1. When I told Dave about the DRTBAG license plate, he suggested that maybe this guy meant “Dr. Teabag.” As if that’s better.
2. Gabby hurled her Weenie Wednesday hot dog and fries all over the van; also the Target parking lot; also Addie J’s feet as she sat helpless and freaking in her carseat. I told you guys that my kids puke more than any other kids in the history of the world.
3. Okay, three things: as I was trying to clean out the car, Addie J revealed that she had strung her gum ALL OVER HER CARSEAT AND HERSELF AND THE ACTUAL SEAT OF THE VAN, AD TOTAL NAUSEUM. I think I’ll just pour some gasoline over the whole thing and light a match.
Addie J fell asleep in the car, then woke up filled with distress. “MOM!!!! MOMMY!!!!!!” she started shrieking. I was all, “It’s okay, J, I’m right here,” trying to reach her leg and drive at the same time. But she totally and vehemently rejected my overtures. You see, in the dream she was having, I was apparently running away from her. And that is unforgivable, whether it was real or a dream. Didn’t matter how many times I said, “I would never run away from you, Addie,” the immutable response was always, “But you DID!!!!” –with fresh wails. I even pulled over, got out of the car, and tried to talk her off the ledge… no. freaking. dice. The other two kids were highly sympathetic to Addie J, to the point of Gabby sighing philosophically, “Well, Mom– you probably shouldn’t have run away.” If looks could kill, Gabby would have burst into flames.
The moral of the story here is that, if your kid wakes up inconsolable because, in her dream, you ran away from her– don’t exacerbate the situation by defending yourself. Just apologize. It would be much faster.
Also, an aside to the dude driving the car in front of me with the license plate “DRTBAG:” you may not want to advertise that, kid. I’m not sure that’s attracting the hot chicks like you and your friends imagined it would, that one night at Taco Bell. Just sayin.
During this time, the coach was explaining the plan for the entire week. Addie J heard nothing as she was busy tracking the progress of a pillbug.
Addie J had her very first soccer camp this morning. She’s in that camp with the charming young gentlemen from Ireland or England, who have snazzy accents and lots of patience.
Based on this morning’s performance from the J, I’m putting $100 on Coach Darren quitting before the week is up. She’s not defying him or anything, she’s just…. being Addie J. Here’s an example: the whole time Coach Darren was patiently, charmingly explaining the next activity, Addie J was avidly watching a custodian carry a length of PVC pipe into the school. Then they began the activity and she shouted, “WAIT!!!!! You didn’t tell us what to do!!!!!!” Speaking of his charming accent, she also told him she “can’t understand you voice. Why are you talking like dat???” and inexplicably asked him for a sucker at least five times.
Poor kid; whatever they’re paying him, I am CERTAIN it isn’t enough.
At a restaurant last night, Gabby told Dave she needed a new straw, because the one she was using had touched the table and “now it’s not clean anymore. Also can we please clean these crayons with antibacterial?”
Yes, this is all my fault. AND YET: even while I was all, “No, Gabs, it’ll be fine,” part of me was in total agreement with her. Maybe I need professional help….. and when I get it for my germophobia, I’ll also see if my therapist can help reverse the damage created when a friend of mine told me a really, really gross story about Cheez-Its (which I used to love and now can only adore from afar).
In other news: I let Jill drink from my Diet Coke last week and I didn’t even throw it out afterward. Progress!!!!!!!!!
…..from our last two days in the city. On Tuesday my mom, Jill and her girls accompanied us to the Field Museum. Then the kids and I plus Cammy’s friend stayed overnight downtown and spent Wednesday kicking around the city. Here is some of the crap that went down:
1. Addie started the trip by skidding about 6 feet on the sidewalk on her bare knees. Later, we discovered the hotel pool was essentially a vat of chlorine bleach when she jumped in and immediately started screaming “MY EYES!! MY KNEES!!! MY EYES!!!!! MY KNEES!!!!!!!!!”
2. She was right, though. My contact lenses dissolved and the pieces spot-welded themselves to my retinas. Plus, now it seems like I’m a natural blonde.
3. While we were at the Field Museum (meaning: while I had other adults there), the kids didn’t really need to use the restroom. But the minute we went off on our own, the public dumps began. We went to the restroom in Gino’s East 3 times; also the restroom at Baksin Robbins; also a pit stop in the hotel lobby. And that was only for the girls over a 4-hour time span.
4. But the boys didn’t spare me, either. As soon as we returned to the hotel and I got into the shower with the girls, both boys had what they called “butt emergencies.” (Now, I want you to think about this: one hotel room. One bathroom. One adult, who is currently standing naked in the shower of that one bathroom with two naked girls. And one of the boys in question is not related to any of them.) I was standing there thinking to myself, “No one told me I would have to figure out how to go downtown with the kids, without having to register as a sex offender.”
