tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69141460529041710272024-02-19T16:49:50.228-05:00Mom-topiabecause it's all goodMom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-13097469271177882232012-05-10T10:01:00.000-04:002012-05-10T10:01:19.547-04:00What We're Listening To<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The kiddo is really into the Eurythmics. I even bought a CD of their greatest hits.<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-11538935712576981292012-04-27T14:59:00.000-04:002012-04-27T14:59:45.777-04:00You're Not Coming to My Birthday Anymore<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lately Monster has been holding his birthday party over my head. As in, when he gets mad at me, he tells me, "You're not coming to my birthday anymore!" Not just me either. Anyone who pisses him off or looks at him wrong is taken off the list of invitees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today was different though. Today is my birthday and this morning, as he was holding my hand, he told me, "You come to my birthday mama."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And no matter what happens the rest of this day, that will be the best part.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-60445493347906953832012-03-06T15:24:00.000-05:002012-03-06T15:24:31.946-05:00Redefining dating because, like, I have a toddler<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">As a single mom, my social life is reduced to two days per week (which, now that I think about it, is probably way more than a non-single mom has. Haha! Suckers!). Even so, it gets kind of tricky dating someone seriously and trying to integrate that relationship into the routine that goes along with parenting. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The new Beau and I have done romantic grocery shopping together (only, I’m being totally sarcastic about the romantic part), he’s met my friends at dinner/play dates, and when we watch movies together, it’s usually Monster’s choice. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">This past weekend, I lured the Beau the 40 minute drive to my houes with the promise of a roasted chicken dinner, home made by me. When I picked up Monster from the Ex, it became apparent that it was going to be pretty hard to pull off what I said I would. First, pick up time is smack dab in the middle of dinner prep time. Second, poor Monster had fallen ill again (this early spring has been my worst nightmare Monster-health-wise). When we got home, all he wanted to do was snuggle with me and watch Toy Story 2. I couldn’t even get up from the couch to preheat the oven without upsetting him. So I texted the Beau, who volunteered to pick up some sandwiches on his way over. At the very least, dinner would be served. After that, though, nothing went even remotely according to a dating agenda.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Because of course, Monster would have tummy troubles. And tummy troubles for him means a desperate attempt at keeping a horrifying and toxic mess from happening all over my house and company for me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I ran upstairs to run a bath and when that was done, Beau carried Monster in outstretched arms and as far away from his person as possible, up the steps. Between the two of us, we managed to remove the diaper and keep the contents from spilling onto everything. And thank goodness there were two of us. I understand now why a child needs two parents. Beau kept watch over bath time while I ran to the store to get constipation-inducing food items. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">After Monster was all clean and pajama-fied, the Beau stuck around for a few minutes before conspicuously looking at the clock and jetting. No doubt to go home, bathe in Lysol and drink himself silly. Probably not at all what he expected when I invited him over for a nice chicken dinner. Sorry babe! Thanks for continuing to call me though. You’re definitely a champ for taking all this on.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-22563682652365192992012-02-02T10:10:00.000-05:002012-02-02T10:10:07.530-05:00Valentine's Day Gift . . . If I can wait until then<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not good with surprises. This is why I like to do my Christmas shopping at the very last minute. I get so excited about the gifts that I want to give them to people right away. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I am not one of those romantic-types. I think that stuff is mostly corny and it makes me uncomfortable but I do love Valentine's Day. I think of it as a little kid holiday though. I love sending Monster to daycare with his little stack of cards for his friends. I love making (and eating) heart-shaped food.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This year, due to Monster's love of <a href="http://mom-topia.