I bet most of you, with children between the ages of 4 and 12, find yourself parked in a fold-up chair with a coffee and a camera, on a lumpy, crowded soccer field, with other coffee-sipping, camera wielding parents, for about 8 consecutive Saturdays in the spring and fall. Am I right? Of course I am.
And, I bet most of you would like to pound that parent who yells and screams the ENTIRE game into a rabbit hole, wouldn't you? I am right again. I know it. Because...
I am that parent.
You're like, " wait, which parent?" Um...
That parent who yells and screams.
I know. You're all, "you can't possibly scream that much!" Well...
I even scream at the wrong times. Like when Jacob stopped and I screamed, "why are you stopping! Keep going!" And the parent turned around and said, " the ref blew the whistle!" to which I said, "oh, I didn't hear that because I was screaming."
And you're all, "what? You? But you seem awesome! How could this be?" To which I reply...
I can't help myself.
It's just that this year, the kids, who are 8 to 10, seem to be sleep-walking on the field. Or they run like their limbs are about to fall off. Or, they see their teammate has the ball, and rather than run along side of them to help out they lag waaaaaaaay behind because they think the other team might actually help them score their goal. I don't get it?
So, what inevitably helps them play better? Tons and tons of screaming!
See where I am going here? Screaming = goal. It's very simple math. I think...
I mean, I am better than the first year they played, all I could get out was, "GO! GO! GO! GO!" Which I realize could mean many thing such as:
-Absolutely nothing.
Really. Why do we...er, I scream "GO!" That's like when you have your hand gripping the top rim of the window frame in the car, and your hubby, who has all the window controls at his finger tips, decides to close your window, thereby smashing and nearly severing off all your digits while you scream, "STOP! STOP! STOP!" How the heck is he supposed to know what you mean? He's driving a car and listening to talk radio.
So now I say things like:
-"TAKE IT DOWN THE FIELD!"
-"GUARD YOUR GOAL!"
-"HELP (insert name of child with the ball)!"
-"RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!" (At least that is a clear verb.)
-"SOMEONE HELP THE GOALIE!" (Meaning...)
-"GUARD YOUR GOAL!"
-"KICK IT!" (Not the best, but should be pretty dang explanatory.)
And only to my son,
-"QUIT DOING THAT FANCY FOOTWORK AND JUST KICK IT!"
And now I shall defend my yelling. I yell because:
-I have positive things to yell like, "WOOOHOOO!" and, "YAY!" and, "GREAT JOB!" and I do clap quietly for the other team when they score. And I never swear. Not even when I am being chased around the field by a rabid bee.
-The coach doesn't say AN-Y-THING! He's like, a statue! Arms crossed, just watching (or he's sleeping standing up). These are kids, yo! My kids at home can barely walk down the stairs without clear and constant directions! C'mon, man! You flashed your credentials, so let's see some skillllllz from you in actual COACHING, which at least includes talking if not yelling!
-The kids are like, zombies. And not like MJ's dancing zombies, and not like zombies who think a tasty brain is in the soccer ball. But zombies like, zzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Aren't kids supposed to have endless energy on the weekends, and have the ability to run so much they could power a small city? (Now, my kid runs, quite fast, but, he has played around in the yard too much with daddy, and he enjoys doing all these little fancy footwork moves which yes, keeps the ball away from other people for a time, but not when they run up and kick the ball away, toward the goal!)
-My friend yells too, and I want to support her, and the team. And because she yells louder and a lot more, I feel like the pressure and attention is off me. My camera helps too...if I am filming I won't scream, lest I hear my screechy voice yelling, "GO! GO! GO!" because I can't think and hold a camera at the same time.
I suppose if her and I make up some cheers we would seem really cool, or be escorted off the field but, for now I am gonna scream because really,
-I am so excited. That's all.
So the next time you want to pound a parent into the ground, think of me, and how far I have come with giving my screaming some meaning with real words, and maybe smile because you know that parent just happens to express passion a little more freely than most of the normal functioning world. Unless they are swearing up a storm and belittling your child. Then go ahead and locate the nearest rabbit hole.
And in the event you're just like me, well then *fist pound* welcome to the Crazy Screaming Parent at Soccer Games club. The end.
Yes, we live in a world where us women must remove as much hair as possible to be attractive. Have any of you heard of the vajazzle yet?? No? Google Jennifer Love Hewitt and vajazzle together. Then laugh hysterically and bleach your eyes. Now on to my post.
