My Dad turned 60....Somehow, that makes ME feel old. I remember being younger and thinking that 60 was very old. Very, very old. But I don't (and maybe I can't) see my dad that way. To me, he's the same guy who would wait up late until I got home from a school dance to make sure the lights were off and the doors locked. He's the guy who would let me tag-along with him on a special daddy-daughter trip to the hardware store (Lumbermen's had free popcorn on Saturdays!). He's the guy who would mow the lawn or work on his boat bright and early on a Saturday morning wearing his infamous cut-off jean shorts covered in paint splatters.
He's always had a quiet, steady manner but, at the same time, he can make anyone laugh. His actions were (and still are) always guided by a strong inner compass. He never failed to put us first. I remember believing he was the most reasonable and decent human on the planet. And I remember having complete faith that if he was ever in a predicament, he would 100% of the time do the Right Thing. Because he always did what was expected and decent and respectable and he did so with great self-discipline.
I learned a lot of things from my dad. One night, sitting with him out on the deck, he took a giant puff of his cigar and interrupted the chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs by pointing out to me, for the first time, the gentle curve of the Big Dipper. Right before my eyes, he transformed the random spackling of stars into organized pictures.
He taught me how to sand and stain a rocking chair. He taught me how to drive a boat. And he showed me that you can use duct tape to take off a wart.
But the most important thing he ever taught me was that hard work and committment could get you anything. One night, he tucked the covers of my Mickey Mouse comforter tight around me and gave me a goodnight kiss, his mustache tickling my forehead. He looked at me and solemnly said, "If you work hard enough, you can do anything you want to do." Seeing how hard he worked everyday, I believed it without hesitation.
He continued to explain to my seven year-old self that a long time ago (turns out it wasn't so long ago), girls like me couldn't work. We couldn't be doctors or lawyers or engineers. But now, we can do anything we want to do, whether that is to raise a family at home or work in the career of our choice. "You can be whatever you want to be when you grow up, if you work hard." ...
His phrase resonated with me for my entire youth. It carried me through my high school classes and, subconsciously, it guided my ambitious jaunt through college. It's why, upon graduating from undergraduate school one year early with a dual degree and as a varsity athlete, I decided that I wasn't done pushing myself. That summer, instead of enjoying my new status as a 21-year-old, I spent my days taking practice LSAT tests. I didn't really know what I wanted to be when I grew up, but I knew my dad was a lawyer and I wanted to be like him. And that's why I went to law school.
I'm where I am today, all because HE made me believe that I could do ANYTHING.
He gave hope, ambition, and self confidence to a young girl. In doing so, he gave me everything.
Sh*t: I wipe it, put up with it, and get it done. These are the adventures of a mommy lawyer.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Birthday Ideas For Dad
My dad turned 60 today. Yikes! For his birthday, I made his favorite cookies-- Oatmeal Raisin. But I couldn't help throwing a little pun in there.....
And, of course, what's a birthday without a little practical joke?
The laughter will help keep him young at heart, right?...At least it will ease the pain of getting older.
And, of course, what's a birthday without a little practical joke?
The laughter will help keep him young at heart, right?...At least it will ease the pain of getting older.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Holy Terror: Adventures With Children At Mass
I finally did it. I got dressed before 11am and wrangled BOTH children to Sunday Mass. I was feeling so proud of myself for being a responsible, God-fearing adult. I was feeling equally proud of the fact that I was going to be filling my children up with some spirituality, even if only through osmosis.
But I was MOST proud of the fact that I put on REAL pants! And they were CLEAN! And I even went as far as to wear heels for the first time in months.
I am a pants-wearing human, Exhibit 1:
P.S. Nowadays, at least where I live, it is totally acceptable to wear jeans to church (this was forbidden in my home growing up). Plus God said, "Come as you are," right? So technically, it's totally fine if I show up in tattered flannel pajama shorts and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt. But don't worry pew-mates, I wouldn't do that to you. Even after this and this, I still have a teeny bit of dignity left.
So, we leave the house at 10:56, park our car, and seat ourselves just in time for 11am mass (yay for living within 2 miles from church!). I hand Jacob his coloring book and markers and settle in for the opening hyms. Somehow, Jacob manages to make the most quiet children's activity into a parade of obnoxious sounds.
He flips the pages in his book over and over and back and forth, emitting a sound like a paper waterfall, until he finds the perfect picture. Then he rustles through his entire bag of markers, clanging the plastic bodies together. He selects a color and POPS off the lids. He SNAPS it back on, then POPS it off again. Then he begins to dictate his coloring.
