Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Those Damn Yankees

I picked up Emma from school today. The kids all wait in a little courtyard with benches and a white picket fence surrounding them. There is an aide at the gate who lets the kids out one by one when they see their parents.

Olivia and I arrived a little early today so she was playing on a tree stump and jumping off it and climbing back on. I look back at the courtyard and Emma is sitting on the bench with her cute little red headed girlfriend who is just about the sweetest little manner acknowledging Southern Belle you can ever imagine. Everything is, "Yes, ma'am, No ma'am", etc. So I shout to Emma, "Lou! Hi! Let's go!"

She looks at me, grins a tiny bit, and shouts back, "You're not my mom." And goes back to talking to her friend. Her friend, who knows me well, looks at me, confused, and smiles sweetly like she doesn't know what to do or why Emma is pretending to not know me..

"Okay, Emma...funny...come on!"

"You're not my mom! Cute baby!" And looks away.

The lady next to me shoots me a sympathetic grin. I smile back. "Really? I'm not your mom? Okay, well I hope someone comes to get you!"

"Hey Lady, I like your baby!"

"Yeah, she's my favorite child. It's not funny anymore. Come on!" Truthfully, I had mixed feelings of pride (that she came up with this and followed through so naturally) and annoyance (that she carried on for so long). I didn't even look to see what the other parents were doing. They all know me and know she's mine so no one was calling the police or anything. However, calling me "Lady" is probably a cardinal sin down here. Kids refer to their parents and other adults as "Sir" or "Ma'am". Emma called me "ma'am" once by accident and we both looked at each other with confusion and then laughter.

The lady looks at me and says, "She still isn't coming? Oh my goodness."

"Yeah, she's a funny one. That's okay. I'm going to beat her when she gets out here." Which reminds me that I probably need to stop threatening to beat my children in public.

So I walk away in an attempt to give her a little scare. I look back to see Olivia beating on a little boy twice her size. He is on the stump and she is swinging at him to get him off.

Good God. Shoot me dead.

Saturday, April 24, 2010

WHO'S a housewife???

I realize I've been a little laxed since my return from Mexico. Things don't really seem as necessary or urgent as they did before. And my house may show for it a little. JUST a little.

Scott came home one day this past week and looked at me and then took a glance around the house and said, "Man, you really suck as a housewife. I want Katie back."
Katie, for those of you who don't know, is my brother's girlfriend and she takes care of the girls for me while I am gone for work...or vacation. She is an absolute star.

"That's because I'm NOT a housewife."


Did I wake up in1950? I work Mother F-er. My job just allows me to be home for most of the year. I know I'm not bringing in a lot of income, but we are in a recession! And let's not forget that I AM taking care of your kids, too. You better check yourself. (I've moved on to 1980 at this point.)

I'm not really sure when he started believing he has a housewife, but I was happy to burst his fantasy bubble and let him know that it ain't me.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

No respect

My house has been where it's at with the 8 and under crowd. It's cool, I guess. No one's killing each other, or more importantly, demanding anything of me. Yesterday, the girls across the street were over playing with Emma. Before long, it was a full out party running through my house as all the kids congregated to the noisy house. I opened the back door and, like flies, they flew out the door.

Perfect.

And then the creep behind us climbed over the fence and ruined the party. I gave the girls water guns and a bucket of water to fill their own weapons as needed. It worked. And then the boys came back with bigger guns. Bastards. Suddenly, it was boys against girls. Damn. Sorry, girls...I got you set up and now you're on your own. But then I realized that the bucket of water is in my house. They're all right in front of me, looking at the bucket, laughing and bickering.

"You gotta get the bucket out of the house."

Blank stares.
"Am I speaking Japanese? Hey, take the bucket outside, please!"
And the oldest girl of the group, 2nd grader, a girl after my own heart says, "Does anyone hear her? Get the bucket!"
Still nothing.
So, teeth clenched, growling, I try one more time, "Get. The. Buckeeeet."

Emma....looks at her friends, shrugs her shoulders, and says, "That's what she does. She does that all the time."

Really, Emma? Well, clearly I don't beat you all the time. How about if I start doing that.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Jumping Fences

I know the grass always looks greener on the other side. I know because I've been jumping fences back and forth for a long time. Here's the thing. How do you know if it's greener or not if you don't go over and take a look?

I realize it gets exhausting and sometimes fences have pokes on the tops of them, but one must know what they're missing...orrrrrrr not missing. I think people become too comfortable in their grass and are too lazy to see what's on the other side. UNLESS...of course, you're perfectly happy with your grass. Then. You should stay on your side. But if you're wondering, then why not check it out. The grass might possibly BE greener.

It could also be burnt up.

Like it is in Alabama. 

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Brussel Sprouts

I've been trying to get the girls to eat brussel sprouts. They're my favorite vegetable and have been ever since I was little.

Odd? Possibly.

They have both tried them before, but to no avail. So I tried again tonight. I watched Emma nonchalantly put one in her mouth. The look on her face was enough. And then she spit it back out on her plate. "Ock! THAT. Is disgusting."

I look at Olivia's high chair tray and hers are gone. I've won! One of my kids is going to like brussel sprouts, just like me. So I put more on her tray and watch her with pride. Without thinking twice, she reaches over and drops them on the floor to the dog. One right after another.

Defeated.

Worn and Put Away Wet

Is exactly how I feel right now. I am my own worst enemy.

I spent a tumultuous 5 days in Mexico with good girlfriends. It was one of the best trips I've had and absolutely just what I needed. The plan was 5 days of "relaxation and reflection."

It ended up being Spring Break 2010 minus all the college students.

