Friday, January 08, 2010

Because I'll Forget If I Don't Write Them Down

Little Man still manages to amuse, entertain and amaze me every day. His logic and smarts are amazing, and yet, I am reminded that he is still only four-years old in some of the things he says.

Here are some of my current favorites, and translations where necessary:

- "I magicianed it": I made it disappear; said about objects he hides under a blanket or food that he's eaten.

- "Just put it on the kids' chanimal": said instead of channel.

- "I'm fixin' to...": This is clearly a Texanism rather than a Little Manism but it drives me bonkers (no offense to my Texas readers). For those of you from outside of Texas, it means "I'm about to (do something)", as in "I'm fixin' to go to the potty." I don't say this. Just like 'ya'll' probably won't ever roll off my tongue. And yet my child says it. Part of the whole nurture vs. nature thing, I guess.

- Yesterday, Little Man was playing with his Mr. Potato Head. He asked me what Mr. Potato Head was even for. I told him that it was just a fun toy to use your imagination. Tiny Man, a.k.a. Godzilla, comes along and begins to try to rip off body parts of Little Man's Mr. Potato Head, which resulted in Little Man screaming "stop it, Tiny Man, you're ruining my imagination!"

- Little Man was telling me this story about how his teacher has begun handing out stickers to all of the kids who completed all of their work. I asked him if he had gotten a sticker.


- How come?

- I didn't finish my work.

- How come you didn't finish your work?

- I just didn't want to."

Alrighty then. Apparently stickers are not the way to my child's heart.

- The other night, upon finding out that I was making Mac & Cheese (the kind in the box, don't judge me, yo. In my defense, I make the organic boxed kind, so they're organic weird ingredients.)

"Yay! I love your mac and cheese!

- Well, I'm glad!

- Yeah, you're the best cook, I also love your hamburgers and your hot dogs!"

If Iron Chef over heard this conversation, I'm guessing they won't be calling anytime soon. For the record? I also make some pretty great fancy stuff. But apparently, none of that has made it on my four-year old's top three favorite recipes list.



Tuesday, January 05, 2010

A Letter to The Terrorists

Dear Terrorists,

I'm writing you this letter, because I assume that you read my blog faithfully. You do, don't you? Surely you need funny stories about bald eagles and baby poop in between stupid plots, don't you?

The reason I'm writing you is that I wanted you to know that I've officially decided that I hate you. I mean, it's not like I really liked you before, what with your only mission in life being blowing innocent people up, but if you ever thought I was on the fence before, well, let me clear it up for you. I. Hate. You.

Seriously, why is it you have to try to do something on a plane every time I'm out of the country. There was the time Sweetie Pie and I were in France and one of your buddies tried to light his shoes on fire. Yeah, it was really fun to fly out of the same airport two days after that. Oh, and for the record? Now my kid's light-up shoes practically caused the terror risk to be raised to red, because wires in shoes look mighty suspicious now. The good news is, his anal cavity is squeaky clean now.

So now, you go and decide that lighting up underwear is the way to go. Which means that my 7:45 a.m. flight was delayed by almost two hours, because it was taking people more than three hours to get through security.

And this is where I want to tell you you've messed with the wrong bitch, you little fundamentalist bitches. I had to get up at 4:20 in the morning to make that flight. In case you don't know this about me, I'm not happy at 4:20 in the morning.

I then had to go through security with a cranky husband and two young children, an ordeal that took 50 minutes, and it was that short because we were in the express lane for families with babies. Express my ass, is what I say.

And then, because of you, my children weren't allowed toys, blankets, nothing for the last hour of the flight. You clearly don't have children you fuckers, because if you did, you'd have enough consideration to not make the air safety people come up with the kind of rules that will make any mother try to smash her way through that tiny little airplane window.

Do you know how my kids ended up entertaining each other for about 30 minutes of that last hour? By beating the crap out of each other.

And since I was beyond caring at that point, I let them, I'll admit it. I let my kids just beat the shit out of each other because they were laughing and I figured there was bound to be a doctor on board, I know this from my flight attendant years.

So you see what you've reduced me to, you stupid terrorists? Probably one of my worst moments as a mother, and the bar wasn't even open for me to pretend I was somewhere else.

So how about you morons quit it and leave us travelers alone, ok? Because the airlines can barely keep their planes working, the weather is always plotting to shut down airports and there are about 100 other reasons for flights to be delayed. Last thing I need is you to freaking jump in the madness.

I hope you die in a pool of your own vomit,


Saturday, January 02, 2010

A Recap in Bullets

I promise that as part of my new year's resolutions I will be posting more, but I'm hearing the kids make noise over the baby monitor, so my time here is very limited today.

1. We went to Canada for Christmas. It was cold and snowy. But yet, it still doesn't feel as cold to me as a cold day in Texas. Yes, I realize this is all in my head, when we had -10 in Canada and 'cold' in Texas is 38.

2. Tiny Man has been so grumpy during the past two weeks, including the past week when I've been off work and home with both kids that when he shoplifted a crayon last week, I seriously considered turning him into the cops, just so I'd get a few days of peace and quiet without a toddler robot following me around the dirty house screaming 'MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMMAMA!"

3. Little Man made a joke about me making frogs for dinner the other night and I told him that he is half-French and that French people do eat frog legs. The look of horror on his face was so funny that I seriously wish that I'd had the Flip camera.

4. Speaking of Flips, I got one for Christmas from Sweetie Pie and holy freaking crap, am I ever in love. Why didn't I get one of these 10 years ago? And any of you moms out there who don't have one, trust me, return all of your other gifts and trade them in for a Flip.

5. And to have one more bullet about the Flip, I shot a video of Little Man and I tubing, and pointed the camera down the slope so that you'd get our perspective flying down the thing. When I played it back at the bottom of the slope, I realized that I'd never been on the tube, that my mother was the one riding with Little Man. Or I should say, my half-terrified laughs and screams sounded just like my mother. Scarier than any horror film I've ever seen.

6. I learned that payback's a bitch. After making fun of my pregnant sister's unmaintained bikini line, referring to it as the heart of the jungle, and blaming her lack of grooming for the fact she couldn't get pregnant (seriously, if you saw that thing, you'd be convinced her husband's sperm got lost on their futile mission to the egg too), she was with me in the bathroom and saw my bald eagle, and proceeded to tell everyone in the family I look like a 10-year old girl. I admit that I deserved that.

Hope everyone is ready for 2010. Tiny Man resolves to look like this all the time.

Because the rest of the time, he looks more like this.