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-imagination-saved-my-son-from-life.html">Muppets</a>, I got him this:</span></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizE194qYN4dJRw1elELS0LRyGwKdUPwHH2shp0F6PDcARVC4JysDGTuPGHqPnO0BU_Jv7rhG-qyV_UFD8TrGJnU22zblgOKscCG-L0wsefJAbbmu_NWZBo4HABQHzX9BLfnKdW4-t5EEcV/s1600/Kermit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizE194qYN4dJRw1elELS0LRyGwKdUPwHH2shp0F6PDcARVC4JysDGTuPGHqPnO0BU_Jv7rhG-qyV_UFD8TrGJnU22zblgOKscCG-L0wsefJAbbmu_NWZBo4HABQHzX9BLfnKdW4-t5EEcV/s320/Kermit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But it's so cute, I'm not sure I can wait the almost two weeks to give it to him. The Ex says to just give him the Kermit already as he won't really understand what Valentine's Day is anyway. I'm tempted. Very very tempted.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thoughts?</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-36636550577466468902012-01-31T14:11:00.000-05:002012-01-31T14:11:07.194-05:00How imagination saved my son from a life of crime<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I’m guessing 2.5 is the age kids really start using their imaginations. Actually, probably later as Monster is well ahead of the curve (chuckle). In all seriousness, Monster and I were having a couple of rough weeks. He had been getting some time outs at daycare – mostly for not listening – and evenings had been borderline nightmarish. He was fighting me at every turn. Recently, though (and by recently I mean the past 2 weeks or so), things have been looking up. Ever since he’s assigned everyone he knows a Muppet personality, he been an absolute dream. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Our evenings used to go like this: I would have to carry him kicking and screaming to the car because he wanted to run around in the street in front of the babysitter’s house. Then I would have to hold him down to strap him in his car seat because he would want to drive. I would have to carry him kicking and screaming into the house because he didn’t want to get out of the car. And then he’d hold on to my leg and drag me around while I was trying to make dinner unless I would turn the TV on immediately.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Now that he has adopted the Kermit the Frog personality, he’s been much easier to get along with. As long as I address him as Kermit or Kermie, he’s happy. He’s even happier if I use my Miss Piggie voice to do so. He plays nicely by himself while I make dinner (no need to turn the TV on – win!) and doesn’t throw a fit when it’s time to go take a bath or go to bed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Every morning I would drag him (you guess it!) kicking and screaming out of the house to go to the babysitter’s but once she became Gonzo and her house became The Muppet Show, it’s been no problem. And while at Gonzo’s, he’s been less ornery and happier. As long as he gets to give everyone a hug and a kiss goodbye, he leaves nicely too. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Clearly his imagination has given him the tools he needs to exert his will without fighting with the rest of us. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Just last night, as he was going to sleep, I could hear him conversing with who-knows-who, saying, “I’m Kermit.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“No, I’m Kermit.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“I’m Fozzie Bear.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“No, my dad’s Fozzie Bear.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">And then he was asleep, without fuss or fight.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">So nice that he’s using his imagination for good, not evil. At least for now.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-53666051232265824132011-12-23T13:29:00.000-05:002011-12-23T13:29:57.707-05:00Toddler Holiday Quirks<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This Christmas season has been such an experience! It's really the first year Monster has been able to understand and participate. He learned about Santa and wish lists and Christmas trees and reindeer . . . the whole shebang really. What I find most hilarious and endearing are the little holiday quirks he's already developed.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like, he has no idea that the Grinch turns good at the end. Which, if you ask me, is pretty much the whole point of the story. But Monster seems to think the story focuses on how sad Max (the dog) is which is a valid point. Throughout the whole ugly business of that Grinch stealing Christmas, the only time Monster expresses outrage is when he removes the star from the Who tree. Which leads me to . . . </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Monster thinks the only ornament allowed on a Christmas tree is a star. I mean, obviously a string of lights is ok but anything else he pulls off and throws to the floor. This is why I'm glad I had the <strike>lack of preparation</strike> forsight to not have ornaments. 'Cause they would be broken. Even the ornaments he makes at daycare aren't acceptable adornment.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One can only sing Jingle Bells if one is wearing a Santa hat. So, I got him a Santa hat except that, when we were out getting our tree, he got to wear his cousin's Santa hat and now he thinks that's his and any other hat I try to bestow upon him is 'mama hat' and therefore unacceptable. