A brief glimpse into the daily happenings of a 6-year-old, his new baby brother and his family.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Just Doin' Our Thing

Last Friday, we headed to dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. We were seated next to a huge sign that said, "Jose Cuervo Margaritas 2 for $7 EVERYDAY!". Well, if you insist. It had been a "bit of a week", so when the waitress asked if I'd like another margarita, I said that, yes, I really did. Thank you for asking.

Waitress: Would you like another margarita?
H: Actually, I would. Thank you.
B: Excuse me, but I want a marga-ree-ter, too.

W: You do? May I see some ID?
B: Here ya' go (holds up the Mexican flag toothpick that was stuck in his corn masa--- smarty pants)

W: Well, that's good enough for me.
B: (as we waves his hand in the air toward the waitress)Yeah, I need a marga-ree-ter. You go do your thing.

So proud. All the hard work we've put in teaching him how to speak to others and to be an upstanding citizen. My kid puts it to use ordering underage alcoholic beverages.

When the waitress returned, she had a margarita for me and a shot glass for Ben. The shot glass looked like a marga-reet-er... it had a lime wedge and everything. She had mixed a little Sprite with some lime juice. He was, well, about as excited as I was to see my margarita.

After he thanked her for his drink, he held his new drink high in the air and said, "Cheers, everyone. Cheers to marga-ree-ters." Yep. I'll drink to that.

After tasting his "ree-ter", he said, "Whew. That is some sour water. I really like it."

Friday, January 25, 2008

That Creepy Uncle

Perhaps in families larger than ours (only children who marry only children, you know), creepy uncles aren't so rare. In our family, however, we don't have any. We have to look beyond our stubby little family tree to give Ben the weird uncle experience.

Thank goodness for tax season. More to the point, thank goodness for those poor souls who stand at busy intersections dressed up as Uncle Sam and wave at traffic in hopes of....what? Inspiring someone to have their taxes done RIGHT NOW. By a company who believes that credibility comes from a costume rental store. And, may we reflect a moment on how much that job sucks. You dress like Uncle Sam (or the Statue of Liberty) in the freezing cold and wave for hours on end. Have you noticed these people? It's nuts.

As we've driven by the "Sams" in the past week, I've been pointing them out to Ben. Usually saying something like, "Wave at Uncle Sam, Ben. He's waving at you." -or- "Hi, Uncle Sam!" Ben is pretty non-committal about Uncle Sam. I don't know whether he senses the ridiculousness of the "Sam Situation" or if he's just freaked out by strangers waving at him, but today he put me in my place.

H: Look, Ben! There's Uncle Sam. He's waving at us.
B: He's waving at everyone, Mommy. (yes, he used THAT tone.)
H: Sure. Wave to him.
B: No way. He's scary and pooo-key (spooky).

H: Why is he scary? It's friendly to wave at people (by now we've driven down the road and are long past Uncle Sam).
B: That is not my Uncle, Mom. I'm NEVER waving to him. I'm gonna send the Ninja Turtles and Planet Heroes to pie-ya him. I won't even look again.

So there, Liberty Tax Service. You will not be our tax man, nor will you be our uncle.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

World's Slowest Sweatshop

After months of good intentions, I have finally decided to launch a little mommy cottage industry. I'll be cranking out less-than-expertly made baby/toddler items that non-sewers seem to love (ooohh.. maybe THAT's my slogan). I've been making baby blankets with big fuzzy initials for a few people and will add some little jumpers, dresses, overalls (with big, silly ruffles at the ankle for girls), pants, maybe some appliqued onesies if I am inspired. Once I have a few samples made, I'll launch a separate blog that will post photos of the items and allow people to order, etc.

All of this began when one of my Kindermusik babies attended class last week in a darling little jumper. Then I went to a local "mom and pop" fabric store and found the most adorable Valentine's Day fabric. I decided that Baby Hannah clearly needed one... ok, so maybe this all began when Katie had a baby girl almost a year ago.... Anyway, here's the dress:

front view

back view

When I delivered the dress to Katie and Hannah on Monday, I got my first order from another mom in class. Watch out Baby Gap... here comes:

Pink Elephant
The World's Slowest Sweatshop


Pink Elephant

Less-Than-Expertly-Made-Baby/Toddler-Items that Non-sewers Seem to Love

-or-- maybe just:

Pink Elephant

Pink Elephant is now online at: http://www.pinkelephantbaby.blogspot.com

Saturday, January 19, 2008

Root Canals, Jesus in a Box, and on and on

What a week (and a couple of days). Allow me to recap...

Thursday (January 10th): The beginning. Ben was up all night (Wednesday into Thursday) crying. It was a BAD flashback to early babyhood. If our baby had been possessed by the devil. Thursday 8:30 AM: Heather goes in to the dentist for a filling and ends up having a ROOT CANAL. Later the same day, Ben goes into the pediatrician and we find out he is not the devil, but has a nasty ear infection. Drugs for everyone. (Heather's: anti-anxiety for the dentist visit, pain meds for after the ROOT CANAL. Ben: good old "orange" antibiotic).

Friday/Saturday: Hang out days. We all recover. Ben and Heather go to the gym with Ben's girlfriend Olivia and her mom.

Sunday: Ben feels better. We know this because Ben talks non-stop for 3 hours and demands his parents pretend to be Daphne, Velma, Donatello, Leonardo, a random knight, a hippo, and that they play with him and pay attention to him ALL THE TIME. By 3:00, Don and Heather are looking online and in the phone book for sleep away boarding preschools.

Monday/Tuesday: Beginning of a new Kindermusik semester. Ben goes to school, we settle back into a "real" routine.

