The Mermaid and the Shrimp

So, I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus from blogging lately.  It has been a very crazy month, or two.  I never realized just how much work it is having two kids.  It’s no joke when people say that having another child is like having 10 more.  Add a full-time job into the mix and there is little or no time spare.  My weekends are now a rat-race of Target runs, tackling piles of laundry, and trying to spend some time with the kids.  Needless to say there hasn’t been any time left to write.

There is one thing I insisted on finding time for and that was making my daughter’s Halloween costume.  She had been talking for months about being Ariel, the Little Mermaid.  I brought her to the Disney store and asked her if she liked the Ariel dresses they had.  She said,”No mumma.  I want to be Ariel the mermaid.  I need a looong green tail and seashell boobies.”  Well, not sure if you’ve ever looked for a mermaid costume for a toddler, but none of them have tails.  I decided to get to work.  After a couple sleepless weekends, I was able to transform the little princess into the mermaid she wanted to be.  I found a great shrimp costume for the little man, so the two were a perfect pair.

Why Kids Got it Made

Ready to shop

Yesterday I was having lunch with a coworker and he was telling me how his daughter told him the night before that she couldn’t wait to be a grown-up.  He asked her why and she responded “so I can stay up real late like you and watch t.v.”.    He started laughing and said “It’s not by choice, honey.  It’s called insomnia.”  This got me thinking… kids really have a warped view of what it’s like to be an adult.

I remember as a child I could not wait to grow up so I could “do whatever I want, whenever I want”.  I think that is the perception that most kids have.  And it could not be more wrong.  Guess what???  After 30-something years, I’m still waiting for that day!  Now, not only do I have a boss at work telling me what to do, but a husband and two little tyrants at home.

Kids really do not know how good they have it.  Toddlers in particular.  They have got it made.  Here is the evidence to back my theory:

1. They can say whatever is on their mind.  My daughter has no problem walking into a public restroom and announcing very loudly that it ‘stinks like poop’, while the person in the next stall clearly has not finished (yes, she’s done this).  If I say it, I’m considered rude.
2. If they fart, people laugh and think it’s cute.  If I fart, people think I’m disgusting and scatter like cockroaches.
3. They can wear the craziest things.  My daughter wears a tutu, a tiara, plastic heels, and carries a wand when we go shopping at Target.  People stop to say “how adorable”.  I dress like that and they’ll be bringing in the men in white coats to get me.
4. They get breakfast, lunch, and dinner made for them.  Breakfast for me is licking the peanut butter off the knife and I’ve been known to call a Milky Way lunch.
5. Someone wipes their ass.  Okay, I don’t have anything for this one.  Personally I don’t mind wiping my own.  It’s just the fact that I don’t like wiping their’s.
6. They make messes and other people pick them up.  My car’s been a mess for 2 years.  I’m still waiting for the mice to eat the raisins and Cheerios off the floor (yes, there was a mouse living in my car- a story for another time).
7. They have their own personal stylist.  I would LOVE to have outfits laid out for me every morning.  It sure would reduce the amount of days that I’m late for work.
8. They get naptime.  Are you kidding me?  What I wouldn’t do to have someone come around everyday at 1pm to tell me it’s nappy time.

So there it is.  I’ve pled my case.

Feel free to add to my list.  Why does your kid have it made?

“What’s up your nose?”

This morning we were on our way to gymnastics, our usual Saturday morning routine.  My husband looked in the rear view mirror only to see Kaiya digging furiously into her left nostril.  He said, “Get your fingers outta your nose” and then looked back to the road.  She’s been sick and had a runny nose all week.  I handed her a tissue and said “Here, use this.  Not your finger”.

She took the tissue and wiped her nose.  I checked back a minute later and saw her jamming her finger up there again.  I said,”Stop picking.  That’s gross!“.

Then she whimpered,”I’m trying to get the raisin out”.  Oh, did I mention she was eating a box of raisins?

I said,”What raisin?  You did not just stick a raisin up your nose, did you?”.

She nodded her head up and down.  Then half crying said,”Mumma, it won’t come out”.

I looked at my husband and said,”You gotta be shitting me.  Not again!”.  We just had an incident with a popcorn kernel a few months ago.  And if I remember correctly, it was also the left nostril.

I hopped into the back seat, grabbed a tissue, and blocked her right nostril.  “Blow!”, I yelled.  She started to cry,”Mumma, it’s stuck!”

