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Oasis in the Summer

Published June 27, 2013 by sarcasmica

If Target had a theme song, that would be considered The Song of My People.

But they don’t, sadly

I was just inside the store with kids both sardine-ed into the cart when my oldest brother called me to talk about some family matters. I’m going through the aisles to pick up my various necessities-that-are-somehow-only-necessities-inside-these-doors, and somewhere around the snack aisle he clues in to where I am finally. He asks, “Who the hell does grocery shopping at Target?”

*crickets*

How is this even a question? I am not understanding the words coming out of the phone. It’s more like who DOESN’T grocery shop at Target ?!

I begin speaking to him like a small dim-witted child.

”  I    grocery shop at Target.”

He was still confused.

“STAY at HOME MOMS shop at Target for ANYdamnTHING”

As i’m trying to keep my cool, i’m looking around and noticing all the moms with now older and varied sized children clinging onto carts and legs and purses, and yet no one is yelling.

Well, one unlucky mom was, but that wasn’t until i got to the other side of the store, and it was short-lived. She was on her way to the toy section.

It is summer in the northwest, people. Even though it’s not July 5th – as i’ve learned is the official start to the season – school is OUT! Where do we universally flock to for an hour of minimally bothered calm and reflection while still able to pick up medicine, meat, milk, and a toy while sipping a freshly brewed/blended/muddled Starbucks?

say it with me now…

Target !

This is our haven. Our meeting place. Our watering hole, if you will. As i explained to my uninformed male sibling, where else can you pick up all the necessities and still keep your sanity? There is bribery for everyone involved. For some reason, the grocery store has a kriptonian effect on my sanity with my children, and their ability to not be annoying.

Maybe it’s the wide aisles, or the various Targets located throughout the store to continually hypnotize all inhabitants, it works, so we go.

It is especially useful on days like today. Days when mommy has PMS, and is staring down another weekend with the husband leaving town for two weeks, nothing to make for dinner at home, and both kids home all. day. long.

If they had a walk-up bar, it would be heaven on earth.

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You’re a Dirty Hooker

Published June 23, 2013 by sarcasmica

This is the story of my adventure at the doctors office recently. Earlier this week, my husband came home from a business trip not feeling particularly fantastic. Being the logical man he is, he went into work anyway for two days. We had family coming in from out of town and he wanted to get all his work done before they got here. Just to solidify his working and feeling crappy, he went ahead and also went to bed at midnight or later each night. Wednesday comes around and lo and behold its time to call the doctor.
He comes home with a typical story that i’m certain is exaggerated slightly totally accurate about how though he doesn’t have tonsils, it looked like strep throat. The culture came back inconclusive, so lab test will be done.
So last night im awoken from my slightly feverish slumber to a burning engulfing flame in my throat.
great.
I wake up and look to find tiny white spots near my tonsils. I make an appointment and they tell me I have to wear a mask after i get off the elevator
First off, how do they know im not taking the stairs?!
secondly, are you f-ing kidding me?!
This is where i begin to talk myself out of the appointment. surely my throat doesn’t hurt THAT much! Then i begin thinking about the completely unnecessary mandatory weigh in and im ready to call the whole thing off!
The poopy diaper, bickering kids, sick husband and laundry pile convince me to go.. err, i mean concern for my health and those around me.
I get off the elevator, grab the damned mask and walk the hall to my doc’s office like a bird flu refugee.
No one else is masked.
Why the f are all these people at the doctors office if they are well and not contageous?’
They are regarding me like a walking cadaver. horrified. the staff is making a giant circle around me to hand me paperwork to sign.
I had an urge to rip off the mask and start cackling just to check their reflexes
Maybe add some red lipstick for effect
Anyway, after heading back, im asked repeatedly if ive been exposed to someone who has it
Now, do i go into the story of how my husband tells me he has a super bug, or do i just say yes.
i just said yes.
then its time for the culture. the masked assistant whips out a yardstick qtip and asks me “do you have a strong gag reflex?”
this is a trick question
if i say no, im a dirty hooker
if i say yes, im a pussy
so i say, im good, its not a problem. i went for vagueness so she could draw her own conclusions about me
then she asks if she can use both swabs at once
what am i, a porn star?!
but i’d rather go through it only once so i tell her to go for it
she stands in front of me like an umpire staring down third base
i realized as she’s wiping the back of my head from the inside with a yard stick, the posture is to run in case i vomit in her face!
which i didnt.. because im a rock star.
a porn rock star!