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Quirks and all, this Christmas is going to rule! Happy Holidays to you and yours!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From me and mine</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-65626697861058278432011-12-02T13:29:00.000-05:002011-12-02T13:29:46.109-05:00Every Extra Second<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One thing I was happy I did this morning, even though it took seemingly FOREVER, was to let Monster help me scrape the ice off the windows of the car. Really all he did was hold the scraper while I did most of the work, but he was so happy to help and it kept him from running away behind the house again.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I'm lucky to have a job that is flexible so that I don't have to rush Monster into the car and to the babysitter's. We can take a bit of time to snuggle on the couch, play <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/gruffalo-julia-donaldson/1100470690?ean=9780142403877&itm=2&usri=gruffalo">Gruffalo</a>, or scrape the car windows.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">I love every extra second. Well the pleasant ones anyway.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-57932460761873832662011-11-30T09:35:00.000-05:002011-11-30T09:35:50.952-05:00How Much Is Too Much?<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had a strategy for Christmas this year: buy throughout the year so as not to stress or go bankrupt. When I saw different things on sale, I'd pick them up for Monster. The problem is, now I have a ton of presents for him and I'm wondering if it's too much. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The custody schedule is such that Monster will be going with the Ex at noon on Christmas Day so chances are good he won't even get to all of his presents before then. He still hasn't caught on to the whole present thing. He opens one and plays with it, ignoring all those still wrapped. I'm fine with that, don't get me wrong. I'm just wondering how it will go on Christmas morn.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What's an appropriate amount of gifts for a toddler? What's everyone else doing?</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-78700245932748323172011-11-18T13:40:00.000-05:002011-11-18T13:40:26.932-05:00A Very Muppet Thanksgiving<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I was a kid, my parents alternated holidays with my brother and I. And since my dad's family is all out West, we always had a very casual and untraditional day with him. Thanksgiving meant we were at the movie theater. I loved it. It's one of my favorite childhood memories.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then I became involved with a man who has two children whom he has every Thanksgiving. This meant that we always went to his parents' house. Don't get me wrong, the food was always delicious and we had a great time, but I did start to miss my own family's celebrations.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This year, however, Monster is with the Ex for Thanksgiving (I had him for Easter). My mom postponed our family's dinner until Friday which frees up my Thursday. I am honoring my father by heading to the cineplex and enjoying The Muppets. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm sure I will be a bit sad thinking of Monster being elsewhere but a Jason Segal-written Muppet movie will ease those blues for a few hours, at least. I love all things Muppets. From Fraggles to Ewoks, the Dark Crystal to Labrynth, Yoda to Cookie Monster; I still remember what it felt like as a kid to watch them. I feel the same way all these millions of years later.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This year, I'm not thinking of Thanksgiving as a tragic separation between my son and myself, but as a wonderful opportunity to relive a bit of my own childhood.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">PLUS, I can pretend I'm in college again by getting extremely drunk on Wednesday night -- yet another delightful Thanksgiving tradition.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-78371182244614196682011-10-26T12:51:00.000-04:002011-10-26T12:51:46.132-04:00It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I LOVE Halloween! What a wonderful holiday. Maybe it's because it's during a wonderful time -- Fall. Maybe it's the candy. Maybe it's the costumes. Maybe it's the fact that I don't have to perpetuate a lie to my child about a magical being that breaks into my house and bestows gifts. There's magic at Halloween and it's for all ages.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My mom always made our costumes. I guess you had to back then. Now there's incredible and affordable costumes for purchase practically everywhere. I decided, though, that I was going to make costumes for Monster. He's in love with our next door neighbor's dog -- a Golden Retriever named Cooper, or, as Monster says, Poop Poop. I bought a ton of fleece and went to work.