"Spiderman's face can be green. No yellow! His webs are BLUE!"
"Jacob, SHHHHH!" Pretty sure my shushing is just as loud as he is.
As soon as the First Reading begins, I start to hear a whimper coming from the floor. It sounds a little something like this, "I'm hungry! I'm so hungry!" I look around and don't see Jacob. "What the?" Then I see a hand emerge from under the pew.
"Jacob, get up NOW" I whisper-yell to him.
"But mommy, I'm SO HUNGRY." He whisper-yells back as he gets up off the floor.
"You can have a donut after church if you behave."
"But I just CAN'T wait. I'm so, so hungry!" He throws his body back onto the floor and covers his face in a dramatic, oscar winning performance.
"You just had breafast."
"But I'm growing big. I'm still hungry!"
I try to ignore him, hoping that the dramatics will stop. They don't. Afraid of attracting stares and distracting those around us, I pick up the 150 pound baby carrier, grab Jacob by the hand and drag him down the center aisle into the hallway. After a 5 minute discussion with Jacob, I decide that this is a battle I am not willing to endure. I should have brought snacks anyway, what was I thinking? Oh yeah, I was thinking about my REAL pants. My CLEAN, real pants. I begin to feel less proud of myself.
I grab my wallet and my children and we walk out of the church. Hear that? We WALK OUT OF CHURCH. What kind of mom interrupts her family's worship to walk three blocks down the street to the corner mini mart for emergency Goldfish crackers? I'll tell you, a DESPERATE mom. On the way back, clinging tightly to his bag of crackers, Jacob looks up at me sweetly and says, "I promise to be good in Jesus' house." A toothless woman waiting at a bus stop looks at us and says, "Aw your children are so adorable." I resist the urge to offer them to her in exchange for a piece of gum, or whatever else she might have in her purse, maybe a beer?
By the time we get back to our seats, the Priest is already giving the homily. I don't want to waltz back into church carrying new bags of crackers stamped "Mini Mart" on them. So we use Ryan to smuggle them in:
Shame-faced, we walk back to our seats. Well I was shame-faced. Jacob was grinning from ear to ear and crunching on a handful of cheesy goodness, having just won the "I'm hungry" battle.
I sink back into the pew, hoping no one noticed our lengthy absence and hoping desperately that Jacob will now sit quietly and eat his crackers for the rest of the service. But no such luck. I KID YOU NOT. Only two minutes later, Jacob tells me he has to go pee. Seriously?! Rude! Why didn't I see this coming?
We stumble BACK down the center aisle catching everyone's gazes. Trying to force a smile, I let Jacob do his thing. We return to our seats for the Offering of the Gifts. Finally, things start to go well for the first time. Ryan falls asleep and Jacob is quiet. A little TOO quiet. That's when I hear the people behind us start to chuckle. I look over and see Jacob applying bright orange marker to his face like it was lipstick. Here is the picture I snapped right after mass, most of the markings, including the ones he made on his cheeks had faded by then:
Eventually, it's time to proceed up to the front of the church for Communion. I'm holding a sleeping Ryan with one hand and trying to guide Jacob in front of me with the other. He has problems walking in a straight line. He stops at each row and, with his finger, traces the large cross carved into the sides of each pew. I prod him and he marches forward with such vigor that his head rams straight into the butt of the man in front of him. I try not to giggle as I reign him back. This cycle continues until we reach the front of the church.
When we get back to our seats, I sit with my head lowered and join the rest of the Parish in quiet reflection. I put one hand on Jacob's shoulder thinking that he can't get into too much trouble if I keep him nearby. I enjoy the peaceful quiet for a moment before I hear a loud voice next to me bellow...
"Dun, dun dun...ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST!...And another one's gone, another one's..."
"Jacob!" I shush him sternly. I can hear the rustle of jackets and heads as they turn toward us.
"AND ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST!"
I grip my free hand forcefully over his mouth until he stops his horrendous croning. UGH. My cheeks feel hot as sweat forms at my hairline. I swear everyone in the room is looking at us. My quiet reflection turns into a desperate prayer:
Dear Jesus,
Please don't let us get kicked out of church. Please help me make it out of here alive! Also keep me from doing any bodily harm to my son....Oh, and please forgive me for the erotic Spiderman dreams. Thank you.
Love, Christy.
Someone from above heard me and for the last five minutes of mass, my children were perfect angels. As we exit the church, we meet person after person who tells me how adorable and precious Ryan is. Then they smile at Jacob, and tell me that he is such a handsome, good boy. Wait, I'm confused. Were we just in the same church?
