Car Carts and Bumper Stickers

My 3 1/2 year old has the memory of an elephant, hence the nickname "Rainman".  Don't judge, it's funny.  At least until she uses that memory against me by saying things like "Remember that time you said the bad words at Daddy?", "Remember the time you sang the song about heiny's?", "Remember the time you promised I could ride in the car cart at Acme?".  Trying to deny any memory of these things doesn't work with Rainman, you have to acquiesce and accept the consequences.

I graciously apologized for the bad words and set parameters for the heiny song (you may only sing it in the bathtub) but damn I cannot own up to promising that car cart ride.

  Hate doesn't even begin to describe my feelings towards these things.  I LOATHE them.  They rank right up there with Taylor Swift, Corona and the smell of patchouli.  I want to find the person who invented them and continuously run them over with its tiny wheels while they listen to kids screaming out grocery store-related demands. "I WANT CUPCAKES!  I WANT ICE CREAM!"

Who made these things?  Some sadistic engineer who wants to simultaneously introduce children to every germ possible while completely embarrassing the driver because of its lack of steering?  They need to come spend the day navigating these freaking unwieldy things down the narrow aisles of a store. 

Seriously, it's a shopping cart, why must it be fun? It's a given your kids are going to act up at the grocery store.  We all do. Its a grocery store, not freaking Chuckie Cheese!  The only kids that sit quietly in the cart are sedated or stuffed full of the M&M's their incredibly smart parent remembered to pack to head of the temper tantrum of the year.  Can't you just let us get through the trip with false threats and bribes instead of making an already crappy errand synonymous with stabbing yourself in the eye with a hot poker!?! Grrrr!

And while I am letting it all out, let me also gripe about the person who created bumper stickers.  I truly am so proud of your honor roll kid, sad grandma died and excited you are an evolutionist but I am not happy with your need to share what's at home in the toy box publicly...

Can't make out the classy gem on this pickup truck?  It reads "My Other Toy Has Tits"  Nice, huh?  The scripted font really sets off the word "tits". 

Let's all be thankful Rainman didn't get wind of this one.  I can hear it now "Remember the time we saw that car with the word tits?".   We are doing nothing educational this summer just so I can ensure she won't be reading that nonsense anytime soon! 

What are your thoughts on car carts and classy bumper stickers? I know you have some.....

Summer's Start

It's been pretty quiet over here at Monkey Momma, here's what the G's have been up to:

S has learned to make noise....and lots of it.  I am convinced that I am incapable of creating a quiet child. She also has started to eat cereal and put on some of that super-cute baby fat.  Ladies at the grocery store exclaim "How cute! I just love those chubby cheeks and thighs".  Just last week I realized they were not talking about me and my super-cute post-partum fat.  DAMN! 

D started a new form of communication. It includes screaming things like, "OH YEAH! OH YEAH!  WHO MADE YOU THE BOSS?".  At this rate, age 15 should be fun.  It also includes having split personality-like conversations with herself and making up words and definitions like "slipper-sip-do".  What is a "slipper-sip-do"?  Why its the things builders use when they are building things for the princesses.  We also began a household chore chart a.k.a. "bribery board". Two days in and she is already trying to negotiate terms.  Last week started swimming lessons and she took to them like a fish, next week starts soccer and lets hope she takes to that like Beckham.  Although with her  ability to walk in to walls and hurt herself putting on socks I am a bit nervous. 

A went on a 4 day golf trip where I am pretty sure all he did was drink beer, eat cheeseburgers and get fanned with grape leaves.  The amazing wife that I am, I completely understand that this was a "career move".  My next "career move" will involve a trip to a caribbean island inhabited only by Jack Johnson and Jason Statham look-alikes.  Back from his trip, A is prepping for his start of a new job.  Preparations include staining the deck, mowing the grass and cleaning the gutters.  Or as I like to say "men's work".   I don't do things that involve outdoors or dirt.  I produced two children in the past 3 years- one of them was almost born outside and it is definitely dirty work so I totally pull my weight around here.

C has been up to her usual antics.  These include almost peeing on the babies head, eating curtains, hiding in the bathtub on windy days and setting a world record for the number of times you can pant during a thunderstorm.   The best we can hope for is this dog makes us some money when she is discovered to be the world's most broken dog. EVER.

Me? Well I continue to live the life of a domestic goddess.  Scrubbing floors, washing laundry, cooking dinner and creating ways to entertain small children all day.  I returned to physical therapy for my back and was reminded of the joys of being bent into compromising positions.  At least Anastasia got an amazing apartment and tons of money as part of the deal.  I got a t-shirt emblazoned with the physical therapy logo that shows off my gut and a $25 co-pay per visit.  Woop! Woop!  Summa, summa, summa-time!

I'm off to the kiddie pool....

"Life's a sport, drink it up!"

I recently read an article about a group of newly graduated high school seniors arrested for concealing alcohol in Gatorade bottles while celebrating "Senior Week" at the local beach.  Their attempt to avoid open container laws was appalling to the author but I found it a bit inspiring.   GASP!  That's right- law abiding, rule following, non-jaywalking Monkey Momma wants to hide alcohol in a Gatorade bottle and chug it like a college freshman at their first keg party.  What brought on such a radical thought?  A family trip to the beach.

Like a caravan making its way across the Sahara, we decided to venture to the beach this weekend with a 3 year old and 3 month old in tow.

If this picture could talk it would be a 3year old screeching,

"The sand is hot!" after insisting she did not need her shoes. 

We arrived at our sandy destination prepared for diaper explosions, wardrobe malfunctions, boredom, hunger, general discomfort ranging from sand irritation to cold ocean water, hair styling, photo-ops, vomit, bugs and sun exposure. We also brought along various things to sit on or in, a surfboard and two alternative water sources.  Did you notice I said "surfboard"? That's right, Miller gets to escape the mayhem while I play sand remover, entertainer and waitress. Motherhood is a hobby, right?

Some may argue that I am spoiling my children by bringing all this crap to the beach but truthfully I don't want them to cry and for everyone to look at me. I can't handle that on top of trying to keep sand off of me and suck in my belly.  

This kids got nothing on how ugly it could get if we don't bring the kiddie pool, 32 barbies and the portable shower to the beach. 

An hour into the trip, which involved bouts of screaming by each member of the family,  we waved the white flag of defeat and packed it in.  With promises of a new pool to play in at the house D begrudgingly got in the car.

Talk about a lucky kid, I proudly got her a new blue pool which I boasted would be "AWESOME!".  We got home and Miller blew it up.  

Hmm, since we weren't planning on doing backyard circus dives this was the ultimate back fire.


An hour, lots of tears and a new pool later D and I put our feet up and lounged in our beach house paradise....while I chugged a Gatorade Senior- Week style.  We will try the beach again next week.

Its been a few weeks, but I am back to hang out at yeahwrite.