Did I Say That?

There are many phrases that instantaneously fly out of my mouth at this point in my life that I never ever thought I’d hear.  And yeah, I blame it ALL on parenting.  Cause kids?  They just constantly do weird shit.  Here are just a few of the ridiculous words that I’ve uttered over the past several years:

“Get that pea out of your nose!”

“Mommy’s boobs are not horns.”

“Don’t shoot your sister.”

“Please keep your hands out of your pants when you’re in the outfield.”

“Don’t pick your nose.”

“You won’t have any friends if you eat your boogers.”

“Do not ride the dog.”

” Shoes go on your feet, not the kitchen table.”

“Go to sleep or you’ll be short forever.”

“Plastic bags don’t go on your head.”

“Please don’t put your socks in the flower pots.”

“We do not eat bananas when we’re taking a poo.”

“Do not wear Mommy’s bra on your head.”

“No, rocks do NOT belong in the bathtub.”

“It’s not polite to spit at the neighbors.”

“Yes, you have to wear pants to the birthday party.”

“Mommy will go to jail if you don’t go to school.”

“Do not eat your toothpaste.”

“M&M’s are not a breakfast food.”

“We color on the paper, not on the wall.”

“Dead cicadas do not go in Mommy’s purse.”

“Do not suck on nickels.”

** WHAT ARE SOME OF THE CRAZY WORDS THAT HAVE COME OUT OF YOUR MOUTH???? **

Keepin’ The Romance Alive

When you’re married with children, it’s damn freaking hard to find alone time to spend together.  The kids and their continuous needs inevitably take top priority.  And trying to keep that spark alive isn’t the easiest task in the world when your spawn are always lurking over your shoulder, trying like hell to blow out the fire.  Take, for instance, our anniversary.  Now in a perfect soap opera world, my husband would’ve whisked me away for a romantic weekend on some remote tropical island to celebrate our 14 years of wedded bliss together, right?  Unfortunately, though, we don’t live in the fictional town of Port Charles, so there was certainly no whisking and absolutely nothing tropical about our monumental moment.

The night of our actual anniversary was unfortunately spent in a hot, crowded room with a boatload of other over-stressed parents, registering my daughter for the travel soccer team.  Real idyllic, huh?  I’d seen my husband for a total of thirty seconds throughout the entire day, and it was only prior to the meeting as we raced by each other on my way out the door.  The timing of the whole thing didn’t even allow us to eat dinner together.  I’d had to shove down some food with the kids and left him a plate of pasta on the counter.  We were holding out hope that maybe, JUST MAYBE, we’d steal some time together after finally getting the kids to bed.

Regrettably, though, our children have decided to boycott sleep these days.  Just when we think we have the all-clear, a little body pops up on the stairs, which is exactly what kind of scenario played out on the night of June 8.  Somebody was hungry; somebody was thirsty; somebody had a sore throat; somebody was scared; somebody had to poop — on and freaking on until I literally started threatening alien abductions to anyone who dared get out of bed again.  And wouldn’t you know that by the time we FINALLY heard the last peep outta the twinkies, I glanced over to find my hubby sawing some serious logs on the couch.  So much for romance.

Luckily, we were eventually able to escape for a quick sushi dinner together last night after my son’s baseball game.  We sat outside and even had < gasp! > an uninterrupted conversation!  Naturally, though, this blissful state of mind was poo-pooed the very moment we stepped through the front door of our house and heard the babysitter negotiating with the little vampires upstairs who were supposed to have been asleep by then.  I seriously think we may have to start hooking up in the car like a couple of teenagers in high school to avoid the inevitable interference from the shorties.  So if the wheels are a rockin’, please, for the love of God, don’t come a knockin’!!!!

Take Me Out to Wrigley

Nothing says Memorial Day weekend like a good ol’ trip down to Wrigley Field.  And freedom never seemed sweeter to a little boy who got to skip school and go cheer on the Cubbies with his papa.  Buy him some peanuts and Cracker Jacks, and he won’t care if he ever goes back to first grade:

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** There are seven days in a week?  Really?