“Stop crying and blow harder”, I said.  One big blow and out came the biggest snot-covered raisin I’d ever seen.

“There it is”, I said and showed my daughter the booger-covered raisin on the tissue.  “Let me see”, she said “I want to hold it”.

I handed her the tissue with the raisin and said “Don’t you dare eat it!”.  She’s been known to eat a booger or two in her time, so I would not put it past her to eat the raisin.

All I can say is, thank god it came out and we didn’t need to take a trip to the ER.

Have your kids ever stuck anything up their nose?

Say Cheese

One of my Daughter’s Finer Moments

I was at work last Thursday when I received this text from my children’s daycare provider:

Although I was mortified at my daughter’s choice in names, I have to admit I was laughing hysterically when I read this.  I knew she must have picked the word up from somewhere, so I decided to investigate by giving the husband a call.

It seems that he “may have” muttered the words “little bitch” under his breath when she was acting up the other day.  Nice, huh.  Doesn’t he know that she has supersonic ears?  The girl can hear a pigeon fart through a sliding glass door.

Well, I guess she took it as a compliment because she thought it would make a nice name for her new fuzzy friend.  The funny thing is none of the other girls knew it was a “bad” word either.  One of them actually said,”That’s our doggie’s other name”.  Who knew Bitch would become such a popular name for pets?  I wonder if we’ll see it on the Top Pet Names list for 2012.

All I can say is thank God the lady that watches my kids has a good sense of humor.

Confessions: Why I Sprayed my Boobs with Fooey! Ultra-Bitter Spray

Yes, it is true.  I sprayed my boobs with Fooey! Ultra-Bitter Spray to get my daughter to stop breast feeding.  I know this may sound cruel, but drastic times call for drastic measures.

Please don’t judge me.  You try having a piranha attached to your chest.  I was afraid to have a nipple severed!

I gave her 2 years to self-wean and she wasn’t having it.  Two Years!  The fact is she never had a Lovie or a Blankie to help her fall asleep like most normal kids.  Instead, she had my boobie.

Let me just say that this was not a rash decision to use this spray.  It came as a last alternative.

My daughter was extremely attached to the boob from the start.  At 2 months old, I began introducing the bottle to her in preparation for my return from maternity leave, but she refused it every time.  This child was so stubborn, she would go 8 hours without eating.  My husband eventually had to take a leave of absence and drive her an hour each way to my work for a lunch time feeding.  When I got home at night it was a non-stop milk fest.  This went on for about 7 months until finally, Finally, she began to take the bottle.

I should have known that was a sign for the times to come.

My plan was to stop breastfeeding her once she turned one.  At this point she was fine during the day with a bottle, but whenever I was around she was attached to my chest like a fly on shit.  If I was smart I would have invested in a prosthetic boob like Robert Dinero in Meet the Fockers.  I’m sure they’re expensive, but it would have been cheaper than the ten grand I’m going to need to fork out for a boob job.

Worried that she wasn’t self-weaning, I contacted the La Leche League.  I told them of my concern that my daughter was too old for breast feeding.  The nurse said “It’s wonderful that you’re still breast feeding”.   Wonderful?  For who?  I didn’t want my chest to look like as if a small animal had been gnawing on it.  Have you seen Tara Reid’s boob?

After many failed attempts, my husband came up with the genius plan to spray my chest with the bitter spray.  This is how it all went down:

My husband went to Petco to see what their were for options.  He came home with the bottle of Fooey!  I read the bottle and it sounded suitable:  “Stops Undesirable Licking, Biting, & Chewing Behavior”.  I thought, “Hell, I can even use this when I want him to leave me alone”.

So I sprayed my chest before bedtime, then waited for her to ask for her nighttime snack.

She said:  “Mumma, bebe (boobie)”, pulling at my shirt.

I lifted my shirt and let her latch on.  She quickly pulled off and said,”Bebe spicy”.  My husband and I were trying not to laugh hysterically.

She latched on for a second time, then pulled off again saying,”Bebe bubbly.  Mumma, wash it.  Wash bebe.”  At this point my husband and I were in tears.

She wasn’t giving up.  After about 10 minutes, I felt bad and gave in.  I washed it off and let her have her nighttime feeding.

To sum it all up, even the Fooey! could not keep this child away!  I ended up having to cut her off cold turkey.  It was a tough couple of weeks, but eventually she stopped asking for “bebe”.  At least she was younger than the kid on Time magazine.  Now that’s scary!

Image taken from time.com

“Look! Donovan has Boobies.”