I found myself face down in a bed of landscaped plants within the first 3 hours of my arrival in Mexico. Fast forward to that evening and I'm sitting in a Corona Bar with girls blowing whistles and pouring shots down people's throats, all while watching a booty shaking contest and "someone" getting black lips fake tattooed on her ass.

This wasn't supposed to happen. And I'm happy to say, it didn't happen again.

The days and nights were still filled with drinking and minimal eating. The Mexican bartenders became our best friends, even on a nickname basis. Our other best friends were a group of 30+ year old beer guys there on an incentive trip from their company. They were the best and worst things that happened to us.

It was all good times until someone pissed off a 5 foot Asian guy who then proceeded to jump onto a table and break a beer bottle on the floor. Mama Jodi snapped her fingers in panic at her two barefoot little poodles, Jen and Jen2, snapping and pointing, "You two! Get over here! Now!" We obeyed with our heads hung down until we realized she was leading us out the front door instead of down the corridor to our room. The drunk leading the drunker, I suppose.

My six years of Spanish came through for me/us the longer we were there. Jen2 thought that the Spanish language consisted of just adding an "o" to the end of every English word. The taxi rides were quite amusing as Mama Jodi and I observed from the back seat. "Muy handsome-o!" "Free-o?" Hmm...not so much.

My body is resisting repositioning itself into normal life mode. As I type, Emma is watching Knocked Up and Olivia is eating dog food. All I really want is to lay by the pool with my ipod, read my book, drink (water, obviously), and talk to my friends in person.

I should have married Jay-Z.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

If I only had a heart...

I leave for Mexico on Friday.

I asked Emma if she is going to miss me when I'm gone. She answers that she will and said she was talking to her friends about it today at school. So, obviously, I ask what she said.

"I told them my mom is moving to California."

"Baby, I'm not moving to California! I'm going to Mexico for a vacation!"

"Oh yeah...I forgot."

I mean, does she EVER listen to me?

Then, we got distracted.

As we were driving, I saw a man on the ground...like he had just fallen down. He was on all fours and trying to get back up...he was probably in his 60's or 70's. My first thought was, "Oh no!" and I even said it out loud. Then, I saw two ladies rush over to him to help him. As I drove by, I stopped in thought as I realized my first reaction wasn't laughing! That never happens! I always laugh when people fall. Always. I was so impressed with myself and happy that I really did care.

And then it happened.

I started laughing.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Snakes are bad, bad things.

Snakes are NOT pets.

They are creepy and gross.

I took Emma to a birthday party today, which is a beach theme. They had sand brought in and dumped in their backyard. They had a big jumpy, pool, sand toys, all the fun stuff of a beach party. Emma and I walk in and I see big turtles crawling around. Ew. I look to my left and there is a HUMONGO, FAT snake folded up in a clear tote right next to me. My heart stopped and I ran. What. the. hell.

It's a reptile petting zoo. Fantastic. 

So Emma takes off to play and I walk over to the mother of the birthday boy and just as I was telling her how crazy she is, another mom comes up, also horrified about the snake. Suddenly, she jumps and screams, which sets me into panic mode so I start screaming and running in place. I had no idea what we were screaming about because I couldn't look, and I think my eyes may have been closed, too.

Finally, after I kind of pulled myself together, I turn around and a masked boy is standing there shooting me with a water gun. I jump again and threaten him quietly. 

I couldn't get out of there fast enough, but needed another way to get to the front of the house without passing the snake. So I went through the house. I was stopped by one of the father's who commented that we made the best entrance, which is clearly not a compliment. The situation started to replay in my head and it struck me that we were jumping and screaming like two little girls. Embarrassing.

When I got to my car, I realized I left Emma at the party with a 40 lb snake. And three turtles. I'm still not going back there until it's over.

My heart is heavy and my breathing is shallow. I actually kind of feel like I could vomit.

I've never been so thankful to have two girls.

Friday, April 2, 2010

They have a what?!

After years of letting Emma believe that boys have vaginas, I decided tonight to tell her the truth.

She made a comment that included "boys' vaginas" and I thought, she's almost 6, maybe it's time for her to know that they're not actually called vaginas.

So I told her. "Emma, boys' vaginas are not called vaginas." Pause, hesitation, pause. "It's a penis." I waited for her to repeat what I just told her. It's what she does.

"A penis?"

Pause. Please don't make me say it again. "Yes."

"Why is it a penis?"

"That's just what it's called."

"Is it because it's a long vagina?" She motions her hand from her crotch down to her knees during the word "long".

"Yep."

And that was the end of it.

As much as I dreaded it, I feel relieved that no longer will she be getting confused looks from those not in our "everyone has vaginas" world.

Parenting is hard.

Check up

I took Olivia to the doctor today. I took her a month ago because she was sick so today was a follow up.

There is nothing I hate more than going to the doctor or taking my kids to the doctor. First of all, the place is filled with germs. People go there because they're sick. Obvious. Germs. Secondly, I really don't think doctors typically know what they're talking about. Going to the doctor is really just confirmation of what I already know. So, to me, it's a waste of time and money. Finally, they want to treat everything with medication. I don't want to do that. There isn't anything a healthy diet and probiotic can't fix. It's those times that I feel defeated that I just want the doctor to look at my kids. If I decide to not go to the doctor, that's one thing. Not taking my kids teeters on child neglect. I'm not big on jail.

It took me months to find a doctor here who will consider alternative medicine. She's from New York, she is conservative when it comes to prescribing medication (for an MD), and I actually really like her.

Her nurse weighed Olivia and got a concerned look on her face and said she has lost a little weight. She lost half of an ounce. Olivia is half of an ounce lighter today, three weeks later than the last time they weighed her.

"That diet I put her on must be working" was my response.

The nurse didn't laugh.

Sheesh.