Wednesday: Heather wins "Parent of the Year" award and is happy to announce that her only competition for "Parent of the Decade" is Brittney Spears. Heather spent the day in bed or on the couch contemplating death by sinus infection while she prompted her child to drag a step stool to the pantry and to help himself (Costco bag of Cheetos, anyone?). She then buys the Ninja Turtle movie (PG rating) off the On Demand feature on the cable box and tells him to close his door to watch so the dogs don't eat all the Cheetos. MORE DRUGS: Heather-- Z-pack for a sinus infection, Tylenol Cold & Sinus to sleep, etc.. (hence the good parenting).

Thursday: Freaking snow day. You've gotta be kidding me. Thursday was supposed to be "Heather takes Ben to school and sleeps all day... you know a "sick day". 6:00 AM? No school. So, Thursday was a slightly less inappropriate version of Wednesday. Ben became quite proficient at bringing EVERY TOY HE OWNS into the bedroom and piling them up so we could play without me leaving my pillow. If only he could learn to open the fridge and bring me a Diet Coke.

Friday: PRAISE THE Z-PACK. With the exception of a head cold, I have been healed. I'm gonna start calling Zythromax "Jesus in a Box", 'cause its healing powers are miraculous. With Baby Linus in tow, we made it to open gym and Ben had a haircut. We even went out to dinner like real people last night.

One funny from the week:

Wednesday, we had to go to Target to pick up the Jesus in a Box. When we got there, I realized the pharmacy was closed for lunch, so we had to kill 30 minutes in Target. Normally, that is easy, but when you feel like your face is going to explode, it's more complicated. We went to the toy aisle and I told Ben he could play. Then, I told him he could choose ANY toy he wanted and we'd take it home. This immense toy power, coupled with the Cheetos freedom, mixed with being allowed to do whatever he wanted because no one was really paying attention led him to the following sweet comment:

B: (climbs into bed with me and pats my head) Mommy, you know what, Mommy?
H: what?

B: (kisses my forehead) Well, Mommy.... (gets very close to my face... kisses my forehead again).... I just LOVE your sick days.

Monday, January 7, 2008

ValPac Value of the week

While thumbing through the ValPac Coupons that arrived in the mail today, one particular coupon really caught my eye.

Do you see that magical green box? Guess where I'll be on Wednesday at 9:00AM... (it does say, "All Day.")

Friday, January 4, 2008

Wife, Mother, Cranio-Facial Surgeon

Ah, the fine print in a job description. I thought I had pretty much figured out the day to day duties in my job as "Mom to Ben." Then my tyrant of a boss (he's 3) decided to dump a bunch of new responsibilities on me for the new year. I am NOT getting the salary I deserve. I mean, I spend a portion of my week having conversations with someone else's poop.

My new responsibilities include but are not limited to:

Master Storyteller/ Plot Enhancer: Ben's new favorite thing to do in the car is to make up stories. Non-stop. We were in the car for 25 minutes and he talked without stopping. If you don't hang on his every word and respond with the proper phrases, there is hell to pay.
B: Mom, you start.
H: Once upon a time...
B: There was a girl, a girl, and a boy. Their names-es were Daphne, Velma, and Ben. WHAT'S NEXT, MOMMY.

H: It was cold outside, so they decided...
B: to go to Starbuck's in the Mystery Machine.
H: So they started to drive...
B: No, Mom. They didn't. Listen to me.
H: Sorry.
B: They went inside... the good one... on Metcalf... they ordered their drinks. Daphne had a latte. Velma and Ben had cheeseburgers.
H: I don't think they have cheeseburgers at Starbuck's.
B: Well, Mommy. It's my story. They had cheeseburgers.

SUCKER!!!: In grocery stores, at Target, Costco, Borders, the gas station... I must cave to any request quickly, no matter how reasonable/unreasonable. It is the reason we have a new pop up Dinosaur book (see cranio-facial surgeon below), Scooby Doo push up pop frozen treats, and a horde of plastic "toys" (crap) in various toy bins and baskets around the house. It might also explain the 4 identical Lightning McQueen matchbox cars.

Telepathic Butler: I feel like Anne Hathaway in The Devil Wears Prada. In my house, the Devil wears Baby Gap. I should know which Scooby Doo he wants (from helpful descriptions like, "the one where Daphne falls down..), when he might want a snack, exactly how many Goldfish crackers to put in the Cars bowl, and on, and on, and on. He's not demanding, he knows what he wants. Right.

Omniscient Professor of the following (it is unacceptable for me to not know everything about any of the categories below. If I don't know them, I better make them up quickly--- and then remember what I made up so I can give the same answer when he requests it again later the same day):
--Scooby Doo (including, but not limited to: Scooby Doo, Where Are You, What's New Scooby Doo?, A Pup Named Scooby Doo, any/all Scooby Doo full-length movie features, all Scooby characters-- including ages, parents' names, hobbies)


--Perfect Strangers: Why random people at stoplights are driving the cars they are driving, where they are going, their names, their kids' names, their pets, when we'll see them again, etc. It also includes knowing the details about people around us in stores (why are they buying that, Mommy?), at restaurants, and on and on and on.

Cranio-Facial Surgeon/ Archaeologist: Tonight, my most pressing task was to repair the pop up head off a Tyrannosaurus Rex from a Dinosaur book he chose from Border's earlier in the evening. It took scrapbooking paper glue, 5 paper clips, a fair amount of swearing, and about 15 minutes. That's when I realized that the top of his head was no longer aligned to his lower jaw and had to tear it all apart and start over. I am pleased to report that after another surgery, the patient is resting comfortably and will be ready to terrorize one and all by morning.

Maybe if I work really hard, I'll get a nice mid-year bonus.... or a few vacation days.

And some of you people wonder why I haven't had a second?