...the mom that can't drop her son off at soccer camp and just drive away. Nope! Not me. No, I have to sit and watch him. I have to make sure he's ok. I have to sit for so long that he starts to cry because he wants me--and doesn't want to play soccer.
Grrr...
So mad at myself this morning...
Today was the second day for soccer camp. C is only 4--the camp is for 5-12 year olds. But, we know the coach and yes, we used the "daddy-is-the-head-softball-coach-and-friends-with-the-soccer-coach card." And, as some of you know, C not your typical 4 year old. C is 4 going on 10. Like for real. We thought he would be fine. And that it would be a good experience for him. A chance to meet new friends and try something new.
Today was hat day and/ or crazy hair day. C refused to have crazy hair, so he wore a fitted purple Furman hat. It's a little big for him, so he has to wear it cocked to the side--all gangsta-like. At 9:00 when Coach blew the whistle to get started, C ran off with the rest of the group and wasn't at all concerned with me leaving. I got back in the Tahoe with H and decided to just watch for a bit. Riiiight... likely story.
Right away they started a cheering contest for the best hat or crazy hair. As I watched, C was still standing while other kids were getting eliminated. I was texting Husband the play-by-play (he was at softball camp). We thought it was hilarious that C was winning! AND he won! Then they broke into groups to start dribbling. And I started the car to leave. And C started to cry.
I jumped out because I didn't want Coach to deal with it--he's doing us a favor by letting C even be there. When I walked up, Coach said, "He's just crying because you're still here. He said he wanted to go see you."
I was so embarrassed. Really? I'm THAT mom? I'm the mom that can't just let her child go? That has to be there every minute? I swear that wasn't my goal. I just wanted to watch him. Just to see what he does. To see him play soccer. And play with other kids. That's all I wanted to do...
Right?!
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Bathing suits are not suitable everyday attire--FYI
So this morning I took H back to the ENT doctor for her post-op appointment. When we walked in, I stood behind a lady signing in at the desk. As we stood there, I noticed this woman's attire. If you can call a tankini top and bathing suit skirt real attire. Homegirl had on a bright blue tankini top with big brown and blue flowers on it. The skirt was from a different bathing suit--it was white with little blue flowers.
After bathing suit chick sat down, another lady walked in a sat down across from me. Bathing suit chick was then called back to the window. I watched the lady across from me watch bathing suit chick walk. We made eye contact and both made the "WTH face."
Next, the door to the doctor's office opened and ANOTHER bathing suit chick walked in. This one had on a black and white tankini top tucked into black shorts that wore pulled up to her boobs. Really?! I glanced at lady across from me. At the exact same time, we both said, "I don't get it."
And I don't get it, people. Why? When you got up this morning--knowing you had a doctor's appointment--what possessed you to put on a BATHING SUIT? And after putting on said bathing suit, did you REALLY look in the mirror and say, "This looks good."?! And why didn't somebody stop you?! Really? Really? Like I'm in shock. What has this world come to? We resort to wearing literally the first thing we see? What would Stacey and Clinton have to say about this? I would LOVE to hear their input on bathing suits--in public, at the doctor's office. Omg. I still can't believe it.
After bathing suit chick sat down, another lady walked in a sat down across from me. Bathing suit chick was then called back to the window. I watched the lady across from me watch bathing suit chick walk. We made eye contact and both made the "WTH face."
Next, the door to the doctor's office opened and ANOTHER bathing suit chick walked in. This one had on a black and white tankini top tucked into black shorts that wore pulled up to her boobs. Really?! I glanced at lady across from me. At the exact same time, we both said, "I don't get it."
And I don't get it, people. Why? When you got up this morning--knowing you had a doctor's appointment--what possessed you to put on a BATHING SUIT? And after putting on said bathing suit, did you REALLY look in the mirror and say, "This looks good."?! And why didn't somebody stop you?! Really? Really? Like I'm in shock. What has this world come to? We resort to wearing literally the first thing we see? What would Stacey and Clinton have to say about this? I would LOVE to hear their input on bathing suits--in public, at the doctor's office. Omg. I still can't believe it.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
My Crazy Nights
Husband has started football again... grrr...
Anyhow. This leaves me alone with the kiddos from 5:30-8:00. Not a long amount of time. But definitely a crazy time: cook dinner, eat dinner, clean up dinner, bathe kiddos, put kiddos to bed, etc.
Here is tonight's play-by-play. Somewhat.
5:45--Husband leaves for football yelling something about being late. Whatever. I was too busy putting a frozen pizza in the oven. And the kids were fighting over a box of flippin' crayons.
6:00--Dinner. Kiddos didn't want frozen pizza (wth?!). So they ended up eating leftover spaghetti. Whatevs.
During dinner C says, "Hey, Mom! There's this boy on 'Ya Gabba Gabba' and he can move his fingers and snap them together. I'm gonna punch him when he doooos that."
I almost spit out my pizza. I couldn't contain the laughter.
"Why are you going to punch him?"
"Because I can't doooos that with my fingers and I don't like him."
H then chimes in with "I Sissy!! Not da Sis!!"
Um, ok?
C looked at H and said, "You need to learn to talk because I don't ever knows what you talking 'bout."
Exactly.
6:10--Crap, it only took 10 minutes to eat dinner. Shoot me now. While I cleaned up, I was interrupted 3 times by both children for more "booberries." That's "blueberries" for those of you that don't speak kid.
6:30--"Cartoons off! Time to clean up!"
"Nooo!! Nooo Mamma Noo" I then chased both children around the house--while attempting to catch the booberries that fell from their bowls.
6:45--C is pouting in his room because I turned the cartoons off. H is hitting me in the head with Minnie Mouse.
7:10--"Bath time!"
H, "I don't like ta take da bath."
I then chased a naked baby around the house, bathed the boy who is actually listening, sent him to his room to get PJs on, then bathed a screaming 2 year old, dressed the screaming 2 year old, brushed the boy's teeth, brushed the screaming 2 year old's teeth, and finally gave the screaming 2 year old a freakin' paci so she would shut the beep up.
7:30--I plopped both children in C's bed to watch Toy Story 3 until Husband comes home.
And I was just interrupted by H with, "Mom! Jessie go night-night." I now have a "sleeping" Jessie in my lap.
Omg. Where's the wine?
Anyhow. This leaves me alone with the kiddos from 5:30-8:00. Not a long amount of time. But definitely a crazy time: cook dinner, eat dinner, clean up dinner, bathe kiddos, put kiddos to bed, etc.
Here is tonight's play-by-play. Somewhat.
5:45--Husband leaves for football yelling something about being late. Whatever. I was too busy putting a frozen pizza in the oven. And the kids were fighting over a box of flippin' crayons.
6:00--Dinner. Kiddos didn't want frozen pizza (wth?!). So they ended up eating leftover spaghetti. Whatevs.
During dinner C says, "Hey, Mom! There's this boy on 'Ya Gabba Gabba' and he can move his fingers and snap them together. I'm gonna punch him when he doooos that."