I didn’t feel like she got all of my throat, but what do i know? Also, no one ever used a flashlight to look at my throat. They all had masks, and looked sideways down my throat as if looking into the eye of a basilisk.

turns out i didnt have strep.

I’m not a believer, though. My doc prescribed me some antibiotics in case it got worse over the weekend… and it did. So now i’m taking it. I’m making that effort worth something, damnit!

Promised Land

Published June 19, 2013 by sarcasmica

I’d had this conversation repeatedly with fellow mothers along the road of parenthood. “What is the best age?”
It’s usually asked by someone with deep dark caverns under their eyes, zero make-up, stained slept-in clothes, and a pacifier or bottle nipple hanging out the side of their mouth. I’ve been there. I remember it well.

the answer is “Pre-conception”

Babyville is a heavenly place. Sure, it’s sleep deprived and filled with sometimes constant crying, but you know you can mostly fix it or do something to put a stop to it. Give them a bottle, change their diaper, hand them to a spouse and b-line for the grocery store. Once they start walking and talking, it’s all downhill.

“Terrible Twos” are a myth. Let’s just get that straight right now. The trouble is you don’t realize it’s a myth until you can smell 3 coming down the line. Once into 2-dom they begin to grasp language and really start talking. This translates to a lot of “NO!”s and short bursts of fits. They peeter out of those fits pretty quickly because they are still easily coaxed to distraction. Dangle a snack, or a sippy cup or an iPhone in front of them and they zip it pretty quickly. … or you just throw them into their rooms and let ’em sleep it off. Either way, there’s an escape route from the unpleasantness.

Three, however, begins the long laborious road of the search for the promised land of ‘the perfect age’. When i used to meet moms of older kids when my son was 2 and 3, the first thing i asked was always, “Does it get better?!”  To which i was given a piteous cock-headed head shake and sigh. Three is when they get their defiant legs under them and rrrrreally start testing the waters. They begin to appreciate the different colors mommys face can turn. They like the high pitch mommy’s voice can suddenly take on. And when it’s in a public place?! forgetaboutit! It’s like an amusement park of entertainment to which the little monster gift from heaven is always the center of attention.

My daughter, as you may have guessed by now, is approaching the edge of 2 and readying herself to launch off the cliff that is THREE. She has run out into 2 parking lots already and has begun to understand when i issue a request or order, nothing happens immediately after ignoring me. She’s started the ignore giggle and the emphatic “NO!”s. One of her new favorite phrases is “Don’t worry about it.”  It was cute when it started, but it’s begun to grate on my nerves after she is finally wrestled into her car seat after pretending she’s an ironing board and i’m telling her how disappointed i am in her choice to not behave.

“Don’t worry about it, mommy.”

Four will only get worse from there as it is commonly dubbed “fuckin fours”. As i remember, this is for very good reason.

While there are always parts of every age that are magical and amazing, there are also parts that give you a glimpse into the deepest darkest pits of your own tolerance and sanity. When she is finally potty trained and more independent, it will be a relief to see how independent she will be. The more she understands and connects with her surroundings, the more amazing it is to see things through her eyes.

The more practice her vocabulary gets, the higher my blood pressure will go. The more she voluntarily turns off her hearing, the more my eyes spin to the back of my head.

I think maybe this is a coping mechanism. The more crazy the toddlers make us, the happier we are to send them off to pre-school and kindergarten!

Thank you, thank you very much

Published June 19, 2013 by sarcasmica

Today was my son’s last day of 1st grade !!! …. well, if you don’t count six weeks of summer school he has to do. But we made it! His teacher had a family breakfast in the classroom this morning to which we all actually managed to physically make it there! Shocking.
After getting situated, the teacher comes up to me and tells me how proud she is of my son. How well he’s done. I thanked her and told her I totally agreed. He’s worked really hard. …. then she said it again while deliberately making eye contact, “No really, he’s done a fantastic job. He is a great kid.”