After church, I make a pit stop for donuts. Not because Jacob was a good boy. But because I desperately need some chocolate...and it's only 12:25pm.
But I was MOST proud of the fact that I put on REAL pants! And they were CLEAN! And I even went as far as to wear heels for the first time in months.
I am a pants-wearing human, Exhibit 1:
P.S. Nowadays, at least where I live, it is totally acceptable to wear jeans to church (this was forbidden in my home growing up). Plus God said, "Come as you are," right? So technically, it's totally fine if I show up in tattered flannel pajama shorts and a Mickey Mouse t-shirt. But don't worry pew-mates, I wouldn't do that to you. Even after this and this, I still have a teeny bit of dignity left.
So, we leave the house at 10:56, park our car, and seat ourselves just in time for 11am mass (yay for living within 2 miles from church!). I hand Jacob his coloring book and markers and settle in for the opening hyms. Somehow, Jacob manages to make the most quiet children's activity into a parade of obnoxious sounds.
He flips the pages in his book over and over and back and forth, emitting a sound like a paper waterfall, until he finds the perfect picture. Then he rustles through his entire bag of markers, clanging the plastic bodies together. He selects a color and POPS off the lids. He SNAPS it back on, then POPS it off again. Then he begins to dictate his coloring.
"Spiderman's face can be green. No yellow! His webs are BLUE!"
"Jacob, SHHHHH!" Pretty sure my shushing is just as loud as he is.
As soon as the First Reading begins, I start to hear a whimper coming from the floor. It sounds a little something like this, "I'm hungry! I'm so hungry!" I look around and don't see Jacob. "What the?" Then I see a hand emerge from under the pew.
"Jacob, get up NOW" I whisper-yell to him.
"But mommy, I'm SO HUNGRY." He whisper-yells back as he gets up off the floor.
"You can have a donut after church if you behave."
"But I just CAN'T wait. I'm so, so hungry!" He throws his body back onto the floor and covers his face in a dramatic, oscar winning performance.
"You just had breafast."
"But I'm growing big. I'm still hungry!"
I try to ignore him, hoping that the dramatics will stop. They don't. Afraid of attracting stares and distracting those around us, I pick up the 150 pound baby carrier, grab Jacob by the hand and drag him down the center aisle into the hallway. After a 5 minute discussion with Jacob, I decide that this is a battle I am not willing to endure. I should have brought snacks anyway, what was I thinking? Oh yeah, I was thinking about my REAL pants. My CLEAN, real pants. I begin to feel less proud of myself.
I grab my wallet and my children and we walk out of the church. Hear that? We WALK OUT OF CHURCH. What kind of mom interrupts her family's worship to walk three blocks down the street to the corner mini mart for emergency Goldfish crackers? I'll tell you, a DESPERATE mom. On the way back, clinging tightly to his bag of crackers, Jacob looks up at me sweetly and says, "I promise to be good in Jesus' house." A toothless woman waiting at a bus stop looks at us and says, "Aw your children are so adorable." I resist the urge to offer them to her in exchange for a piece of gum, or whatever else she might have in her purse, maybe a beer?
By the time we get back to our seats, the Priest is already giving the homily. I don't want to waltz back into church carrying new bags of crackers stamped "Mini Mart" on them. So we use Ryan to smuggle them in:
I sink back into the pew, hoping no one noticed our lengthy absence and hoping desperately that Jacob will now sit quietly and eat his crackers for the rest of the service. But no such luck. I KID YOU NOT. Only two minutes later, Jacob tells me he has to go pee. Seriously?! Rude! Why didn't I see this coming?
We stumble BACK down the center aisle catching everyone's gazes. Trying to force a smile, I let Jacob do his thing. We return to our seats for the Offering of the Gifts. Finally, things start to go well for the first time. Ryan falls asleep and Jacob is quiet. A little TOO quiet. That's when I hear the people behind us start to chuckle. I look over and see Jacob applying bright orange marker to his face like it was lipstick. Here is the picture I snapped right after mass, most of the markings, including the ones he made on his cheeks had faded by then:
Eventually, it's time to proceed up to the front of the church for Communion. I'm holding a sleeping Ryan with one hand and trying to guide Jacob in front of me with the other. He has problems walking in a straight line. He stops at each row and, with his finger, traces the large cross carved into the sides of each pew. I prod him and he marches forward with such vigor that his head rams straight into the butt of the man in front of him. I try not to giggle as I reign him back. This cycle continues until we reach the front of the church.