I almost spit out my pizza. I couldn't contain the laughter.
"Why are you going to punch him?"
"Because I can't doooos that with my fingers and I don't like him."
H then chimes in with "I Sissy!! Not da Sis!!"
Um, ok?
C looked at H and said, "You need to learn to talk because I don't ever knows what you talking 'bout."
Exactly.
6:10--Crap, it only took 10 minutes to eat dinner. Shoot me now. While I cleaned up, I was interrupted 3 times by both children for more "booberries." That's "blueberries" for those of you that don't speak kid.
6:30--"Cartoons off! Time to clean up!"
"Nooo!! Nooo Mamma Noo" I then chased both children around the house--while attempting to catch the booberries that fell from their bowls.
6:45--C is pouting in his room because I turned the cartoons off. H is hitting me in the head with Minnie Mouse.
7:10--"Bath time!"
H, "I don't like ta take da bath."
I then chased a naked baby around the house, bathed the boy who is actually listening, sent him to his room to get PJs on, then bathed a screaming 2 year old, dressed the screaming 2 year old, brushed the boy's teeth, brushed the screaming 2 year old's teeth, and finally gave the screaming 2 year old a freakin' paci so she would shut the beep up.
7:30--I plopped both children in C's bed to watch Toy Story 3 until Husband comes home.
And I was just interrupted by H with, "Mom! Jessie go night-night." I now have a "sleeping" Jessie in my lap.
Omg. Where's the wine?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Random Story Time!
I don't have anything exciting to tell... so I thought I would write another random story... and I apologize in advance for the lengthy-ness of this post...
The story of us...
I graduated from Averett University in April of 2005. After smashing my car, partying with high school friends one last time, and hanging out at home for a few weeks, I packed up my Neon and headed to Myrtle Beach, SC to start the Masters of Arts in Teaching program at Coastal Carolina. (Wow that was a long sentence...)
The first week in June, I pulled into the parking lot at Coastal, to attend my first class. And I was scared crap-less. I remember it was a rainy day so I was wearing jeans, an old AU sweatshirt and frizzy hair. Definitely dressed to impress. I was so nervous that I started having an anxiety attack as I walked down the sidewalk. I called my BFF. And got her voicemail. Idiot.
Finally walking into the HUGE classroom, I was relieved to find it pretty much empty. I sat in a seat to the far left and watched the rest of my classmates fill in. As I watched, I noticed that everybody knew somebody. Like every person had a friend. I was the only one who hadn't attended Coastal for my undergraduate. Greatness.
After several minutes, this guy walked by me and sat a few chairs down from me. He had on cargo shorts, a t-shirt and a hat (he swears he wasn't wearing a hat. He was.) Also, dressed to impress.
The next morning we all showed up again, sat in our same seats, and waited for the professor. While waiting, this guy from a few chairs down turned to me and said,
"Hey, have you ever tried a McGriddle?"
Me, "A what?"
"A McGriddle. It's a new biscuit at McDonald's. Ever tried it?"
"Nope, can't say that I have." Then, of course, I turned my attention to my notebook. Much more interesting than this weirdo.
The next morning, he sat down with, "So have you tried one yet?"
"Well, no. Still haven't."
"You should! And you should bring one."
"Oh really? Yeah, I totally don't see that happening." Again, what's with the weirdo?
The next morning, the same crap. "Where's my McGriddle?"
"You know what? Since YOU want me to try it, I think YOU should bring ME one." Just sayin'
We continued our "friendship" throughout the rest of the summer classes. In the fall, we had to start our practicums--going to various schools in the county to observe and start teaching. During a 2-week practicum, we were both placed at the same school. We car-pooled together with some other classmates. One day, after class, I needed to get my oil changed. Since I had zero friends, I asked if he would go with me. While my car was getting worked on, we drove around town and talked. About everything.
I learned about his parents. Where he grew up. How he ended up in Myrtle Beach. About his brother. About his dog. His crazy friends. His GIRLfriend. Yeah. This was news to me. We had been flirting for the last 6 months. A girlfriend? Trying to keep my disappointment in, I attempted to ask questions without sounding desperate. He told me that they had broken up over the summer (yes, the previous summer--when he met me), but that they still lived together because of financial reasons. I was crushed. I just knew there was no way we would ever be together.
Right before Thanksgiving, a month or so after finding out about his GF, we were at the stopping point of our classes. I was going home to VA for two weeks and he was staying here. My mom came in town for the weekend and Husband wanted to take us out to lunch. He told my mom, during lunch, that he was going to marry me. I hit him and told him to shut up. My mom said, later, that she could tell he was serious.
The two weeks I was at home, we talked on the phone every night. He moved out of his apartment and in with his brother. He also convinced me to come back to the beach a day early to hang out with him before exams started. I took my roommate with me to meet him (and because the anxiety was taking over). As we walked into the restaurant, I remember turning to her and saying, "This is it. If I walk in here, and meet him, there's no going back. No more dating just for the hell of it. No more dating idiots for 2 weeks and then moving on. This is it."
And I was right.... this is it!
The story of us...
I graduated from Averett University in April of 2005. After smashing my car, partying with high school friends one last time, and hanging out at home for a few weeks, I packed up my Neon and headed to Myrtle Beach, SC to start the Masters of Arts in Teaching program at Coastal Carolina. (Wow that was a long sentence...)
The first week in June, I pulled into the parking lot at Coastal, to attend my first class. And I was scared crap-less. I remember it was a rainy day so I was wearing jeans, an old AU sweatshirt and frizzy hair. Definitely dressed to impress. I was so nervous that I started having an anxiety attack as I walked down the sidewalk. I called my BFF. And got her voicemail. Idiot.
Finally walking into the HUGE classroom, I was relieved to find it pretty much empty. I sat in a seat to the far left and watched the rest of my classmates fill in. As I watched, I noticed that everybody knew somebody. Like every person had a friend. I was the only one who hadn't attended Coastal for my undergraduate. Greatness.
After several minutes, this guy walked by me and sat a few chairs down from me. He had on cargo shorts, a t-shirt and a hat (he swears he wasn't wearing a hat. He was.) Also, dressed to impress.
The next morning we all showed up again, sat in our same seats, and waited for the professor. While waiting, this guy from a few chairs down turned to me and said,
"Hey, have you ever tried a McGriddle?"
Me, "A what?"
"A McGriddle. It's a new biscuit at McDonald's. Ever tried it?"
"Nope, can't say that I have." Then, of course, I turned my attention to my notebook. Much more interesting than this weirdo.
The next morning, he sat down with, "So have you tried one yet?"
"Well, no. Still haven't."
"You should! And you should bring one."
"Oh really? Yeah, I totally don't see that happening." Again, what's with the weirdo?
The next morning, the same crap. "Where's my McGriddle?"
