Friday, August 19, 2016

Crime Doesn't Pay

Thanks to Netflix and insomnia, I've been watching enough true crime documentaries lately that I've developed a bit of an obsession with alibis.
As I'm sure you already know, an alibi is a timeline surrounding an alleged commission of a crime that would put a suspect someplace other than where the crime was committed. If a suspect can provide that, and has at least one witness or a documented record to back up their story, they're off the hook.

Most people, unless they live/work alone in the wilderness, or unless they did what they are being accused of, usually have no problem coming up with alibis. But that got me to thinking, what about parents of young children?

Call me paranoid if you want, but if you think about it, typical, beleagured parents of young children without regular childcare, can go an entire day without seeing or talking to another soul, other than their children. And frankly, kids don't make good alibis.

Take me for example. I'm alone with my kids all day at least once a week, sometimes for an entire weekend. If, by some unholy sequence of events, I ever became a person of interest in a crime investigation, on those days, I'd have a hard time coming up with a record proving I wasn't where a crime was being committed, nor would I have anyone to corroborate my timeline of where I said I was. My 1 year-old, while effective at nonverbal communication when she wants a graham cracker on a shelf out of her reach, would be useless to me. Screaming and pointing only works to get what SHE wants, not the scapegoat her Mama would need.

My 5-year-old would also be useless. Right now he's busy mastering the days of the week, learning to tell time, and ticking down how many days a week he has to go to kindergarten before he gets a two day break. If you ask him what he did today and in what order, he can't remember. And what he can remember is usually wrong, overstated, or out of order. I'm not gonna be able to count on him to lay out what time of day Mama cut his chicken into bite-size pieces for him only to eat one of those pieces, then throw the rest away. And how's he going to convince a jury of my peers that I fall asleep on the couch five minutes after I put him and his sister down for the night when Daddy is away? Who will buy my story that I spent the day cleaning up after my kids? That won't hold water if anybody takes a look at the place at the end of the day and it looks like a cyclone hit it. Again. Who will believe me that it's impossible to leave the house with mayhem in mind when you spend half the day making people take naps and the other half of it handing them things they can't reach and breaking up their fights.

There'd be no documented record of my whereabouts, because I can't talk on phone without one of them teying to gargle bleach or pushing the other one off of something high. I can't have anybody over, either. My 5-year-old would interrupt every conversation to get attention, and the baby, currently in her stranger danger phase, would cry and beg to be picked up anytime someone who wasn't related to her looked at her longer than 5 seconds.

This tells me very clearly that I am not suited for a life of crime. And if you, too, have young children, hear me say this: neither are you. There you go, mamas and daddies. I just saved you thousands in lawyer fees and a lengthy prison sentence.
Stay out of trouble. Good night.

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Whenever I Can Fit It In

I know.

It's been more than a month since I did one of these. But, you guys, the month of May was so not my fave. First, I (stupidly, and against my will) turned 40. And that's not even the worst thing that happened last month.

No, I don't want to talk about it.

A couple of good things did happen, like both The Bud and Lady had birthdays, so now I have a five year old and a one year old. A kindergartener and a toddler. *sniff* Work had its good and not-so-good moments. Life keeps tripping by, some days, sorely trying my patience and mental fortitude.

Anyway, that's my list of excuses. What I have for you today is some musing, mingled in with some life bloopers, if you will. Enjoy.😚

• Today, I discovered that I'd been wearing one of my shirts backwards since I bought it six months ago. It fits much better the new way.

• I discovered that a lone (but powerfully effective) dingleberry--yes, it's what you think I mean--got washed and dried in a load of laundry. You know the saying, "One bad apple doesn't spoil the whole bunch,"?

One dingleberry does. It really does.

• The other day, I had the thought that if I could invent a pair of women's underwear that kept in line that tiny front butt that shows up sometime after the 2nd kid, without cutting off circulation to one's outer extremities, but that wasn't so flimsy the undies constantly roll down below said front butt, I'd be a millionaire. Then I realized I'd never get around to fleshing out the idea. No pun intended. I'd get distracted trying to inobtrusively (is it in or un??) roll my current underwear back over my tiny front butt while in line someplace inappropriate. Like Starbucks, H&M, the office, or if I'm honest with myself, anyplace outside my personal bathroom.

• I am completely over post-partum boobs. They were a novelty for a while, but now I just really need my shirts to fit.

• If the newborn is now a year old, can I still call them post-partum boobs?

