Swearing at Total Strangers June 23, 2008

I went to Costco on Sunday with all three boys and my husband. As we were getting out of the van I had our cart right up beside us slightly in the neighbouring parking spot in order to get the baby and Boo-boo Bear into it. Next thing I know a country club dude and his ornamental wife screech into the parking spot beside us with no regard for anyone’s safety.

Normarlly this type of scenario sets me off and I say something rude, mean and/or inappropriate to make myself feel better. But I took the high-road this time, gave him my best mom look and proceeded into the store.

Mr. Magoo is a sampleholic and promising him he can try out all the food is the only way he doesn’t complain when he has to come to the “most boring store on earth”. He is constantly scanning for the old ladies handing out free food that I have no intention of buying. He picked up a bite-size piece of cherry pie and we walked away, I look beside me and he is suddenly gone. With my heart in my throat I do a thorough scan and do not see him – I call his name. Now apparently when I did this it was directly into the ear of the prick who almost ran us down and he gave me the nastiest look and rolled his eyes at me. If it hadn’t been the same guy I probably could have controlled myself but I didn’t and my knee-jerk reaction was not caught by my internal filter so I told the guy to “Fuck Off!”

He said, “pardon me?”

Me, “You heard me.” I then walk away and notice that my husband has left my side. He hates it when I can’t control my temper and thinks I am going to get decked by someone.

Country club guy then says, “I can’t believe you would say that to me in front of your children.” He then goes up close to his ornamental wife to have a confer on what a bad person/mom I am.

I will admit that I am not overly proud of this, but DAMN it felt good. There are days when I would love to tell any number of people to fuck off but don’t. This random stranger deserved it and I deserved to drop the F bomb to get it out of my system.

My husband was paranoid that the guy was going to key our van and so left me in the store with all 3 kids (before we had really even started to shop) to guard our vehicle. This was of course after I was lectured (again) on the dangers of talking to strangers.

AND, my 2 year old didn’t pick up on what I said (it really wasn’t that loud), I don’t think my 4 month old could care less what I say right now as long as it is in a sing-song voice and my 6 year old was across the damn meat aisle throwing out his cherry pie fork! Yes, these excuses for saying this in front of my children do make me feel slightly better.

 

They’re Still Giant Insects to Me June 19, 2008

I grew up in New Brunswick (near the Atlantic Ocean) and now I live in British Columbia (near the Pacific Ocean). I am an anomaly on both coasts because I can’t stand seafood! And as you can see from the pictures seafood is exactly what we had for dinner the other night (Father’s Day to be exact).

Just like he did for his 4th birthday 2 years ago when I asked him what he wanted me to make for his special dinner (crabs), Mr. Magoo convinced me to bring creatures into my house, kill them and serve them up to the rest of the family. Never mind that he had never tried crab before, I believed him when he told me he would eat them and love them. I went all out too, special individual butter dishes picker thingys and thing-a-ma-bobs to crack open the shells. 

Look at this face, wouldn’t you believe that he would eat his special birthday dinner his mommy made for him?

Well, he did not. He flat-out refused to even try it. Serves me right. But in my defense I was trying to make his birthday extra special because he had only a few more months to go as an only child. This does not excuse me from being fooled another time.

When we go to the grocery store we have to do 2 things, stop by the bakery to get a free cookie and then walk by the fish to say “hello”. Mr. Magoo knows his dad likes lobster and suggested that we get him one for Father’s Day dinner. I agreed, what a great idea! My plan was to buy 1 but 2 came home because I was promised that it wouldn’t be like the crabs and he would like it and eat it to prove that he liked it. Okay then, 2 lobsters later we head home.

First he was upset because they died, he thought we could keep them in our fish tank for awhile. After they were cooked, he only played with the claws pretending to get his brother with them.

It wasn’t a total failure though, the important thing is my husband loves seafood and thoroughly enjoyed his Father’s Day dinner of 2 lobsters.