"You know what? Since YOU want me to try it, I think YOU should bring ME one." Just sayin'
We continued our "friendship" throughout the rest of the summer classes. In the fall, we had to start our practicums--going to various schools in the county to observe and start teaching. During a 2-week practicum, we were both placed at the same school. We car-pooled together with some other classmates. One day, after class, I needed to get my oil changed. Since I had zero friends, I asked if he would go with me. While my car was getting worked on, we drove around town and talked. About everything.
I learned about his parents. Where he grew up. How he ended up in Myrtle Beach. About his brother. About his dog. His crazy friends. His GIRLfriend. Yeah. This was news to me. We had been flirting for the last 6 months. A girlfriend? Trying to keep my disappointment in, I attempted to ask questions without sounding desperate. He told me that they had broken up over the summer (yes, the previous summer--when he met me), but that they still lived together because of financial reasons. I was crushed. I just knew there was no way we would ever be together.
Right before Thanksgiving, a month or so after finding out about his GF, we were at the stopping point of our classes. I was going home to VA for two weeks and he was staying here. My mom came in town for the weekend and Husband wanted to take us out to lunch. He told my mom, during lunch, that he was going to marry me. I hit him and told him to shut up. My mom said, later, that she could tell he was serious.
The two weeks I was at home, we talked on the phone every night. He moved out of his apartment and in with his brother. He also convinced me to come back to the beach a day early to hang out with him before exams started. I took my roommate with me to meet him (and because the anxiety was taking over). As we walked into the restaurant, I remember turning to her and saying, "This is it. If I walk in here, and meet him, there's no going back. No more dating just for the hell of it. No more dating idiots for 2 weeks and then moving on. This is it."
And I was right.... this is it!
Monday, June 20, 2011
Miscellany Monday
1. This is for my BFF (you know who you are)...
Pink Lou Lou is hilarious! If I was single, and non-mother-fied...I would totally be her. And my BFF and me would have a freakin' blast. Her most recent post totally sums us up. She, apparently, had a great weekend with some girls--that ended in a peeing-in-the-pants moment. MUST watch the video at the end of her post. Hilarious!
2. The Bachelorette
I want cute dresses and wedge heals. And lots of hair styles. Better yet, I want places to wear cute dresses, wedge heals, and lots of hair styles.
3. Potty-Training
sucks.
Enough said.
4. Ashley keeps messing with her bangs. Like flicking her head to the side all Justin-Bieber-like and running her fingers through them. Annoying.
5. We still don't have a dishwasher. Well, wait. We HAVE one. We don't have one that works. The first week was no big deal. Week #2? I'm done, HUSBAND.
Write random and link up with Carissa!
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Weekend Recap and New Floors!!
Friday we spent the day at the beach. Husband wanted to drink beer all day-- in honor of Father's Day weekend. His BFF met us there--along with his please-eat-a-cheeseburger girlfriend. With her perfect little black bikini that showed her butt the ENTIRE time we were there. She also felt compelled to join C and H in wonderful sandcastle making. Which made me feel obligated to become supermom and try to make one, too. When C said, "Mom? What are you doing in the sand?" I told him I had no clue and parked my completely-covered--with-a-skirt butt back in my chair and enjoyed our new babysitter for a moment.
Friday afternoon my parents came in town. We went out to eat and then came home to start the new floor process.
Here are some pictures of our disgusting carpet:
The process:
Saturday night, around 11:30, the finished the product:
Beautiful! My husband and my dad--on Father's Day weekend--installed these perfect floors alllll day Saturday. Love. Them. No more stupid unexplainable carpet stains. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Today, Sunday, we spent the day at my parents' hotel. Swimming in the pool. Hanging out on the beach. It was perfect.
I'm so thankful for weekends like this. For wonderful parents. For great dads. Yay for perfect summer days!
Friday afternoon my parents came in town. We went out to eat and then came home to start the new floor process.
Here are some pictures of our disgusting carpet:
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| Of course, you can't see any of the stains...but, trust me, they are there |
Today, Sunday, we spent the day at my parents' hotel. Swimming in the pool. Hanging out on the beach. It was perfect.
I'm so thankful for weekends like this. For wonderful parents. For great dads. Yay for perfect summer days!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Toddlerisms
When H doesn't want something--anything-- she announces to the world, "I don't like dis."
For example:
"H, it's time to take a bath."
"I don't like de bath."
"H, it's time to go night-night."
"I don't like de night-night."
Today I found her pushing around an empty stroller. When I asked where her baby was, she said, "Idunno. I don't like de baby."
After devouring her TWO peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches, she yelled, "MOM! I don't like dis!!"
My favorite H saying from today was when C was trying to play the iPad, and she wanted a turn. She marched her little tiny butt in the kitchen, put her hands on her hips and said, "MOM. I don't like de boy. I wannansgnskljnfglsplay de hipad. MY turn. I don't LIKE de BOOOYYYY!"
For example:
"H, it's time to take a bath."
"I don't like de bath."
"H, it's time to go night-night."
"I don't like de night-night."
Today I found her pushing around an empty stroller. When I asked where her baby was, she said, "Idunno. I don't like de baby."
After devouring her TWO peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches, she yelled, "MOM! I don't like dis!!"
My favorite H saying from today was when C was trying to play the iPad, and she wanted a turn. She marched her little tiny butt in the kitchen, put her hands on her hips and said, "MOM. I don't like de boy. I wannansgnskljnfglsplay de hipad. MY turn. I don't LIKE de BOOOYYYY!"
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Annoying things that I have had to deal with...today...
I woke up at 6:15 to H yelling, "MOM! Where da paci go?! MOM!"
Woke up again at 6:45 because, apparently, H is now ready to get up. "MOM! Git up! MOM!"
Woke up, yet again, at 7:12 because C is IN MY FACE with the freakin' iPad going, "Hey MOM! Can I play this?! MOM! Can I play the iPad?"
After fixing the kids' breakfast, washing the dishes (because our dishwasher is STILL broken), starting a load of laundry, folding last night's clothes that were in the dryer, I decided it was time for Husband to grace us with his presence because the kids are fighting AGAIN over the stupid iPad.
Later, in Petsmart, H decided she didn't need to wear shoes anymore. As I turned the corner, I saw a pile of dog poop in the aisle and H was headed right for it. "What's dis, Mamma? What's dis?" After fighting with her over the shoes, I decided to take the kids to the car. And let Husband shop in peace. How nice of me.
I also sat with the kids in the car while Husband went into Lowe's. H hit C because he looked at her. C kicked the back of my chair because H hit him. Greatness.
I unloaded all the groceries by myself. While C asked me over and over and over where the string cheese was. "For the TENTH TIME!! I FORGOT the cheese!!!"
I picked up the house, by myself, while Husband "talked on the phone to some repair guy about the dishwasher." I totally don't believe him.
H peed on the floor. I cleaned it up.
After dinner (that I cooked by myself and then cleaned up by myself because Husband has started football), I found an EMPTY tea pitcher in the fridge. I don't drink tea, people. I make it for Husband. And he left the empty pitcher in the fridge. For who to clean up? The maid?
