Ou est les toilettes?

Can I write a blog entry in the backseat of a car, partly in French (see title) on the way to NYC with 2 beautiful men speaking German in the front seat?  Let's find out!  (Yes, I have such a hard life, I know.)

As I mentioned, we are on our way to a short weekend in NYC. This is my very favorite place, only 2nd to Paris. I realized, a few minutes ago, we will arrive before check in and leave after check out, so we'll need our bags held. So, I decided to check with my husband to be sure we had tip money.

Me Hey, do you have any 5 spots? I have singles for small things, but we'll need 5's for our baggage handling needs. 

Husband (AKA Annoyed Man Driving The Car) What? No. *turns to his German friend next to him) You have to tip everyone for everything here. At least when my wife is traveling with us. Need to know where the bathroom is? That'll be 5 bucks. 

Me Well, that wouldn't be 5 dollars, though. This is how these people make a living. They live in a very expensive area, too. 

AMDTC Well, it's not MY fault they live in Manhattan. Hell, I want to live in Manhattan! No one is tipping me so I can live there. 

Me Well, maybe if you told someone where the restroom was every now & then, you'd get a tip. They may not live in NYC. They may live in Jersey, and go through that horrible commute every day to tell YOU where the toilet is. 

AMDTC Well, now you've made me feel bad for them. I mean... Jersey?


It's gonna be a long ride.

The Johnny 5-Spaces

Today I'd like to share two pictures, both where something just isn't right... Let's see if you can spot the problems.

Operator 911, what's your emergency?

Motorist Story time at the library is about to begin, and there are no parking spaces!  Some car was parked by an asshole, or Mr. Magoo, and is taking up 3 spaces, all with expired meters!  Please send the police!  

 I'm like Where did all your streets go, Map?

And Map be like Where the hell are we?  I thought you were watching the streets.

 

 

I could have passed on worse qualities.

School is back in session!  Hopefully this means more time for Momma to spend on her blog.  It also means back to the old school days routine.  My 6 year old son is now a big ol' 1st grader (complete with his first loose tooth!), and he loves to be helpful.  He likes every opportunity to be independent, including choosing his clothes.  I HATE giving up this Momma-duty, but I just let him do it, and hope he allows me to help him out.  Last night, I realized this, perhaps, wasn't going to be so bad after all.  (Though, my husband completely disagrees.)

6: Oh Gap!  I want to wear the Gap shirt.  It'll match my Gap shoes!  Yes, this is perfect.  Now, where are some Gap pants?

Me: Baby, none of your Gap pants are clean and put away.  They are in the laundry.  

6: Mom, are you sure?  There has to be some somewhere.  Only they can match my Gap shirt.  What about these shorts?

Me: They will match.

6: Are they Gap?

Me: No, they are Children's Place.

6: Are any of these shorts Gap?

Me: Nope

6: What about these jeans?  Are they Gap?

Me: No, and also it's hot as blazes outside, so they would be miserable to wear.

6: Well, what are they?!

Me: Children's Place

6: Again!?  Why is The Children's Place trying to ruin my life?!

Immediately my husband turns to me and says: This is all you.  You did this.  This little fashion monster right here.  That's you.

I can see how my husband, who feels a deep bond with Macklemore thanks to "Thrift Shop", feels this is less than awesome.  Maybe a 6 year old does not need to worry with these things.  But, as I see it, I have way worse personality traits... I mean WAY worse... that I could have passed on.  (See probably any of the previous posts on this blog for examples.)  So the kid wants to look good!  No biggie.  It's not like he's got "road mouth", or a love of shivs, or has trouble fixing his face when witnessing pure stupidity, or leaves profanity laced voice mails on his sister's cell while she's at work, or laughs in the face of fear, sadness, or anger.  Holy cow, maybe I shouldn't be raising children.

 

We Don't All Know Each Other

I am half Jewish, to try to put it simply.  Most people do not really care.  They may know, but they don't feel the need to constantly bring it up, act like I am always thinking about Israel, bring up any little fact or tidbit that has to do with the Jewish faith or culture... you get the picture.  Most people, but not this one particular person in my life, who it must REALLY bother, because they constantly bring it up.  They constantly weave it into stories or events that have, as they should, nothing to do with me being a Jew.  It is always awkward, and also fruitless, as I do not practice Judaism as a religion.  We observe some holidays and cultural traditions, but I'm not a practicing Jew. 

Anywho, today I got an email that was just pure gold.  It is so important to this person to mention that I'm Jewish or remind me of Jews that he forces the topic into places it really has no business.  It seems almost frantic.  I have yet to figure out any other explanation, other than maybe he wants to convey "Hey, I'm totally down with the Jews!"  I'm not sure.  It's far less important to me than it is to him, though.  So, this man sends me an email this morning, in regards to a pig roast my husband and I attended yesterday.  It said:

So how did the (pig) roast go?  Kinda reminds me of ancient Jewish get togethers.

