Act Like A Child

What is the best thing about having kids beside tiny hugs and slobbery kisses? Having an excuse to play like a kid. Having a kid gives you a free pass to act and play like a child. You get to play with their cool toys and act silly and nobody cares because it's for your kids, right?

Tuesday afternoon was hot, hot, hot. Little Bear had a Slip and Slide that was still in the box and desperately in need of some use. You know, you run, you dive, you hit the bump and take a dive. Since our winter skating rink build brought to light that we do not own a hose without a huge hole in it we decided to trek across the road to my in laws to use theirs. (The are also out of town so I'm sure they won't mind :)).

I set up the long yellow plastic sheet and hooked up the hose. Maybe it's just me but I'm pretty sure Slip and Slides seemed a lot cooler when I was a kid. Mind you my mother only let us pull ours out a few times (she obviously had no idea how much fun it was) but I remember being far more impressed then.

After finishing the very simple assembly I stood back to admire the bright yellow plastic glistening in the sun with my two oldest grinning like crazy but they just stood there. Duh, they don't know what the heck this thing is or what the heck they are supposed to do with it. So I gave Little Bear the verbal breakdown of what he was supposed to do. "Huh?" "Show me mom".

Well shoot. I didn't really plan on having to actually do this. I am 28 years old. We were in the front yard where people driving by might see us. I'm 28 years old. I'm over the height recommendation. I'm 28 years old. I haven't done this in probably close to 20 years. I'm 28 years old. I'm not even sure I can do this. Oh, what the hell and I went for it.

I gave myself a bit of a running start. As I approached the plastic I went for the dive. OUCH! Slip and Sliding with boobs is NOT a good idea. Holy crap that hurt and holy crap that water was cold! I also realized that the 5 foot tall height recommendation is in place because the taller you are the quicker you run out of plastic to slide on and the faster you meet the grass face first.

It took a minute to convince myself that I could recover and get up from the position I now found myself. Then as I brushed the grass clipping from my soaking wet legs and off my face I looked up to see three tiny men laughing their faces off at what they had just witnessed. All worth my pain (and oh there was some pain).

After my demonstration Little Bear was inspired to try it out himself over and over and over and over again. Fuzzy was not as brave. He would run from as far back as he possibly could without standing in the middle of the empty wheat field and give his all but then as he approached the edge of the plastic where you are supposed to take off he would either stop or run around it. Finally after several attempts at this I grabbed him and "helped" him to slide down the strip. He freaking loved it.

I didn't really think Wee One was really going to be too interested in this activity because he usually shies away from cold water especially in his face and he is still really little but he proved me wrong. He enjoyed walking down the plastic and playing in the sprinkler part of the Slip and Slide. He would fall down, laugh and get back up, giggling the whole time. We had so much fun. "It's mommy's turn". Fuzzy would yell and I would take my turn and they would laugh. It was great. I'm smiling just thinking about it.

Wednesday morning however was not even close to as much fun. I had to go to work at the Donut Shack bright and early with sore gluts, abs, arms, legs, shoulders, back, etc. Just about anything that could hurt, did. I am getting too old but man it was sooooooooooo worth the look on their faces and the sound of their laughter that I'm sure Tuesday was not the end of my Slip and Sliding adventures. Now to get Papa Bear to give it a go.

Sports, Sports, Sports...

Papa Bear loves his sports. He watches them on TV. He watches them in person. He plays a few. He reads about them. Heck, he probably even dreams about them. I, on the other hand would rather chew on a rock.

His favourite sport to watch on TV is hockey. I can stand to watch a bit of this sport, usually in the last period when all the important stuff happens. He watches Football, Baseball, Bowling, Tennis (yawn) and Golf (double yawn). He also watches Curling on TV. I can not stand to watch this "sport" for more than about 30 seconds. I usually spend that 30 seconds wondering what kind of whacked out "sport" calls each round an "end" when in fact they are no where near the actual "end" of the game.