H peed on the floor, again. I cleaned it up, again.
I tried to pee in peace. There wasn't any toilet paper in the bathroom. Typical.
The kids and I played outside with the dog. H spilled an entire container of bubbles all over the porch... and me.
The kids came inside and "opened" juice boxes by themselves. AKA squeezed the juice out all over the kitchen floor. I cleaned it up.
H peed on the floor. Again. I cleaned it up. Again.
I gave the kids a bath. H refused to get in the tub because she wanted to pee in the potty. Kind of hard to do when all of your pee is all over the floor, sweetie.
I put the kids to bed. By myself. Again.
Most annoying day ever.
Woke up again at 6:45 because, apparently, H is now ready to get up. "MOM! Git up! MOM!"
Woke up, yet again, at 7:12 because C is IN MY FACE with the freakin' iPad going, "Hey MOM! Can I play this?! MOM! Can I play the iPad?"
After fixing the kids' breakfast, washing the dishes (because our dishwasher is STILL broken), starting a load of laundry, folding last night's clothes that were in the dryer, I decided it was time for Husband to grace us with his presence because the kids are fighting AGAIN over the stupid iPad.
Later, in Petsmart, H decided she didn't need to wear shoes anymore. As I turned the corner, I saw a pile of dog poop in the aisle and H was headed right for it. "What's dis, Mamma? What's dis?" After fighting with her over the shoes, I decided to take the kids to the car. And let Husband shop in peace. How nice of me.
I also sat with the kids in the car while Husband went into Lowe's. H hit C because he looked at her. C kicked the back of my chair because H hit him. Greatness.
I unloaded all the groceries by myself. While C asked me over and over and over where the string cheese was. "For the TENTH TIME!! I FORGOT the cheese!!!"
I picked up the house, by myself, while Husband "talked on the phone to some repair guy about the dishwasher." I totally don't believe him.
H peed on the floor. I cleaned it up.
After dinner (that I cooked by myself and then cleaned up by myself because Husband has started football), I found an EMPTY tea pitcher in the fridge. I don't drink tea, people. I make it for Husband. And he left the empty pitcher in the fridge. For who to clean up? The maid?
H peed on the floor, again. I cleaned it up, again.
I tried to pee in peace. There wasn't any toilet paper in the bathroom. Typical.
The kids and I played outside with the dog. H spilled an entire container of bubbles all over the porch... and me.
The kids came inside and "opened" juice boxes by themselves. AKA squeezed the juice out all over the kitchen floor. I cleaned it up.
H peed on the floor. Again. I cleaned it up. Again.
I gave the kids a bath. H refused to get in the tub because she wanted to pee in the potty. Kind of hard to do when all of your pee is all over the floor, sweetie.
I put the kids to bed. By myself. Again.
Most annoying day ever.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Miscellany Monday
1. We have a dog. And I'm not a fan. Just in case you didn't know.
2. H has to get tubes put in her ears tomorrow. Thank you, Jesus.
3. This season of the Bachelorette is kinda weird. I can't get into it. Yet, I still watch it every week.
4. Husband is so annoying. He doesn't watch the same TV shows at me--he's always on the effin' computer. But, every once in a while, he will ask a random question. Like just now, "What did she say? Somebody like Bethanny? Is she gay?" No, dumbass. It was Bentley. She's not gay. He left last week... I'm not explaining this to you, you don't care! I guarantee that in 5 minutes he will ask another stupid question, just to annoy the piss out of me.
5. TOLD YA! He just said, "Where's that guy from? He talks funny." OMG! I don't know! And YOU don't care! Let me watch mindless TV in peace!
6. Our dishwasher is broken. And that suuuucks!!
7. My rents are coming in town this weekend. The plan is to put laminate floors down in the living room. As of today, we adopted a new dog, have a broken dishwasher, and have to pay for H's tubes tomorrow. Totally re-thinking the floors. Totally need the money for something else. Typical.
8. I bought Arbor Mist last Friday. And just finished off the bottle. Oops.
Enjoy your week and link up with Carissa!
Welcome to Crazytown
As if our life wasn't crazy enough, we are now the proud owners of....
this stupid dog.
I guess I should start from the beginning. ("A very good place to start. When you read to begin with 'ABC'... when you sing you...." ok, sorry. I couldn't resist). Anyhow, I will give you the short version of the story.
Husband's brother is a drunk. And he's at it again. Husband's mother is newly divorced--and was left with 3 boxers. Because of the stress of idiot brother, she called today to inform us she was taking the 2 biggest boxers to the dog pound. Husband freaked. The thought of the dogs going to a random home, or possibly no home at all, killed him. (And, I will admit, I didn't like it either.)
My big mouth spoke before I could stop it. I suggested we take one of the dogs. Preferably, Rico. (The other one, Glory, is a royal pain in the ass.) Of course, Husband said yes. We agreed that we would TRY it. The dog MUST stay in the backyard. He will NEVER come inside. If it doesn't work, we will find a good home for him.
I hate to admit it, but, so far so good. He gets all hyper excited when Husband walks outside. Me? Not so much. He totally ignores me. Fine by me! I'm not a huge fan of dogs. Or cats. Or animals, really. However, Husband and the kids are beside themselves with excitement. So, I will stick it out and see what happens.
Omg, what have I gotten myself into?!
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| Notice that this pic was taken from INSIDE the house. |
I guess I should start from the beginning. ("A very good place to start. When you read to begin with 'ABC'... when you sing you...." ok, sorry. I couldn't resist). Anyhow, I will give you the short version of the story.
Husband's brother is a drunk. And he's at it again. Husband's mother is newly divorced--and was left with 3 boxers. Because of the stress of idiot brother, she called today to inform us she was taking the 2 biggest boxers to the dog pound. Husband freaked. The thought of the dogs going to a random home, or possibly no home at all, killed him. (And, I will admit, I didn't like it either.)
My big mouth spoke before I could stop it. I suggested we take one of the dogs. Preferably, Rico. (The other one, Glory, is a royal pain in the ass.) Of course, Husband said yes. We agreed that we would TRY it. The dog MUST stay in the backyard. He will NEVER come inside. If it doesn't work, we will find a good home for him.
I hate to admit it, but, so far so good. He gets all hyper excited when Husband walks outside. Me? Not so much. He totally ignores me. Fine by me! I'm not a huge fan of dogs. Or cats. Or animals, really. However, Husband and the kids are beside themselves with excitement. So, I will stick it out and see what happens.
Omg, what have I gotten myself into?!
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Random Story Time #2
Two posts in one day! It's obviously summertime.
Early today I wrote about my car accident, and mentioned this particular story:
My last drunken night in my hometown. So, here goes!
Before wrecking the Neon, I had signed up to work at the dance recital in town. (I worked for a family-owned florist and jewelry shop and they were handing out flowers in the lobby at the recital. Do all recitals do this? Or just in our small town...hmm?!?)