** A boomerang does NOT belong on the kitchen counter.

** Nor does it belong on the toilet.

** My neighbor’s name is Pete, not Joe.  (Maybe that’s why he’s given me weird looks all these years?)

** I should stop buying dog biscuits & just give the dog what he really wants — dryer sheets.

** Ice cream makes everything better.

** Sunscreen is EXTREMELY important.  If only I’d learned this as a teenager….

** All I need is a whip and some elephants & this house would truly be a three-ring circus.

** Fitted sheets can kiss my ass — they’re just not meant to be folded.

** My kids STILL haven’t figured out that I’m not a morning person.

** I need to wear earplugs until at least 9 a.m.

** The male version of camel toe is called moose knuckle.

** The skateboards on my front porch are apparently permanent fixtures.

** My kids have no clue how to get toothpaste on their damn toothbrushes.

** I’m allergic to housework.

** There’s a whole forest of trees in my son’s backpack from all the homework papers he’s failed to turn in.

** Sometimes there IS crying in baseball.

** Bedtime is a foreign concept to me anymore.  < yawn >

** Parenting can break your heart.

** I should avoid Checkout Lane 5 at the grocery store at all possible costs.

** I can’t remember anything anymore.

** Crap, I forgot what I was gonna say.

** If stupid is as stupid does, then I am a complete idiot.

** Shit NEVER EVER gets done around here.

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.

<<  WHAT DID YOU LEARN THIS WEEK??????  >>

Baseball Bummer

As a parent, there is nothing worse than seeing your child feel defeated.  And as much as you want to scoop them up and make it all better, you can’t always do that.  It’s just an unfortunate part of growing up.  My heart nearly broke into a thousand tiny pieces when I had to experience this agonizing part of parenting last night at my son’s Little League baseball game.

It was his second time at bat after being tagged out before even reaching first base in the first inning, and I was doing my motherly duty of cheering him on from the sidelines.  And after several missed swings, he finally made contact with the ball and got a decent hit.  However, the first baseman grabbed the ball a little too quickly and once again, tagged him out.  Dammit!  His little head turned in my direction, and I could instantly see the disappointment on his face.  He walked with his head down the whole way back to sit with his team and tried like hell not to cry.  I knew I shouldn’t baby him, but seeing him THAT down in the dumps was more than I could take.  So I quietly went over and whispered in his ear that I was very proud of him for trying his best.  A lump formed in my throat when I saw his little lip quivering and his eyes getting red.  Nevertheless, I forced myself to walk away, and I prayed that the next at-bat would be better for him.

Unfortunately, though, it only got worse from there.  The next time he hit the ball fairly hard, but it went right into the hands of a VERY tall short stop (seriously, I’m wondering if this kid was actually in 4th grade — he was THAT freakin’ tall!)  My heart literally sank into the pit of my stomach when the kid caught it, and I had to hold myself back from running onto the field and knocking it right out of his damn hands.  I just knew how upset my son was going to be.  And sure enough, he came back to sit on the bench with big tears welling up in his eyes.  After seeing this, even my tough-love husband couldn’t resist going over and squeezing him tight.  Sometimes, you just gotta say to hell with it and go with your gut, so we stood there in a big bear hug with our extremely bummed out little baseball player who kept saying over and over again, “I didn’t even get to first base.“  I wanted so badly to take away this feeling from him, but I couldn’t.  So, I did what any mom would do in that situation — I bought him whatever kind of ice cream he wanted after the game.

As much as it killed us to see our boy so down on himself like that, we were at least thrilled to know that he’s finally found something about which he truly cares.  Before this season of baseball, we were convinced that the only real interest he had was in video games.  So, in an effort to support his baseball fever, my husband decided to finagle an extra ticket to the Cubs game tomorrow and take him out of school to have a father/son day at Wrigley Field.  Seeing his sweet face light up at this news was the perfect ending to a really crummy night.

** HOW COME NOBODY EVER TOLD ME PARENTING WOULD BE THIS HARD???!!! **

Mr. Forgetful

You know that saying about the apple not falling far from the tree? Well, I often tell my husband that he would no doubt lose his balls if they weren’t already attached to his body, and it seems that my son is now following right along in his daddy’s footsteps. I swear the kid cannot keep track of ANYTHING. And it doesn’t matter how important it is to him — he still somehow manages to “misplace” it.