My son is inspired by his dad. He often gushes about how he admires his dad and wants to be like him, which is so awesome. I feel blessed.
He also talks about wanting a beard, like daddy. And actually, when he is about 13, thanks to his Italian heritage, he should have more whiskers than daddy, who didn't even get whiskers until he was about 23, unlike me, who has been in the practice of extreme deforestation of the eyebrows and upper lip (and legs) since the age of 9. It's hard being hairier than your hubby...anyway...this is the post of digression, and possibly uncomfortable visuals. Hang on tight...
So honestly, I don't remember how it came about, but, I now patty-cake Jacob's face frequently saying, "we have to grow your beard! Let's grow that beard!" Now I'll admit, even lightly tapping the face repeatedly doesn't feel all that good, but, the boy relishes it. He laughs and laughs and runs away with me chasing him saying, "hey! you don't want pork chop side burns on just one side! Let me get the other side!" Then he comes back, grabs my hand and makes me tap his forehead. "I'll have a forehead beard now!" He guffaws.
But tonight things changed.
I was attacked.
Despite my ability to successfully plant a growing beard on both my son AND my daughter's foreheads, their little fast hands were too much for me. By next week I should have a beard on my bellybutton and left shoulder blade, as well as one extra hairy armpit. And they couldn't be happier about it.
Have fun with your kids y'all...and if you have a bedazzler at home, don't get any ideas...
The Scentsy Scene: You come over to my house for a latte and to talk blog shop...
You: *Sniffing repeatedly as you take off your shoes* "What is that heavenly smell?"
Me: "Awesomeness. Oh wait, *sniffs* mmmm yes that's coming from my bathroom!"
You: "Really? Your bathroom?"
Me: "Yeah I know. Nice change huh?"
You: "Well, yeah! But I can actually smell it all though your home, what is it?"
Me: "Come see!" *you and I do a fancy grapevine into the bathroom*
You: "Ohhhh that's so pretty! Is it a nightlight? A candle? What is it?"
Me: "It's even better than a nightlight OR a candle, girlfriend!! I was offered to review this lovely flame-less candle wax warmer from the company Scentsy! Isn't that fantastic???"
You: "Yeah! Scentsy huh? Tell me about it while you make my latte..."
Me: "Well *foaming milk* It's a booming company which began in 2003, when two awesome women came up with the idea to make decorative warmers that melt high-quality scented wax using a light bulb instead of a wick! An entrepreneur named Orville Thompson bought the company and BAM! My house now smells like Honey Pear Cider! Here! Check out their catalog!"
You: "Amazing! Oh, all of their items are so pretty!"
Me: "Totally! They have gift packs, refills, SO many warmers to choose from plug-ins, to medium-sized like mine, to full-sized, and Scentsy products galore!"
You: "So, obviously you like it?"
Me: "Like it? Psh. I LOOOOOVE it! Oh my gosh! I opened up the box like a rabid lunatic and giggled maniacally at how cute the warmer was! You can tell the quality is superb, and this medium sized warmer is perfect for my guest bathroom! See the scent bars? I repeatedly sniffed all the scents I asked to try of the 80 choices they have, like the Honey Pear Cider you smell now, perfect for those crisp fall or early spring days, the French Lavender, which is clean and relaxing. Oh, and here is the Skinny Dippin' which because of the fresh apple scents with undertones of pear and melons, I am pretty sure I want made into a smoothie on a hot summer's day, and the Vanilla Suede which is smooth with a hint of spice. Mmmmmmmm I love them all!"
You: "Wow, so, how does it work?"
Me: "Wouldn't you like to know! So, see the cute Scentsy bar that comes in this stylish convenient pack ? You just break off a few sections of the wax inside, set them in the warmer dish, plug it in, turn it on via the on/off switch and VOILA! The soft scented wax melts and emits that fantastic Honey Pear Cider you smell!"
You: "Oh, I do love the Honey Pear Cider scent, but I wish I could smell the French Lavender!"
Me: "OK! let's do it!"
You: "Oh no00000, it's too much trouble!"