When we get back to our seats, I sit with my head lowered and join the rest of the Parish in quiet reflection. I put one hand on Jacob's shoulder thinking that he can't get into too much trouble if I keep him nearby. I enjoy the peaceful quiet for a moment before I hear a loud voice next to me bellow...
"Dun, dun dun...ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST!...And another one's gone, another one's..."
"Jacob!" I shush him sternly. I can hear the rustle of jackets and heads as they turn toward us.
"AND ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST!"
I grip my free hand forcefully over his mouth until he stops his horrendous croning. UGH. My cheeks feel hot as sweat forms at my hairline. I swear everyone in the room is looking at us. My quiet reflection turns into a desperate prayer:
Dear Jesus,
Please don't let us get kicked out of church. Please help me make it out of here alive! Also keep me from doing any bodily harm to my son....Oh, and please forgive me for the erotic Spiderman dreams. Thank you.
Love, Christy.
Someone from above heard me and for the last five minutes of mass, my children were perfect angels. As we exit the church, we meet person after person who tells me how adorable and precious Ryan is. Then they smile at Jacob, and tell me that he is such a handsome, good boy. Wait, I'm confused. Were we just in the same church?
After church, I make a pit stop for donuts. Not because Jacob was a good boy. But because I desperately need some chocolate...and it's only 12:25pm.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
8 Signs You Need A Girl's Night Out
1. Your favorite snacks are fruit flavored and shaped like sea creatures.
2. No matter where you go, you automatically always park next to a cart return.
3. When you are standing for an extended period of time, you unconsciously begin to bounce as if there was a baby in your arms.
4. The only songs stuck in your head are about dinosaurs, trains, or talking tools.
5. When giving directions, all your reference points are children's parks. "The grocery store is five blocks from that big park and seven blocks to the left of the downtown park."
6. You spend way too much time wondering why the students on the cartoon Sid the Science Kid call their teacher by her first name. Seriously, why?!
7. The most intellectually stimulating conversation you have had in a month was whether Superman or Batman would win in a bicycle race.
and the grand finale.....
8. You have an erotic dream....about Spiderman. (I now blush uncontrollably when Jacob watches his Spiderman cartoon)
2. No matter where you go, you automatically always park next to a cart return.
3. When you are standing for an extended period of time, you unconsciously begin to bounce as if there was a baby in your arms.
4. The only songs stuck in your head are about dinosaurs, trains, or talking tools.
5. When giving directions, all your reference points are children's parks. "The grocery store is five blocks from that big park and seven blocks to the left of the downtown park."
6. You spend way too much time wondering why the students on the cartoon Sid the Science Kid call their teacher by her first name. Seriously, why?!
7. The most intellectually stimulating conversation you have had in a month was whether Superman or Batman would win in a bicycle race.
and the grand finale.....
8. You have an erotic dream....about Spiderman. (I now blush uncontrollably when Jacob watches his Spiderman cartoon)
Friday, July 13, 2012
First Born
Jacob is one of my favorite people on this planet. I guess that's a given since he's my son, but when we are out and about among strangers, he is quick to make friends and elicit smiles from even the grumpiest of people.
What I love about his innocent toddler-ways is that he thinks EVERYONE wants to be his friend. He will stop complete strangers, who were otherwise minding their own business reading the back of a cereal box or perusing a stack of apples, and he will march right up to them.
"Hi!" he will announce, "My name is Jacob. I'm three and a half. I have a {baby brother/spiderman book/Cars movie}."
Usually, the stranger will look at him amused or adoringly and play along. This only fuels his toddler fire. Today, for example, he told at least four strangers about the sprinkler I made for him yesterday.
"My mommy drank all the soda and poked holes in the bottle and made a.....{he always pauses for dramatic effect before shouting the rest of his sentence} SPRINKLER! And I ran in it and splashed water on my baby brother. His name is Ryan. He is 2 months old (even though he is really 3 months old)."
If the stranger dawdles long enough, Jacob will begin to recount his entire life story. And he will do it with such enthusiasm that the most mundane facts sound extremely exciting.
"And...Tuesday (he will say a random day because he doesn't understand time) we went to the........AIRPLANE MUSEUM! And we saw a ....... FLYING CAR! Some airplanes you can sit in and some airplanes you can't sit in. Then my mommy drove to McDonalds and I ate........CHICKEN NUGGETS!
Every morning, I let Jacob dress himself. Let me tell you, it is a wonderful day when your kid can change from pajamas to day clothes by himself. That day will change your life. Not only does your kid get to exercise some independence, but it makes your morning routine much easier, i.e. you can play on the internet and "supervise." Plus, no more touching wet pull-ups and you get to laugh hysterically at his outfit choices.
