On my BIG list, of things I envision in our life as the Cleavers, has always been a ping pong table. Why? Damned if I know.
Pool table? Nice, but honestly, you have to have an epic room to have a pool table set up (because no, it will NOT be the centerpiece of the living room). A ping pong table is good clean fun (and pool can be so very dirty...) and would also get Big O and the Honey something that is neither sport NOR Video game.
At our old house a ping pong table was never an option, but this house has a porch that is crying out for a folding green table. With small rubberized paddles (stop that) and featherweight balls that wouldn't damage anything if they got away.
So it seemed like destiny when KMART had a one day special on Friday. Eighty bucks for my slice of the american dream. Now, friends, eighty bucks is nothing--Except for the ever hovering spectre of abject poverty that flashes at the sides of my vision like some evil ghost of christmas future. But Kmart, my friends, specializes in abject poverty. They gots them the lay away. Sheeee-it.
So off I went to squander the extra hour I had, because work let us off early to prepare for the Christmas party. An hour should be long enough to put one item on the lay away, no?
Aw, HELLS NO, y'all.
This is the Central Valley, and I was goin' to the Southside. Unlike the northside Kmart, which they tore down to build a lovely Eddie Bauer/J Jill/ REI complex more in keeping with the Northside's yuppie ideal, southside has their lay away in the same hallway as the bathrooms. Because really, who doesn't want to stand in line as the great unwashed brush much too close to you on their way to and from the facilities?
For the entertainment of the masses, let me present the family Crack. Mama crack needs a bath. A toothbrush. Some basic hygeine. She's waiting for the clerk to fetch her christmas goods from the lay away. I know how to say it now. It's The Lay Away. Daddy Crack is there to move the basket around in random patterns while waiting for the clerk to fill it up. Uncle Crack is bitching about the injuries he got in Iraq--they all think that's hilarious. Oh, he was also in Vietnam and Korea. Uncle Crack looks maybe forty--which means he is probably twenty five in human years, and fifty in crack years. Look! Here comes grandma Crack, who drops off crack baby, because he needs to go. Mama Crack think it's hilarious to shove him into the men's room and kick him in the ass on his way in. She could have been punting a football. Bitch. He's maybe five or six. The clerk has come back with their stuff (finally) and they are poring over their stuff (and props to Crack Parents, they have made sure their kids are getting Christmas). As the clerk disappears to find the next pile of stuff, the sounds of crying come from the bathroom.
"Moooommmaaa.... Moooooommmmmaaaaaa!"
Mama Crack is joking with uncle Crack, and ignores the cries.
"Momma, help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
"WHAAT?"
"IT'S stuuuuck!"
"AAAAAAAIIIIIIII!!!!!!!"
Now he's really screaming.
AAAAIIIIII!!!! IT's Stuck in my butt! MAMA!!!! THE DOOKIE IS STUCK IN MY BUUUUTT!!!!!
MAAAAAAMMAAAAAAAA...The dookie is stuck in my buuuuuuuuuutttt!
I was trapped for almost my entire bonus hour with the family Crack, and the dookie was stuck in his butt.
But my freaking ping pong table is on The Lay Away. I'm so sending the Honey to pick it up.
Showing posts with label Calling Dr Phil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Calling Dr Phil. Show all posts
Monday, December 3
Saturday, August 18
La Virgin de guadalupe quiere mi nina.
Maria wrote a lovely post about her saint candles. I am not Catholic. Not really religious. I was raised Seventh Day Adventist, back when they stuck to their guns and didn't allow vanities like make-up or competitive sports. I am amused to hear from my mom the kinds of things allowed at SDA these days. My parents drifted away when church became more of a social event than a spiritual one. Every once in a while my mom will startle me with a SDA belief or attitude.
My poor MIL is about to have kittens because Little O is still not baptized. My problem is that I am not raising her as a Catholic. The Honey pooh-poohs this as a minor detail, but it's HUGE to me. I may not go to church, but I'm not going to go into the Big Guy's house and LIE. My former SIL is a devout Catholic. We went to church with her on high holy days whether we liked it or not, because she was, for a ll intents and purposes, the Matriarch of the family. I listened to the Catholic Baptism carefully, as Big O was supposed to be baptized, too. You are vowing, BEFORE GOD, that you will raise your child in the Catholic faith. The god parents aren't there as part of your long term planning to care for your child, they are there to impart the Catholic line if you fail in that duty.