Me: "No, it's easier than making your latte! Watch this!" *I take my Honey Pear Cider bar package and open it up, I take my warmer full of melted wax and pour the wax right back into the empty spaces. I then wipe the warmer clean with a dry paper towel, give it a quick rinse and dry and set it back on the base, adding two sections of the French Lavender.* "See how easy that is?"
You: "Whoa! That is like, the coolest thing ever! The Honey Pear Cider scent is gone and I can already smell that wonderful French Lavender! And look, the Honey Pear Cider scent is nearly set in the container already! Can you use it again then?"
Me: "You bet I can! I can use it until the smell is completely gone, which for the whole bar is 40-80 hours, depending on the scent. It sets up within 10 minutes because the melting point for the paraffin wax is very low. I know this because I stuck my finger in the melted wax and didn't get burned at all. The base gets a little warm but, the wax will not burn you!"
You: "Of course you stuck your finger in it..."
Me: "Yeah, I can't help myself. I still tell my kids when it's on not to touch the wax, or the base, just in case..."
You: "Smart."
Me: "Tell me about it. And it is SO nice that I can get that wonderful scent without an open flame!"
You: "Anything you don't like about this product?"
Me: "No! I totally love it! You just have to make sure it's plugged into an area where the cord wont get pulled though, you don't want wax splashing all over the place. And really, I love how it acts as a nightlight too. I wouldn't leave it on alllll night but, I tell you what. Set this baby up in the bathroom, draw a bubble bath, turn the lights off, add a scent from their romantic collection to the warmer and..."
You: "Ohhhh...I gotta get me one of these! I WANT ONE!"
Me: "You do?? Well, today is your lucky day!" Enter my giveaway, courtesy of Scentsy and win yourself this awesome mid-sized Nantucket Warmer from their Nautical Collection and a scent of your choice! Wooohoooo! It's simple. Here are the rules, pay attention:
MANDATORY TO ENTER, COUNTS AS ONE (1) ENTRY!
-Go to Scentsy Online and peruse the scents and come back here, commenting scent sounds most scrumptious to you!
For extra entries:
Tweet this: "@Insanitykim is having a Scentsy giveaway!" with the link to this post. Come back here and leave me a comment with the tweet link. One tweet per day of the giveaway, worth up to 10 entries.
Blog this: Blog about this giveaway with a link to this post, comment leaving me your post link and receive 5 extra entries.
This giveaway starts today, April 14th, and ends Saturday, April 24th ,2010, at 11:59pm EST.
The Random Number Generator (RNG) will pick a winner. The winner will have 3 days to respond, and at the end of 3 days if the winner has not contacted me I will use the RNG to pick a new winner.
So exciting! I love my warmer, and I know the winner will too! Enter! Hurry! And I hope you win! And by you of course I mean, you.
I provide reviews and giveaways as a packaged deal, I do not provide review only or giveaway only posts. This blog requires compensation, and all shipping costs paid, for review/giveaway packages in the form of receiving the review product for me and/or my family, not to be returned.
I am not monetarily compensated to provide my opinion on products I review and/or giveaway. The views and opinions expressed on this blog are purely my own. If I claim or appear to be well-informed and versed on a certain topic or product or service area, I will do so only endorsing products or services that I believe, based on my expertise, are worthy of such endorsement. Any product claim, statistic, quote or other representation about a product or service should be verified with the manufacturer or provider.
I will always be honest and forthcoming with my readers and the businesses I work with, providing the best review/giveaway posts that I can.
So last month, using my coupons and in store sales, I shaved off $100 from my grocery bill! ONE HUNDRED BUCKS YA'LL! I am thinking I should scan my receipts for you all just to prove it but, you believe me, right? Good...because I am too lazy to do that right now...
AND just yesterday, even with forgetting my coupons because I had the kids with me (I'm not perfect. psh) I still saved $30, paying attention to the in-store sales and promotions while making sure my kids weren't crashing into people with the cart or knocking over displays. I get a high from this people. Seriously I do. I bought whole-wheat pasta on sale this time around, for $1 per box, and was all giggly about it.
But of course, it's nearing summer and it's hot-er out and with all this healthy eating I need some frickin' ice cream. And the amount of ice cream I need to satisfy our family would zap our budget, and potentially snap the elastic in my swimsuit. So, I thought of another fabulous idea to stretch our budget and not expand our waistlines this summer. I too have to take the kids to the pool ya know...