Wintertime seems to be the absolute worst with this little game of hide and go seek the missing item. With all the cold weather paraphernalia that’s required to stay warm, he is always missing something. I finally learned after multiple winters with him to just buy several hats and mittens to keep on backstock. But even with the backup accessories, I still ended up having to send him to school with mismatched mittens on some days.

And then there’s the water bottles that he and his sister insist on dragging to school with them every damn day. I have bought so many of those frickin’ aluminum bottles since my son can never remember to bring them home from his locker. I gotta admit that I was a little scared to open up his locker on conference night cause I was sure that a mountain of water bottles would come tumbling out and bury me alive right there in the hall. And if he does manage to bring the bottle home, he often forgets to bring the lid. There was one particular lid that we’d been missing for weeks, and then he randomly found it lying under a tree in front of the school one afternoon. Talk about luck!

His baseball mitt is another thing the little dude just cannot seem to keep in tow. We could remind him 50,000 times not to forget it after practice or a game, and 99% of the time, he’ll hop in the car sans glove. Just last night after his game, we got all the way home before he realized that the mitt was MIA. So, I agreed to drive back over to the field to look for it while he took a bath. When I got back to the field, everyone had gone home, and I had zero hopes of actually finding the freaking thing. I was sure that someone had probably taken it by mistake. Nevertheless, though, I searched all around the area, and low and behold, there was the poor lonely glove barely peeking out of a big patch of weeds. Now why on earth my son decided to shove it in there is beyond me, but again, it appeared that luck was clearly on the kid’s side.

The day that he truly loses something very valuable to him will be a huge eye opener to him. I mean, if he were to lose, say, his Nintendo DS, for example, I’m pretty sure his whole world would fall apart, and he would shrivel up into a little ball in the corner for the next 75 years. I’ve often thought about making him “think” he’s lost something really important, just to make a point. However, forgetfulness seems to run thick in the male blood of the Nucking Futs family, so, unfortunately, I’m sure it would end up being a short-lived lesson.

Things I’ve Learned This Week

** My son is a human pogo stick.

** Turning 29 again this year feels even better than it did the last several times.

** Sending me a coupon in the mail AFTER I just made a big-ass purchase at your store does nothing but piss me off.

** Larry King is to marriage what 2+2 is to 5.

** Kids talk. A. LOT.

** Every day should include a good scalp massage.

** I am a 5 foot, 2 inch chew toy to my asshat of a dog.

** Nobody in this freaking house knows how to replace the empty toilet paper holder.

** There are way too many LOUD people in this world.

** My husband should never be put in charge of family programming.

** Whitney Houston should probably lay off the crack pipe before trying to belt out the high note in “I Will Always Love You”.

** I am a sucker for boys in baseball caps.

** Downhill is WAY more fun than uphill.

** We all live in a yellow submarine.

** It will be nothing short of a miracle if I can finish another book.

** The laundry STILL doesn’t fold itself, even on your birthday.

** Bras are overrated.

** The little guy doesn’t always finish last — sometimes he comes in second to last.

** I may very well O.D. on Benadryl this spring.

** Cheese that doesn’t belong to you is called NACHO CHEESE. 

** My mom was right — I WILL be late for my own funeral.

** I butter A LOT of people’s bread around here, dammit!

** Despite what I might think, God does not give me more than I can handle.

A Little Slice of Heaven

Yesterday the hubby and the kids spent the afternoon with the Twins and the Pirates at a spring training game:

I, on the other hand, spent the afternoon lounging in the sun with my good friend, Jose:

It was a little slice of heaven, and I gobbled it right up.

The Sexting Experiment

     A while back, my husband and I got into a discussion about this whole “sexting” phenomenon.  With all the talk about it in the media, we were both saying we felt like we should really see what all the hype was about.  (Perhaps we felt a little left out?) Anyway, we don’t want our kids to think they can EVER EVER get away with this when they’re teenagers, so decided we should give it a go ourselves so as to be better educated <ahem> on the latest trends.  We thought we’d be one step ahead of the game and all.  And let’s just say that my first couple of experiences with it were not quite as “sexy” as I’d had in mind.

