Sunday Shitlist

I meant to post this yesterday, what with Sunday being some kind of special day for the Catholics or whatever, but I am posting it now so instead of Saturday Shitlist (which I hope to make a weekly thing) I am going to have a Sunday Shitlist of all the thing that have made it onto my list this week.

In no particular order:

1. Kids' haircut places. Can someone (a-hem...BEN) explain to me why we keep taking her to this place? First off, we waited for OVER AN HOUR when there was literally two kids ahead of us and there were at least 4 employees randomly milling about the place. They have these terrifying mascots that are hair implements come to life (an animated blow dryer? Really?) and show these characters in cartoons that Lila doesn't even watch because they're so lame. Oh, and lest I forget that it also cost me $22 with a tip and they didn't even wash or blow dry her hair. Why didn't we just go to Supercuts?

2.  Twitter. Everyone is on Twitter.  Everyone needs to be on Twitter.  So then why is the only interesting thing I have come across on Twitter in the last week when I was actually TRYING to get into Twitter coming from OMGFacts?  Seriously.  I am over Twitter.  Even Charlie Sheen isn't interesting on Twitter anymore.
3. The Cold Virus. I am extremely lucky that my kid doesn't get sick all that often. But when she does, she is the most miserable asshole on the planet. She refuses to sleep (or even sit still) and whines because she doesn't feel like playing and I can't do anything but sit on front of her and beg her to stop whining because the sound of it the inside of my head (and my womb) shrivel up.

4. The Irish. YES! We all get it. You're Irish. Well, no. You're not. You're ancestors were Irish. You're a dumb drunk! With a gigantic Irish-American population, Syracuse NY does not celebrate Saint Patrick's Day. Syracuse celebrates Saint Patrick's WEEK. And the official Thursday tide of green beer was washed from the sidewalks JUST IN TIME for the stupid NCAA tournament to start. I apologize to all of you who love the Irish and college basketball, but I fucking hate drunks. Particularly when they are blowing off fireworks outside the bar around the corner from my house or are running out into the street yelling and puking.

5. "Anonymous" comments. Please don't tell me that all my frustration "just sounds like bad parenting". It is. I am a terrible parent sometimes and I blog about it because I care. HOWEVER, because I am SURE you either have no children, or are one of those part-time dads (Oh, I KNOW YOU'RE MALE) who left before the real fun started, I think you are blind to the reality of being the "Mommy". Because kids save ALL THE BULLSHIT for the Mommy, no matter how fucking awesome she is.

6. Depression. I don't want to get into it, but Depression deserves to be on the shitlist for a variety of reasons.

7. Snack foods that are obviously laced with Angel Dust. Why the hell else would my kid turn into a raging maniac after polishing off a pack (containing, like, 4) Alvin and the Chipmunks "fruit snacks". You should just call them "meth snacks" because I am convinced that's what they are.

8. Boobs. No one told me that when I got fat enough for my boobs to grow that I would need to sleep with a pillow propped under them if I was a side sleeper. And do you guys know what happens when you wake up and you've been laying on your side for hours with no pillow? Pain. Like having barbels hanging from your armpits, draped across your body.  And the stifness in your breastbone like it has been folded in half.  Oh, this also happens with belly fat. Its fucking ridiculous and since I don't believe in diets I guess I need to figure something out.

9.  THIS WHOLE THING:   



Oh, Barry.  What happened to what we had?




 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Just Trust Me

Three year olds do NOT like changes in their routines.  Actually, they don't generally feel so happy about things that ARE routine either, but that's another post.

Every day after work, I pick Lila up and we drive home the same way.  We take the back way, BEHIND the diner, over the train tracks, past the furniture store, over the bridge with the trains parked underneath, and onto the highway.  From there we drive past the lake and through downtown until we get to our exit and during that time, I usually have to answer a thousand questions about my day, the trains, traffic, the mall, birds, skyscrapers and anything else that Lila happens to think of as her mind wanders through our regular route.

But today is special.  It is November and Thanksgiving is next week so I know something that she doesn't.  So just as we pass the mall, I get into the right lane and she notices the off-ramp approaching.  I look in the rear-view mirror and see panic in her eyes.

"WHY ARE YOU GOING THIS WAY?" she says, doing her best impression of me when I want her to stop whatever annoying thing she's doing.

"We're taking a detour, sweetie.  I have something I want you to see."  I smile into the mirror as I take the curve a little too fast and come to a stop at the red light under the overpass.

"I don't LIKE detours!  I WANT TO GO HOME! I WANT TO GO HOME!  I WANT TO GO HOOOOOME!!!!"

The light turns green and we take the left turn that will bring it into sight.  "Lila, sweetie.  Can't you just trust me? You are going to LOVE what I am showing you.  If you just stop screaming and acting like a maniac and look up ahead, you will see it in about 30 seconds."

She continues to scream and throw as much of a fit as is possible while tightly strapped into the car seat with her billowy purple winter coat puffing out around the straps.  I see it coming into view, but she refuses to look and keeps yelling at me.

Another red light.