So, I shielded my eyes from the Ben and Jerry's single serve containers for $1 a pop (have you seen these things? In theory it sounds so cost effective, but I am not sure if I want to buy them because of that or because they are so dang cute.) because I imagined my freezer completely overtaken by them for about 3 days, then mysteriously disappearing and reappearing on my hips and thighs on the 4th day.
Instead I looked right at the Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches and was struck with genius.
You get 6 sandwiches for about 4 bucks and change. Really, you could eat TWO and totally feel like you said a few curse words to your diet and splurged (it's like what, 280 calories and 4 grams of fat for two? Please, Ben and Jerry's has 200 calories but 8 grams of fat in their ONE little serving!) but, I know this isn't a good example for my kids, and sheesh, there goes calorie conservation! So, I bought two cartons, chocolate and vanilla, which if my math is right is 12 sandwiches. Wait it gets better, that's not the genius part. Maybe it is. Who knows keep reading...
So, time for dessert. Here's what I did:
Isn't it sooooooo cute??? Sometimes when your dessert is small, you just have it gussy it up for that satisfaction to kick in! My kids didn't even mention that they were sharing a sandwich, because they were cheering about the little topping of whipped cream and a cherry (which adds minimal calories). And of course, they ate it in sections, which meant three flavors AND it took longer to eat! They enjoyed the presentation, the flavor combination and that they were eating yummy ice cream (that is less calories and has fiber). And of course, with this genius act of genius, I just doubled the servings and stretched my dollar but no one's waistline!
Yes, yes, I am eating it the same way too**, mainly because I have been exercising, but it seems that my arms and the back of my thighs haven't received the memo. However, I recently realized this is because my mouth ate the memo, and anything else that came near it for the past month so while dutifully working out. So, my mouth is on probation and my stomach is in rehab/counseling. Someone has to stand up for my jiggly limbs!
Any of you have some fun stretch your dollar shrink your waistline tips? Let me know, I have about a month before I have to don the dreaded suits again...
**I just need to confess. I had my 1/2 today...with a whole one. And three cherries. Hey, don't judge. It was just that kind of day. At least I am being honest...
There is something you all need to know and understand about me and my family RIGHT NOW if you don't know and understand already. We are avid coffee drinkers. I mean, we are crazy coffee consumers. I mean, we are coffee guzzling java junkies. Junkies, in the worst sense of the word. My blood is at least 85% Guatemalan and Sumatran at this very moment. Yes, I am talking coffee. Some of you are still drinking canned Colombian I bet...
I started drinking coffee at the ripe old age of 9. Yes. Nine. Wait. I take that back. I was actually still in diapers. My dad, who worked nights, would have a mid-day cup and then promptly fall asleep on the couch before he went in to work. I would toddle around the living room in my diapers until I was sure he was completely asleep (because you know how coffee knocks you out) and then I would tip toe over on my tiny tip toes and drink the cold java on the coffee table. And he drank his coffee with just some coffee mate, no sugar or fancy stuff. I still remember the cream skin on the top of the coffee, and how cold it was. I drank it down like it was liquid gold. I always sought out his left-over coffee, like a shark on the trail of freshly spilled blood. My mom took pictures. I was so cute.
Then once I turned nine I would stumble out of my room at 6:45 am, all haggard from a rough night of dreaming about the barbie I scalped and threw into my neighbors yard, to have my mom greet me with a mug of fresh, hot coffee to drink while I watched Welcome to Pooh Corner. It's a wonder my teeth are not the color of mud. And that I have teeth.
If you come into our home for dinner and don't want coffee afterward, we might blink repeatedly and look at you funny, (well, even more so than we normally do). But after a while we will forgive you of your strangeness and no longer offer it to you. We might fidget and appear agitated while we eat our pie, but, as soon as you leave, we're getting our fix.
Both hubby and I worked in the coffee business, and actually my hubby is a walking Wikipedia page on all things coffee, after 16 years of total immersion...if he had 8 arms and no need for sleep he could probably have a successful shop up and running within 24 hours. So with this, our kids grew up with the aroma of coffee deeply set into their nostrils and java cravings flowing through their veins. It was no surprise to us when our son, at the age of two, would grab the demitasse cup with crema left over from my husband's doppio, and greedily lick the bottom like he hadn't had any sustenance in three days. It was so cute.