First of all, even if you ignore the non-ancient in-ground pool, beer, and total lack of Jews (aside from myself), it was a PIG roast.  But, technically, yes, people gathered together, just as many ancient peoples, not limited to Jews, did. So aside from it being inappropriately added to this conversation, it was waaaaaaaaaaay off base. He must've missed "Jews 101", as my sister calls it.  "Christians believe in Jesus, and Jews don't eat pork."

I was obligated to respond, as he asked how it went... so I tried to go easy on him, but I am what I am, and couldn't fully help myself.

The pig roast was a lot of fun.  Interesting note: Jews don't eat pork.  It's not kosher. (winky face) One of the several reasons a bacon cheeseburger is out of the question.  But, I'm sure the ancient Jews had lots of porkless parties.

Then I died laughing.  I'm writing this from my special place in Jewish Hell.  I'm sitting right next to all those ancient Jews who had pork roast parties.  Oy vey.

Beware that which is not where you'd expect

It is a holiday weekend, which, aside from you probably having much better things to do than read a blog, means I had a little more time on my hands and fun plans with the family.  It was the perfect weather for my favorite outfit, the one my family knows I refer to as "the one that makes me feel Parisian".  Black, white, some stripes, a splash of red, and designer jeans, oh super cute shoes and some killer accessories.  I was feeling pretty fabulous, hair and make up just right.  Ready to put on my "Hollywood" sunglasses and do some shopping, get the boys hair cut, and go out into the sun at a lovely park.  I was putting the finishing touches on, when my youngest calls to me from what was supposed to be his nap....

*** Warning... there is a huge gross out element in the rest of this post.  I hate to even post the warning, cause it takes out the surprise element which is really the star of this show, and, also, I was deprived of that courtesy myself in real time. Do not read on if you think you don't want to know anymore.***

2 year old Momma!  I peed! (he is potty trained... but only when awake, so I figured he needs his pull up changed since I thought he was napping)

I start climbing the stairs to go change him...

Me Ummm, you peed?

2 Yeah!

Me Where? Your pull up? *suddenly spot clean and dry pull up in the hall, thrown from his gated room, and start rushing* Where?!

2 On the green thing!

Me *spying naked toddler, and brown foot prints, notice cracked closet door with light coming from inside* What green thing?! The tote in your closet? Did you POOP? *rush back to my room, use intercom to call down to husband in his office* Honey, there something in your son's room that needs immediate attention from the both of us, bring paper towels and a bath towel.

Husband Be right there. *Hangs up phone, and I hear him running up the stairs, 2 flights below us, from his basement level office*

2 I did it, Momma!

Me I see. *Climbing over the gate, avoiding all poop footprints, and head to the closet* No. No. Noooooooooo.  You pooped IN the closet?! 

2 On the green thing!

Husband What happened?

Me Your kid dropped a deuce on the changing pad I had tucked away in the closet, but then he must of scoot down the pad and onto the floor, then tracked it all the way to the door with his little feet. Please start running the bath. *turning to son* Why didn't you leave your pull up on and call for help instead of pooping in the closet? *trying very hard not to be too loud and upset him, as he thinks he did good since it was "on" the changing pad, and he didn't technically poop his pants.* If your are awake it really needs to go in the potty! *remove my cute blazer and toss it into the non-disgusting, feces-free hallway*

Husband *calling from the bathroom* I have to say I will NOT miss this part of their childhood! 

Me I was so worried the other day, when we switched him to a big boy bed, because I remembered when we switched his brother to a big boy bed he pulled out all his toys, and emptied out all his drawers during his naps.  This kid literally EMPTIED OUT HIS DRAWERS onto the closet floor.  Well, not even.  He first removed his "drawers".  They are spotless.

Husband *coming back into the room to help while I'm wiping down our toddler to put him in the tub* Oh, hey, you look nice.

Me Yeah, so thrilled I got all dressed up to scrub doody out of the carpet in my designer jeans.  The "Lucky you" tag sewn into them is mocking me at this very moment. I was feeling all "This is the good life.", and then life was all "Hey, shit happens!  Now, take off your blazer and your cute shoes, get on your expensive knees, and scrub it up.  You're welcome!" 

And that's how it is.  My kiddo apologized to me, I hugged him, my husband and I laughed and cried at the same time.  Just when you start getting all smug when things are going too great, life (sometimes literally) throws some shit at you to remember that no one gets to live in perfection.  So, enjoy those special moments, but be prepared when the shit hits the fan, or the closet floor.  Because you are no different than anyone else, my friend. 

 

Somehow I'm a Board Member...

We live in a neighborhood with a homeowners association, and, somehow, I'm a board member.  I signed up, and they actually let me do it, in spite of myself.  Anywho, I'm the secretary.  How fitting, one may (but probably doesn't) think.  It's not easy, though, as I have to be at least a touch professional when writing letters to send out to all our neighbors.  I just got done typing up the letter we send out after our big, yearly meeting.  Everyone cares soooooo much that like 3 households show up, but, alas, I try to fill in everyone who couldn't be bothered to show up, anyway.  I know, I'm selfless like that.  This year, I decided I would put the letter I actually want to send here.  It's NOT the one I send out, but it should be. 