Anyhow...
After the recital, I was to meet up with my BFF Joni at Matt's house. (Matt and I had dated during my senior year of college. But decided since I was moving soon and our colleges were hours apart, anything serious was pointless.) So there was supposed to be a big field party at Matt's house. We had all graduated and were finally home at the same time. Since it was a rainy night, Joni and I had on American Eagle T-Shirts and jeans. (I remember there being a big debate over this. And if you know Joni, you know why. The t-shirt I settled on said "Tease." Classy.) We decided to buy cherry vodka and coke. Cherry coke! Great idea! Um, negative.
I don't remember much, folks. I remember sitting on the front steps of Matt's house making drinks with his mom. I remember my brother showing up to the party. I remember crying. A lot. I remember yelling, "I don't want to leave! I don't want to move! I don't want to leave my friends." I remember being pulled into the bathroom to puke. I remember a girl from high school saying, "I can't believe that's the same Jenny. She doesn't drink." I remember waking up in Matt's parents' bed (by myself, I should add. Their bedroom was the only one downstairs. Obviously, climbing stairs was not an option.) I remember waking up later in Matt's lap while he was watching TV. When I asked where Joni was, he informed me that the party was over and to just go back to sleep. Gladly.
A few weeks ago at our high school reunion, several people mentioned this unfortunate experience. I didn't do anything bad that night. I just provided humor to the party, apparently. Everybody said that felt sorry for me because I kept saying that I didn't want to move. And the high school girl that couldn't believe I was drinking then, still couldn't believe I was drinking at the reunion. (Come on, people. You knew me in HIGH SCHOOL. Of course I didn't drink then!)
So that's my second random story of the day. A little insight into my craziness. And to my pre-baby days. Not that I was a huge partier. But, I did go to college and I did like to have fun. However, those days are looong behind me. I have babies that wake up at 7 in the freakin' morning!
Early today I wrote about my car accident, and mentioned this particular story:
My last drunken night in my hometown. So, here goes!
Before wrecking the Neon, I had signed up to work at the dance recital in town. (I worked for a family-owned florist and jewelry shop and they were handing out flowers in the lobby at the recital. Do all recitals do this? Or just in our small town...hmm?!?)
Anyhow...
After the recital, I was to meet up with my BFF Joni at Matt's house. (Matt and I had dated during my senior year of college. But decided since I was moving soon and our colleges were hours apart, anything serious was pointless.) So there was supposed to be a big field party at Matt's house. We had all graduated and were finally home at the same time. Since it was a rainy night, Joni and I had on American Eagle T-Shirts and jeans. (I remember there being a big debate over this. And if you know Joni, you know why. The t-shirt I settled on said "Tease." Classy.) We decided to buy cherry vodka and coke. Cherry coke! Great idea! Um, negative.
I don't remember much, folks. I remember sitting on the front steps of Matt's house making drinks with his mom. I remember my brother showing up to the party. I remember crying. A lot. I remember yelling, "I don't want to leave! I don't want to move! I don't want to leave my friends." I remember being pulled into the bathroom to puke. I remember a girl from high school saying, "I can't believe that's the same Jenny. She doesn't drink." I remember waking up in Matt's parents' bed (by myself, I should add. Their bedroom was the only one downstairs. Obviously, climbing stairs was not an option.) I remember waking up later in Matt's lap while he was watching TV. When I asked where Joni was, he informed me that the party was over and to just go back to sleep. Gladly.
A few weeks ago at our high school reunion, several people mentioned this unfortunate experience. I didn't do anything bad that night. I just provided humor to the party, apparently. Everybody said that felt sorry for me because I kept saying that I didn't want to move. And the high school girl that couldn't believe I was drinking then, still couldn't believe I was drinking at the reunion. (Come on, people. You knew me in HIGH SCHOOL. Of course I didn't drink then!)
So that's my second random story of the day. A little insight into my craziness. And to my pre-baby days. Not that I was a huge partier. But, I did go to college and I did like to have fun. However, those days are looong behind me. I have babies that wake up at 7 in the freakin' morning!
Random Story Time
So the kids are napping and Husband is doing whatever the heck it is he does on his computer, and I thought I would write. But nothing is coming out.
For some reason, I thought about the car accident that happened 2 weeks before moving here--5 years ago. Eh? Why not tell you about that?!
I graduated from Averett University in April of 2005. I had 3 weeks between graduating and moving down here to start my Masters. I hung out with friends, partied (oh wow--remind me to tell you about a particular night that my friends will never let me forget), hung out with my family, and totalled my car.
I was driving on highway 58 to Danville, VA to spend one last night with my college roomie. I was driving my prized 2001 red Dodge Neon. I was wearing a short, American Eagle jean skirt, black Roxy t-shirt, and black Roxy flip flops. I stopped at Sheetz to get gas and a bottle of water before driving the 30 miles to Dan-Vegas.
About 5 miles into the trip, I called my friend Matt and told him I would meet up with him when I came back home the next day. After returning the phone to the cup holder, I glanced up and noticed that the left side of the car was drifting slowly off the left side of the road. "Oops!" I thought. No biggie, happens all the time. As I turned the wheel towards the middle of the road, I over-corrected. My car flew into the ditch on the right side of the road. I remember locking my elbows as I held tightly to the steering wheel. I remember the front of the car hitting the ditch and then flying around as the back of the car hit the ditch. As the car bounced back and forth, I remember thinking, "OMG! You're not moving to the beach! This is it! This is in the end! You're not moving to the beach!"
When the car finally stopped, the air bags were out and smoke was everywhere. I thought the car was going to blow up. The windshield was completely cracked but never shattered. The driver side's window, however, was shattered and my first reaction was to climb out of it. I'm not sure if the door wouldn't open, or if I ever even tried it. I stuck my feet through first (no idea why) and pulled myself up by my hands. My left pinky finger and right elbow immediately started gushing blood and I panicked. Still thinking I was dying, I crawled on the ground away from the car.
Finally realizing that I was okay and alive, I stood up and looked at my car. I young girl pulled up and asked me if I was ok. My response? "I know you! You used to come into Fashion Cents." (A retail store I worked in during high school.) She asked me if I had called anyone yet. I lost it. Hysterical crying. I somehow gave her my dad's number but it didn't work. We tried my brother. I remember telling her that they were working on a job site out in the middle of "freakin' BFE!" I finally decided to call my mom. I knew she was teaching and I didn't want her to be interrupted during class. My new friend told me she probably wouldn't mind. Seeing as how I had just WRECKED my freakin' car!
The next thing I remember was the ambulance and fire trucks arriving. I have no idea who called them. Probably the girl. Or the other cars that had stopped to "help." AKA be nosey and see how this idiot just totalled her car. The EMTs wanted me to get in the ambulance so they could check me out. I kept saying, "I am NOT getting in that thing! I am NOT going anywhere without my dad. You can't make me. I am NOT getting in THERE!!!!"