OK vocab for you all who have no idea what I am talking about:
son: that would be my kid. demitasse cup: um, it's a small cup. doppio: a double shot of espresso...Sigh. Google it. crema: it's that gold stuff on the top, see it there? ---------------->
So in general the crema, it's kinda bitter, yet often has undertones of nuttiness, chocolate, vanilla, or cough syrup, depending on who pulled the shot and if the coffee is any good. My son would lap that stuff up until the cup was clean. Adorable.
Apparently, I have boasted of my youthful coffee drinking a little too much because, at the age of 7, my son started talking like a teen dreaming of freedom.
Jacob, age 7: Mom, when I am nine can I drink coffee like you did?
Me: *totally not registering what he is saying* Yeah sure.
Flash forward to last week, when he turned nine.
Jacob: Mom, I'm nine. I can drink coffee now!
Me: What?
Jacob: Remember? You said when I was nine I could start drinking coffee?
Me: What?
Audrey: I want to drink coffee!! I want a latte!
Jacob: You're too young.
Me: You're too young!
Jacob: Nuh uh! You started drinking coffee at nine!
Me: Um, well...
Audrey: Moooooom! I want coffee tooooooo!
Me: Jacob, I don't really think it's a good idea.
Jacob: Why did YOU get to drink coffee then?
Me: Um...I...uh...what?
Audrey: I want a latte with vanilla!
Me: Well, coffee stunts your growth, and it's not that good for you. I was supposed to be 5'7" and I am quite bitter about that. Audrey, how do you know about lattes?
Jacob: Well, daddy drinks coffee like 20 times a day! He's tall!
Me: Espresso, 4 times a day. He started after he was finished growing.
Audrey *jumping up and down repeatedly* I want cofffffffeeeeeee!
Me: Girl, you don't need coffee!
Jacob: Well then, you and dad are not healthy and you better think about how much coffee you're drinking!
Me: Wait, what?
Audrey: COFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEECOFFEEEEEE!
I guess there are worse things in life, like, he could be asking to watch rated R movies, or for his own iphone, or a komodo dragon. Who knows, maybe he could become my new coffee buddy. I could teach him how to use our fancy espresso machine (and it is VERY fancy) and we could laugh together about how bad Star****s coffee tastes and reminisce about the days when he would lap up crema as a tiny tot during our family coffee jaunts on the weekends...
Me: *sipping my latte* wow, this is really good, Jacob.
Jacob: I know. I have become an accomplished barrista, and wise beyond my ten years...
Me: Yes, yes. I am so glad we can share these special moments...
Jacob: *chuckles softly as he sips his doppio* Mother, remember the strange looks from people when I would grab dad's demitasse, licking the cup and getting crema all over my face?
Me: Ahhh those were the days. So cute. Hey can you go get me that book on Central American Arabicas on the top bookshelf?
Jacob: Alas, I stopped growing last year due to my alarming coffee consumption...
Me: So true unfortunately, but, on a positive note we will save a ton of money shopping for your jeans in the boys section for the next 8 years! I'll pick up a step ladder tomorrow...
Even though I am not being paid to say this or being compensated in any way, (you know how careful we need to be these days with our open adoration) let me just say I am SO happy that Netflix came into my life. So so so so times 10 nonillion happy! (nonillion represents the number one followed by 30 zeros, so says my son...I also love Brainpop. I digress...)
And I hate bats. I don't ever need to be paid to say that! HATE HATE HATE! DIE DIE DIE!
Sorry.
You're scratching your head asking, "why am I reading this?" "what the what do these two things have to do with anything?"
You're totally following me now, right?? Do you all remember this show? You're all, "no?" "ohhhh I get it now she TOTALLY makes sense!" I loved watching this show as a kid, and now, watching it as an adult, I love it even more. It ran for 12 years, and I hope good ol' Netflix adds every single season. Because I love Netflix. I just do.
Bill Cosby was pretty fly in the 70's if you ask me, and strangely enough I cannot find a picture to explain what I am taking about; but it's amazing to see how he changed over the years, becoming quite Dr. Huxtable-ish towards the end of the series, where before he was a young, awesome fro wearing, tight-yellow shirt donning, bicep-flexing dude...
Anyway...