Okay. Is there a bruise somewhere i need to explain? Has he said we’ve begun locking him in the closet under the stairs?

This is the second time this has happened. The first time was with a reading teacher he had for a short time. A man. At another family function, this guy comes up to me to deliberately explain to me how awesome my kid is.

Is there a note on his backpack asking for hugs because his mommy neglects him? I’m so confused. I realize these people might make it a habit to do this with the more challenging kids that require more support, but my mind immediately goes into defense mode.

I never said i disliked my kid or that he’s anything but improved and I’m constantly telling him I love him… peppered with exasperated sighs of “how many times do i have to tell you ….” and “I KNOW i said that in ENGLISH, what’s the problem?!”

Am i missing something? Maybe because i didn’t pack his lunch every day and i got lazy and let him buy lunch most of the time that’s considered lackluster parenting on my part. He’s fed, isn’t he?!

I don’t get it.

Maybe he’s working some angle i don’t know about to get some sympathy … or maybe it’s just that i look so haggard all the time, they want to encourage me to see the bright side. Maybe if i BELIEVE even more than i already do that he’s a stellar kid, i’ll drop him off wearing something other than my PJs and bedhead. Maybe they are coaching me into some eyeliner and a hairbrush ?

sometimes i want to wear a shirt that says, “My husband travels to a different country for weeks at a time. F- off.”

But on the bright side, I have an amazing child that i apparently never appreciated enough … out loud… to total strangers.

 

 

Princesses are NOT full of crap

Published June 15, 2013 by sarcasmica

My daughter is of an acceptable potty training age. According to my mom, she’s about six months past due, actually. Anyway, she’s also of an age where she loves Disney Princesses…. well, two of them at least. Cinderella and Rapunzel. (or “Tangled” as she calls her)

I realized today while taking a shower – where all profound thoughts occur – that I have yet to see a hint of even a bathroom in any of the movies. There’s vanities, there’s mirrors, there’s hair brushes, but nary a toilet to be found.

Is this the new height of perfection? Not only to become a princess – which i do not condone – but to reach such perfection as to not have to defecate or tinkle? What about Tinkerbell ?! I think we should rename her Constipatedbell or BackedupBell. How about ObstructionBell?

The potty charts for these characters abound on the internet. False advertising much? I’m not saying i need to see Snow White squat outside and use a leaf (or Grumpy’s hat) when she’s done, but at least show the bathroom for gosh sakes! Surely they can imagine a royal throne in that imagination bank that is Disney. What about contracting the dirty work out to Pixar? I’d probably prefer a Pixar commode, actually. It would talk and have a suped-up flush a la` Tim Taylor/Buzz Lightyear. You know that puppy would have eyeballs, which could be a skosh frightening. Maybe some pop out wings to ensure you dont tip off the side. That would have come in handy that time my son got out of the tub to poo and his slippery bum landed him IN the toilet.

Listen, I know it’s MY job to potty train my kid, but all i ask is while you are filling her head with other frivolous ideas like  the more the hair, the hotter the Prince you can land and talking to dirty disease-ridden vermin that dress you every day and manage a needle and thread to create clothes, perhaps we can throw a loo off to the side of the room.. with an open door. Nothing wrong with Cinderella scrubbing the bathroom floor before the ball. I’m sure her stepmother would concur.

she showers into a bucket  behind a shade, with birds that have scarves on their heads! really, Walt? we couldn’t fashion a small door and chamber pot?!

You KNOW those mining dwarves could lay down some business in the John like nobody’s business. They are working blue collar men, for crissakes! give them an outhouse or a pull chain!

This one i confess i haven’t actually seen from start to finish since i was probably like 8. .. so about twenty years 😀  But i do not see a chamber pot or urinal under that dais.

While we’re on the subject, it’s a Disney epidemic that spread to The Street. That’s right, Sesame Street. Abby’s flying fairy school does not have potty breaks. I suppose if they have a bathroom, they have to address the fact all the monsters are running around half naked. Since they are covered in fur, it shouldn’t be an issue, but still…. they have mommys and daddys, so i’m guessing there are twigs and berries hither and thither on that block.