Sent to the Principal’s Office June 13, 2008

My 6 year old, was sent to the principal’s office yesterday. This little boy who is only in kindergarten has already gotten into more trouble this year than I care to admit. I am claiming a direct correlation between his troublesome ways and the sprouting of the white (NOT grey) hair upon my head.

Apparently elbowing someone in the tummy because they won’t get out of your “personal space” is not the acceptable way to deal with this situation.

He had to write an apology note to the other party. The school left it up to him to tell me (Huh?), in hindsight I should have reacted a little more low-key – next time (yes, I am sure there will be a next time) he won’t tell me.

The irony is that this entire school year his teacher and I have been trying to teach him to respect others personal space (he is a touchy-feely, close-talker kinda guy). 

Maybe this is progress then? 

 

Vacuum Cleaner Wars June 11, 2008

I will preface this post with a disclaimer – I don’t vacuum, my husband does. 

Now before you go and get all jealous on me I should explain a little. This miracle comes from my outright refusal to touch the vacuum cleaner.  My husband believes that in order for housework to be done properly, it has to be done the hard way (I disagree, anything that makes something cleaner at the end of the day is making something cleaner).  If I vacuum pushing the machine around instead of getting down on my hands and knees and using the damn nozzle, I am not doing it properly (apparently).  The same goes with the dishes and mopping, contrary to his harder is better theory, I don’t pre-wash dishes before they go into the dishwasher nor do I scrub my floors on my hands and knees when my trusty mop does the job good enough for me.  I haven’t yet boycotted dishes or mopping and have chosen to ignore him thus far.  Vacuuming is another story, he can’t stand the accumulation on the carpets, I can’t stand the criticism so I won – he vacuums.

Now because daddy does the vacuuming my boys think it must be a fun thing to do.

Boo-boo Bear (the 2 year old), will not leave the thing alone.  He constantly goes into the broom closet and takes the dirt catcher thingy off trying to empty it for us, yes you can imagine the accuracy a 2 year old has dumping small particles of dust into a garbage can. So, it falls to me to make sure that it is always cleaned out. 

Boo-boo Bear likes to take the vacuum cleaner out of the closet, lay it down and try to ride it. Not sure why, maybe because he is male and it is a machine that has a motor? I don’t try too hard to get into the mind of a 2 year old, or males in general really – but from the smiles on his face, I assume it is great fun.

The lastest in the vacuum cleaner saga is the vacuum cleaner wars. Boo-boo Bear has his own vacuum cleaner, it talks, says things I rather it didn’t (“This place is a pig sty”) and makes real vacuumy sounds. Does he follow daddy around (on his hands and knees) trying to clean-up just like him? 

No, he doesn’t.

He tries his absolute best to crash into daddy, the vacuum, or anything that he can with as much force as his chubby little 2 year old legs will allow him. Today, daddy decided that crashing into things with the vacuum cleaner (the real one) looked like fun and my toddler and husband played crash with their respective cleaners. I didn’t say a word though, I don’t want anyone to decide that vacuuming really doesn’t have to be done the hard way and that the way mommy does it is just fine. I like not vacuuming. 

I’m sure I would like not doing dishes too.  Maybe I should invest in paper plates and wait until he complains about the cost and decides to do the dishes himself?

Vegetable Anatomy and Potty Talk June 10, 2008

Three of my four boys (that number includes my husband) are talkers (number 4 will be too when he is done with being a baby) and a day doesn’t go by without a multitude of toilet talk and other related humor.  Today is no exception.  A few examples to prove my point:

“Daddy, what are those white things on the potatoes?” My potatoes really aren’t that old, but they did have white things growing out of them.

Daddy replies, “Potatoe penises.”  Cue uncontrollable laughter.

“Mommy, why do you have squirrel poop in that glass jar?”  For the record, they are peppercorns.  I don’t respond, more laughter.

“Daddy, what is that you are taking?” 

Daddy is taking, “crushed up crocodile testicles.”  I leave the kitchen while daddy takes his glucosamine and chondroitin and hope that he chokes on it.  Oh, help if any of this is repeated in kindergarten class tomorrow.