridden, std carrying, one ball-rocking dud of a feline.

Meet Willie - the toughest thing to come out of a trailer park since Eminem.

Willie, he just rocks one ball, but he's still got swagger. 

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Booger Wall & Breakfast Cereal

I have a booger wall. Yep, a booger wall.

I was putting my darling daughter to bed a few nights ago when I glanced up and saw that the wall was covered in snot, boogers and the like.

When questioned about her wall decor, she just giggled. A box of tissues was placed by her bed and she was told that a booger wall just isn't that nice in a little girl's room. 

I spent the next morning "de-boogering" the wall with a putty-knife.

I believed that her nose picking habit was nocturnal in nature and that we had solved the problem, but my belief was proven wrong when I then I saw her digging for gold as we walked down the aisle at Wal-Mart. She had really dug out a winner and had it hanging from the end of her finger.

ME: It is not polite to pick your nose. I don't have a tissue and you are not going to wipe that on anything. I've had enough and you are going to hold onto that thing until we find a trash can - do you understand me?

DAUGHTER: But it's grooossssss - I don't want to hold it.

ME: Then you shouldn't have picked it. Now just hold onto it.

So our grocery trip continued aisle after aisle with me repeating phrases such as: "You better still have that booger and you better not have wiped that booger or so help me God...."

She didn't hang onto it. It was lost somewhere in the cereal aisle. 

So you've been warned Jasper Wal-Mart shoppers. When you go to buy your Rice Krispies you might find the start of your very own booger wall on the side of the box - that's quite a prize.

Snap, Crackle, Pop, & Snot. My god, my apologizes. I'll start carrying tissues.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

If My Vagina Could Talk....

I recently came across my copy of Eve Ensler's play The Vagina Monologues and of course, I had a COMPLETELY normal thought - If My Vagina Could Talk - What would it say?

I tell Justin I'm writing on this topic. He shakes his head. He leaves the room. But anyways...

If my vagina could talk, I'm not sure it would profess an entire monologue, but I think it would have a few key points it would like to make.

1. Um, how 'bout a hair cut?

2. The thong is riding up the wrong way. I'm too old for this nonsense.

3. Some kegels would be greatly appreciated - I could use some toning up.

4. Quit having babies - my God, I've had enough.

5. I do not look like your Grandmother's purse.

There - so relax Justin - that wasn't so bad was it??? I think those are pretty universal, non-specific vaginal themes - minus the Grandmother.