Today my husband came home wearing two ties around his neck. Now, of course one was just draped around it (really I'm not sure why I just said "of course" because it still makes no sense), but still there were two ties. I made the mistake of asking him why and expecting a straight answer. Instead I got:
Husband Because then people think I'm really important, and do whatever I want with a "Right away, sir!"
Me Well, that's just because they are trying to keep you calm while they wait for the men in the white coats to arrive to take you away. Two ties sends more of an "I'm an unstable looney" vibe than an "I'm an important leader for our team, and you should listen to my advice" vibe.
Husband You are wrong.
Me Almost never, and certainly not now.
And that's when he walks away, presumably to go change out of his excessive neck-wear and leaves me with no real explanation for his odd fashion choice.
This is the same guy, though, who likes to use living in the suburbs as a reason for his deteriorating sense of fashion. Anytime I try to sneak in something new and interesting, it immediately gets labeled as "hipster". Like "I even put on those hipster jeans you got me." or "I'm not wearing this hipster shirt you got me because I like it, I'm wearing it ironically." At first, I thought he really thought I was trying to dress him like a hipster... then I realized he was confused and thought "hipster" meant "has the proper fit, and you cannot buy it in bulk." I guess I can't expect him to get an outfit right, if he can't even commit to learning the proper fashion jargon.
Like most desperate housewives, I have to come up with creative ways to get what I need out of life... most especially when it comes to how my husband dresses. It occurred to me one day, while doing laundry, that I could just throw stuff out.
That shirt where the black from the stripes was bleeding into the yellow of the rest of the shirt? I have NO idea what happened to that. Maybe it got left behind on vacation, or maybe the TSA guys searched your bag and saw that little high fashion gem and stole it!
Oh, you're looking for your socks with all the holes in them? I know you said your "favorite socks", but the truth is they have been trying to tear themselves off of your feet now for about 3 months, and I think they finally flew away to sock Heaven.
I haven't seen the boxers hanging on to the elastic waistband by approximately one inch of fabric on your left hip for a long time now. Where did you last see them?
You even HAD a khaki corduroy suit? I can't even imagine what that would look like. (Not that I physically couldn't... I just couldn't for my own sanity and nightmare prevention.)
After awhile, my husband realized that turning his laundry over to me meant it would be participating in a game of "survival of the fittest". If it was disintegrating, still displaying what he had last week for lunch, or it was apparently purchased from Bad, Bad and Beyond Ugly.... it will probably go missing. He knows not to ask where they go anymore... he just accepts that they have gone to a better place. (And probably replaced by something "hipster" that will fit him, and look like he didn't get dressed in the dark.)
And tonight, we have a bonus kid-ism, courtesy of my 4 year old....
Me You need to go to your room.
Son Fine! I will go to my STUPID room! (pause & switch to reasonable, polite voice) Well, I actually really like my room, and it's really nice and not stupid. BUT I'm really mad, so I'm going to call it stupid!
Me Well I'm really mad, too, so I guess we're pretty even.
Son Yes, I guess we ARE pretty even!
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Monday, April 2, 2012
Easter Funny
At a whopping 4 and a half years old, my son notices everything. He's constantly trying to figure out the world around him, and of course this is mixed with the common childhood belief that that world revolves around him. An observance of the moon's visibility patterns leads to a "The moon wants to be my friend! He comes out to see me, and follows us wherever we go!" Today the big topic is Easter. I forgot that the Easter Bunny is at the mall for the mom-arazzi to get those holiday photo ops, and was not prepared to visit with him at the mall today. My son, however, noticed all the kids lined up to chat with the plastic perma-grin, speechless, and a little mangy, rabbit.
Son Mommy! That bunny is huge! Is that the real Easter Bunny? I thought he'd be much smaller. That can't be him. That must be his giant friend. And those kids think it's the REAL one!
Me Yeah, that's incredulous.