What if i’m shopping at Hooper’s Store and i have to pee from all that coffee i had at Big Bird’s house? I’m S.O.L. And we’ve SEEN all the human characters. What do they do when they have to #1 or #2 ? Super Grover doesn’t even have pants, and he flies…. does he just go when the need arises regardless of what he’s flying over?

I could be solving world hunger, or the high crime rate, but no. Hell, i could be helping my son become a better reader and writer, or teaching my daughter her ABC’s, but noooOOOOooo, i’m stuck on the lack of bathroom options in an alternate universe.

I think it stems from my fear of being anywhere at all away from my house and the effects of two pregnancies and deliveries on my body. I’ve now officially reached the outer limits.

competition

Published June 13, 2013 by sarcasmica

You should never compete with your spouse. Unless you are training for a marathon or power eating. But how can you not? I try not to compete with my husband, but after being together 11 years, married for almost 8, 2 kids, 4 states, countless pets, and too many jobs it sometimes sneaks in.
He’s a high level professional in his field. He gets to do cool stuff and his work is eventually seen by (hopefully)  thousands of people. He travels all over and meets a variety of people and professionals in his own field. He brings home a good salary and im blessed enough to be able to stay at home with the kids.
Blah blah, obligatory yada yada yada
So this week he’s at a very high profile gig. He’s wheeling and dealing and networking all day long.
On the rare occasion he calls or communicates, i get a short breakdown of what hes been doing.
What am i supposed to add to that conversation?!
I wiped snot all day today. I picked up my other kid from school and we did homework!
I managed to wash all of the boogers out of the toddler’s hair tonight. Bonus!
Her cold is still lingering, so i haven’t had any outside contact with humans in about 3 days now.
With the exception of the checked out checker at target… and i don’t count her. I’m not sure she even qualified as ‘awake’ when she took my money.
Oh you are getting lots of praise and adulation for all your hard work?! That’s fantastic, babe!
Oh, hang on, one of the animals just shit on the carpet.
Woo hoo!
Ok, please continue with the story of going out to dinner at 9pm with another grown up.
No no, sorry, didn’t mean to yawn. I have to get up when my walking alarm clock opens my door at 6:25am and immediately demands, “get up, mommy! Want sumpin to eat!!”
Oh wow, you’re running late because you got to sleep IN? That’s so rough, honey!
Oh yes. I do miss you. Oh sure, go ahead and get to your next meeting. Don’t let my big important day slow you down.
Oh, if i happen not to pick up the phone next time, check the bank account for a solo, one way flight to Hawaii.

That’ll be me!!

Dear Target

Published June 12, 2013 by sarcasmica

Dear Target,

I’m so sorry I contributed to the spread of germs in your store today, however, I really had no choice! After dropping my son off at school, i was staring down the barrel of day 3 home with sick toddler. I can only look at a snot covered face and the same four walls for so many days. (only 2, as it turns out) I am only human. Much to my own chagrin.

My daughter’s brain is rotting from all the shows and movies i’m freely letting her sniff and cough her way through. How do you say no to watery big blue eyes and “please bomby?” stuffy nose voice?

Have I gotten more housework done than usual? Yes. And i blame the germs for that 100%. This cold is forcing me up to a standard i have zero hope of maintaining.

I’ve also gained 5lbs from not being able to walk away from my refrigerator. And by walk away, i mean there must be a gate and a locked door between us for it not to phase me. My son’s birthday party leftovers have been screaming at me to devour them.

I managed to throw the cake away the next day.

You heard me. I am such a bad ass that i walked that 1/2 of a 1/2 sheet out to the can and dumped it. The body jiggle that accompanied me the entire way drove me even faster to do it.

So you see, Target, I really had no choice. The clincher is the steaming fresh cup of painfully slowly prepared Starbucks that awaits me each time i walk through your doors. Since i didn’t get to sleep until midnight last night, and my snot covered angel woke me up at 6:20, it was dire that i have this. If nothing else, it helped me safely navigate the van all the way back to our house.

Thank you for your understanding and compassion. I will overlook the fact she most likely picked up this ebola-esque virus from one of your jazzy bright red shopping carts in the first place.

Sincerely,

Cabin Fever Mommy

 

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