Lately, when Jacob can't decide what shirt to wear, he will wear two at the same time. Forget the fact that it's 80 degrees and he's sweating buckets. Dang it! He's going to wear both his monster truck shirt AND his Angry Birds shirt!
And he is never lacking in accessories. First there's the special Jesus medal to help him be brave. Next comes the spiderman sunglasses, Mariner's hat, and bright green crocs. If you catch him on a special day, his legs will even be "decorated" in stickers.
Finally, he always has a special "toy of the day" that he drags around with him wherever we go. Somedays, it's his mini Blue Angels airplane. Other days, it's his clip-on bubbles (these totally rock his world). Sometimes, it's his Daddy's tape measure which he also has to clip on his pants because "that's how the workers do it." Sometimes, it's a three foot long foam sword.
Today, I made the mistake of buying Jacob a foam toy sword. Why? I don't know. Maybe it was the way his bright eyes lit up like stars when he saw it. Maybe it was the fact that it was on sale. Maybe it's because I secretly enjoy being smacked in the face with a foam sword. Or maybe it's because I always wanted one when I was a kid.
Even as I pulled out my wallet to pay for the sword, I KNEW it was just a matter of minutes before I experienced buyer's remorse.
Our next stop was the grocery store and Jacob talked me into letting him bring the sword with us. He clung to the handle fiercely and swung it at imaginary bad guys as we walked through the produce aisle.
"Mommy, what do bad guys eat?"
"The same things we eat Jacob."
THACK! The broad edge of his sword smacks me across the legs.
"Jacob. DO NOT hit people with that. Or I will take it away."
"Sorry Mommy. It was an accident." It wasn't. I saw him take aim.
"Do bad guys eat plums?" He asked as we passed by a stack of plums.
"Sometimes." I replied
Jacob turned around to grab a plum. As he does so, THWACK!, foam makes contact with my arm. "JACOB! Watch where you swing that!"
"Oh sorry!"
At that moment we passed the canned goods aisle and he made a beeline towards the soup. "CAN I PLEASE HAVE CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP?" He asked as he ran away from my cart. He discarded his sword, which falls, abandonded, to the ground. He grabbed a can of soup and held it up in the air like it was a gold medal. "PLEASE?!"
It wasn't until five aisles down that we realized his sword is missing. So we back-tracked to the soup aisle where, luckily, the sword was just chilling out, propped up against some pinto beans. Phew.
I looked over and saw Jacob smacking his sword violently against the candy display. Thankfully, the male grocery checker just laughed as I tried to keep Jacob corraled. Nope. I don't regret THAT purchase at all!
My favorite sight in the world is Jacob riding his Thomas the Train bike. He decorates that thing like an indian war horse. Between his loud bicycle bell and the bird feathers poking out of every crack, Jacob always enters a playground with an abundance of fanfare.
"Mommy, I'm a race car. I'm going to win!" His little legs peddled as fast as pistons on a steam train as he charged forward.
"Watch this Mommy! I'm going to go over that bump!" He rode towards a raised patch of grass. When he got his wheels stuck on the bump, he scrunched his face up in concentration and heaved his tiny body against the handle bars as hard as he could. Finally, his bike jolted free and he was charging onward once more.
"See, I did it!" He said zooming in circles around me. He was unstoppable.
Until.....a bug landed on his arm.
He suddenly froze mid-pedal, shriveled his body as far away as possible from his handicapped, bug-infested arm, and shrieked like the world's biggest diva. "MOMMY. THERE'S A BUG! WAAAAAAAH. GET IT!"
I walked over to see what all the commotion was about and spied the world's tiniest lady bug crawling toward his elbow. Seriously?
"Jacob, it's just a lady bug. Those are nice bugs." I said as I took the lady bug and put it in my palm for him to see. "Isn't it pretty?"
"Oh yeah," he says, still looking skeptical. Jacob didn't move again until the bug finally took to the sky and was a good 15 feet away. Oh, my tough and independent child.
Later, at the park, I lost site of Jacob and then found him by a picnic table drinking pink juice out of a mysterious, unfamiliar beverage bottle. "STOP." I told him. "Put that down right now!" But he didn't listen. As I ran towards him, Jacob only chugged it faster. As soon as I got to where he was standing, I smacked the bottle out of his hands. "What were you doing! We don't know who's that was. It wasn't yours!"
"Sorry Mommy."