He still wants to go back and sit on the imposter-bunny's lap later this week. However, he did point out to all the ladies in the salon how everyone was being fooled by the comically large, obviously faux Easter Bunny... the real Easter bunny would NEVER be so unbelievably large. No one knew quite how to react to him. Do they support Team Mall Bunny or do they agree that he's just a badly cast replacement bunny? It was golden.
Now aside from revelations about the Easter Bunny and his photo-op bunny squad, he has been obsessed with dying Easter eggs. However, he nearly abandoned the idea when he saw a commercial that mentioned "dying Easter eggs."
Son *horrified look on his face* Mommy! When you put the eggs in the colors it KILLS THEM! All those eggs are dead!
Me Honey, they are talking about dye... which is 'to color'... not die, like 'to cease to live'. Those words sound the same, but they are very different. The color is called dye. You are just coloring their shells.
Earlier today he told me they have "in-patient flowers" in his class. He told me not to worry, because they also had patient flowers. I'm not sure if they need to go to the hospital, or just learn the art of waiting. Either way, it would probably have been easier if they just went with impatiens rather than in-patients. That way you don't have to deal with insurance.
Son Mommy! That bunny is huge! Is that the real Easter Bunny? I thought he'd be much smaller. That can't be him. That must be his giant friend. And those kids think it's the REAL one!
Me Yeah, that's incredulous.
He still wants to go back and sit on the imposter-bunny's lap later this week. However, he did point out to all the ladies in the salon how everyone was being fooled by the comically large, obviously faux Easter Bunny... the real Easter bunny would NEVER be so unbelievably large. No one knew quite how to react to him. Do they support Team Mall Bunny or do they agree that he's just a badly cast replacement bunny? It was golden.
Now aside from revelations about the Easter Bunny and his photo-op bunny squad, he has been obsessed with dying Easter eggs. However, he nearly abandoned the idea when he saw a commercial that mentioned "dying Easter eggs."
Son *horrified look on his face* Mommy! When you put the eggs in the colors it KILLS THEM! All those eggs are dead!
Me Honey, they are talking about dye... which is 'to color'... not die, like 'to cease to live'. Those words sound the same, but they are very different. The color is called dye. You are just coloring their shells.
Earlier today he told me they have "in-patient flowers" in his class. He told me not to worry, because they also had patient flowers. I'm not sure if they need to go to the hospital, or just learn the art of waiting. Either way, it would probably have been easier if they just went with impatiens rather than in-patients. That way you don't have to deal with insurance.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
On one hand...
Our family went out to Lowes today to get more garden, remodeling, and rocket ship building supplies. Our cashier only had one arm. My son has never seen someone missing a limb before (or at least not that he noticed), so he asked me why he had only one arm... this was how I chose to answer it (and then how I forgot he was listening to my answer...)
Me Why does your name tag say "Mixed Drink"? *noticing the drink chip in his tag*
Cashier Oh, a coworker just put that in there today, and I said "Whatever, I'll keep it there!"
Me Nice. And, my son would like to know why you only have one arm. (Don't you love my segue?)
Cashier I was born this way. Sometimes I say it was a shark attack, just to seem cool.
Me See, kiddo, he was born with one arm. I guess you need two, but he only needs one.
Son Oooooooooooh. You can be born with one arm?
Me *to son* Yes.
* to cashier* Have you ever thought about telling people you were hiking and got it caught between two boulders, 127 hours style, and had to chew off your own arm?! That would be seriously hardcore.
Son *horrified look on his face*
Cashier Oh yes, that movie was all about me. *to my son* I'm a movie star!
Son *still horrified and speechless*
Me I think he's still stuck on the chewing off your own arm bit. I'm a horrible mother.
Me Why does your name tag say "Mixed Drink"? *noticing the drink chip in his tag*
Cashier Oh, a coworker just put that in there today, and I said "Whatever, I'll keep it there!"
Me Nice. And, my son would like to know why you only have one arm. (Don't you love my segue?)