After lots of arguing, they convinced me to climb in the ambulance so they could bandage my arm. Oh yeah, I'm bleeding. Like a lot. Once I was inside, I saw my mom's car pull up. I told them, "You better let me walk out of here because if she thinks I'm here she's gonna freak out." I stepped out of the ambulance and started sobbing again. Surprisingly, my mom didn't freak at all. She hugged me and kept saying, "It's ok. You're ok. Daddy's coming. You're ok."
I was in the police car when my dad pulled up. The police man wanted to know what happened. I couldn't really remember. I just sat there in shock. Then I saw my dad talking to the tow truck guy, laughing. I got out of the police car and said, "What is so funny? My car is broken. My phone is broken. I have no idea where my shoes are. What is so funny?!" Daddy informed me that he had just mailed the final payment on my car earlier that morning. Way to go, Jenny.
Obviously, I moved to the beach. My parents gave me my mom's Honda and my mom got a "new" car. Yes, I have the BEST parents in the world.
I still have scars on my left arm and left pinky from the accident. I had HUGE bruises on my legs from the steering wheel and across my chest from the seat belt (Thank the Lord I was wearing one). I had the worst headache for days. But I survived. My car didn't. But I did. Thank you, Jesus.
For some reason, I thought about the car accident that happened 2 weeks before moving here--5 years ago. Eh? Why not tell you about that?!
I graduated from Averett University in April of 2005. I had 3 weeks between graduating and moving down here to start my Masters. I hung out with friends, partied (oh wow--remind me to tell you about a particular night that my friends will never let me forget), hung out with my family, and totalled my car.
I was driving on highway 58 to Danville, VA to spend one last night with my college roomie. I was driving my prized 2001 red Dodge Neon. I was wearing a short, American Eagle jean skirt, black Roxy t-shirt, and black Roxy flip flops. I stopped at Sheetz to get gas and a bottle of water before driving the 30 miles to Dan-Vegas.
About 5 miles into the trip, I called my friend Matt and told him I would meet up with him when I came back home the next day. After returning the phone to the cup holder, I glanced up and noticed that the left side of the car was drifting slowly off the left side of the road. "Oops!" I thought. No biggie, happens all the time. As I turned the wheel towards the middle of the road, I over-corrected. My car flew into the ditch on the right side of the road. I remember locking my elbows as I held tightly to the steering wheel. I remember the front of the car hitting the ditch and then flying around as the back of the car hit the ditch. As the car bounced back and forth, I remember thinking, "OMG! You're not moving to the beach! This is it! This is in the end! You're not moving to the beach!"
When the car finally stopped, the air bags were out and smoke was everywhere. I thought the car was going to blow up. The windshield was completely cracked but never shattered. The driver side's window, however, was shattered and my first reaction was to climb out of it. I'm not sure if the door wouldn't open, or if I ever even tried it. I stuck my feet through first (no idea why) and pulled myself up by my hands. My left pinky finger and right elbow immediately started gushing blood and I panicked. Still thinking I was dying, I crawled on the ground away from the car.
Finally realizing that I was okay and alive, I stood up and looked at my car. I young girl pulled up and asked me if I was ok. My response? "I know you! You used to come into Fashion Cents." (A retail store I worked in during high school.) She asked me if I had called anyone yet. I lost it. Hysterical crying. I somehow gave her my dad's number but it didn't work. We tried my brother. I remember telling her that they were working on a job site out in the middle of "freakin' BFE!" I finally decided to call my mom. I knew she was teaching and I didn't want her to be interrupted during class. My new friend told me she probably wouldn't mind. Seeing as how I had just WRECKED my freakin' car!
The next thing I remember was the ambulance and fire trucks arriving. I have no idea who called them. Probably the girl. Or the other cars that had stopped to "help." AKA be nosey and see how this idiot just totalled her car. The EMTs wanted me to get in the ambulance so they could check me out. I kept saying, "I am NOT getting in that thing! I am NOT going anywhere without my dad. You can't make me. I am NOT getting in THERE!!!!"
After lots of arguing, they convinced me to climb in the ambulance so they could bandage my arm. Oh yeah, I'm bleeding. Like a lot. Once I was inside, I saw my mom's car pull up. I told them, "You better let me walk out of here because if she thinks I'm here she's gonna freak out." I stepped out of the ambulance and started sobbing again. Surprisingly, my mom didn't freak at all. She hugged me and kept saying, "It's ok. You're ok. Daddy's coming. You're ok."
I was in the police car when my dad pulled up. The police man wanted to know what happened. I couldn't really remember. I just sat there in shock. Then I saw my dad talking to the tow truck guy, laughing. I got out of the police car and said, "What is so funny? My car is broken. My phone is broken. I have no idea where my shoes are. What is so funny?!" Daddy informed me that he had just mailed the final payment on my car earlier that morning. Way to go, Jenny.
Obviously, I moved to the beach. My parents gave me my mom's Honda and my mom got a "new" car. Yes, I have the BEST parents in the world.
I still have scars on my left arm and left pinky from the accident. I had HUGE bruises on my legs from the steering wheel and across my chest from the seat belt (Thank the Lord I was wearing one). I had the worst headache for days. But I survived. My car didn't. But I did. Thank you, Jesus.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Totally bought new shoes
So I few weeks ago (ok, actually I think it was like last Friday night. But whatever.)
Recently, Husband went out with his teacher buddies after graduation. I totally didn't care. I stayed home, drank Smirnoff, and downloaded new books on my Kindle. After the kiddos were in bed, of course.
Anyhow. The next morning Husband didn't get out of bed until like 10:30. Typical. C had a hair appointment around 11:00 and Husband wanted to go with us. Which I thought was totally weird. When we walked outside, I figured it out. Husband's car was not in the driveway.... Husband got drunk last night. Husband's car was still at the bar. Greatness. Of course, C says, "Hey, Dad! Your car is missing!!"
Anyhow. This morning I decided to check our money status online. As I was looking at the statement, I noticed an $88 charge for Liberty Tavern. Hmm. That seems odd. Oh wait. Graduation night. IDIOT.
I didn't tell Husband about my new knowledge. I was holding this wonderful information in. For a more appropriate time.
After we went to the beach, I informed Husband that I would be returning to Plato's Closet. The convo went something like this:
"I'm going back to Plato's Closet."
"Back? Wait? To where?"
"Plato's Closet. I went the other day and felt guilty for buying two Old Navy dresses and a necklace for TWENTY BUCKS! I hid the dresses in the closet. I also wanted a pair of shoes. From PLATO'S CLOSET. You know? The THRIFT store?!? Yes, I felt guilty for spending 20 bucks on myself and for wanting to spend 8 more on a pair of shoes. So I'm going back today for the shoes."
"You bought clothes, didn't tell me, and hid them in the closet?"
"I'm sorry, are you giving me crap right now? Mr. I-spent-88-bucks-at-Liberty-and-hid-it-from-my-wife."
....
....
"EXACTLY!"