"Why didn't you listen to me when I told you to stop."
"But it tasted too good for me. I couldn't STOP!"
He may be my favorite person in the world, but that doesn't mean I don't want to wring his neck sometimes!
Here he is falling out of his chair when he is supposed to be sitting nicely and eating his dinner:
"Hi!" he will announce, "My name is Jacob. I'm three and a half. I have a {baby brother/spiderman book/Cars movie}."
Usually, the stranger will look at him amused or adoringly and play along. This only fuels his toddler fire. Today, for example, he told at least four strangers about the sprinkler I made for him yesterday.
"My mommy drank all the soda and poked holes in the bottle and made a.....{he always pauses for dramatic effect before shouting the rest of his sentence} SPRINKLER! And I ran in it and splashed water on my baby brother. His name is Ryan. He is 2 months old (even though he is really 3 months old)."
If the stranger dawdles long enough, Jacob will begin to recount his entire life story. And he will do it with such enthusiasm that the most mundane facts sound extremely exciting.
"And...Tuesday (he will say a random day because he doesn't understand time) we went to the........AIRPLANE MUSEUM! And we saw a ....... FLYING CAR! Some airplanes you can sit in and some airplanes you can't sit in. Then my mommy drove to McDonalds and I ate........CHICKEN NUGGETS!
Every morning, I let Jacob dress himself. Let me tell you, it is a wonderful day when your kid can change from pajamas to day clothes by himself. That day will change your life. Not only does your kid get to exercise some independence, but it makes your morning routine much easier, i.e. you can play on the internet and "supervise." Plus, no more touching wet pull-ups and you get to laugh hysterically at his outfit choices.
Lately, when Jacob can't decide what shirt to wear, he will wear two at the same time. Forget the fact that it's 80 degrees and he's sweating buckets. Dang it! He's going to wear both his monster truck shirt AND his Angry Birds shirt!
And he is never lacking in accessories. First there's the special Jesus medal to help him be brave. Next comes the spiderman sunglasses, Mariner's hat, and bright green crocs. If you catch him on a special day, his legs will even be "decorated" in stickers.
Finally, he always has a special "toy of the day" that he drags around with him wherever we go. Somedays, it's his mini Blue Angels airplane. Other days, it's his clip-on bubbles (these totally rock his world). Sometimes, it's his Daddy's tape measure which he also has to clip on his pants because "that's how the workers do it." Sometimes, it's a three foot long foam sword.
Today, I made the mistake of buying Jacob a foam toy sword. Why? I don't know. Maybe it was the way his bright eyes lit up like stars when he saw it. Maybe it was the fact that it was on sale. Maybe it's because I secretly enjoy being smacked in the face with a foam sword. Or maybe it's because I always wanted one when I was a kid.
Even as I pulled out my wallet to pay for the sword, I KNEW it was just a matter of minutes before I experienced buyer's remorse.
Our next stop was the grocery store and Jacob talked me into letting him bring the sword with us. He clung to the handle fiercely and swung it at imaginary bad guys as we walked through the produce aisle.
"Mommy, what do bad guys eat?"
"The same things we eat Jacob."
THACK! The broad edge of his sword smacks me across the legs.
"Jacob. DO NOT hit people with that. Or I will take it away."
"Sorry Mommy. It was an accident." It wasn't. I saw him take aim.
"Do bad guys eat plums?" He asked as we passed by a stack of plums.
"Sometimes." I replied
Jacob turned around to grab a plum. As he does so, THWACK!, foam makes contact with my arm. "JACOB! Watch where you swing that!"
"Oh sorry!"
At that moment we passed the canned goods aisle and he made a beeline towards the soup. "CAN I PLEASE HAVE CHICKEN NOODLE SOUP?" He asked as he ran away from my cart. He discarded his sword, which falls, abandonded, to the ground. He grabbed a can of soup and held it up in the air like it was a gold medal. "PLEASE?!"
It wasn't until five aisles down that we realized his sword is missing. So we back-tracked to the soup aisle where, luckily, the sword was just chilling out, propped up against some pinto beans. Phew.
Goof ball
We got to the check out counter and I heard, "THWACK. THWACK. THWACK."I looked over and saw Jacob smacking his sword violently against the candy display. Thankfully, the male grocery checker just laughed as I tried to keep Jacob corraled. Nope. I don't regret THAT purchase at all!
My favorite sight in the world is Jacob riding his Thomas the Train bike. He decorates that thing like an indian war horse. Between his loud bicycle bell and the bird feathers poking out of every crack, Jacob always enters a playground with an abundance of fanfare.