Okay, number one, the Catholicism practiced by MIL is markedly different from that of my former sister-in-law. Most of the family doesn't really tow the line in terms of attendance, even, so who would we choose as Godparents? Because proposing the elder sister of my Ex kinda went over like a lead balloon. The Ex thought I could just stand up there with a wink and a nudge to the Big Guy, and I think the Honey is much the same, but I am just not far enough removed from my upbringing to go THERE. If I vow to raise my kid as a Catholic, she will GO to church, and since I am not Catholic, who'd take her?
(cricket chirping)
Bueller?
Having said that, I envy people who have the comfort of religion, because I haven't found anything that really fits. Someday I will explore my bizarre reaction to Judaism, but I'm definitely not a Catholic. It doesn't help that I think Pope Benedict looks evil and creepy. I am sorry that MIL is so unhappy about it.
My poor MIL is about to have kittens because Little O is still not baptized. My problem is that I am not raising her as a Catholic. The Honey pooh-poohs this as a minor detail, but it's HUGE to me. I may not go to church, but I'm not going to go into the Big Guy's house and LIE. My former SIL is a devout Catholic. We went to church with her on high holy days whether we liked it or not, because she was, for a ll intents and purposes, the Matriarch of the family. I listened to the Catholic Baptism carefully, as Big O was supposed to be baptized, too. You are vowing, BEFORE GOD, that you will raise your child in the Catholic faith. The god parents aren't there as part of your long term planning to care for your child, they are there to impart the Catholic line if you fail in that duty.
Okay, number one, the Catholicism practiced by MIL is markedly different from that of my former sister-in-law. Most of the family doesn't really tow the line in terms of attendance, even, so who would we choose as Godparents? Because proposing the elder sister of my Ex kinda went over like a lead balloon. The Ex thought I could just stand up there with a wink and a nudge to the Big Guy, and I think the Honey is much the same, but I am just not far enough removed from my upbringing to go THERE. If I vow to raise my kid as a Catholic, she will GO to church, and since I am not Catholic, who'd take her?
(cricket chirping)
Bueller?
Having said that, I envy people who have the comfort of religion, because I haven't found anything that really fits. Someday I will explore my bizarre reaction to Judaism, but I'm definitely not a Catholic. It doesn't help that I think Pope Benedict looks evil and creepy. I am sorry that MIL is so unhappy about it.
Wednesday, March 28
Thirteen Cases of You Say Tomato
13 Cases of You say Tomato, I say psychopathic/germophobic/unlicensed witchdoctor/craptastic parenting. (Because I AM a perfect parent, thank you, Bre!)
1. By singing along with Carrie Underwood, am I teaching my daughter to be a trashy psychopath? Because that cheating song is catchy and much fun to sing, but if I think about the lyrics, it just screams pSyChO. Don’t know the words? Something like this:
I dug my keys into the side
Of (This/his) pretty little souped up four-wheel-drive
Carved my name into his leather seats
Took a Louisville slugger to both headlights
Slashed a hole in all four tires
Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats. Now I’ll admit to a momentary urge to slap the shit out of the silly bitch when I discovered evidence of the ex’s faithlessness--but then he would have cried, and it was soooo not worth the drama.
2. I was a picky eater. I empathize when my kid doesn’t want to eat something. I’m not making four separate dinners, but I’ll make the kids something if I know we’re having something they find ick. This drives the Honey crazy, since it means that my kids aren’t really game for new exotic foods at his mother’s. I see his point, but man, I was such a picky eater, and I had to take a bite of everything. At least a bite. I would sit at the table for hours facing down my bite of cottage cheese. Eating Cottage cheese was like swallowing vomit to me, and I could not do it. Why my mom loved it so much and served it on a regular basis I cannot fathom
3. Germs. Are you crazy about them? I must confess, I am pretty laid back about it all. I was reading a blog and the author confessed that she took her kids to the “germ pit” aka mall play place. Dude, I love those places. Little O can run herself ragged without having to buy a Crappy Meal.
4. But I am also the one that made the baby’s bottle from tap water. (I heard that gasp of horror) When the time came to switch to formula (Sorry, not a twelve month breastfeeder), I just didn’t see the point in buying special water. I am a big believer in building immunities to the ick of the world through repeated low dose exposures.
5. We don’t do anti-bacterial products in the house, and use them sparingly out in the big bad world. The waterless aspects are too good to pass up, but anit-bac? Not so much.
6. My girlfriend had her daughter on an endless stream of anti-biotic treatments—to the point that she could just call the office and the nurse would call over another re-fill to the pharmacy. No visit, no discussion of symptoms. Isn’t that inherently bad medicine? What if she ever really gets an infection that requires antibiotics? She will be the walking supervirus-resistant to every medicine known to man, baby.
