Conversation with Griffin

"Mommy, you say 'Knock, knock' I say 'Who's there'"

"Huh?"

"You say 'Knock, knock' I say 'Who's there'"

"Okay. Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Uh.... uh... banana."

"Nana who?"

"Knock, knock."

"Mommy!"

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Banana."

"Nana who?"

"Knock, knock."

"Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange who?"

"Orange you glad I didn't say 'banana'?"

"I no get it. You not good at dis."

New Obsession

It's suppose to be for making hot chocolate. But with its perfect curls and bittersweet goodness, I can't keep my hands out of the jar.

This? Is going to add up to trouble.

Question

Why is it that the baby cries and fights when I put his coat on, and then cries and fights again when I try to take it off?

Because He's "Witty"

Aaron's parents are in town, visiting from Michigan (and having a fabulous time, I suppose).

Lately, Griffin has found himself to be quite comical by farting on everyone within the immediate family -- me, Aaron and Darwin.

So today, he decided to induct his Grandma into the joys of being an immediate family member.

Except, well...

... Griffin misjudged and actually pooped his pants on her.

Oh no. I don't find it funny. Not at all...

Observation

Tinkerbell is one catty bitch.

Chipotle

I had to drag the kids out with me tonight so I could pick up some dinner for myself (damn that business trip). I was standing in line with 32 pound Darwin on my left hip and 43 pound Griffin lodged up under my right arm so he could watch. And then guy next me had the audacity to say, "You do realize you are just flaunting your fertility around, don't you?"

"If being a disheveled, bat-shit crazy, frazzled haired woman with two kids is 'flaunting my fertility,' then sweetheart, I've been flaunting my fertility all around town.

Uh-oh

My dad just did something absolutely horrible... he's enabling me to be a horrible parent.

See?

Question

Do you think Griffin is took out some aggression on me when he peed his underpants and made a soggy spot in the carpet that is SO WET a goldfish could live there?

Or was it his freakish three-year old way of telling me he wanted a bath?

Personally, I blame Aaron. Fucking business trip.

Apparently, Its All My Fault Our Children Are Defective

Today I took Darwin to a new allergist, who was highly recommended by our allergist. Our "regular" allergist has been stumped because Darwin is allergic to over 200 foods. So he thought D should see if any one else could shine some light on his condition.

Apparently, all the "new" allergist could say was that D's medical condition was All My Fault and that he's not authentically allergic to food because, seriously? Who gives a fuck if he breaks out in a rash and scratches until he bleeds and looks like a burn victim. That's not really a food allergy. That's a skin problem.

Asshole.

Good News For People Who Like Good News (Oh Shit, I Better Have Not Just Jinxed Myself)

Darwin's left eye has been kinda open the past few days.

Looks like he's starting to heal from his accident (posted October 5th).

Oh, what's all over his face? Potatoes. Organic Potatoes. Mmmm...

Melancholy

I have been Little Miss Mopey ever since Saturday.

My Aunt has breast cancer, so I have volunteered to take my 15-year old cousin, Sarah, out on Saturdays to get all her stuff done. And to let her practice driving (and other than not knowing how to park, not going fast enough on the highway, not looking over her shoulders to switch lanes and nearly running someone over she's a rather fabulous driver).

What is happening in their family is breaking my heart. It seems like her other two kids (21 and 23 -- both boys are living at home) cannot pick up the pieces to help around the house. Like, rake the leaves. Or call roto-rooter themselves and clean up the mess. Or do their own damn laundry. Or make their own damn food. Or go buy their own damn food. Or use their own damn money to do anything. Its pissing me off, and its really none of my business. And I can't just storm in there and take over, its not my place.

And then yesterday Aaron left for a business trip. He might be home before Thanksgiving. Then, the Monday after Thanksgiving he leaves again for two weeks.

So I'm having myself a pitty party. And I can't drink any whiskey because of the wheat. Damn it!

Being an Adult

Remember when you were a kid, and some dumbass adult would run the vacuum during your favorite cartoon?

I just did that to my kids. Not because it had to be done at that moment, but because I'm evil.

Overshare

Last night I had my third allergic reaction to the Mysterious Food since going on the gluten-free diet.

So I made a list of the dates and what I ate and came to a starting revolution: Ginger! I must be allergic to ginger!

And my revolution MUST be right -- I cannot stay out of the bathroom this morning. And (here comes the overshare)...

