Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Foot-eating babies, and other weird Halloween crap

This past Saturday Richard and I took the boys up to the Blockbuster-Video-turned-Halloween-store place so they could pick out their costumes. Normally they just page through the free magazines that show up at the house, pick something and I order it. This year, we decided to actually do some looking around at all the Halloween nonsense that's for sale out there. And there's a ton.

Most of the stuff is typical Halloween crap that jumps out at you from behind bushes or mannequins with disgusting, bloody faces and dangling eyeballs, but I noticed one thing that made me stop and actually take a picture.

Huh? Apparently babies will eat their own feet on Halloween
Gross.

Of course I had to text it to Megan. Her response? "WTF"

No clue, but I wouldn't be able to sleep knowing that thing is anywhere near my house.
I guess it's just some random "creative" guy's idea of something super gross for people to buy, throw on their porches, and gross out the neighbors. I bet that thing would be stolen more often than all those baby Jesuses in those public Nativity scenes.

No thanks, I'll stick to the happier Halloween stuff.

So back to the costume search.

The kids have been talking a lot about something called a "morph suit". And just like every other year, I have no idea what they're talking about until they either show me a picture or can articulate exactly what it is they want me to buy.

Apparently it's just a full body suit, mask and all. I guess the best way to describe it is it's sort of like one of the Blue Man Group outfits. Sort of.

I let the kids roam the store a little and Clifford decided to settle on this little gem of a "morph suit"....

??????????????????

So you're morphing into a bowling ball this year? This should be fun.

Alexander chose the regular slim-fitting morph suit with the skeleton features, but only because everything else was sold out.

Now the kids can effectively take the neighborhood by storm as a very convincing skeleton and his rolly-polly sidekick.

I predict some injuries this year.


Wednesday, October 10, 2012

I'm a genius inventor now

Is it weird that I think the only thing that's missing from my shower is a shelf to hold a glass of wine? I don't think so either. I'm inventing this...patent pending, y'all!

I decided to start running again. Not from the cops, but for exercise. Obviously to get back into shape, but also so I can run from the kids and actually get away. Those little turds are quick.

So today when I finally struggled through another run, I was naturally a sweaty mess and needed a shower afterward, and since I now work out in the evenings my shower landed about 30 minutes before the boys were supposed to go to bed.

There I am, enjoying my blazing hot shower, reveling in basically the only time and silence I truly get to myself throughout the day and I hear *knock knock knock Mom? Knock knock knock Mom? knock knock knock MOMMM???*

Just like Sheldon on The Big Bang Theory, only more annoying.

"Oh my God, WHATTT????? I'm in the showerrrr!"

"Ummm when you get out of the shower, can you tuck me in?"

"Yes, Alexander" and I know it's Alexander although I can barely hear the kid, because he's my momma's boy. Clifford could give a shit.

You know, when your kids are infants you manage to squeeze in a shower every 3 days when they finally go to sleep. When they're toddlers you decide to just skip showering all together because there's too much of a chance the kid could flush himself (or his brother) down the toilet while you're in there.

Never did I know that they would be almost 11 years old and I would be hearing *knock knock knock Mom? Knock Knock Knock Mom? I don't feel welllll....

"Ugh...go lie down!"

Internal dialogue: I have a glass of wine on my bedside table, I wonder if I should ask Alexander to just hand it to me while I'm in the shower. He definitely would.....nah, Dr. Phil wouldn't approve of such parenting. Never mind.

"Go to bed, Alexander, I'll tuck you in, I promise."

End of glorious shower.

Tomorrow night I'm taking that glass of wine in there with me.


Tuesday, October 9, 2012

We're starving, open the trunk

Since yesterday was Columbus Day, the kids went to their all-time favorite place, the dreaded back-up daycare, so they were understandably in an awesome mood by the time I picked them up.

Unfortunately, what has turned into somewhat of a tradition became a bit of a nightmare yesterday. The daycare is on the first floor of a big office building so naturally there are some amenities for the people who work in it. One such amenity is the convenience store/dry cleaners/cobbler/last-minute gift card retailer. EVERY time the kids end up in back-up daycare I feel bad enough for sending them there to break down and buy them something from the little store.

Damn holidays....the store closed at 5:00, I picked them up at 5:45, kids were super pissed.

Of course the sudden realization that they couldn't each get a giant bag of Skittles for being forced to endure such torture all day sent them into a frenzy.

"Whattt?? It's closed?? Why didn't you pick us up earlierrrr?!?!?"

Little snots. I had to WORK.

Thankfully I had taken the time to do some grocery shopping right before picking them up, so as we walked to the car I made a case for the random bag of tortilla chips in my collection of groceries in the trunk to be a suitable replacement for the giant bag of Skittles. They didn't really buy it but ate them anyway.

That at least kept them quiet for most of the drive home.