I may not really consider Curling a real sport but I did try it twice and it isn't as easy as it looks. I ended up with a pulled groin muscle and a giant bruise on my knee. Curling is Papa Bear's "winter sport". He loves it and devotes one to two nights a week to this "sport".

Papa Bear's "summer sport" is baseball. Technically he is a member of a baseball team but I haven't really seen him actually play in a game for more than a few innings. Usually he just stands by a base and makes hand gestures at the batters. He's either telling them to bunt or to eat s@*# and die. Either way he's not going to hit any home runs standing out there. I sometimes go to the ballpark to support the team but rarely to see Papa Bear play. I used play baseball until I took a ball to the head resulting in a concussion and bruised brain. The doctor said if I was going to continue to play I had to wear a batting helmet in the outfield...forget that, I quit!

I used to Figure Skate for years. I skated from about age six up until I found out I was pregnant with Little Bear. Oh how I miss it but I still enjoy lacing up to skate on our homemade ice rink in the yard in the winter even with the bumpy, uneven ice and occasional deep crack. Figure Skating is one of the few sports Papa Bear does not watch or take part in.

The only sport Papa Bear and I participate in together is Bowling. Though I don't like to watch Bowling on TV I do enjoy playing the game. Bowling is also where Papa Bear and I met each other for the first time many, many moons ago. After about a ten year rest from the sport for me and about fifteen for Papa Bear, we joined an adult league with some friends. Papa Bear is a little bit better than me - but don't tell him I said that.

Soccer is the only sport that nobody in our household plays, watches or even really talks about. Apparently if you are a baseball player Soccer is the devil. I don't really know too much about this but I do have a Soccer ball hanging from the rear view mirror of my van but that is kind of a inside joke.

Living with four males, I should probably get used to the channel being set to some sort of sport whether I like it or not. All I can say is thank goodness we have more than one TV in this house. I'm sure it won't be long before Papa Bear has three more "men" to help him chant, "sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports, sports...SPORTS!"

Real Women Have Curves

Today I was having a conversation with a friend of mine. We were talking about women and weight. We talked about a couple specific people that we both know and where they fall on Sketch's scale. I came to a conclusion...my friend, Sketch is either a horrible, horrible little man OR measures on a completely different scale than most.

Sketch's idea of "thick" or "bigger" girls is pretty much anyone that ate today. Though he didn't call me "thick" or "bigger" he did say it about girls that I compare to in size. Perhaps he thinks I just fell off the turnip truck and didn't catch this. I kind of wanted to punch Sketch right square in his little nose which sits upon his little head a top his skinny little body but then I realized it just didn't matter.

Before you think that I spent my night with my face buried in a tub of ice cream or standing in front of the mirror dissecting my bulges think again. I know I am NOT "thick" or "bigger" but even if I was I wouldn't let this skinny little man's measurement make me think less of myself. Do I have my share of body image issues? Sure I do but those are my own, not ideas put in my head by any other person.

With people who measure like Sketch it is no wonder that I know a very slender six year old girl who is already concerned about her weight or rather the worry that she will some day get "fat". It is sad that she is thinking about someone else's idea of what she should look like already at such a young age.

Poor Sketch he just doesn't even have a clue. "Thick" by his measurement is more like average. If he adjusted his scale of measurement to reflect truth he may open himself up to see that an average women is not stick thin with no existence of an ass and only skin covering her protruding bones. Real women have curves buddy and I am a real women.

Wednesday Drive

Today my two oldest sons were with their dad and it was just Wee One and I. I decided that we should go for a ride through Hicksville to the tractor dealership in a town about 45 minutes or so away (at least I think it is a town, maybe just a village, I don't know) to pick up a birthday present for my nephew who has a birthday at the end of the month. It was a beautiful day and Wee One was in desperate need of nap that could very well be ride induced.

With a sippy cup of ice water for Wee One and a soda for me we headed out on our drive. Wee One wasn't so keen on my nap idea but rather squealed with delight most of the way while I got down to Crazy Possessive by Kaci Battaglia (Wee One is much too little to repeat the words so this is about the only time I can sing it on the top of my lungs and not have to worry about the two oldest boys singing it to grandma later).

