We fast forward past the graphic parts, but maybe we are still watching too much Dirty Jobs.
“You be this fish Mama, and I will be a shark.”
“Okay!” “Dum dum. Dum dum. Dum dum.”
“The Son Shark eats you!”
“Aghh!”
“Holy Crap!”
pause.
“What did you just say?”
“Holy Crap, Mama.”
He holds up a rubber lobster.
“Are you saying holy CRAB?”
“Right! Just like Mike! Holy Crab!”
“Mike on Dirty Jobs?”
“Yup!”
“You are right, Darlin, Mike is saying Holy Crab.”
“I know! Now you be this fish and I will be a crab.”
Filed under Boy is my face red, Parenting for Dummies, The Son | Comment (1)Neighbors, puddles, and tricycles.
Thank the Lord Almighty, the rain has finally stopped. We finally get to see our neighbors who we have only seen to wave at from under our umbrellas for the last month. The sun came out, and so did we.
The grown-ups stood around and chatted about things like French drains and fill dirt and grass. This is The Neighbor’s Husband, he likes grass. That came out wrong. Let me try again. He has a beautifully maintained yard. Whereas, if The Husband and I could have a goat do our yard work we would.
The Neighbor was there too, but she was feeling camera shy. Hey, she has a secret. I think she should tell the Internet in the comments section, don’t you?
The boys rode their bicycles.
Well, H rode his bicycle. He is an athletic genius. Seriously,you should see him swing a bat. The Son? Hmm. We can’t all be Lance Armstrong, and unfortunately genetics is not on his side as far as physical prowess goes. He is really just now starting to be able to peddle his trike more than a few feet.
He also gets stuck in every little crack in the road.
And we make him wear his helmet for a very good reason.
The Son thinks I should put down the Nikon and come rescue him.
Why would I do that when H can help him?
That H is a mighty sweet kid. He even brushed the dirt off of The Son.
Gotta climb back on that horse kiddo.
He may not be that great at it, but you have to admit the kid has spunk. Not a tear or whine in sight.
He is getting better everyday, and I happen to know for a fact that there is a bigger tricycle in the attic waiting on him. I bet we get it out any day now.
Then we can watch him ride into the sun set.
The End.
Filed under Friends-All three of them, Parenting for Dummies, Photography, The Son | Comments (2)Toad Racing: A Tutorial
A successful toad race starts with a successful toad. You should find one at least two weeks in advance of race day, feed it a protein rich diet, and keep it well hydrated. Or, you should let the teenager reach into the toad box at the front of the line and hand you a random one. We went with option two this year as all the toads in our area seem to have succumbed during the Aporkalypse.
Next you need a good name. Something fast sounding, like Lightening or Speedy. The Son took one look at ours and said his name was Gordon. He was named for him, not him.
Then you stand in line waiting for your chance to Toad Race, in the rain. Not just a little rain, no, truly dedicated toad racers will stand umbrella-to-umbrella in a monsoon for their sport of choice.
When it is your turn at the Toad track, you have one more quick pep talk from your trainer (or mommy, whichever) about racing strategies. These pep talks include reminders about not throwing the toad (like last year) or squeezing the toad so hard his guts come out through his eyes (like the caterpillar earlier in the week.)
You will then get into proper position; on your hands and knees behind your toad is the preferred method. On command, you begin pounding the mat behind your toad in hopes of making him hop faster. (FYI, there is not a PETA branch ’round these parts)
It is also often necessary to herd your toad to keep him in his lane. Toads crossing first in other lanes are disqualified (I think, though we have never had a particularly speedy toad, so I may be wrong about this one.)
When the race is over it is often necessary to pose for the paparazzi.
Then collect your prize money and trophy (or Sonic coupon and participant ribbon) and head over to the winners circles for more pictures in the rain.
By that time you are already soaked and covered in toad goo and hay so your parents will probably say, “why not?”, and let you ride a few rides in the rain.