I have to say, though, I can't ignore the fact they're totally too old for this place, even if they're too young to stay home. The "teachers" give out little sheets for each kid describing what they did after their parents dumped them into their own personal Hell. My kids are old enough to at least fill some of it out themselves. This is Clifford's:

Next visit, I'll try to get evidence that the fort is actually bigger

And if that isn't enough of a clue, over the weekend Alexander made the grand declaration that he knows the Tooth Fairy isn't real because he busted me digging his tooth out from underneath his pillow. The last tooth he lost was easily 8 months ago. This kid can keep a secret. But I digress.

On top of the kids being stuck in a daycare they hate, upon picking them up the center director was very willing to share with me how patient Clifford was to sit perfectly still and not freak out when the smaller, clearly more annoying kid sitting next to him during story time was poking him in the ribs. 

Next dreaded back-up daycare days are in a little more than a week. I have a feeling I may have to buy their cooperation this time. I might have to cough up more than the Tooth Fairy.

Monday, October 8, 2012

And then there's the dreaded back-up daycare

The kids will turn 11 this December. So naturally they think of themselves as perfectly well-adjusted adults who wouldn't possibly require supervision of ANY kind. Makes sense, right?

Each school year I always find myself mildly blown away by the sheer number of teacher work days, report card preparation days, school holidays on the school's calendar. And since the kids attend an after school program that only operates when school is in session, I am in a position to come up with an alternative solution.

Enter the corporation-sponsored back-up daycare.

Not far from where I work there is a daycare center where for about $30 a day I can unload the kids on some poor, unsuspecting and likely unwilling sucker. The kids HATE it. And sadly despite my efforts to strategically place all of my vacation days around these school closure days, the monsters have to endure this place about 11 times per year.

Don't get me wrong, this place is awesome. It's the only option I have on these days when school is closed besides hiring a ridiculously expensive nanny, or just letting the kids stay home by themselves to burn the house to the ground. Mom's gotta work, kids, or we get to live in the car.

This particular daycare wasn't so bad for a few years, but now that the kids are getting older they are literally counting the days to when they turn 12 and are technically "too old" to be enrolled. Unfortunately, they're right. Those smart little farts know exactly what the deal is so I can't even attempt to lie about it.

So I have one more year (ish) to come up with a solution that doesn't involve a backup care program that "has nothing but babies and little kids". Thus the reason the kids would rather chew their own arms off than go.

I do feel badly for them. I don't really remember much about being almost 11 years old, but I'm certain I thought I was ready to get my own apartment by then. So it's become very obvious to me that I will soon have "tweens" on my hands. Tweens who think they are at least 25 years old and are wayyyyy above the dreaded back-up daycare.

Maybe I can get them jobs.....

Monday, October 1, 2012

What's the matter with this kid?

The kids are either being secretly poisoned by friends of theirs, or I have two kids with very delicate immune systems that like to cause trouble at the worst possible times.

After the little salmonella incident I've noticed that these two seem to be a lot sicker than they ever have been in previous years. We would go more than a year without so much as a snotty nose, and now I've got pukey kids.

Last night, about an hour and a half after falling asleep, on a Sunday night, before having to be at work in the morning, I hear "MOMMMMMM!"

I go stumbling down to the kids' rooms and see Alexander hovering face first over the toilet telling me how he was "terrified" he was going to start throwing up again. After all, the last time was no picnic.

I, of course, did what any reasonable and exhausted mother would do...I tried to talk him out of it.

"Nooo you're fiiiine, you just have an upset stomach....c'mon, let's go back to bed."

Alexander wouldn't dream of going back into his room unless he was armed with the bathroom trash can so I emptied it out and tucked him, and the trash can, into bed.

No lie, 2 minutes later the kid was throwing up and I'm thinking "Againnnnnnn???? what's wrong with this kid???"

That began an hour of me watching Alexander carefully hurl into the bathroom trash can, so as to not get any on the floor like last time, and the whole time I'm going down the list of things he had eaten during the day.

"Did you eat anything weird?"
"No."
"You were at Carter's for a while today, did you eat anything weird there?"
"No."
"Seriously, what did you eat that was so orange??"
"Carrots, Mom, jeez."
"Well, I don't get it."

After that hour, Richard took over and things settled down after a few more dry-heaves.

So gross.

This morning it was like nothing happened. Alexander felt perfectly fine and besides not feeling comfortable eating breakfast, was otherwise his normal self.

I still don't get it. The only change I've made since the kids came home from their summer away was to try to get them on this Gluten fee/Casein free diet, which is supposed to make you feel better, not worse.

Maybe it was the Casein free/preservative free deli meat that he thought would make a great sandwich on Saturday, but decided not to eat til Sunday. Jury's out, but the deli meat will go in the trash for good measure.

Time to start Googling.