Please Just Shut The @%#^$^* Up!

Sometimes I think my ears might start to bleed….

 

Why?  Because my kids never stop talking.  They talk ALL. THE. TIME.  They don’t even care if anyone is listening.  And when they aren’t talking, they are making random, annoying noises.  Just…. noises.  WTF?  Why?  It can be annoying as all hell, but  I have generally become proficient in tuning them out most of the time.

 

The thing I have a hard time dealing with is the questions. The Never. Ending. Questions.

 

My son is the biggest offender in this category.  He is constantly asking questions, most of the time, just for the sake of asking something.

 

Quite a few of  his questions are legit, like “what are we doing today?” or “can I have a snack?”

 

But about 80% of the other questions are complete bullshit and often times, having no relative purpose other than the fact, I believe, that he just enjoys  the sound of his own voice.

 

Most of my pain happens in the car…where I am trapped in a small, enclosed place for the duration of our destination.  A captive audience.  This is when I usually lose my mind.

 

Like driving to Walmart the other day..

 

The boy:  Is Jackie (our dog) a working dog?

Me:  I guess so.  He is called a herding dog.

The boy: So why can’t we take him into Walmart with us?

Me: Oh, you mean like a seeing eye dog?

The boy: Yes.  Is he a seeing eye dog?

Me: No

The boy: What’s a seeing eye dog?

Me: A dog blind people have. The dog helps them see so they don’t get hurt.

The boy:  Am I blind?

Me: Uh, no.  You can see

The boy: Why I not blind.

(shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup…)

Me: Because you’re not.

The boy: How do people get blind?

Me: sometimes they are born that way.  Or because of an accident

The boy: can we get a seeing eye dog

Me: no, we don’t need one

The boy: why?

Me: because none of us are blind

THe boy: Am I blind?

Me (sigh) No

The boy: Why?

 

(BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! That’s the sound of me ramming my head into the steering wheel)

 

Don’t get me wrong.  I want my son to be curious and learn about the world.  To do this requires asking questions.  It’s the insane questions like “what’s an eye? or “what’s No mean?” or “why did you say yes?” or my favorite, “what does Happa-buluba-dingdong means?” that make me go apeshit.  It’s when he asks me, every time we get in the car,  if our van has fog lights and are they on right now that my eyes glaze over, my mouth starts to drool,  and I’m pretty sure I develop a strange involuntary twitch.

 

After answering these types of questions all day long, my mind begins to stop processing all the necessary information I need until I am unable to make a simple decision.  Like an engine that has run out of oil, my mind begins to slowly seize up until it comes to a complete grinding stop.

 

This is usually the time my husband calls.

 

Hubby: Hey, Hon.  How was your day?  What did you end up doing?  Have you guys eaten yet?

 

OMG!  Shut the $#*^$#(^$* up!

Sue

 

 

All Grown Up?

It’s been awhile since I’ve had anything to post.  I think life has slowed down a bit.  Maybe the kids are getting a little more mature?  Last week I met a college friend for coffee and she was automatically looking for a Little Man story.  They were always so entertaining.  I had nothing.  Then I saw Sue on Wednesday and I told her flat out that I think that my life is getting boring.  Nothing ever happens around here anymore.   I don’t have any funny stories any more…

Little Man was just ten months old when he learned to walk.  He was ten months old and one week when he fell and broke his first bone.  Seriously.  Back in the day, he was a pretty chunky kid.  In fact, one of Ms. Cocktail’s favorite baby stories to tell about Little Man is the day we went to her house and the bigger kids were riding bikes.  I had Little Man in the Baby Bjorn, well, kind of, the parts of him that would fit anyway.  He was kind of busting out as I chased Ladybug up and down the street on her bike.  Apparently this was a hilarious sight to see.  So when he fell a few months later, there was a lot of weight landing on that leg.  How could he not fracture it?  Not to worry, it didn’t deter him.   He was back to walking with his cast the very same day it was put on him.  Those were his toddler years.  I was busy.

There was the week that Little Man was in two different ERs, in two different towns, two days apart, for two completely unrelated reasons.  The first trip was when he took a header into a step up in to my in-laws’ dining room and split his lip on the outside and on the inside.  He didn’t cut it all the way through, but we couldn’t tell, because it was bleeding on both sides. If you ever want to be seen quickly in an emergency room, take a screaming four-year-old with you.  We only sat in the waiting room for about ten minutes.  I don’t even remember what the second trip to our local ER was for, but it wasn’t for the lip.

It’s not just injury, however.  One year, he caught every single stomach bug that came through town.  Every.  Single.  One.  Fall, winter, spring. He spent a lot of that school year lying on the couch.  It’s a good thing it was just preschool and that he didn’t miss much.  He also has reactive airways (not quite asthma, but kind of like it), which meant every cough stuck around and stuck around when he was younger.  He’s had pneumonia twice (at not quite six years of age) and we have our own nebulizer, because he needs it.