Cashier I was born this way. Sometimes I say it was a shark attack, just to seem cool.
Me See, kiddo, he was born with one arm. I guess you need two, but he only needs one.
Son Oooooooooooh. You can be born with one arm?
Me *to son* Yes.
* to cashier* Have you ever thought about telling people you were hiking and got it caught between two boulders, 127 hours style, and had to chew off your own arm?! That would be seriously hardcore.
Son *horrified look on his face*
Cashier Oh yes, that movie was all about me. *to my son* I'm a movie star!
Son *still horrified and speechless*
Me I think he's still stuck on the chewing off your own arm bit. I'm a horrible mother.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Identity crisis
I love my dentist and hygienist. They really have the gift of gab, and they crack me up. Sometimes, they don't even realize they are making a funny... I just go home and share their little nuggets of unintentional comedic brilliance with my husband who appreciates that I recognized those little gems for what they were worth. My dentist loves The Big Bang Theory, and (after I dressed as Amy Farrah Fowler for Halloween, next to my husband, who dressed as Sheldon) calls me Amy. Today, though, my hygienist chimes in...
Hygienist You know who you remind me of? Princess Kate. You look like Princess Kate.
Me Maybe Kate, Duchess of Chunky Bits! The real Kate Middleton is teensie tiny, as in "girl needs to eat a sandwich".
Hygienist No! You aren't chunky, and she looks healthy... it's her sister that's too skinny.
Me I'm pretty sure, if I stood next to Kate, I'd be one of Jared from Subway's "before" pictures. That girl makes either of the Olsen twins look like they've let themselves go. I can't compete with that. But thank you, that was so nice of you to say. Now I'm going to go home and put on my tiara. When my husband gives me that funny look of his, I'll tell him that now I know I'm totally pulling it off!
Hygienist (referring back to The Big Bang Halloween Costumes) Does your husband really look like Sheldon?
Me You've seen him. All I had to do was comb his spikey hair down flat, and buy him a superhero t-shirt to wear over a striped shirt. Ta-da! Dr. Sheldon Cooper! He's a hardcore nerd. Princess Kate over here loves her some geek.
Dentist He really didn't have a superhero t-shirt? Wow. That is really shocking. Of all my patients...
Oh my girls at the dentist office! They fixed (at least so far) my raging tooth ache, and managed to make a visit to the dentist (which I otherwise consider my own personal Hell) a fun day out with the girls. Not too shabby!
Bonus kid-ism of the day:
My oldest was singing along to Amy Winehouse, "Valerie"
Won't you come on over
Stop makin' a fool out of me...
Why don't you come on over Celery?
Hygienist You know who you remind me of? Princess Kate. You look like Princess Kate.
Me Maybe Kate, Duchess of Chunky Bits! The real Kate Middleton is teensie tiny, as in "girl needs to eat a sandwich".
Hygienist No! You aren't chunky, and she looks healthy... it's her sister that's too skinny.
Me I'm pretty sure, if I stood next to Kate, I'd be one of Jared from Subway's "before" pictures. That girl makes either of the Olsen twins look like they've let themselves go. I can't compete with that. But thank you, that was so nice of you to say. Now I'm going to go home and put on my tiara. When my husband gives me that funny look of his, I'll tell him that now I know I'm totally pulling it off!
Hygienist (referring back to The Big Bang Halloween Costumes) Does your husband really look like Sheldon?
Me You've seen him. All I had to do was comb his spikey hair down flat, and buy him a superhero t-shirt to wear over a striped shirt. Ta-da! Dr. Sheldon Cooper! He's a hardcore nerd. Princess Kate over here loves her some geek.
Dentist He really didn't have a superhero t-shirt? Wow. That is really shocking. Of all my patients...
Oh my girls at the dentist office! They fixed (at least so far) my raging tooth ache, and managed to make a visit to the dentist (which I otherwise consider my own personal Hell) a fun day out with the girls. Not too shabby!