5. I slept with Addie J and Gabby. Or I should say, I clung to the edge of the mattress, thinking about all the articles I’ve read recently about bedbug infestations, while the girls kicked me repeatedly in the neck, back and face, then whined while still half-asleep, “Moooom– I have no rooooooom!!!!” At one point I looked at the clock, thinking surely it was almost dawn and I could just get up…. it was 2am.
6. I did get some sleep between 2 and 5, though. I was awakened at 5 by one of the girls copiously wetting the bed.
7. On Wednesday we went to the History Museum, out to lunch and then to Lincoln Park Zoo. When we got home, just because I’m like the nicest person ever, I took them to see “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.” All four kids then informed me that THAT was the best part of the trip.
8. My favorite part of the trip? After we dropped off Cammy’s friend at home, during the 5-minute ride to our house, Gabby said from the back seat, “Mom? Can we do something when we get home, like go out or something? Because we never do anything.” As God is my witness.
We took the kids miniature golfing this evening– or more accurately, we took the kids “Whack a Golf Ball Repeatedly Into the Stream and Take Turns Realizing You Need to Poop”-ing this evening. On the way home, Gabby asked me if there was such a thing as mini golf when I was a kid. “Yes– but there was no such thing as a DVD player and cartoons were only aired on Saturday mornings,” I replied. This was met with appalled silence. Then they started asking me what other basic necessities of life I was lacking in childhood. “Was there no such thing as an mp3 player?….. Was there no such thing as a Wii?…. Was there no such thing as a phone?” and on and on.
Then Gabby said, “Mommy, was there no such thing as no such thing?” ….. and, WHAM! I was pulled straight into the vortex of that question. I was too busy working out the logistics of the question to even answer it. Dave said, “Wow– she’s really got you there, huh?”
And seriously. I ask you: how the hell was I supposed to answer that??
….is to never again run a 5K in 90-degree heat and 600% humidity.
Even if there IS a beer tent afterwards.
Actually, ESPECIALLY if there is a beer tent afterwards.
And on a possibly related note: if anyone at the beer tent found $80 in cash on the ground, that was mine. I am sure whoever found it is a Good Samaritan and will be happy to leave it on my doorstep with no reward expected. I’ll go hold my breath and wait for that….
Gabby came running into the house the other day. I was on the phone, so she waited, visibly vibrating with excitement. When I got off she said, “MOM!!! MOM!!! Can I have some ice cream from the ice cream truck?!?!!?!”
“Not today,” I said, mentally cursing the ice cream truck and the lure of that freaking song it plays.
“But MOM!!!! He just wants to GIVE IT TO ME!!!!!” she answered impatiently, literally dancing on her toes. Now I was wondering if I needed to call the police. “What do you mean, honey?” I asked…..
“Well,” she explained, “I was just standing on the sidewalk, and the ice cream man stopped and told me to go ask my mom if I could have some ice cream. He wants to give it to me, Mommy!!!!!”
Needless to say, this was not the case. I spent about 10 minutes discussing free trade with a child who clearly felt I was cheating her out of something. We even went outside to talk to the guy in the truck, but he must have caught my “I think you’re a dick and you’re about to hear all about it” vibes, because I saw him driving down the street when we came outside. Seriously, man: that is a crap sales approach. All you did was psych out a little girl and piss off her mother.
And by the way: your ice cream selection sucks. And would it kill you to keep it cold enough not to immediately start dripping?
We all know that Addie J is prone to dressing herself up in random outfits. But she’s added the extra-special step of walking up to me, striking a pose, cocking her head, and crooning, “Stylish!!!!!”
I’ve asked her several times who taught this to her, and she’s being pretty cagey. I also asked the other two and they honestly don’t seem to know. Please, dear Lord, let this be something someone has taught her and not something she came up with. I’m not up to the task of raising Cher from the movie Clueless.
However, I do love this movie. This is one of the 5 movies that I will always choose to watch, no matter what point in the film, if I see it while surfing channels. (Another of my top 5 is Con Air. Don’t judge me.)
Oh my God, I’m in a rage all over again from just rereading one of these archived posts about trying to get a cup of coffee. I’ve added some new archives here, and fair warning: there’s an involved discussion of breast pumps contained therein.
In other news: I have this giant ENORMOUS bug bite on my arm. It does not itch at all, which means that it’s more than likely some kind of deadly spider bite, and I have like 48 hours to live. So if you need anything from me, be sure and ask today or tomorrow.
Speaking of which, an aside to those of you who sent me notes last week: I skimmed them all on Friday, then did something terrible to my phone and Dave had to get me a replacement, so I lost the messages. Can you all re-send???
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