When I'm on any drive that lasts for more than a couple of minutes I like to look around at the things around me. Not so much that I can't keep my caravan on my side of the road or anything of course. Mostly I just saw a lot of trees and farms, one in particular with a cross on the barn, a little odd but whatever. I saw some horses, goats and cows.

In one front yard I saw a broken down tractor, like it had just stopped in the middle of the yard on it's way through. Instead of towing it out of their lawn though the people that lived there just planted flowers around it like they were trying to disguise the ugly, decrepit piece of farm equipment as, I don't know, some sort of clever artistry....FAIL. It really just looks like a piece of crap tractor surrounded by flowers. That's it. That's all. Not at all pleasant to look at. It's this kind of crap that helps to make my weed infested flower beds look better so thank you.

I saw a house all jacked up on some shady looking beams with kids ride-on toys all underneath it. Who the heck lets their children play under a jacked up house. Haven't they ever seen The Wizard of Oz? Didn't you see what that house did to that poor witch when it fell on her? Good grief people. I really don't think when you live in the country where there is plenty of room on all sides of you that you need to let your children play under your house. Safety first.

Farther down the road I saw a trailer or motor home (I'm not really sure what the proper name for them is) with two more trailers as additions. I guess it was like a trailer condominium or something. Or a trailer mansion (for those better off trailer trash kind of folk). Whatever it was it was one of the ugliest things I have ever seen. Instead of buying three trailers to try to stick together why not just buy or build a nice little house?

Another house had a second story balcony. The balcony was enclosed with chain-link fencing. Now, is it just me or does chain-link fencing not have an awful lot of give to be what is supposed to hold me in from free falling from the balcony and landing smack dab in the drive way next to a car with no wheels up on blocks? Just wondering is all.

Shortly before I arrived at my destination I had to pass by the large grassy hill that is really a dump in hiding. They almost had me fooled too - except for the dozens of seagulls flying overhead and the rotten stench wafting in my open windows (I forget about this every time and never remember to put the windows up until I am directly in front of the dump).

The ride back was equally as exciting as I looked for each of the landmarks I had discovered on my way there just to make sure I had really seen what I thought I had seen on the way there. Such a lovely day for a drive through Hicksville on this Wednesday afternoon.

Pass Gas With Class

I don't claim to be extremely lady like at all times by any means but when did it become acceptable for woman to burp and fart in public like a caveman? Is that not still a rude thing to do?

I know we all have to burp or let one rip from time to time but am I alone in thinking that it should be done discreetly or blamed on my kids when in public? Too often lately I have found myself surrounded by burpers and farters who think it is their duty to let the world know that they had chili for lunch. They let 'em rip loud and proud without an ounce of concern.

I'm embarrassed if a belch or fart escapes my body when there are other people around-other than Papa Bear - I can appreciate a well executed "dutch oven" as well as anyone else but these burpers and farters just don't seem to care where or when they let go.

It's bad enough when men do it(I think it part of how they communicate to each other) but come on ladies we should conduct ourselves with a little more class. I doubt men really find burping and farting in front of their family and friends a sexy quality in the women of their dreams. I don't ever remember hearing any guy say "did you hear that giant stinky fart that came out of that blonde? I'm going to take her home with me if she didn't crap her pants!"

Old ladies are an exception. They likely think they are being discreet because they are too deaf to hear the kinds of sounds that come out of their bodies and I've never heard my grandmother go "ahhhh, that feels better, I bet you can't do better". Young children can also get away with such rudeness because their cuteness is more powerful therefore it trumps the rudeness.

I think a woman burping and farting in public is something I would most likely see in a trailer park by a bleach blonde tramp, wearing sleazy clothes that show off too much of her crackhead body with missing teeth (other than the teeth thing I think I just described my ex husbands ex girlfriend) but unfortunately they are everywhere laughing at the disgusting sounds (and smells) they are producing from their bodies and forcing the rest of us to hold our tongues (and our noses) from telling them just how rude they are.

