The poor child's version of Angry Birds

Since my poor child does not have his own smart phone, he takes matters into his own hands and crafts a special version of the Angry Birds game.

Robert and the birthday party

After receiving a birthday party invitation from a girl in his class, conversation as follows-

Robert: "Is that a birthday in-vee-tation?"

Me: "Yes, for K's birthday. Do you know K?"

"No, I don't know her."

"K? In your class?"

"No. Can we go to the party?! Please please please?!"

"But you don't even know who she is!"

(Robert now reads the invitation out loud while he is riding in the car.)

"Dear Robert, Please come to my birthday party. It will be fun. I love you."

Me: Silence

Robert: "She must have invited me because she loves me mommy."


Yes, my dear son, I'm sure that's it. Even though you have no idea who this girl is, I'm sure she loves you and that's why she invited you. Boy, high school is going to be fun with this one!

A proud day

First, my dear Robert.

Day after day, the extremely patient ladies manning the childwatch at the YMCA report to me that Robert is building guns. Since the Y is a no weapons place, even fake guns made of building blocks built by 4 yr old boys are not allowed.

Robert stopped building guns, but started building things called "Scorpion Throwers" and "Shirkers" and other things that resemble guns and make Pew-Pew noises.

So we had the talk. The one where I tell him not to build anything that looks like a gun, smells like a gun, acts like a gun or is weapon of any kind. INCLUDING things that make pew-pew noises but have odd sounding names (I'm on to this child.)

Next time I pick him up, I ask,  "Robert, did you make a gun?'

"No mommy."

"Did it make pew-pew noises?" (Because the ladies at the Y say he is still making guns.)

"No. It went Psha-Psha."

Uh-huh. And we have 'the talk' AGAIN.

Today, Robert says he wants to go to the Y to build something. Okay my dear Robert, what are you going to build? His response?

"It will have Drinking Technology. And taste like pineapple. AND have big MEGA vitamins that makes people go to the hospital and come back super heroes."

Hmmm. Clearly this is more like a vaccine and less like a weapon, right? I can only hope the ladies did not notice. And my plan might have worked, if Robert had not come running up to me with ANOTHER child who was also carrying a.... scorpion catcher. Great. He's assembling a mutiny.


And my lovely Zoe.


The girl managed to throw up into the toilet for the first time. I would be proud, since this significantly cuts down my laundry duties, except I think she may be avoiding bedtime. Hard to argue with throw up though.

My new suggestion for airlines

Dear Airlines,


I have a promotions idea for you.

You see, I'm now a mom. And try as I might to prepare for a trip, it always seems that I end up harried and running through the airport with a lot less sleep than I prefer. We've traveled enough that you would think I would have it down, but someone (usually of short stature) always throws a wrench (or toy truck) in my plans.

And since most of the flights we are on have the 3-3 seat configuration (you know, 3 seats on each side) I always end up sitting between two very excited kids. I think my kids are adorable, but I'm not sure the rest of the plane does. I do my best to continually bribe them with apple juice and Cheetos, but the whole adventure is exhausting to me.

Then I look over to my dear husband, who has usually had a full night of un-interrupted sleep, as he sits calmly across the aisle (technically he is sitting with us, but really, that aisle can seem like a mile at times) and I think crazy things.

This time, my dream was first class. Upgrade me not the random guy from 27F! Let my well-rested husband help kids with headphones and bubble gum for 2 hours! I realize this is a far-fetched dream, for all the upgrades are reserved for Elite Premium whatever status people. But that fantasy is just enough for me to tune out the siblings fighting over Angry Birds.

I would think I was totally crazy for thinking this at all, but as I'm begging a certain two-yr old to WALK PLEASE, do not sit on the people mover, an airline attendant walks by us. She admits that she has a 2-yr old and she thinks airlines should pay moms for flying with their children.

I can't say I disagree, especially because I'm now yelling to not LICK anything in the airport.

Ah, a girl can dream, can't she?

My dream car

I have a new dream car.

It all started a few months ago. I had drug a pregnant friend and her son on some wild adventure. The three kids were in the backseat. Zoe was wearing those *BLEEP* sparkle shoes.