7. I hate the ticklers of the world. When we were kids, there was a man that we adored. But he tickled long past the point of funny or fun. He was not a bad man, there was nothing creepy or inappropriate, he just took things too far. Teasing kids to the point of crying and then mocking them for being babies? Equally Unfunny.
8. Keep track of your children, people. When I worked at B&N, people would drop their young grade schoolers off at the kid’s dept. and go socialize at the other end of the store. WTF? Your cutie pie firstgrader, without an ounce of guile or any natural inhibitions is chatting up the hobo who’d better stop scratching himself soon or I’ll have to intervene. Put down your fricking latte and be a parent. After I left, they were finally allowed to put up signs reminding parents to keep kids in sight. I still see people walk away from their kids. Sigh.
9. Does anyone have superstitious old-world in-laws? Here are a few things that I had never heard of until I gave birth to a Mexican-American princess:
10. Laying a red string on her forehead to cure her tiny baby hiccups. Nobody ever tries to do this to grown-ups, I notice.
11. The belly band to cover the umbillicus until it falls off. Even though they make diapers that go around it, you are supposed to wrap this weird soft piece of material twice around the belly, TIE it to them, and that way you protect the tender belly button. Hey, the BONUS? You then save the piece of flesh that fell off. Is there a spot for that in YOUR baby book?
12. When the soft spot is sunken, it DOESN”T mean she’s getting dehydrated, it means we need to take her to the witch doctor/native (Read unlicensed) chiropractor dude so he can push up on the roof of her mouth and “pop” her soft spot. So you want me to let some guy you know shove his thumb into my tiny daughter’s brainpan?
13. How young is too young to be walking home alone? Too young to be walking on the street AT ALL with no supervision? I live in an okay neighborhood, but Big O is only now (At 11) able to go out and wander the neighborhood without me. I see toddlers out in the yards without anyone out with them. Don’t these people watch TV? Have they ever checked the Megan’s law site for their area? Because I have, and I’m not happy. But at eleven, I can’t really chain him to his bed, and outside activities are healthy. Kids belong outside. We’ll talk about organized sports another day, my friends.
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Saturday, March 10
To answer Stewart:
I have a question. I'm asking this with genuine curiosity. As a parent, exposing an eleven year old is a concern to you. What about violence? Does your child play videogames? Watch violence on TV? What is his exposure to that?
It is the hardest thing about being a modern parent. I try to ensure that he isn't over-exposed, but he's also a curious kid, and there is a lot out there!
I DO try to monitor which video games we bring into the house. When Big O was in the second grade, we took he and a buddy somewhere in my car. The longer I listened, the more appalled I became. Because this sweet cheeked, velvet painting-eyed adorable child in my backseat was spouting absolute garbage from his newest video game, one of the early versions of Grand Theft Auto. gaaaaaah. I was biting my tongue and forming the discussion for later, when my own sweet boy, missing teeth and all, said "really? you get extra points for killing policemen? hah-that's funny!" At which point I pulled the car over and probably scared the other little boy to death explaining how and why that was so NOT funny.
In spite of that lovely vignette, I don't forbid Big O from going over to houses where those games are played, because it IS the modern world we live in. But he knows my feelings on the issue, and knows that those games won't be coming home. (Ask me how bitter I am that Jak & Daxter changed from an adventure game to a cartoon shoot-em-up. No, don't -that would be a whole 'nother post.)
Big O is dying to play games online, and is still forbidden. He hasn't really expressed an interest in a My Space page, thank dog. Is that more of a girl thing? My other attempt at monitoring what he's exposed to is that we don't have cable. Saturday morning is still golden for my kid because that is his weekly dose of cartoons. I don't want to give the impression that he's living in a purity bubble or anything--his father buys him the occasional crap game and takes him to movies that I don't approve of. In a way, I think that's a dad's role, and especially in the case of a divorce, kind of par for the course. I am fortunate that I have a pretty good relationship with his dad still, so when he called me to ask if the 300 might be too much, I could just say "Ya think?" and they chose a different movie. You have to pick your battles.
He doesn't watch medical gore, and the sci-fi violence of Supernatural and Smallville are his favorites right now. I can't keep him cut off from everything, and I'm not sure it would be fair to make him a total social pariah, unable to discuss anything on television except Ugly Betty. He is a big Simpsons fan, and I really debated that, but again, can't keep him away from everything, especially when our local Fox affiliate plays two episodes a day, before I am home from work.
I just want to make sure that I give him age appropriate but still challenging stuff. He has the sense of humor that is sooo ready for Adams, but I got him watching the holy grail not so long ago, and I had forgotten the virgins and the spankings. Not incredibly raunchy by today's standards, but I had forgotten all about it. He's eleven. There is far worse on MTV, I guess. There's such a short window on being a kid anymore, though.
sigh.