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Basically I made fleece pajamas and added a tail to the pants. Then I made a hood and added some ears. Monster won't wear the hood and prefers his new fedora so this is what we ended up with.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6hV73mvC3bwNGf53Uca9aWGBijKJJCRpzRllDqCXl5XuaJ80Nk53lwW-S2ujx0M9f3wqioC0Y-XOK-0ab5RvUNpIPn8ICRVnwld3FSTkiJm9DMHWQcoiOfRzo5hfR962iziT3eItucYI/s1600/Halloween+Sully.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE6hV73mvC3bwNGf53Uca9aWGBijKJJCRpzRllDqCXl5XuaJ80Nk53lwW-S2ujx0M9f3wqioC0Y-XOK-0ab5RvUNpIPn8ICRVnwld3FSTkiJm9DMHWQcoiOfRzo5hfR962iziT3eItucYI/s320/Halloween+Sully.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, and that's Yellow Tool Box he's holding in his hand. It's his latest obsession. He doesn't carry anything in it and don't you dare call it a brief case.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-49017350364228052172011-10-25T12:42:00.000-04:002011-10-25T12:42:48.468-04:00It's Almost Like Having a Daughter<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Monster does NOT like getting ready in the mornings. I've spent a lot of time chasing him around the house with diapers, clothes, breakfast, shoes, his coat, just trying to get him presentable (which, seriously, doesn't measure up to what most people would find acceptable). He also takes issue with me getting ready in the morning. Not too long ago I jokingly asked if he wanted to help me </span><a href="http://mom-topia.blogspot.com/2011/10/why-i-let-my-2-year-old-pick-out-my.html"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">pick out my clothes</span></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. He was all about it. Of course, he thinks I should wear things from the dirty clothes pile but we're working on that. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He really seems to enjoy this new routine. He likes to feel the fabric of the clothes before he makes his decision and then he gets very excited when I coordinate his outfit to mine. Yesterday we both wore gray pants and today we both wore brown. So, I'm getting some much needed fashion help AND I found a way to get that kid excited about getting dressed. I rule at this mom shit!</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-56136406805162847582011-10-21T16:06:00.000-04:002011-10-21T16:06:54.206-04:00Dating? Yeah, I don't think so<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recetly I've been feeling like I might be ready to start dating. I have this mega crush on a very good friend of mine and was thinking to myself, this could work! We've tried the dating thing before and we do ok for a while until he realizes that I'm an empty shell with nothing left to give anyone. So, I've been kind of bummed thinking about how he probably doesn't like me like that and blah blah high school stuff blah.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then this morning happened and as I was running around like an idiot trying to get Monster out from underneath his crib so I could get him dressed and out the door so that maybe I could get to work on time (<em>note: that didn't happen</em>), I realized, logistically there is no way for me to have a relationship. And strangely, that made me feel better.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-2988981735831396932011-10-19T14:30:00.001-04:002011-10-20T09:26:53.339-04:00Sort Of a Good Experience Sandwich<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's fall which means it's time for flu shots! I can't think of a better way to spend my time than holding my precious child down on an examination table while a stranger stabs him in the leg and injects him with pharmaceutical soup. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That being said, it's necessary because I'd rather have two seconds of terror for him than a week of vomiting, chills, and wretchedness for both of us. I'm a big picture kind of gal. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To make it more bearable for Monster, I took him to his favorite playground right after I picked him up from the babysitter's. I let him run around and go down slides and swing and kick a ball around and lie down on the ground face down. He even left without a fight. Why? Because I told him we had one quick stop to make and then we would go out for ice cream! You know, sort of a good experience sandwich.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, btw, it totally worked. He had ice cream for dinner and a hot dog and peaches for dessert. I'm certain those are the parts he'll remember. At least I hope so.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">+++++++++++<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The title of this post and the phrase "sort of a good experience sandwich" came from a Facebook thread started by my dear friend and fellow blogger, Megan. She posted how she got her daughter a flu shot and immediately treated her to fruit snacks and her favorite DVD. Not to be outmommed, I planned before AND after activities. So there Megan! You can read more about Megan's adventures here at </span><a href="http://www.businesswomanpa.com/blogs/category/motherhood_toddling_pants/"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Motherhood of the Toddling Pants</span></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. And I recommend that you do because she's actually a good writer. I've been jealous of her skills since we met working at that small town and now defunct newspaper.