Bonus kid-ism of the day:
My oldest was singing along to Amy Winehouse, "Valerie"
Won't you come on over
Stop makin' a fool out of me...
Why don't you come on over Celery?
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Good news, good shoes!
Before I write anything else... the baby does NOT need tubes in his ears! Woot! After 4 antibiotics, 2 steriods, and steaming his ears with onions, he was cleared by the ENT who originally told us he needed the tubes. I'm so glad that I refused them, initially. I asked for one last chance with steroids, and got to work finding homeopathic remedies. Sometimes, Mother does know best.
So, now that the kids have been healthy for a few weeks (thank GOODNESS!!!), I have been sick. Hence, I haven't been feeling very inspired to write. I've been more inspired to acquire throat lozenges and keep up with the cough medicine. Spring fever... literally.
I did find something to cheer me up today... purple converse shoes. They were just too awesome to pass up. Note to manufacturers... make it purple and I will buy it.
I didn't just shoe shop today, I also set up my kid's teacher. My oldest asked me what the biggest city in the world was. Well, we were on the way to school, so I couldn't look it up. I suggested he ask his teacher if she knew. He said "What if she says she doesn't know." I said "Then tell her, 'Then we should look it up!' She would TOTALLY love to drop everything and look that up with you. She'll be so happy that Mommy thought of that." I have no idea what possessed me to disrupt her day with my relentlessly curious child, and his desire to acquire answers for future trivia games, but it felt good to pass the buck to someone else.
And, just for fun...
Kid-ism of the day:
4 year old
Me "These chips? I suppose we can get them this time."
4YO "Thank you! I love Dingles!"
Me "You're welcome. You mean Pringles?"
4YO "Dingles."
Me "Even better."
So, now that the kids have been healthy for a few weeks (thank GOODNESS!!!), I have been sick. Hence, I haven't been feeling very inspired to write. I've been more inspired to acquire throat lozenges and keep up with the cough medicine. Spring fever... literally.
I did find something to cheer me up today... purple converse shoes. They were just too awesome to pass up. Note to manufacturers... make it purple and I will buy it.
I didn't just shoe shop today, I also set up my kid's teacher. My oldest asked me what the biggest city in the world was. Well, we were on the way to school, so I couldn't look it up. I suggested he ask his teacher if she knew. He said "What if she says she doesn't know." I said "Then tell her, 'Then we should look it up!' She would TOTALLY love to drop everything and look that up with you. She'll be so happy that Mommy thought of that." I have no idea what possessed me to disrupt her day with my relentlessly curious child, and his desire to acquire answers for future trivia games, but it felt good to pass the buck to someone else.
And, just for fun...
Kid-ism of the day:
4 year old
Me "These chips? I suppose we can get them this time."
4YO "Thank you! I love Dingles!"
Me "You're welcome. You mean Pringles?"
4YO "Dingles."
Me "Even better."
Saturday, March 10, 2012
The differences between the Tooth Fairy and the Dirty Towel Fairy
I'm going to go out on a limb here, and assume my husband isn't the only grown man to believe in the Wet Towel Fairy... or the Dirty Clothes Fairy or Dirty Dishes Fairy or Dirty Baby Diaper Fairy. I know he must believe in them. Why else would I find socks all over the house, wet towels on the floor, or dirty diapers sitting on the changing table long after the baby's been changed? I thought it would be helpful for all the guys out there who believe in these, obviously stunningly beautiful, fairies to explain to them how these angelic beings work.