There you have it.
It is the hardest thing about being a modern parent. I try to ensure that he isn't over-exposed, but he's also a curious kid, and there is a lot out there!
I DO try to monitor which video games we bring into the house. When Big O was in the second grade, we took he and a buddy somewhere in my car. The longer I listened, the more appalled I became. Because this sweet cheeked, velvet painting-eyed adorable child in my backseat was spouting absolute garbage from his newest video game, one of the early versions of Grand Theft Auto. gaaaaaah. I was biting my tongue and forming the discussion for later, when my own sweet boy, missing teeth and all, said "really? you get extra points for killing policemen? hah-that's funny!" At which point I pulled the car over and probably scared the other little boy to death explaining how and why that was so NOT funny.
In spite of that lovely vignette, I don't forbid Big O from going over to houses where those games are played, because it IS the modern world we live in. But he knows my feelings on the issue, and knows that those games won't be coming home. (Ask me how bitter I am that Jak & Daxter changed from an adventure game to a cartoon shoot-em-up. No, don't -that would be a whole 'nother post.)
Big O is dying to play games online, and is still forbidden. He hasn't really expressed an interest in a My Space page, thank dog. Is that more of a girl thing? My other attempt at monitoring what he's exposed to is that we don't have cable. Saturday morning is still golden for my kid because that is his weekly dose of cartoons. I don't want to give the impression that he's living in a purity bubble or anything--his father buys him the occasional crap game and takes him to movies that I don't approve of. In a way, I think that's a dad's role, and especially in the case of a divorce, kind of par for the course. I am fortunate that I have a pretty good relationship with his dad still, so when he called me to ask if the 300 might be too much, I could just say "Ya think?" and they chose a different movie. You have to pick your battles.
He doesn't watch medical gore, and the sci-fi violence of Supernatural and Smallville are his favorites right now. I can't keep him cut off from everything, and I'm not sure it would be fair to make him a total social pariah, unable to discuss anything on television except Ugly Betty. He is a big Simpsons fan, and I really debated that, but again, can't keep him away from everything, especially when our local Fox affiliate plays two episodes a day, before I am home from work.
I just want to make sure that I give him age appropriate but still challenging stuff. He has the sense of humor that is sooo ready for Adams, but I got him watching the holy grail not so long ago, and I had forgotten the virgins and the spankings. Not incredibly raunchy by today's standards, but I had forgotten all about it. He's eleven. There is far worse on MTV, I guess. There's such a short window on being a kid anymore, though.
sigh.
There you have it.
Tuesday, March 6
Saturday, February 3
I knew I was in trouble when I needed the calculator.
I found this over at Welcome to My Life, Sorry About the Mess. I think I love this lady. Don't tell WHICH ones apply, just fess up to your fine!
Smoked pot -- $10
Did acid -- $5
Ever had sex at church-- $25
Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you -- $40
Had sex with someone on MySpace -- $25
Had sex for money -- $100
Vandalized something -- $20
Had sex on your parents' bed -- $10
Beat up someone -- $20
Been jumped -- $10
Crossed dressed -- $10
Given money to stripper -- $25
Been in love with a stripper -- $20
Kissed some one who's name you didn't know -- $0.10
Hit on some one of the same sex while at work -- $15
Ever drive drunk -- $20
Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while still drunk -- $50
Used toys while having sex -- $30
Got drunk, passed out and don't remember the night before -- $20
Went skinny dipping -- $5
Had sex in a pool -- $20
Kissed someone of the same sex -- $10
Had sex with someone of the same sex -- $20
Cheated on your significant other -- $10
Masturbated -- $10
Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend -- $20
Done oral -- $5
Got oral -- $5
Done / got oral in a car while it was moving -- $25
Stole something -- $10
Had sex with someone in jail -- $25
Made a nasty home video -- $15
Had a threesome -- $50
Had sex in the wild -- $20
Been in the same room while someone was having sex -- $25
Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars -- $20
Had sex with someone 10 years older -- $20
Had sex with someone under 21 and you are over 27 -- $25
Been in love with two people or more at the same time -- $50
Said you love someone but didn't mean it -- $25
Went streaking -- $5
Went streaking in broad daylight -- $15
Been arrested -- $5
Spent time in jail -- $15
Peed in the pool -- $0.50
Played spin the bottle -- $5
Done something you regret -- $20
Had sex with your best friend -- $20
Had sex with someone you work with at work -- $25
Had anal sex -- $80
Lied to your mate -- $5
Lied to your mate about the sex being good -- $25
Ahem! I ended up with a total of $565.