So when this show is on, I have no problems just letting the kids watch, without any supervision (well I am around it's just, I can, um, just, sit). The characters are endearing and thoughtful, they are silly but not obnoxious, they have wit and they always learn a lesson, whether it is the lesson of not being had or taken by false advertising, brushing your teeth and not eating too many sweets to avoid painful dentist visits, being patient and saving your money to buy what you want, or
FOR THE FRICKEN LOVE STAY AWAY FROM THE MANGY DOG THAT IS GROWLING AND FOAMING AT THE MOUTH AND IF YOU GET BIT FOR THE LOVE OF LOVE TELL AN ADULT ASAP!
In this particularly frightening episode it wasn't a bat (thank the Lord above) but a mangy dog who nipped the finger of one of the characters. If the kid had been bitten by a bat I might have blown up the computer monitor with my mind powers and called 911, Animal Control, Poison Control and the Pentagon all at once. Maybe someday I'll explain why I hate bats so much, but even now seeing the word like 3 times on my blog makes my intestines do things I don't want them to do...as does the word rabies. Why do I torture myself?
So Fat Albert and the gang were able to quickly locate and identify the evil, 4-legged frothing creature from the many evil, 4-legged frothing creatures roaming about, and it in fact did not have rabies (it was just dang ugly and maybe a tad thirsty and crabby) and therefore the character didn't have to get shots and I didn't need therapy. I nodded my head in earnest when Bill came back onto the screen and implored the children of the world (or at least the US) to never ever EVER EVER!!! touch a stray animal ANYTHING outside, even if it's cute, lost, hurt, sad, free, dead, little, or talking to them. Especially if it's talking to them.
So c'mon moms, on that upcoming rainy day or snow reprieve (I'm so so sorry) turn on Netflix "watch instantly" and learn your kids something beneficial in a wonderfully made cartoon series by Bill Cosby.
Man, am I the queen of free endorsements or what??
When I think about it, it's no wonder kids are freaked out by toys. I mean, when I was a wee little lass, the most the toys would do to you was stare at you with a maniacal frozen stare, causing you to imagine they wanted to chew your feet off at the ankles while you stood paralyzed in fear, until you fell down because you no longer had feet, just stumps pulsating buckets of blood onto the walls of your room. It was basically a battle between you and your imagination, see?
Well wait, there was Kissing Barbie; she had a puckered face and a button on her back, which when you pressed it made her head move as if she were trying to lay a peck on Ken. Her head was hard. Rock hard. You couldn't push her nose in and cause her to look like she OD'd on Alum, like the other dolls. I had to know what was making her head so hard. 7-year-olds are curious that way...
So, my friend and I decided to do some surgery, and well, we peeled her face right off. Encased in her rubber face was a plastic skull, which I am sure James Cameron based the Terminator's skull off of. Freaked.me.out. I immediately took the face and skull and chucked them into my neighbor's yard, hoping they would mow over it before it rolled its way back into my house to attack me in my sleep.
And then there was that Winking Western Barbie. Cripes. She was like the Crypt Keeper with a makeover. And a cowboy hat. She had that one huge eye with plastic eyelashes? Again, push her back and she would wink at you as if to say, "Don'tcha worry hon, I won't KILL you!" *wink wink*. ACK!
So I had to rip her eyelashes off. And then I threw her away.
But these days, toys have batteries. And make noises. And move. And I swear they have some sort of evil soul, as they refuse to die when the batteries are obviously ready to move on.
I mean, have you ever walked past a baby doll or some battery-operated creature in the store and have it cry, yell, or bust out in song at you? I went all ninja one time on a babydoll in Kroger. Had my husband not been there to distract me with his outburst of laughter I might have been arrested. Seriously. These toys should be outlawed.
So, take the Tickle Me Elmo doll for example. That piece of...red fluffy fabric had a seizure every time you touched it, and it begged for you to "tickle Elmo again!" immediately after the minute-long, agonizing seizure. So like an idiot you did, over and over, and then you would put him on the linoleum, and watch him gyrate around. Then you would put him next to your sleeping Chihuahua, and let him scare the crazap out of your dog, and then you would put him under the couch pillow so grandma could get a good buzz and laugh. After all that fun you would give it to your kid, and the batteries were obviously getting low, because then Elmo was like, "tiiiiiiiickle Elllllmo ahhhhh...." so you think, good! I was getting bored with this thing anyway! Then Elmo gets lost in the toys on your kid's floor.
Until 2 am...