Recently, Husband went out with his teacher buddies after graduation. I totally didn't care. I stayed home, drank Smirnoff, and downloaded new books on my Kindle. After the kiddos were in bed, of course.
Anyhow. The next morning Husband didn't get out of bed until like 10:30. Typical. C had a hair appointment around 11:00 and Husband wanted to go with us. Which I thought was totally weird. When we walked outside, I figured it out. Husband's car was not in the driveway.... Husband got drunk last night. Husband's car was still at the bar. Greatness. Of course, C says, "Hey, Dad! Your car is missing!!"
Anyhow. This morning I decided to check our money status online. As I was looking at the statement, I noticed an $88 charge for Liberty Tavern. Hmm. That seems odd. Oh wait. Graduation night. IDIOT.
I didn't tell Husband about my new knowledge. I was holding this wonderful information in. For a more appropriate time.
After we went to the beach, I informed Husband that I would be returning to Plato's Closet. The convo went something like this:
"I'm going back to Plato's Closet."
"Back? Wait? To where?"
"Plato's Closet. I went the other day and felt guilty for buying two Old Navy dresses and a necklace for TWENTY BUCKS! I hid the dresses in the closet. I also wanted a pair of shoes. From PLATO'S CLOSET. You know? The THRIFT store?!? Yes, I felt guilty for spending 20 bucks on myself and for wanting to spend 8 more on a pair of shoes. So I'm going back today for the shoes."
"You bought clothes, didn't tell me, and hid them in the closet?"
"I'm sorry, are you giving me crap right now? Mr. I-spent-88-bucks-at-Liberty-and-hid-it-from-my-wife."
....
....
"EXACTLY!"
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Bathing Suit Shopping Sucks! Duh.
So the summer after C was born, I bought a new bathing suit. One with a little skirt and a halter-style top. Not an old lady skirt. Like a short one covering up my new jumbo-sized legs that appeared after birthing my first born. I also bought a halter top tankini so I didn't feel completely naked while breastfeeding on the beach. Yes, I did that. Under the tent, somewhat covered up with a towel. Anyhow.
In the summers since then, I have bought random tops and bottoms. I have been so many sizes over the last 4 years that I have needed small tops, big tops (when Baby #2 made her debut), bigger bottoms, smaller bottoms.
Since I'm done having babies and losing baby weight, I decided that this would be the summer I would buy a brand new bathing suit. Like matching top and bottom from the same brand and same store. I'm smaller than I was pre-C days, so I thought this would be easy. Boy, was I wrong.
Tuesday morning, after taking the kiddos to daycare, I headed to Target. Some of my random tops and bottoms over the years have come from there. Figured that was a good place to start. Again, wrong.
I felt like I was in the wrong store. Like I was invading the Junior section of Belk. Everything had strings. And bright neon colors. And little, teeny, tiny bottoms. I grabbed some (like 3) of the solid colored, non-strings and headed to the dressing room. OMG. After the first size LARGE bottom that I tried on, I knew I was heading towards disaster. Back-fat like whoa. Stomach-muffin-top like whoa. I didn't even bother with bathing suit #3. The depression had taken over.
Wednesday morning I headed to the mall. Old Navy is always a winner and JCPenney has a Junior and MISSES department. Perfect. Or not.
I mean here's my question. Who is fitting into these size LARGE bottoms? When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't think I'm a size large. No offense to anyone that is. I totally have been at one point in my life. Just, not now. I don't wear large underwear. I wear medium. However, when I tried on the large bathing suit bottoms, my CRACK was hanging out. Like for real. If I pulled them up to cover the crackiness, my cheeks were hanging out. WTH?! I know I could have tried an XL, but I know they wouldn't work either because there is no way they added THAT much material to make these things wearable.
I know I'm not going to look perfect in a bathing suit. And that's not my goal. When I was in college, yes, I would have tried on millions just to find that one that made my boobs look phenomenal and made my butt look good, while disguising the stomach and back fat. But today? Just want my butt and boobs to stay IN. I just want to be able to play with the kids on the beach without having to worry about my ta-tas and tush hanging out. Apparently, that is not what the rest of America wants.
So, friends, I am still wearing a black halter top from Wal-Mart and black REGULAR looking bottoms from Target. That I bought 2 summers ago. And I. Don't. Care.
In the summers since then, I have bought random tops and bottoms. I have been so many sizes over the last 4 years that I have needed small tops, big tops (when Baby #2 made her debut), bigger bottoms, smaller bottoms.
Since I'm done having babies and losing baby weight, I decided that this would be the summer I would buy a brand new bathing suit. Like matching top and bottom from the same brand and same store. I'm smaller than I was pre-C days, so I thought this would be easy. Boy, was I wrong.
Tuesday morning, after taking the kiddos to daycare, I headed to Target. Some of my random tops and bottoms over the years have come from there. Figured that was a good place to start. Again, wrong.
I felt like I was in the wrong store. Like I was invading the Junior section of Belk. Everything had strings. And bright neon colors. And little, teeny, tiny bottoms. I grabbed some (like 3) of the solid colored, non-strings and headed to the dressing room. OMG. After the first size LARGE bottom that I tried on, I knew I was heading towards disaster. Back-fat like whoa. Stomach-muffin-top like whoa. I didn't even bother with bathing suit #3. The depression had taken over.
Wednesday morning I headed to the mall. Old Navy is always a winner and JCPenney has a Junior and MISSES department. Perfect. Or not.
I mean here's my question. Who is fitting into these size LARGE bottoms? When I look at myself in the mirror, I don't think I'm a size large. No offense to anyone that is. I totally have been at one point in my life. Just, not now. I don't wear large underwear. I wear medium. However, when I tried on the large bathing suit bottoms, my CRACK was hanging out. Like for real. If I pulled them up to cover the crackiness, my cheeks were hanging out. WTH?! I know I could have tried an XL, but I know they wouldn't work either because there is no way they added THAT much material to make these things wearable.
I know I'm not going to look perfect in a bathing suit. And that's not my goal. When I was in college, yes, I would have tried on millions just to find that one that made my boobs look phenomenal and made my butt look good, while disguising the stomach and back fat. But today? Just want my butt and boobs to stay IN. I just want to be able to play with the kids on the beach without having to worry about my ta-tas and tush hanging out. Apparently, that is not what the rest of America wants.
So, friends, I am still wearing a black halter top from Wal-Mart and black REGULAR looking bottoms from Target. That I bought 2 summers ago. And I. Don't. Care.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Miscellany Monday
1. I survived.
My fourth year of teaching. Second year at this dreadful school. The only way I have survived 2 years at this stupid school is because of the great friends I've made. One of them is our PE teacher. I haven't mentioned him on here because I don't want it to sound like... I don't know.... that I like him... like THAT. Because I don't. I wish he was a girl. So I could hang out with him outside of school. But I can't. Because I don't think Husband would like that very much.