I am soooo tagging CRSE, KIM, Bananas, and "the mind".
You know what? I'm tagging YOU, too! Leave your score in the comments. Tell me somebody else had to get a calculator out!
Smoked pot -- $10
Did acid -- $5
Ever had sex at church-- $25
Woke up in the morning and did not know the person who was next to you -- $40
Had sex with someone on MySpace -- $25
Had sex for money -- $100
Vandalized something -- $20
Had sex on your parents' bed -- $10
Beat up someone -- $20
Been jumped -- $10
Crossed dressed -- $10
Given money to stripper -- $25
Been in love with a stripper -- $20
Kissed some one who's name you didn't know -- $0.10
Hit on some one of the same sex while at work -- $15
Ever drive drunk -- $20
Ever got drunk at work, or went to work while still drunk -- $50
Used toys while having sex -- $30
Got drunk, passed out and don't remember the night before -- $20
Went skinny dipping -- $5
Had sex in a pool -- $20
Kissed someone of the same sex -- $10
Had sex with someone of the same sex -- $20
Cheated on your significant other -- $10
Masturbated -- $10
Cheated on your significant other with their relative or close friend -- $20
Done oral -- $5
Got oral -- $5
Done / got oral in a car while it was moving -- $25
Stole something -- $10
Had sex with someone in jail -- $25
Made a nasty home video -- $15
Had a threesome -- $50
Had sex in the wild -- $20
Been in the same room while someone was having sex -- $25
Stole something worth over more than a hundred dollars -- $20
Had sex with someone 10 years older -- $20
Had sex with someone under 21 and you are over 27 -- $25
Been in love with two people or more at the same time -- $50
Said you love someone but didn't mean it -- $25
Went streaking -- $5
Went streaking in broad daylight -- $15
Been arrested -- $5
Spent time in jail -- $15
Peed in the pool -- $0.50
Played spin the bottle -- $5
Done something you regret -- $20
Had sex with your best friend -- $20
Had sex with someone you work with at work -- $25
Had anal sex -- $80
Lied to your mate -- $5
Lied to your mate about the sex being good -- $25
Ahem! I ended up with a total of $565.
I am soooo tagging CRSE, KIM, Bananas, and "the mind".
You know what? I'm tagging YOU, too! Leave your score in the comments. Tell me somebody else had to get a calculator out!
Monday, January 29
Mother of the Year-Valley Style
I often joke that I'm not sure how I'll get thru Big O's teenage years.
I'm pretty sure it won't be like this:
She's 35, she has a 16 year old son.
For his birthday, she throws him a party.
(So far, I am right there with her.)
In honor of the occassion, she liquors them all up.
(There went the fork in the road!)
Then she throws them all out to drive home.
(WTF?)
Twelve of them get into a serious accident on the way home, injuring 11 out of 12.
(How in the holy hell did they get twelve in a car? Was one of them driving the group-home van?)
WAIT! The hits just keep on coming!
One of the kids let slip that he and the Mrs. did the bone dance while celebrating the birth of her son, his friend. His sixteen year old friend.
(If he had the most exquisite body on earth, it'd still be a teenage boy's body, with all of the skill and control of a ferret on crack--eeeww.)
She is married to a cop in a neighboring town.
(Should I say was?)
Okay, the sex thing is unconfirmed, and I could be wrong that everyone was in one car--maybe it was TWO cars full of drunk teenagers that she sent home once she'd had her fill (As it were).
Ah, life in the great Central Valley of California. From the folks who brought you the kiddie-tackling football coach.
I'm pretty sure it won't be like this:
She's 35, she has a 16 year old son.
For his birthday, she throws him a party.
(So far, I am right there with her.)
In honor of the occassion, she liquors them all up.
(There went the fork in the road!)
Then she throws them all out to drive home.
(WTF?)
Twelve of them get into a serious accident on the way home, injuring 11 out of 12.
(How in the holy hell did they get twelve in a car? Was one of them driving the group-home van?)
WAIT! The hits just keep on coming!
One of the kids let slip that he and the Mrs. did the bone dance while celebrating the birth of her son, his friend. His sixteen year old friend.
(If he had the most exquisite body on earth, it'd still be a teenage boy's body, with all of the skill and control of a ferret on crack--eeeww.)
She is married to a cop in a neighboring town.
(Should I say was?)
Okay, the sex thing is unconfirmed, and I could be wrong that everyone was in one car--maybe it was TWO cars full of drunk teenagers that she sent home once she'd had her fill (As it were).
Ah, life in the great Central Valley of California. From the folks who brought you the kiddie-tackling football coach.
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