Side note on the sparkle shoes- Sure, they're cute! For the little princess! But they harbor sweaty stinky princess feet due to the all man made materials (code for CHEAP) and if you have ever tried to carry a squirmy toddler who dons said shoes, you know you will be cut to ribbons.

Zoe was in the backseat, kicking her brother with the should-be-registered-as-a-weapon sparkle shoes. The screaming starts. I take the shoes, more screaming. You can imagine, I'm sure.

That's when I realized... all those suggestions from Robert? All those times he asked me if I wanted a 'long Jeep' for my birthday? I thought the long Jeep was a Rubicon (you know, 4 doors?) but no, it's a limousine. Think Hummer limo... Looks like a long Jeep right?

I shall take you up on that offer young sir.

Think of the glorious ride. Me, driving my limousine, kids in the back, rotting their brains with video games and slurping down juice boxes. Then, the beauty of it. Things get wild, kids are screaming...

Push a button... privacy glass! I can only hope it's sound proof. This is truly my dream car.

Days 15-17

Day 15 of triple digit temperatures set a record.

Day 16 of triple digit temps and I was seriously considering living life as a hermit. Well, a hermit with high speed internet who maybe makes outings early in the morning or late at night. At 6pm of Day 16, I felt the warm air. And I knew what was happening. I could also guarantee that after 16 days of triple digits, that I wasn’t the only one. And we would be waiting for ‘the call.’

We went to the YMCA, we went to lunch, we went to friend’s houses. Anywhere that had functioning A/C and a air temp below 85F. Because Day 17 was no day for me to be sweating. I’m sweated out (if that’s possible.) I’m not Southern and I’m HOT (not in a good way, in a stinky, post-workout way.)

As if it were planned, just to make a better story, my window of time to wait for ‘the call’ was from 3-7p. This is also the hottest, and sunniest, time of the day. Have I mentioned how much I miss clouds? And rain?

We waited. We waited. We waited. We sat in front of the window unit our neighbors loaned us. Robert and Zoe happily watched TV in their underwear.

I have 2 kids. I can take a complete shower in 3 minutes. I gave the kids dinner on the couch with the TV on and went to take my 3 minute shower. I even set my phone right beside the shower, so I wouldn’t miss ‘the call.’

Hair soaped, hair rinsed, and Robert runs into the bathroom with a package yelling, “You got a present mommy!” I’m not a paranoid person. Except with my kids. It’s just that they are so incredibly mischievous when no one is looking. I jump out of the shower, grab a towel, and run dripping through the house after Robert and Zoe.

Then my two little underwear-clad children are on the front porch. And so is someone else. You guessed it, the A/C man. As I stand soaking wet in my front foyer, with the front door hanging open, my adorable children in their Phineas & Ferb and Nemo undies bounce happily around the A/C man.

There was no call. It was 6:40p. I should have known.

Day 17 was the day we replaced the part I will forever call 'The Flux Capacitor' and the day my A/C guy will probably not forget.

No Paci Update

I got slightly distracted from our 'No Pacifier' adventure after The Most Disgusting Day. Here's how it's going...

Nap #1 Need binky! Need binky! Then vomit, shower, etc. Pretty much makes nap time a complete fail.

Bedtime #1 NEEEEDDD binky mommy!!!!! Then sob, sob, cry, cry and to sleep. Wake up mommy at 4 am asking for juice, even though you somehow found rejected back-up paci. Find out later of the Great Grandma Sabotage of bedtime #1. More crying and sobbing after back-up binky was 'lost.' (That's my story, I'm sticking to it.)

Nap #2 MOOOOMMMMMYYYY NEEEDDDDDD BINKY!!!!!

Bedtime #2 Want binky mommy. Want binky.

Nap #3 Need binky mommy! Need binky! (I thought we had made progress from NEED to WANT, but apparently not.)

Bedtime #3 Mommy, binky GOOONNNNEEE! :( (That's right little girl, it's gone! Or hidden in the cabinet, don't tell.)