• My five year old is learning how to deal gracefully with disappointment. I don't have the heart to tell him he'll still be working on that in 35 years. Seems mean.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Monthly Musings: April, 2016

It's a springtime miracle: I'm posting a list of 'Musings' in the month in which I gathered my muse!  Better get crackin' before I forget what I'm thinking about (which happens WAY more than I'm comfortable admitting to you).

• I spend entirely too much of my daily parenting, lately, teaching my man-cub not to fart in my breathing space. #boyslife

• Currently, I'm not the favorite of either of my children. They want Daddy for just about everything, so why am I still so freaking tired all the time? #littlechildren

• I'm "outgrowing," for lack of a better word, my all-for-the-kids parenting phase. I've started to seek out ways and moments to be away from my children, which isn't all bad. It's kind of refreshing, actually. What it means for you, though, is you really don't want to answer my phone calls or texts right now: I'm probably looking for a sitter. #youbusyonfriday?

• The other day, I was complaining to my mom about The Bud's unwillingness to participate in the $85 soccer camp we (I) signed him up for this Spring. Her answer? "That's sounds like you at his age."


I'll ignore the not-so-subtle retributive glee from my mother and, instead, try to find a bright side in my own parenting future. So he hates rules, right now. There's still a chance he'll turn out alright in the end, right? This will have to be my solace. If we let him live, that is. #only3moreweekstogo #i hate heartsoccer

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

I Love Being A Fly On the Wall

Conversation overheard, between The Artist and The Bud, just now:

TB: Um, um, Daddy?
TA: Yeah, Bud?
TB: Will you come downstairs and watch Charlie Brown wiff (sic) me?
TA: *sigh* Alright, but just for a minute. I'm watching baseball, ok?

[Walking down the stairs]

TB: Ok, for 15 minutes.
TA: No, for 2 minutes.
TB: Ok, how 'bout for 12 minutes?
TA: How 'bout 30 seconds?
TB: Yeah!

Somebody needs to teach that kid that minutes are longer than seconds. #tricked

Thursday, March 31, 2016

"Monthly" Musings: April 2016

° Today, I decided I liked the degree symbol better than a standard bullet point, so all of my muses will be in farenheit...fairenheit. Farenhiet. Ok, Celcius.

° The Bud is still having occasional pooping difficulties, but we've found a great deal of relief for him in thrice-daily doses of prune juice. His beloved 'purple juice' is keeping him as close to regular and pain-free as I've seen him since we started potty training a year and a half ago. Sugar content, bedamned.

° We have relatively laid back kids, but I swear they turn on us when either Mama or Daddy is parenting alone. The little buggers already know about the weakness of zone defense.  #divideandconquer

° I read somewhere that doing a daily crossword puzzle can improve memory in Alzheimer's sufferers, so now I've got 3 games of Words With Friends going on my phone. I'm hoping it works for mamas, too. #cantrememberwhereileftmymemory

° The book, 'Are You My Mother' is 63 pages long, and is currently The Bud's favorite bedtime story, particularly on nights when I'm exhausted and just want him to go to bed, so I can go to bed. And he knows when I skip pages.

Really, P. D. Eastman?

° Speaking of memory loss, the next couple posts will be from my drafts backlog. Apparently in the last six months or so I've been writing stuff but forgetting to publish what I wrote. #whatever

Friday, January 29, 2016

Daddy's Birthday Blues

The pilot died at 4 am.
Who's qualified to fix it?
Daddy's birthday blues.
Pancakes on the menu, again.
Somebody's gotta mix it.
Daddy's birthday blues.

Changing itty girl clothes with giant hands,
Potty training woes and Mama's demands,
These things can weigh pretty heavy on a man.
Daddy's birthday blues.

Long day on the grind, got a beer in mind,
Daddy's birthday blues.
Man, I've been beat up,
Can't wait to put my feet up.
Daddy's birthday blues.

Just settling down,
To smooth out that frown, 
When a tiny voice pipes from the calm,
T-Rex can't battle alone, his little boy moans.
Daddy's birthday blues.

Some time with his girl would do him just fine.
Daddy's birthday blues.
Uncork that wine, babe, it's just after 9.
Daddy's birthday blues.

The candles are lit
Strains of music fill the air
When baby's cry cuts through the bliss.
Hold off on that dance,
Teething killed the romance.
Daddy's birthday blues.

It don't seem this way,
In our busy day-to-day,
When the thanks seem as thin as your patience.
But I see what you do
And I thank God for you
Life with you is the only thing that makes sense.