I would always go into check on my kids late at night, because we all know how stressful it can be, trying to fall asleep with toys threatening to take you down at the first sound of a snore. And even though I would always assure them that nothing was gonna happen, I would so want to say, "yeah, when I was your age I thought my Bert puppet was going to grow legs, run over to my bed and kill me!!!" But that would not help.
So once I made sure the kids were asleep, I started my way out the room only to step on something soft and hear the darkest, deepest, guttural, growling demon spawn groan I had ever heard,
This thing was royally ticked off, nearing zombie state, and threatening me for being an easily amused, ignorant human being.
Every hair stood up on my body, (and in those days of extreme child rearing there were a lot) and I stood frozen, pretty sure I was about to fall over due to freshly chewed bloody stumps. Garnering all the bravery I could, I rummaged for the crazed monster and took it out of their room. I wasn't taking any chances.
But then I regained my age and, instead of removing the batteries, I tortured my husband with the thing for about 20 minutes. Then the next morning I called my dad and had Elmo answer his "hello". Dad wasn't phased, but instead super proud of himself because he was the one who bought the possessed machine...
I buried Elmo in an undisclosed location and we left the state.
PS It was my daughter's bday today. Guess what she got? A cute little dinosaur called, Screature, who screams, growls and tries to bite your fingers off if you pet him the wrong way. I am NOT joking! Oh, and it shoots water at you, like from 5 feet away. Awesome. I'll get the shovel...
Can you pee in the woods? I mean, if you're a girl, can you maneuver yourself into an effective position for a quick tinkle in the thickets when you're on the road and far away, from smarmy gas stations, and towns with only one bullet-ridden stop sign, without having any problems whatsoever? How about your two-year-old daughter who was just potty trained? Yeah, I am about to flash back. Hope I don't pass out in the process...
See normally, I pack no less than 825 bags of stuff when going on a road trip that is longer than an hour. I mean, there are tons of things I cannot live without in an hour's span, and that doesn't change just because I am strapped into a hunk of metal and plastic going 80mph down a highway. Add in a hubby and two kids and well, it's a wonder we ever leave the house. Can we all say trailer hitch?
The list I wrote for a baby's diaper bag is nearly exhaustive (typing hurts) but once they hit a certain age, and there is more than one, and the trips are longer, the list gets well, more exhaustive. Here is what you should always have with you on a family "cross-country" road trip:
Water, like a few gallons or ten A few pounds of snacks Frozen ice packs Napkins Paper towels Toilet paper Toys of every sort, size, color and shape Batteries Music, books, musical books DVD player Movies Pen and paper Plastic Ziplock bags Garbage bags Decked out First Aid kit Blankets and pillows Coats Sunscreen Bug spray Umbrella Spare tire Flares Air compressor Utility knife Waterproof matches or flint Gallon of hand sanitizer Wipes Necessary feminine hygiene products Maps GPS Flashlight Duct tape Cell phone Cell phone charger AAA card Cash Your kids 4 full changes of clothes for each person, considering any and all weather patterns. 3 pairs of shoes, possibly snow shoes, roller-blades and stilts.
if you watched enough Macgyver you probably packed a Bon Jovi CD, rubber band, a piece of chalk and a cocky attitude as well. Good for you.
But ya know sometimes you just get lazy.
One time while we were on a 4-hour drive to visit the Sea Life Center in small fishing town in Alaska, Audrey, who was two, decided she needed to pee. Now, normally my kids have the bladders of, well, something that can hold its pee for seemingly days on end. Like, a backwards camel or something. No, that's a weird visual. Moving on...
But she really needed to pee, and this was rather important because she was newly potty trained, and therefore not in any sort of absorbent diaper/pull up-type thing. And the genius that I am, I did not pack any extra clothes. Call me stupid if you must, but, I am sticking with lazy.
So we were like, an hour from any creepy gas station or a semblance of a town, and by town I mean a bar, fishing tackle shop and a creepy gas station. This is when we decided to pull over and have her pee in the woods.
Now, for a poor little child who had just run the rigors of potty training, who heard things like, "nooooooooo!" as she peed on the floor, this event was traumatizing at best. In her head I am sure she was all, "wait, I JUST started peeing in that big white bowl, just like Elmo does and now she wants me to pee on the ground? Again?"