2. Speaking of Husband.
He is currently sitting on the floor transferring all of his Cd's into iTunes. And telling me where he got each one. Like the day, month, year, and store. I. Don't. Care.
3. Day Care.
Today was a teacher workday for us, so we had to take the kids to day care. Which means we had to pay for the whole week. Which means they will be attending all week, while I will be attending Target and the mall sans the babies. :)
4. Taking me forever...
...to write this post. I'm crunching ice and watching Kate Plus 8. Very hard to focus on writing a post with a purpose. Guess it's a good thing it's Miscellany Monday!
Link up your randoms with Carissa!
One more thing... Husband has decided to put his headphones in and is now silently rapping to each song. With hand gestures and head bobbing. Greatness.
Friday, June 3, 2011
My Son Gets on My Nerves
And the fact that I even admitted that probably makes me the worst mother ever.
Let me start by stating the obvious: I love my son. I love his enthusiasm for life. His love for learning. His willingness to help. And I wouldn't love him any other way.
It's easy to forget that he's only 4. He can count to 100. He can count to ten in Spanish. He can read. He colors and cuts with scissors. He dresses himself. He has been completely potty-trained since age 2. He cleans up after himself. He puts his dishes in the dishwasher, and his trash in the garbage. He recycles while I cook dinner.
However, my sweet 4-year-old is annoying. He talks all the time. He is a smart ass. He talks back (using appropriate words and sarcastic come backs). He can argue with the best of 'em. He slams doors. He asks way too many questions (and if he doesn't like your answer, he will find a different way to ask it). He doesn't like playing with his toys. He would rather play games on the iPad, or on the computer, or color pictures of birthday cakes and people.
Why do all of these things annoy me so greatly? Because, friends, my 4-year-old is turning into his father. My husband is extremely intelligent. He can't admit when he's wrong. He is a smart ass. He talks all the freakin' time.
My husband and my son are the same person. And, dang it, it makes me mad. And annoyed. Because the teenage years are going to suck!
Let me start by stating the obvious: I love my son. I love his enthusiasm for life. His love for learning. His willingness to help. And I wouldn't love him any other way.
It's easy to forget that he's only 4. He can count to 100. He can count to ten in Spanish. He can read. He colors and cuts with scissors. He dresses himself. He has been completely potty-trained since age 2. He cleans up after himself. He puts his dishes in the dishwasher, and his trash in the garbage. He recycles while I cook dinner.
However, my sweet 4-year-old is annoying. He talks all the time. He is a smart ass. He talks back (using appropriate words and sarcastic come backs). He can argue with the best of 'em. He slams doors. He asks way too many questions (and if he doesn't like your answer, he will find a different way to ask it). He doesn't like playing with his toys. He would rather play games on the iPad, or on the computer, or color pictures of birthday cakes and people.
Why do all of these things annoy me so greatly? Because, friends, my 4-year-old is turning into his father. My husband is extremely intelligent. He can't admit when he's wrong. He is a smart ass. He talks all the freakin' time.
My husband and my son are the same person. And, dang it, it makes me mad. And annoyed. Because the teenage years are going to suck!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Hot Ghetto Dad Update
Remember this? And this?
Well today's update tops them all.
I've given up on Hot Ghetto Dad 2 because the car lots got switched around and the "big kids" were moved to the back parking lot. I only see HGD 2 every once and a while. He still waves. I still think he's hot. But whatever.
Hot Ghetto Dad 1 was also moved to the back parking lot, but I still see him every morning. And we still wave and say hey and all that jazz. Yesterday, he was at Awards Day. I actually saw him outside of his car! But I was too embarrassed to speak. Anyhow.
Today after school he was late picking up Brayden so he had to come to the top parking lot. When he pulled up, Brayden wasn't outside yet so I felt like I should go talk to him. Dumb move.
As I was walking towards the car, I said, "I feel like I should (cough, cough, choke, choke) officially introduce myself." As I said this, and stepped off the sidewalk, Brayden came running from behind me to jump in the car. I tripped over my flip flop (or his shoe, or my ignorance, or something) and ran right into him. And THEN I said, "Shit, Brayden, I'm sorry."
Yup. I cussed. Right in front of my student. And his dad.
I didn't know what to do or say. Thankfully, Hot Ghetto Dad died laughing and said, "It's ok. He's heard it before. You're cool." Brayden didn't looked surprised or phased by what I said. We'll see what he says to me tomorrow. I closed the car door andwalked ran back inside.
Oh it gets better...
Since today was a half day, I left after said cussing incident to go home and change clothes. On the way back to school, I got stuck in the middle school traffic. I sat for about 5 minutes before deciding to weave by way through the car pick up line to my school's entrance. When I not-very-happy-mom finally let me in front of her to turn left, I couldn't see around the damn school bus. I edged up slowly and was about to dart across the traffic when a car came around the corner. I slammed on the brakes just in time to see... wait for it.... Hot Ghetto Dad and Brayden and big sister. Yeah. I cussed at his son, and then about killed them.
It's a good thing I'm married and don't need to rely on my social skills to score a boyfriend. Because, good Lord, I would be screwed.
Well today's update tops them all.
I've given up on Hot Ghetto Dad 2 because the car lots got switched around and the "big kids" were moved to the back parking lot. I only see HGD 2 every once and a while. He still waves. I still think he's hot. But whatever.
Hot Ghetto Dad 1 was also moved to the back parking lot, but I still see him every morning. And we still wave and say hey and all that jazz. Yesterday, he was at Awards Day. I actually saw him outside of his car! But I was too embarrassed to speak. Anyhow.
Today after school he was late picking up Brayden so he had to come to the top parking lot. When he pulled up, Brayden wasn't outside yet so I felt like I should go talk to him. Dumb move.
As I was walking towards the car, I said, "I feel like I should (cough, cough, choke, choke) officially introduce myself." As I said this, and stepped off the sidewalk, Brayden came running from behind me to jump in the car. I tripped over my flip flop (or his shoe, or my ignorance, or something) and ran right into him. And THEN I said, "Shit, Brayden, I'm sorry."
Yup. I cussed. Right in front of my student. And his dad.
I didn't know what to do or say. Thankfully, Hot Ghetto Dad died laughing and said, "It's ok. He's heard it before. You're cool." Brayden didn't looked surprised or phased by what I said. We'll see what he says to me tomorrow. I closed the car door and
Oh it gets better...
Since today was a half day, I left after said cussing incident to go home and change clothes. On the way back to school, I got stuck in the middle school traffic. I sat for about 5 minutes before deciding to weave by way through the car pick up line to my school's entrance. When I not-very-happy-mom finally let me in front of her to turn left, I couldn't see around the damn school bus. I edged up slowly and was about to dart across the traffic when a car came around the corner. I slammed on the brakes just in time to see... wait for it.... Hot Ghetto Dad and Brayden and big sister. Yeah. I cussed at his son, and then about killed them.
It's a good thing I'm married and don't need to rely on my social skills to score a boyfriend. Because, good Lord, I would be screwed.
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