The first thing you must understand is, these are not your child's Tooth Fairy who just flies in once in a while when a tooth should fall out and be placed, neatly, under the pillow... where it belongs. These are hardworking, domestic goddesses, who (quite frankly), have better and more important things to do than go around collecting the items you leave in unpredictable places around the house. The Tooth Fairy may leave a quarter behind, in exchange for the pearly white she swipes from under a sleeping child's pillow because she has some strange, and super creepy, castle made of children's teeth to maintain. Really, you're helping her out, so she gives you a little something for the trouble of having a spot in your mouth that, temporarily, cannot do it's job of chewing your food. It's like Tooth Unemployment Compensation. A little something to hold you over until the new tooth grows in. This is NOT how the Wet Towel Fairy, or any of the other "Picking your discarded shit up" fairies work. If you want these unbelievably gorgeous and super intelligent fairies to follow you around, picking up after your adult self, you'll have to adhere to a reverse payment policy. Since she is just relocating your junk to somewhere else it belongs in your own house, you are the one who should be leaving behind some crisp bills.... a $20 bill might be sufficient, but the price goes up as the places you hide your items get more incredulous, and the longer the dirty items sit in hard to find places collecting new levels of stink. If you wish to keep your ethereal fairy happy and wish for your items to still be collected and turned in to their proper locations, you should remember to tip your fairy with jewelry, vacations, spa vouchers, and nice dinners with appropriately matched wines as often as possible. (Please don't leave booze for the Tooth Fairy... it's well understood in the fairy world that she is a mean drunk... no one wants a mean drunk armed with extra teeth around their house.)
Of course, it might be easier to pick up after yourself, but the next time you toss your dirty socks on the ground, leave some cash. Drop a towel? Drop a Jackson with it. If you don't have the money to do this, talk to the Tooth Fairy. She might be able to work out a deal so that you can keep your far more beautiful, and non-drunk cleaning fairy. You're very welcome for all of this advice. I always love to help.
The first thing you must understand is, these are not your child's Tooth Fairy who just flies in once in a while when a tooth should fall out and be placed, neatly, under the pillow... where it belongs. These are hardworking, domestic goddesses, who (quite frankly), have better and more important things to do than go around collecting the items you leave in unpredictable places around the house. The Tooth Fairy may leave a quarter behind, in exchange for the pearly white she swipes from under a sleeping child's pillow because she has some strange, and super creepy, castle made of children's teeth to maintain. Really, you're helping her out, so she gives you a little something for the trouble of having a spot in your mouth that, temporarily, cannot do it's job of chewing your food. It's like Tooth Unemployment Compensation. A little something to hold you over until the new tooth grows in. This is NOT how the Wet Towel Fairy, or any of the other "Picking your discarded shit up" fairies work. If you want these unbelievably gorgeous and super intelligent fairies to follow you around, picking up after your adult self, you'll have to adhere to a reverse payment policy. Since she is just relocating your junk to somewhere else it belongs in your own house, you are the one who should be leaving behind some crisp bills.... a $20 bill might be sufficient, but the price goes up as the places you hide your items get more incredulous, and the longer the dirty items sit in hard to find places collecting new levels of stink. If you wish to keep your ethereal fairy happy and wish for your items to still be collected and turned in to their proper locations, you should remember to tip your fairy with jewelry, vacations, spa vouchers, and nice dinners with appropriately matched wines as often as possible. (Please don't leave booze for the Tooth Fairy... it's well understood in the fairy world that she is a mean drunk... no one wants a mean drunk armed with extra teeth around their house.)
Of course, it might be easier to pick up after yourself, but the next time you toss your dirty socks on the ground, leave some cash. Drop a towel? Drop a Jackson with it. If you don't have the money to do this, talk to the Tooth Fairy. She might be able to work out a deal so that you can keep your far more beautiful, and non-drunk cleaning fairy. You're very welcome for all of this advice. I always love to help.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Hair today, still there tomorrow
I'm not ready to cut the baby's hair. He has these golden curls that stick out kind of crazy, and it suits him, and I love it. I snug into his hair, and the smell is Heaven, and the silky curls are too sweet. I have tried to go get it cut, and I have talked about it (even with an actual hairstylist), but I get too anxious to follow through. It's not perfectly even, it's Einstein-esque as it just sticks out wherever it wants to, and it's long. It matches his quirky personality so well, but it leads to one big misunderstanding... everyone thinks he's a girl.