"Mommy, I'm a race car. I'm going to win!" His little legs peddled as fast as pistons on a steam train as he charged forward.
"Watch this Mommy! I'm going to go over that bump!" He rode towards a raised patch of grass. When he got his wheels stuck on the bump, he scrunched his face up in concentration and heaved his tiny body against the handle bars as hard as he could. Finally, his bike jolted free and he was charging onward once more.
"See, I did it!" He said zooming in circles around me. He was unstoppable.
Until.....a bug landed on his arm.
He suddenly froze mid-pedal, shriveled his body as far away as possible from his handicapped, bug-infested arm, and shrieked like the world's biggest diva. "MOMMY. THERE'S A BUG! WAAAAAAAH. GET IT!"
I walked over to see what all the commotion was about and spied the world's tiniest lady bug crawling toward his elbow. Seriously?
"Jacob, it's just a lady bug. Those are nice bugs." I said as I took the lady bug and put it in my palm for him to see. "Isn't it pretty?"
"Oh yeah," he says, still looking skeptical. Jacob didn't move again until the bug finally took to the sky and was a good 15 feet away. Oh, my tough and independent child.
Later, at the park, I lost site of Jacob and then found him by a picnic table drinking pink juice out of a mysterious, unfamiliar beverage bottle. "STOP." I told him. "Put that down right now!" But he didn't listen. As I ran towards him, Jacob only chugged it faster. As soon as I got to where he was standing, I smacked the bottle out of his hands. "What were you doing! We don't know who's that was. It wasn't yours!"
"Sorry Mommy."
"Why didn't you listen to me when I told you to stop."
"But it tasted too good for me. I couldn't STOP!"
He may be my favorite person in the world, but that doesn't mean I don't want to wring his neck sometimes!
Here he is falling out of his chair when he is supposed to be sitting nicely and eating his dinner:
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
DIY {Redneck} Sprinkler
Nothing says summer more than half naked children running through a sprinkler. Oh, and an ice cold bottle of beer. But not together, of course. Silly kids, beer is for Mommy.
That reminds me of the time when two-year-old Jacob grabbed a beer off our shelf and said, "Mommy are you sick? I brought your medicine." Don't look at me. I have NO IDEA where he learned that.
Anyway, back to summer. Today was so amazingly, gloriously hot. So hot that nothing was going to keep me from running through a sprinkler. Not even the fact that we didn't HAVE a sprinkler. So I made my own! This is where the redneck part comes in....
1. Find a bottle of soda. Guzzle it down. (We only had club soda, we're fancy like that. Oh that reminds me....Daddy, fyi you're all out of club soda.)
2. Take your empty bottle and poke holes all around the sides. At first, I tried using a drill, didn't work. But those fancy things you put on the end of ears of corn worked.
3. Next, grab a roll of duct tape. You should ALWAYS be well stocked with duct tape. No excuses. Duct tape = a mom's best friend. It's also your redneck membership card. I've even seen that stuff take off warts!
4. Go outside and tape the opening of the bottle to the end of a hose. Helpful Tip: make sure your tape extends at least three inches from the end of the hose or else the pressure from the water may shoot your bottle across the lawn like a bullet....I learned the hard way. :)
Finally, turn on the hose and watch for rainbows!
If only they sold beer in plastic bottles...
That reminds me of the time when two-year-old Jacob grabbed a beer off our shelf and said, "Mommy are you sick? I brought your medicine." Don't look at me. I have NO IDEA where he learned that.
Anyway, back to summer. Today was so amazingly, gloriously hot. So hot that nothing was going to keep me from running through a sprinkler. Not even the fact that we didn't HAVE a sprinkler. So I made my own! This is where the redneck part comes in....
2. Take your empty bottle and poke holes all around the sides. At first, I tried using a drill, didn't work. But those fancy things you put on the end of ears of corn worked.
3. Next, grab a roll of duct tape. You should ALWAYS be well stocked with duct tape. No excuses. Duct tape = a mom's best friend. It's also your redneck membership card. I've even seen that stuff take off warts!
4. Go outside and tape the opening of the bottle to the end of a hose. Helpful Tip: make sure your tape extends at least three inches from the end of the hose or else the pressure from the water may shoot your bottle across the lawn like a bullet....I learned the hard way. :)
Finally, turn on the hose and watch for rainbows!
If only they sold beer in plastic bottles...