Ahhhhhhh, A/C

I hate to sweat. I would much rather be freezing cold than even a little bit hot. When you are cold you can always put on more clothing, when you are hot you can only take so much off (without scaring other people anyway). This is why I can not live without air conditioning.

Air conditioning is a requirement for any house I live in or car I drive. Four walls and A/C and we're good, four wheels and A/C and we're good. I don't have it cranked to some ridiculous temperature that might turn my family into ice cubes, just a nice comfortable 74 degrees Fahrenheit is about right.

The first apartment X and I ever lived in was without air. It was our first summer in our first apartment that I purchased our first window air conditioner. The great big giant white box pumped all kinds of ice cold air into the tiny apartment cooling X, Roger the cat and I and making me a much happier lady.

My first car, a 1982 AMC Concord, dark green with baby poop brown interior, did not have air conditioning. The dark green paint helped to heat the little crap box up to a nice 110 degrees or better in the summer. Thankfully it had nice plush seats instead of vinyl or I may have been melted to them permanently. The most clothing I could ever wear to go for a drive was a bathing suit and a pair of shorts. It was brutal.

I feel sorry for all those poor bastards sweating it away all day and not sleeping at night. If I didn't have air conditioning (hypothetically speaking of course since that would never happen) I would spend my day at a coffee shop nursing the same soda for hours and soaking in their glorious artificial cool.

Or we could make an overly extended trip to Walmart. As long I buy something they can't kick me out can they? Yeah, I think Walmart would work best. Kids could take naps in the cart, on pillows that I "might purchase". I could visit with people I haven't seen in a while (I always run into these people when I go in to grab something quick). I could price compare any and all items I might purchase with my cell phone and save a bundle. Most Walmarts have a McDonalds in them so we would be set for meals as well.

Lord help me...or my in laws if my air conditioning breaks because I'll be moving in with them or who ever will take me until it is fixed...I will not sweat. It is not an option. Now will you excuse me, I need to go get a sweater.

Potty Training Impossible

My oldest son potty trained at 2.5 years old. He was super easy to train and gave me a false sense that potty training itself was an easy process. Oh, how wrong that would turn out to be.

Fuzzy will be 3 in November. At the rate we are going with potty training he will be going to high school in diapers. Everyone told me that he would be easier to train than Little Bear because he would see his big brother using the toilet and wearing “big boy underwear” and would want to do the same....This has not been the case.

Fuzzy refuses to even consider using the toilet. He doesn’t seem to be afraid of it. He just doesn’t want to use it. He also has no interest in standing to pee which was a big deal to Little Bear when he was training so I purchased a potty chair. He will pee on the potty chair but not with any kind of regularity (not the kind of regularity that has to do with bran).

When I change his diaper I always ask if he wants to go pee on the potty. Sometimes he says yes and sometimes he says no. When he says yes he actually goes and I think “great. We are actually going to get this” and then I put a fresh diaper on and he goes again...

I ask him throughout the day if he would like to go pee on the potty and he almost always answers “I already did”.
By “I already did” he means “I already took a giant crap and have been marinating in it for the last 5 minutes”.
When I ask why he didn’t tell Mommy he had to go he either stares blankly at me or repeats “I already did”.

Fuzzy also has no interest in “big boy underwear”. With Little Bear wearing real underwear seemed to be the ticket to getting him to use the toilet instead of peeing his pants. Even though the thought of putting Fuzzy in underwear because of the number of times that boy poops in a day and the thought of cleaning crap out of underwear several times a day gives me the heebie geebies I am willing to give it a try if it means he will train quicker. However, when I ask him if he wants to wear “big boy underwear” like Little Bear he always says “no”.

Further discouraging is the fact I have several friends that have kids, boys at that who are the same age and well on their way of being potty trained. If we don’t get moving on training, Wee One is going to train before Fuzzy. Come on Fuzzy I’m about done with doing diaper duty for 2.