The other day, the little man had a nose full of boogies.  I was trying to use the aspirator bulb to suck some of the gook out so he could breathe better.  I ran into the kitchen for a second and left it on the floor.  Big mistake!

My mischievous little princess found the other aspirator in the drawer of the diaper caddy.  She took it out and decided to have some fun with them.

I could hear her giggling in the other room.  I said, “What are you up to now???”

She yelled,”Look, Mommy!  Donovan has boobies!”

I looked over to see her holding both the aspirators on his chest.

My poor baby boy!  He has no idea the years of tormenting that are in store for him.

Daydreaming…

Crappy Holidays from Doodie.com

My daughter has been navigating my iPhone for quite a while.  Although, I don’t love her burrowing her little nose into the screen, I have to admit I do love the 15 minutes of peace and quiet I get while she watches it.

I figured, how harmful could it be. After all she’s only watching Disney Princess clips on YouTube, right? WRONG!  And so begins my story…

It was just a couple of weeks after my son was born.  My husband and I were so exhausted from the sleep deprivation that we were giving into my daughter a little more than usual, just to avoid a Toddlerzilla moment.  I was pretty much letting her use my phone as much as she wanted, as long as her behavior stayed in check.

We were in the kitchen and realized that she had “disappeared”.  My husband noticed that the bathroom door was opened just a crack and decided to sneak over and investigate.  Sure enough she was in there, sitting on the toilet, watching my phone.  When my husband opened the door she hurried up and pressed the button to turn it off.  Then she fumbled it around her back, trying to hide it.

My husband asked,”What are you up to?  Why are you hiding that?”

She replied,”Nuffing”, but had a shit-eating grin across her face.  We knew she was up to no good.

My husband said,”Let me see the phone, then.”  She shook her head “no” side to side, still clutching the phone behind her back.

Finally he grabbed it from her.  We were not prepared for what we were about to see.  She was watching YouTube alright, but this was no Princess video.

He turned the phone on and went to YouTube.  There we saw a cartoon thumbnail with a man and a woman with her bare butt showing.  “What is this???” we asked her.  She just shrugged her shoulders, still grinning from ear to ear.

My husband played the video.  At first it didn’t look that bad…a little elf, a snowman.  I know my daughter likes Christmas.  Then, the woman with the butt showed up and started pooping.  From that point on it was a non-stop poop fest.  DISGUSTING!

It was one of those things that’s like a bad car accident.  You don’t really want to look, but you just can’t help it!

It was so gross, but also kind of funny at the same time.  At one point, I was laughing so hard I almost popped a stitch.  I had to walk away and couldn’t watch the rest of it.

If you dare, here is the link to the video:

Crappy Holidays 

Lesson learned:  Do not let your children use the internet unsupervised.  They can find anything, ANYTHING, in a matter of seconds and they are WAY smarter than we give them credit for.

Hair today, Gone tomorrow

When I was little, my mom taught me that when you find a loose eyelash on someones face, you get to make a wish.  First you pick it up on your finger tip, you make your wish, and then blow the eyelash away.  I remember always being so excited to find one, so I thought I would carry on this tradition with my daughter.

The other night I was washing her face and I found an eyelash on her cheek.  I said,”Look Kai, an eyelash.  Now you have to make a wish before you blow it away.  Make sure you wish for something.”  She got really excited, then puffed up her cheeks and blew it away.

I said,”Did you make your wish?” and she nodded her head, her eyes glowing and a huge grin on her face.

Now do you think my little princess would settle for just one wish?  Oh no, she wanted more.  She said,”Mumma, I need more lashes.”  I told her,”Well, you have to wait until we find another one”.

She started to look around feverishly.  Then she happened to glance down towards the tub.  She shouted,”Oh look, here’s one” as she picked up a small pube.  I almost died laughing.  I wanted to shout for her to put it down, but was in no mood to go through the explanation of why that lash was disgusting.  Or the 100 questions that would follow.  I just let her make her wish and then vowed to wash her hands thoroughly.

She still wasn’t satisfied.  She said again,”Mumma, I want more”.  She then jumped on my lap and before I knew it had latched onto both of my eyebrows.  I screamed,”Let go!” and pulled her little lobster claws away, but not before she managed to rip out a couple of fingerfuls.  I think she got at least five wishes from that move.

All I can say is that I hope one of her wishes was for Mommy to grow more lashes, because I’m pretty sure that I now have a bald spot on my left eyebrow.