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Common Childhood Illnesses
Since the beginning of time parents have complained that their children do not come with instruction manuals. Well someone out there is listening. Today, I received this in the mail:
1. No Mo' TP. Toilet Paper: it isn't self-replenishing. But your kid won't learn this until he moves out of the house and, at the most inopportune time, reaches for an empty roll of toilet paper. He will probably try to gather the little pathetic shreds of white hanging from the empty roll, but to no avail. That's when he will learn the ugly truth.
Until that moment, however, it's the parents who suffer.
2. Diarrhea of the mouth. This book contains helpful step-by-step instructions for what to do when your kid WON'T STOP TALKING. Hint: it involves duct tape.
3. Selective hearing. Kids are born with a strange sense of hearing. You may yell at your child multiple times to clean his room and he won't hear you. But this doesn't mean he cannot hear the dang ice cream truck when it comes within 5 miles of the house.
4. Doggy Syndrome. Your kid may have this illness if he insists he is a dog and absolutely MUST eat his food by leaning over, sticking his face onto his plate, and grabbing pasta between his teeth. Other signs may include: incessant barking, lifting his leg to pee, and the death of your favorite pair of shoes.
5. This is a very common childhood illness: Pirate Fever. Be careful, this illness often leads to a aggressive behavior and a billion treasure-digging-holes in your freshly manicured lawn. And scurvy.
6. The infamous Potty Dance. If your kid starts to grab his crotch and dance around the house, he could be a budding Michael Jackson. Or he could just have to pee.
"Jacob, go pee."
"I DONT HAVE TO!"
While you can treat this illness, you can never really cure it in the male child. As he ages, it will eventually turn into an adult disease popularly known as the "White Man Dance."
7. Wait....I'm confused. What is this?
8. Running Away is a big phenomenon among children. It usually occurs when they are asked to do something unpleasant. It can start as early as age 2. In older children, this illness usually lasts for only short bouts of time-- more specifically, until it's time for the next meal. Just be prepared, you may want to deadbolt the door before you ask your kid to clean his toys.
9. We all could use a few tips on dealing with the noisy and messy spaghetti slurper. Is it bad that I just had to google the proper spelling of spaghetti?
10. For the mornings when your kid wakes up with snowleopard spots.
11. Face the reality now. If you're a parent, there will come a time when you have to pull beads out of your kid's nose. Yep.
12. Last but not least....Butts. Chances are, your kid has a butt. And you are very familiar with that butt. And with that butt comes a WHOLE host of issues. From the day your child is born, you will be diapering, wiping, applying goop to, checking for rashes on, and worrying about the quality and frequency of what is coming out of that butt. Parenting is lovely.
If you have a child that is suffering from any of these above conditions, you should probably go to the library and check out this pamphlet. Who am I kidding? People don't go to libraries anymore. Just to go WebMD.
A guide to childhood emergencies and illnesses.
The pictures on the front probably say it all, but just in case, I'll provide you with a breakdown of some of the major illnesses that this guide covers.
Until that moment, however, it's the parents who suffer.
2. Diarrhea of the mouth. This book contains helpful step-by-step instructions for what to do when your kid WON'T STOP TALKING. Hint: it involves duct tape.
4. Doggy Syndrome. Your kid may have this illness if he insists he is a dog and absolutely MUST eat his food by leaning over, sticking his face onto his plate, and grabbing pasta between his teeth. Other signs may include: incessant barking, lifting his leg to pee, and the death of your favorite pair of shoes.
5. This is a very common childhood illness: Pirate Fever. Be careful, this illness often leads to a aggressive behavior and a billion treasure-digging-holes in your freshly manicured lawn. And scurvy.
6. The infamous Potty Dance. If your kid starts to grab his crotch and dance around the house, he could be a budding Michael Jackson. Or he could just have to pee.
"Jacob, go pee."
"I DONT HAVE TO!"
While you can treat this illness, you can never really cure it in the male child. As he ages, it will eventually turn into an adult disease popularly known as the "White Man Dance."
7. Wait....I'm confused. What is this?
8. Running Away is a big phenomenon among children. It usually occurs when they are asked to do something unpleasant. It can start as early as age 2. In older children, this illness usually lasts for only short bouts of time-- more specifically, until it's time for the next meal. Just be prepared, you may want to deadbolt the door before you ask your kid to clean his toys.
10. For the mornings when your kid wakes up with snowleopard spots.
11. Face the reality now. If you're a parent, there will come a time when you have to pull beads out of your kid's nose. Yep.
If you have a child that is suffering from any of these above conditions, you should probably go to the library and check out this pamphlet. Who am I kidding? People don't go to libraries anymore. Just to go WebMD.
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