I'm not at all exaggerating. He has 2 blue coats, and I dress him almost never in a dress. By almost never, of course, I mean always jeans or sweatpants and some type of macho shirt like baby dinosaurs or guitars or something that is most likely blue. Not that I mind him not looking ultra-boy, but I find it's very hard to find great boys' clothes, so I enjoy the hunt. I feel a sense of victory when I find the perfect choo-choo train shirt that isn't too hokey. It's okay if you don't understand what I'm talking about, I'm picky beyond what most normal humans consider to be necessary. Anyway, I go to great lengths to pick out cute, cool-dude clothes.
Still, with everything around him screaming "I'm a boy!", nearly every single person who speaks to me or to him refers to him as a girl. I even had a little boy say "Look, Mom! He smiled at me!" and the mother corrected her son and said "Oh, that is a little girl!" Yikes. Mom-zero, son-winner winner chicken dinner. Usually I just smile, then avoid pronouns. Sometimes I just drop "he" "him" and "his" in, as if I didn't hear them and nothing is amiss. Once in awhile, I give the "Oh I'm so sorry I'm about to tell you that you screwed up, and I know you'll feel a little embarrassed, and since your intentions were good I hate to do it... BUT..." look and say "Awe, well, actually, he's a boy. I know, it's the hair. I just can't cut it!", and then give the "I know, I'm a crazy lady." look.
I just can't do it. I can't cut his hair. I haven't even cut my hair in a loooooong time. I'm hoarding our hair, apparently. It does cause me great anxiety to think about cutting it. I never had that with my other son, but then again, he had very thick, fast growing, straight hair, so he looks GREAT with spiked hair... just like it was when he was born.
For now, I think I'll just hang a sign on his stroller that says "I'm a boy." Then I can give noogies to whomever calls him a girl. It will be interesting to see how many people still do it! I bet the answer will not be "zero".
I'm not at all exaggerating. He has 2 blue coats, and I dress him almost never in a dress. By almost never, of course, I mean always jeans or sweatpants and some type of macho shirt like baby dinosaurs or guitars or something that is most likely blue. Not that I mind him not looking ultra-boy, but I find it's very hard to find great boys' clothes, so I enjoy the hunt. I feel a sense of victory when I find the perfect choo-choo train shirt that isn't too hokey. It's okay if you don't understand what I'm talking about, I'm picky beyond what most normal humans consider to be necessary. Anyway, I go to great lengths to pick out cute, cool-dude clothes.
Still, with everything around him screaming "I'm a boy!", nearly every single person who speaks to me or to him refers to him as a girl. I even had a little boy say "Look, Mom! He smiled at me!" and the mother corrected her son and said "Oh, that is a little girl!" Yikes. Mom-zero, son-winner winner chicken dinner. Usually I just smile, then avoid pronouns. Sometimes I just drop "he" "him" and "his" in, as if I didn't hear them and nothing is amiss. Once in awhile, I give the "Oh I'm so sorry I'm about to tell you that you screwed up, and I know you'll feel a little embarrassed, and since your intentions were good I hate to do it... BUT..." look and say "Awe, well, actually, he's a boy. I know, it's the hair. I just can't cut it!", and then give the "I know, I'm a crazy lady." look.
I just can't do it. I can't cut his hair. I haven't even cut my hair in a loooooong time. I'm hoarding our hair, apparently. It does cause me great anxiety to think about cutting it. I never had that with my other son, but then again, he had very thick, fast growing, straight hair, so he looks GREAT with spiked hair... just like it was when he was born.
For now, I think I'll just hang a sign on his stroller that says "I'm a boy." Then I can give noogies to whomever calls him a girl. It will be interesting to see how many people still do it! I bet the answer will not be "zero".
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