Maybe I was distracted by the cars whizzing by in the distance, or the mosquitoes lining up to devour her backside, or her constant screaming, "no pee outside!" or the very real threat of bears, but once she let it go, none of it hit the ground. It all hit my thigh. No wait. Some of it got ALL OVER her too. Yeah, that's right...
So there I stood, holding a screaming child, both of us drenched with urine. I walked back to the car and hubby asked, "what happened?"
"I can't pee outside and I can't even teach my child to pee outside!" I sobbed, "the one time I myself tried to pee outside I was 6 and I got it all over my pants and when I came inside my mom asked me what happened and I lied and said the swings were wet and she didn't believe me so I went for the 'I laughed so hard I peed my pants' bit to which she told me I had lied to her and that it was a bad thing to do. Lie that is!"
"Did you pack extra clothes?" He asked.
So with that I sat in my pee-drenched jeans and Audrey sat in her pee-drenched jeans and she cried and I gnashed my teeth until we reached our destination an hour away.
One would think that hour-old pee stench is too much to take, but we were in a fishing town, so, the smell was masked quite nicely.
Do you know there are no real stores in fishing towns?
Yeah, no Wal-Mart, Target, JC Penney, Sears, Kohls, 7/11, nothing. There are tourist shops. And fishing tackle shops. And beer. Maybe a fish and chips joint...
We pulled up next to a shop that seemed to have at least fleece pull overs with Alaska all over them, so I set out to get clothes for myself and my poor little girl.
Guess what I found.
After scouring the whole store, the one store with any clothes at all, I bought a pair of boys swim trunks for 20 bucks for Audrey, and the only pair of pants, which were pastel, nearly transparent, pink capris, a size too small, for the bargain price of 45 bucks. For me.
I.was.delighted.
Thank goodness I had on white underwear.
So, I came out of the store wearing capris that distinctly showed my underwear line, and could rip at any moment, holding my daughter who needed a belt for her new swim trunks which were hiked up to her neck. My husband was thoroughly impressed with my choices and the price I paid, and I was completely ecstatic to walk around the sea life center wearing pants that showed every bulge and the fact that I hadn't shaved my legs that day.
Seriously I wanted to cry and drive straight home but, we had pelicans and otters and sea lions to see and star fish to pet. You know how kids under the age of 4 remember these things!
It was just so tragic because 3 pairs of pants were thrown away that day (there ain't no gettin' pee smell out of jeans that have steeped for 7 hours in urine, and, those capris, while they saved the day, really did no one any favors) and no matter how hard I tried to avoid it, people had to walk behind me, and I am sure my awesome super-tight transparent pink capris distracted them from looking at salmon spawning and the giant octopus, which really was the main attraction. There are no pictures of this fashion disaster. Even if there were, I would have rigged an abandoned microwave to decimate the pictures in while singing, Blaze of Glory.
Learn from this experience my friends. Pack your bags, and oh, get one of these like wendiwinn has, or at least get a friend who will send you one.
Mentally gone? Hahahahaha that happened a long time ago! But seriously...
Some of my homies may have noticed I have been MIA in the comments...things have been changing around here...
So I am taking a hiatus. Yes. I am. Don't cry too much. It's not forever, but, it will probably be for a while.
If you're shocked and red in the face and screaming at me through your monitor, totally not liking this decision well, I have two things to say. 1. WOW! You really like me! You're weird (heh heh)! and 2. I am taking this time to work on my outside-of-the-home profession. No, not bull-riding, ASL interpreting.
My archives could use a good dusting off (hint hint). So, if any of you all leave me new comments I will be certain to write you back...but, in case you want some direction, here are some fan faves as well as my own...
Here's a fun video to watch if you know nothing about interpreting, or Sign Language, or Vanilla Ice, because he fell off the face of the planet. Check out Keith Wann. I had the pleasure of working with him back in the day, before he was famous. Here's a taste of his comedy skits he takes all over the nation. I love the funny in all expressions!!
How long will I be gone? Not sure. Hopefully not too long. I hope you all will stick around until then, and that the party is still going strong when I get back!
Right now a squirrel is hanging off a tree, with a walnut in his mouth, and he is staring at me with beady little eyes. I bet he has roundworms and possibly leptospirosis. Google is my frenemy. I like the words BLARGHING CRIPES and CRAZAP. Being a parent is inspiring; I write this blog for my casefile, to help others understand me, or to possibly one day become famous.
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