"Lila.  Liii-la. LI-LA!"  She looks at me through the grimacing and pouty face.  I point.  "LOOK."

She isn't really sure what she's looking at yet.  She sees SOMETHING up there...different colors and brighter lights and this is enough to get her to stop the tantrum.

Light turns green.

As we approach, she begins to make it out and I look back again and she's making a little "o" with her mouth now.  "THEY PUT UP THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS!!!  AND THERE'S THE TREE!  AND THEY ARE GETTING READY FOR ICE SKATING!  AND THERE'S DECORATIONS ON THE STREET LIGHTS!"  Now she is smiling.  Not just smiling, but beaming!  "When will they light up the Christmas tree?" She asks, eyes full of anticipation.

"Next weekend," I tell her as I put on my right signal and pull over next to the square.  "Wanna go?"

"YEAH" she says, half laughing and half trying to be cool.

"What do you think?" I ask.  "Wasn't that detour worth taking?  I mean, we can just get back on the highway and not take detours anymore if you want."

"NOOOO."  She says.  "I think we should take this detour all the time!"

"Great," I think.  "So now the normal, quick, easy way home will be the tantrum-inducing detour now."  I realize that dinner is going to be  little later every night.  At least for the next month or so.  But it's worth the look of wonder in her eyes right now.

Find more photos at http://www.davidmetraux.com/centralny.html

This was based on a prompt feom the Red Dress Club about taking a detour.

 

Water Trauma and Other Signs of Insantiy.

There is a new fantastic way I have found to completely traumatize my kid.  I found it by accident, since I NEVER would have seen it as something that would create such an overblown and emotional reaction and I really try not to do it but she is traumatized by it at least a few times every day. 

Every time Lila washes her hands, she ends up coming out of the bathroom having suffered what sort of resembles a total nervous breakdown.  If we don't dry her hands enough, she will cry and shed actual real tears because she says her sleeves are wet.  Apparently she also has super human ability to detect moisture because I almost never feel anything remotely wet and don't really understand why this is so upsetting to her suddenly.

This is a kid who would pull a chair up to the kitchen sink at her grandma's house and come away looking like she was thrown in a pool.  She never wiped her own hands and used to think it was hilarious to run up to me with her wet hands and get her hand prints on me. 

Tonight before dinner, her father went in to "help her" wash her hands (because suddenly she is afraid to do it herself) and she got a DROP of water on her shirt.  She cried and cried and cried and cried.  She cried like someone ran over her puppy, it was so pathetic.  She cried some more, and when I asked her to show me where the water got, she couldn't.  Because her tears had gotten her shirt ALL wet.  Needless to say, we had to change that shirt.

Is this something kids go through or is this just another obvious sign that my kid is going to be insane?

Really? Seriously?

So I was looking through some of my old pics of little baby Lila on my computer and came across my favorite stupid warning EVER.  This was Lila's first ever kiddie pool...I will let the pics speak for themselves.




This is the pool and a not quite one year old baby in it to show scale.
You will note the warning on the front.

 
 





















NO DIVING???  Thanks so much.  I was tempted but now I will resist.

 







I added this one just because it's so fucking cute!



Scream Queen

"Mommy has a headache.  Mommy is REALLY REALLY TIRED and has a headache because I had the WORST day at work.  Let's get your coat on and go home."

Lila just ignored me.  My mother tried.  "Lila, you can come back and play with your (annoying) toy tomorrow.  I will leave it here and it will be here when you come here in the morning."  Nothing.

"Lila.  It is TIME TO GO!" 

That was when the screaming started.  Lila is a gifted screamer.  She started practicing about a week out of the womb and has truly perfected the art of the ear-busting, brain-sterilizing, skull eradicating scream.  Seriously.  When Charlie Sheen said that whole thing about mind-melting, exploded bodies or whatever, I thought of my kid screaming. 

Under normal circumstances, her scream will give a normal, healthy person an aneurysm.  But when you already HAVE a headache it turns it into the most painful, awful blinding kind of headache and you just want to die. 

Lila continued the screaming into the car.  She did it for the entirety of the 15 minute ride home.  I was pretty sure at one point that I blacked out because I have no idea how I got to the exit ramp, but there I was, alive and gripping the steering wheel for dear life at the red light. 

Lila screamed as we pulled into the driveway and then proceeded to continue screaming and then started flailing around as I began to undo her seat belt thingy.  I threatened to leave her in the car and totally saw myself coming out in the morning to a nice sleeping happy kid, but I knew that my neighbors would TOTALLY call Child Protective Services because they would have heard the screaming and thought that my kid's skin was being peeled off by that guy in Silence of the Lambs. 

So I un-buckled her and yanked her out of the car and as she walked into the house she began to calm down.  As she plodded up the steps behind me, she was breathing heavy and whining that she was tired.  And when we walked in the door, she saw her Daddy.  Her eyes lit up.  She put a big smile on her face and ran to him and yelled, "DAAADDDDYYYY!!! I AM SOOOOO HAPPY TO SEE YOU!!!"

"Thanks so much for that." I said to no one in particular.