     I guess I completely forgot about my whole suck-ass ability to take a decent freaking picture with my iPhone to save my damn life.  I’m always chopping off heads or accidentally moving my hand, creating the world’s most unidentifiable, blurry photo ever known to man-kind.  And to try to take a picture of myself?  Well, that’s a whole other story in and of itself.  I can never figure out how just to angle my arm so that I can actually get myself in the picture.  Even if I stand in front of a mirror, I still somehow manage to eff it up.  So, you can imagine just how jacked up a self-took naughty photo might potentially be.  And that’s just what happened on my first attempt at this sexting thing.

     We were coming back from a weekend road trip when I thought I’d sneak a quick pic of myself on one of our bathroom breaks.  I planned to surprise my husband and give him a little sum’n sum’n to think about on the long, long drive back home.  (What a nice wife I am, right?)  So I was in a stall trying like hell to position my iPhone just so, which turned out to be a damn near impossible task, and I was getting more and more frustrated by the second. Wouldn’t ya know that I picked the skinniest stall in all the friggin’ land?  No matter how I tried to position myself, I could not get the “angle” I wanted. When I finally had it focused, I lost my grip on the phone and gasped in horror as I watched it tumbling toward the toilet.  Like a game of Hot Potato, it bounced from hand to hand before I was eventually able to get a firm hold on it.  Needless to say, my first attempt at sexting was a big, fat failure.

     Never one to give up without a fight, though, I decided to give it another try one day when my hubby was at work.  I figured an impromptu pic from me would surely brighten up a boring old day at the office for him.  It took me about 10,000 tries before I got just the right shot I was going for, but I eventually was able to get what I thought was a pretty damn good image.  I typed a quick text message and hit “Send‘, feeling quite proud of my technology skills for a brief moment.  I was sure that I’d instantly get a return text saying something to the nature of, “Holy shit!  You’re the best wife ever, and I want to shower you with diamonds.”  However, one hour later, I still hadn’t heard a single flipping thing from my husband.  I started to wig out that maybe I’d sent it to the wrong person. Dear God, what if I’d accidentally tweeted it?  Or what if his phone was lying on his desk and someone picked it up and saw more of me than they were ever hoping to?  I frantically searched my phone and sent my hubby four different texts to see if he’d ever received it. Thirty AGONIZING minutes later, I finally heard back from him saying he’d been stuck in a meeting but was pleasantly surprised to find my message.  I told him to enjoy it cause the near heart attack he’d given me had pretty much sucked all the fun out of that sexting experience for me.

     So, for now, I think I’d better just stick with my crooked little action shots of the kids and the dog on the old cell phone.  It’d be just my luck that a very incriminating picture of me would somehow end up in the hands of someone like the coach of my son’s baseball team.  Talk about throwing a guy a curve ball….

Big Dick’s

    This weekend we had to take the kids on the dreaded mission of buying new soccer and baseball cleats.  Past experience has proven to us that the best and most economical place around us to purchase said footwear is Dick’s Sporting Goods. Now, call me juvenile, or call me perverted, but I just can’t help but laugh every time we go to Dick’s.  The name just absolutely cracks me up.  And I have to be careful that I make sure to giggle to myself in silence so as not to alert my kids to my junior high gutter mind.  But, seriously, how can you not crack up in a ginormously-sized store called Dick’s that specializes in the selling of balls?

     Every time we go to this mecca of all things sports, I tend to get a little lost in the enormity of this store.  There’s just so much to see, that it’s unbelievable.  Now, I’ve seen a lot of different Dick’s in my time (hee hee), but I think ours is probably the biggest (hee hee).  It’s two stories of everything you’d ever need for every sport ever invented.  And my husband absolutely HATES going there with me cause he says I act like it’s my duty to inspect every inch of Dick’s (hee hee).  I usually end up working my way from the bottom all the way up to the very top (hee hee), even perusing areas with which I have no experience whatsoever.  Can I help it if the super cool camping equipment display makes me want to pop a squat and roast a weiner (hee hee) right there on the second floor?  And I even freaking HATE camping!  I guess Dick’s just really knows how to get your attention.

     We spent a good solid hour before we were finally ready to beat it (hee hee).  And when we walked out of there, we had two new pairs of cleats, some baseball pants, a yoga mat, a pair of warmup pants, and, naturally, a set of golf balls.  Cause what good would a trip to Dick’s be without a shiny new set of balls?