You get better every year and I love being part of the journey. Here's to another year of adventure. Happy birthday, sweet man! XOXO

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

The Secret of My Success Is Low Expectations

A brief list of my accomplishments from the last 24 hrs:

-I made the call to a friend I've been meaning to invite to dinner for weeks.

-I went to the gym today (5:30 am, y'all) for the first time since October.

-I made eye contact with and said "I love you' to each member of my family before I left the house this morning.

-I packed a lunch.

-I stopped on my way home from work last night to buy new windshield wiper blades to replace the 2 yr old mud-rubbers I'd had on there. I even installed them.

BOOM. Good job, Me.

Sunday, January 24, 2016

Monthly Musings: A Year In Review--2015

Boy, have I missed you guys! 2015 was inSANE. With the new baby, the move, and the new job, most days, I didn't (and still don't) know whether I'm coming or going, but my choices are either to write or not to write, so I choose the former. Even with the 4 year old sitting next to me, begging for iPhone access and another piece of chocolate, "pwease, Mommy." I will write and I will like it. Maybe not as much as I like this chocolate, but whatever. This little post is a combo of musings from December to get my feet wet and a state of family affairs to get you back up to speed on the goings on around here. Sit tight and enjoy. You can have some chocolate when you're done reading the entire post.

• After a month of an unceasing litany of Christmas tunes on the radio, I was disappointed not to have heard every parent's classic favorite: All I Want for Christmas Is An Uninterrupted Nap.

• Relegated to the hottest, itchiest corner of Hell, be the creators of all tiny toys and toys with small component parts--marbles, Legos, pick up sticks, jacks, dinosaurs, soldiers--you name it. Oh, and whoever created toys that require AAA batteries. We never have AAA batteries, so them, too. Straight to Hell.

• Having a baby in the house is like living with a rooster. #getityet?

• I'm up at or before dawn most days, whether I like it or not (note: I do not.), but somehow never manage to be on time for anything. #dichotomy

• My 4 year old mispronounced the word "bloodier," instead saying, "blooder." Do I correct him, or pretend the ghoulish conversation never happened?

The Baby:
is 8 months old and wonderful. She's the smiliest little bit of lovin' you ever did see. We kiss and snuggle her constantly. She's got one tooth and crazy, curly hair, sits up almost completely unassisted, snorts down solid food like a Depression survivor, and has been pushing up to her knees and rocking for about 3 weeks now. Crawling is imminent. #slowdownlittlelady

The House:
is little and cute and perfect for us. We love our new digs. Everybody has his/her own space to fill up with too much stuff and yet we all still manage to spend most of our time in the kitchen. As much as I hate(d) moving, this was a good idea and I'm excited to make memories here. If you're in our neck of the woods, come by and see us. We love visitors! #littlehouseintheburbs

The Bud:
is starting kindergarten in the Fall. My baby. They're taking 3 month olds in kindergarten now, apparently. Also, if it's possible to die of impotent rage, he's killing us, slowly and painfully. As I mentioned, he's sitting next to me, currently getting peanut residue backwash in my water glass, chirping about what a "healthy and awesome" drink water is. My water, not his. His water in his own cup, he hates with a blazing fire. Mama's is the only water worthy of his backwash. I swear there is a conspiracy afoot (perpetuated by other parents who have already fallen for it and want you to suffer, too) to make parents keep children past their expiration dates. Every year of his life, some seasoned parent has earnestly assured me that next year, things will get sooo much better. That if I just hang in there, this year I will get to enjoy the spoils of the war we've waged since he developed a will of his own.

They are dirty liars. They only say that to dupe us into keeping him another year.

Without hyperbole, I can say that he's more frustrating, irritating, willful, tantrumy, whiny, and disobedient at 4 years old than he's ever been. And we couldn't love him more. In spite of it all, we are completely devoted to him, snuggling and kissing him whenever he'll allow it. #chumps

The Job:
is in Sales, for those of you who don't know. Every day is new, and challenging, and exciting. I feel like an idiot most of the time, but I'm grateful for the chance and determined to succeed.

The Baby Weight:
has gone nowhere. I am pissed. And hungry. #dammit

The Artist:
is still a complete hottie, and as it turns out, is quite handy at home repairs. If I could only get him to use one paper towel at a time instead of 4, I'd have it all.

That's all I got for right now. Here's hoping that 2016 works out to be The Year of Us All. We deserve it.

From me, to you. XOXO