The pictures of the whole event are sparse because someone is not about to let their new camera be out in the rain. You ride, partake of a corn-dog, then home for dry jammies and a nap. A good day.
Filed under Boy is my face red, Parenting for Dummies, The Son, stupidity | Comments (7)Jungle Gym
I was NOT planning on being a subject in any of these pictures. Hair in a knot, less than zero makeup and my favorite pink Converse. Then JHJ had the camera and The Son did what he always does. Climbs. Climbs on whatever he can find, often that would be me. Do all moms of two year olds feel like jungle gyms?
You know you have a preschooler when…
you have Chinese food for dinner and it looks like someone got married under your kitchen table.
For the record, he uses chopsticks better than most people in this town.
Filed under Boy is my face red, Parenting for Dummies, The Son | Comment (1)254,052 hours, and starting to get the hang of it.
As of right now I am 254,052 hours old. For those mathematically challenged like myself, that is 29 years, 12 hours old. 29 sounds like the age of a grown up. This has not been such a great week. Actually, it has kind of sucked. You know why? Because I have had to be a grown-up way too many times this week.
One of the reasons I love being a SAHM is I have an outlet for all of the bizarre stuff I want to do. An audience that always plays along and giggles. Do I want to put on slippery socks and ice skate in the hallway? He thinks it is awesome. Do I want to use mini marshmallows as snow on the island of Sodor? I rule! Should we give each other tattoos with washable markers and then spend an hour in a bubble bath? Of course we should! Moral of the story? We do not act like grown-ups. We have fun. I figure as long as we are relatively well fed, have on clean underwear, and at least try to take a nap, that is good enough.
This week? I have been 29. Want to know some of the sentences I have been told this week? “We are going to total the car, but you can buy it from us at salvage cost if you want.” “We should do that, it will be cheaper than buying a whole new car.” “The injury is worse than we first thought, now we think a rib is separated too.” “He will need several weeks of physical therapy.” “We will not settle the claim until he is well.” “Since I work as a contractor I will not get paid at all for the time I was off because of the wreck.” “Since your husband was not a full-time student last semester, he will have to start repaying his student loans now.” “You owe us 12 hundred dollars.” “Your no interest financing on the hot water heater from last year is up next month.” “The Huckablazer is making a funny sound.” “Your grandmother forgot what month Valentine’s day is in.” “Maybe if you hang up some hearts over the bows on them you can call them Valentine’s decorations.” “No! No, Mama! I NO wear coat!” “No! No! Mama! I not eat toast. I eat candy!” “I not eat oatmeal, I eat CANDY MAMA!” “I eat CANDY NOT BEAKFAST!” “No, I no go to time out! I will hit!” “NO, I no dink cup, I Nur-nur.” “No I go night-night in Mama Daddy bed.” “No, I no go potty.” “NO! NO! NO!”
Arg. I have been a grown-up. And, then as if someone out there said, “Hey, it is her birthday, we should let her have a good day instead,” today has been a good day. The Husband went out in the ten degree weather to buy me a vanilla latte. The Son did not injure himself or others at play group. My mom fed me homemade minestrone and from scratch bread for lunch. The Son curled up next to me and took a nap. The Husband and I went out for Sashimi. Now we are home and going to snuggle up and watch tv from i tunes. A good day. Oh, and guess what? My husband has been sticking away money and has enough saved up for this. He said not to worry about student loans, or car wrecks, or hot water heaters, so I am going to let him be the grown-up and I am going to count the days until my new camera is delivered.
Filed under Parenting for Dummies, The Husband, lexapro lexplains it | Comments (6)Has feminism hurt our boys?
Am I going to get kicked out of the club for having a post so entitled? I have been getting ready for some Thanksgiving travel around here, so read this–everyone, but especially if you have a son, and scan through this, and discuss. I will update with my thoughts later.
Are you kidding me, Mom?! Why can’t you just write a post about what you are thankful for like everyone else? Why do you need to start a debate?
Maybe if I close my eyes and wish really hard it will just skip straight to where you say, “everyone has a right to their own opinions,” and move on.