My poop smells like ginger.









Yeah, my husband thought it was hilarious too.

Don't Go Breakin' My, Don't Go Breakin' My, Don't Go Breakin' My Heart

Yesterday, Griffin killed me. Killed.

As I was unloading the boys from the van at preschool, Griffin's "girlfriend" and her mother parked next to us. The "girlfriend" yelled, "Griffin!" And then Griffin yelled the girlfriend's name.

They ran to each other with sappy love-themed music in the background, caressed and hugged.

Then they walked hand-in-hand all the way to preschool, through the halls and to the classroom together without Griffin giving me one lick of attention.

I knew the day would come. But I didn't expect this behavior until he was a teenager, or at least in middle school. Certainly not at three years old.

Skinny Bitches

I just got home from the gym (you know, working on "Project: Defatting My Fat Ass"). And you would not believe the skinny bitch who choose to elliptically train next me.

First of all, the gym was deserted. Deserted. There were only five people in there. Secondly, I was the only person on a elliptical trainer -- out of 26 trainers (yes, I'm a dork: I counted).

Anyway, this skinny bitch came up and hopped on the trainer right next to me. Not only that, through my entire workout she kept leaning over to look at my stats. Stupid Bitch: you have six inches on me and I have 150 pounds on you. Who the fuck do you think is going faster?

Every few minutes here she was leaning over. It felt like high school exams. I wanted to wrap my arms around my information to keep her from somehow cheating.

Finally, after 17 minutes of dealing with her bullshit I finally screamed, "Okay! You're winning! Stop obsessing! You're not competing with me! And if you were -- don't worry! You're winning!"

She just blankly stared with her perfect hair and perky teenage boobs and couldn't say anything.

She should have known better than to try to out Alpha me. Stupid Skinny Bitch.

Damn Hormones

I have two children. Two boys. Two very rambunctious boys. Two life-sucking rambunctious boys. I feel like I can barely handle life as it is.

Yet, my raging hormones are at the point where they are screaming, "Baby! Let's have another baby! Argh! Who cares that we have too much debt? Who cares that you still aren't getting any sleep? We want another baby!"

Damn good-for-nothin' hormones.

R O C K C H A L K

Rock Chalk

Jayhawk

KU

Rock Chalk

Jayhawk

KU

Rock Chalk Jayhawk KU
Rock Chalk Jayhawk KU
ROCK CHALK JAYHAWK KU!

Five Things I am Finding Scary Today...

5. 10-Year High School Reunions

4. The Doodlebops

3. Medical Debts (actually, all the debts)

2. The Kansas State Board of Education

1. Republicans

Edited to add...

Allergic Reactions (holy shit, my back is broken out in hives and it hurts. Hurts.)

Observation

Fiddy Cent drank the kool-aid, yo.

Comparisons

There are two types of Moms in this world.

Mom A made her children a healthy lunch, using the main four food groups. She packed it all in a picnic blanket and took the kids to the park for one last autumn day.

Mom B bought her oldest kid a happy meal and made him eat at home, at the table by himself, while she cried because all she can eat due to her celiac disease was a handful of nuts. Then she took the kids to the park to take her mind off how FUCKING HUNGRY she is.

Mom A talks to little kids she doesn't know in a high pitched voice, "You've got a treasurer? Wow! Look at your treasurer! What a nice treasurer!"

Mom B yells, "Darwin! Put that stick DOWN!"

Mom A runs over to a kid she doesn't know because he just fell down and she gasped! and ran! as fast as she could to help!

Mom B yells "He's fine. Darwin, get up."

Mom A is singing and clapping and just plain being happy the whole time she's at the park.

Mom B is bitching and moaning and complaining about what a horrible mother she is.

Betcha can't guess which mother I am.

Yet Another Reason Why I'm a Very Horrible Mother

This morning, while running some errands, we were listening to the radio. The Bloodhound Gang was singing "Fire Water Burn" and I, of course, was singing along unedited.

I look back in my little child rear view mirror and I see Griffin singing along and "raising the roof" with his hands. And then he belts... "We don't need no water let the motherfucker burn. BURN. MOTHERFUCKER. BURN."

Oh yeah. I'm a great role model.

Damn It

Why is it, when I have a fun day planned my children get sick?

Seriously, I've got Pukey McPukerson and his Vomiting Villain in my house.

Children are so overrated.