Dear neighbors,
  We had a meeting.  You were told about it, but you didn't come, so I guess the date and time don't really matter.  You didn't come last year or the year before that, either.  So, we can never actually vote and get anything done.  So here is what we talked about without you.

A. You're not paying your dues.  Those of us who are, super appreciate your total lack of consideration for the rest of us who need to pay more to make up for your failure to cough up what is less than a trip to McDonalds for 2 people.  We're trying to get creative about how to get you to pay.  I would love the "dog shaming" approach, where we put up the amount you owe on your front lawn and take a picture of it and put it all over social media, but the more rational board members think that would not be "nice" and perhaps is illegal. 

B. We could use some more board members.  I'm getting a little suspicious that it might be to make up for the fact that I was allowed on the board.  (See dog shaming idea.)  Whatever the reason, we are looking for other folks to feel our frustration right along with us. 

C. Yes we are keeping the playground, stop hating children's happiness.  Why don't you just stand out front and kick some puppies while kids walk home from the bus?  Maybe hold "Santa is a fake!" picket signs up while they ride their tricycles around the neighborhood. 

D. Foreclosures are way down.  I know, Fox News would have you believe otherwise, but it's true.  We have some actual numbers.  Arithmetic. 

E. Don't be an asshole.  If it's too early or too late, turn your music down.  Kids playing next door?  Maybe you could turn the gangsta rap down so my kids stop asking "What that bitch did to 'get it.'"  Also, you do not live on a NASCAR track.  Perhaps, you can try to do a more reasonable speed.  I believe there are suggestions posted around the road on big white signs, if you can't figure out what a safe speed is.

F. Everyone hates the big trees.  Everyone.  I hate them, you hate them.  No one wants them to land on their house. 

G. You can't park on a corner... in your giant pickup truck... and especially not all 47 of your giant, rusty pick up trucks.  I know you think they are aesthetically pleasing to prospective home buyers, but they are a hazard that we can't see around to pull out. 

H.  The golf course is a hot mess.  It's not ours.  We tried to make it go to rehab, but it said "No no no!"

I. Join us on Facebook.  Thanks to the dude that made that page happen.  I couldn't do it myself, because I suck at those things, and I have not even been writing in my own blog lately.  But that dude did it.  Sweet.

J.  P.S. No one ever mentions it, but you could probably pick up your dog shit.  It's disgusting.  We do not live in a toilet.  We are putting Paris to shame, folks. 


Nailed it!

She returns...

I don't feel like going into too much detail about it on here yet, but I've been away for awhile thanks to a surgery that did not go well and ended in finding out I'm deathly allergic to at least 3 things, an emergency trip to the hospital for 4 days, and then trying to recover from the horrendous reaction from that on top of recovering from surgery.  The meds required for the allergy slow the recovery from surgery greatly, and so I have not felt like myself for quite some time.  I did not feel like I had anything to offer the blog, and did not feel great enough to make light of things in my usual fashion.  But, tonight a post on facebook (thanks to this boring, violent, movie in a language that is not one I'm fluent in) felt blog-ish to me, and I thought I'd post it here.  Maybe this will help me get back to my old self a little more.  (I returned to my champion shopping marathons this week, so the blog could be next!)

We're watching a movie in German...
Husband "He's sad."
Me "He's not even speaking! I can translate a sad face in German to a sad face in English." 

Oy.

C'mon Bill Maher, so I don't have to watch this bloody submarine movie anymore.

I'm pretty sure they are saying "Ow, I'm shot!" "I'm shot, too!" "I was shot by a bomb!" "This isn't even a submarine, it just seems like it cause the boat was shot... by a bomb... and now it's sinking, and now it's like a submarine." "Hey, did someone see that guy is shot?" "Hey why is everyone bleeding?" "Were they shot?" "Does that hurt?" "How about if I poke at it, does it hurt now?" "Does anyone have anymore white scraps of fabric to wrap around this guy to get bloody? Nothing shows blood better than white fabric." "Wiener schnitzel!"

 No one has commented.  I think it's either because A. It's Friday night and they don't have small kids who are in their rooms, hollering instead of sleeping, so they are out having more fun than me, or B. They don't know what to say because they don't speak German, either.  They probably can't understand what I'm saying. 

  Oh, update, now that the movie has ended!!!

 Me "Did they just hang that guy up in a pouch because they are going to space and it's his turn to sleep." 

Husband "Probably not." 

Me "Oh, did their submarine get rescued?" 

H "Yeah, they just drove home." *eye roll* 

***Air raid alarms*** 

Me "Something else is gonna blow up. I dunno, a little bell just went off in my head and said "More bombs on the way!" 

 H "I thought that sound meant it was time for lollipops." 

 Me "See, if you didn't have me here to translate the alarm, you'd be so lost." 

 ***explosions*** 

Me "See! What did I tell you! Now they are all bleeding again."