But he doesn’t just get in to trouble on his own.  Last winter he threw up all over the kitchen floor on my birthday, so I had to keep him home from school.  He wasn’t sick, he just has a nasty gag reflex, but I couldn’t tell in that moment so I kept him home just to be safe.  Sue really needed me to watch DJ that day and is familiar enough with the gag reflex that she was willing to roll the dice.  Little Man was fine.  I was pretty sure of this the moment I called his school and said that he wouldn’t be coming in, but confirmation came at 10:30 that night.  I went into the spare bedroom to iron some pants for work the next day and found a hole in the ceiling over the bed (and chucks of ceiling all over the bed).  The boys had decided to see if they could jump on the bed and put a Nerf sword through the ceiling.  They were successful.  Then there was the day that we went to Sue’s after school last year and the boys were riding around in DJ’s little jeep.  They kept gunning the engine while trying to go up a little hill next to Sue’s driveway.  They almost flipped it several times.  Luckily, Sue and I both know better and put their bikes helmets on them.

Kids’ toys or weapons of mass destruction?

These were the kinds of stories I used to have about Little Man all the time.  He must be growing up.  Right?  Oh wait.  Just a couple of weeks ago he wiped out while running down the sidewalk in flip flops and trying to jump through a hula hoop, like a circus animal.  Then he wanted to help make his lunch last week and grabbed a hot cookie sheet barehanded.  Oh, and he just finished his course of antibiotics after getting Lyme disease.  He’s not growing up, I’m just be getting used to it. 

Jen

Kicked Out Of Poop Camp

I guess it was inevitable.  I mean, neither of my kids have ever followed “the rules”.  They have always marched to a different beat – hell, they are listening to an entirely different band.

Bus Stop Medusa Strikes Again

So most mornings at the bus stop aren’t too pretty, I’ll be the first to admit this.  Usually, I’ve got running or yoga clothes on, and am sporting a ball cap or a ponytail.  I don’t think I’m alone here, but apparently, that’s where I need to live.

It sounded like my neighbors had been having a tough time getting out the door this morning as I listened to their conversation, while I headed down the driveway with the kiddos.  I was not greeted with my usual “Good morning, Mrs. W!” from Little Miss Sunshine, the younger of the kids next door.  The tiniest thing ever, she usually has a huge, beaming smile for me, and a big, happy, greeting.  This morning she was wrapped around her mom’s leg, with her face buried deep in mom’s thigh.  I chalked it up to the rough morning it seemed like they were having.  Until…

Who Laid You?

The boy and I were outside, enjoying the warm weather and riding around the driveway on scooters.  Then he stopped and asked me a question:

 

 ”Who laid you?”

What I truly want for Mother’s Day

© Adrianeraldo | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Each time the month of May rolls around, my husband and I have the same conversation we had the year before.  It goes something like this:

Him: Crap!  It’s May, isn’t it?

Me: Yep

Him:  Is Mother’s Day this weekend?  And your birthday is soon too.  I have to get you something.  What do you want?

Pulling the Band Aid Off… Slowly.

I went on my first job interview in almost six years yesterday.  If you have read Stuck you know that I am searching for that next step.  Little Man will be going to school full time next year, and as much as I love being at home, I do also miss that sense of purpose that comes from working out in the world.

What if…..?

As humans, we take a lot of things for granted.    We take for granted that we will wake up each morning, that we will be able to watch our children grow up and have families of their own,  that we can breathe freely.

 

But, what if...

Top Ten Reasons Dogs Are Better Than Kids

Hope this adds a little fun to your day!

 

10.   They don’t talk back
9.     You can walk them on a leash without people looking at you funny.

8.     You only have to feed them twice a day.
7.     What every you put in front of them, they will eat.

6.     Using shock collars on them is not illegal.

5.     You can lock them in a crate if they annoy you
4.     They can be left at home while you do errands
3.     They reach maturity by the time they are three.
2.     You only have to bathe them once a month

1.     NO DIAPERS

 

Can’t wait for that day!

Sue

 

 

 

What Parts are Private

© Creativestock | Dreamstime Stock Photos & Stock Free Images

Most days, when I pick the boy up from preschool, I wait with bated breath to see how he comes out.  Is he happy, mad, sad, wet, dry or a combination of these.   Depending on how he comes out can determine how the rest of the afternoon goes.  So the other day, when he came skipping out the door, I thought things looked pretty promising.  And then I realized his teacher was following right behind him.  That could only mean one thing – trouble.

 

Teacher:  I just wanted to let you know about something that happened today.  In case you hear about it tonight.  I don’t want there to be a misunderstanding.