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-3155953772074506562011-10-17T11:10:00.001-04:002011-10-17T11:23:24.816-04:00Why I Let My 2-Year-Old Pick Out My Outfit<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess this is kind of a deceptive title because I have no clear answer to this. I mean, other than it was 7:45 on a Monday morning and my dear sweet child walked away from the Disney Channel in order to climb the stairs to spend time with me and the joy I felt because of that overwhelmed me to the point that I actually thought it was a good idea to wear my Wonder Woman t-shirt to my corporate office job. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here I am, in a pink Wonder Woman t-shirt and a black cardigan with some sparkly beaded embellishment on it, and gray pants. Granted I'm wearing red patten leather heels (oh gawd, it's sounding worse and worse) so that really dresses it up. And I wonder why my co-workers are avoiding my gaze. And also why I'm still single.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOb6nU-G3nvoKQEqAQyBvjZeNszYbGGvdDOimGriTdttfFxIOmvSa-57ocvfvd94-QCyyQFhDpB0b_2NtGsy5swgA4FbQ6qMrfHdS0RyFBh2sZTv3Zw97Kmhoe17o4MaMJ_MDB_2_tUk9N/s1600/wardrobe+fail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOb6nU-G3nvoKQEqAQyBvjZeNszYbGGvdDOimGriTdttfFxIOmvSa-57ocvfvd94-QCyyQFhDpB0b_2NtGsy5swgA4FbQ6qMrfHdS0RyFBh2sZTv3Zw97Kmhoe17o4MaMJ_MDB_2_tUk9N/s320/wardrobe+fail.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-7334729731707975912011-10-13T12:53:00.000-04:002011-10-13T12:53:13.534-04:00Summer of Self Improvement Fail<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just realized that I never did follow up on my quest for self improvement. That could mean that I'm already at the top of my game but I think we all know that's not true. You know, while I was reading </span><a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/happiness-project-gretchen-craft-rubin/1101357622?ean=9780061583261&itm=1&usri=the%2bhappiness%2bproject%2bor%2bwhy%2bi%2bspent%2ba%2byear"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Happiness Project</span></a><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, I was really into it and was doing some of the things she suggested and I was happier. I don't know what happened. I just stopped. And I feel not as happy. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is it the time of year and the fact that it's been raining here about 90 % of the time since July? Is it that I'm freaking busy? I can't be any busier than anyone else. Probably less busy than a lot of people actually. Do I lack stamina and the ability to commit? What is it people??? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And does anyone want to do a group happiness project? I sent away for the materials a while back. She offers a whole package for doing a group project. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Has anyone else read the book or gone on her <a href="http://www.happiness-project.com/">blog</a>?</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-43546089439209845792011-10-11T10:42:00.000-04:002011-10-11T10:42:47.379-04:00Who’s the F&#@- up Now?<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Hint: It’s not me</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Tahoma", "sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">Remember that time when I <a href="http://mom-topia.blogspot.com/2011/05/lock-out.html">met my new neighbors</a>? And then the time after that when Monster locked me out front but then let me in after a minute? Oh, those were good times. The Ex was so smug and superior. I can imagine his mother rolling her eyes when he told the story of <a href="http://mom-topia.blogspot.com/2011/05/lock-out.html">my epic parenting fail</a> at a family gathering. But whatevs, I don’t care. I don’t need them or their stupid approval.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">But here’s where things get pretty sweet. Last week the Ex took off work so he could take Monster to <a href="http://www.sesameplace.com/sesame2/Default.aspx?utm_source=google&utm_medium=ppc&utm_term=sesame%20place&utm_campaign=sea-brandvisitor-tp_sesameplace">Sesame Place</a>. He came and picked him up and I left for work. Luckily I stopped for gas down the street and luckily I was reaching for my phone to check my bank balance because at that exact moment I received a frantic phone call from the Ex saying that Monster had locked himself in the van and could I help him “call someone?” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I could hear the panic in his voice. Luckily for everyone, I have <a href="http://www.aaa.com/aaa/sem/sem.htm?redirectto=http://www.aaa.com/?area=JoinSEM&skin=JoinSEM&">AAA </a>(thanks Mom!). I called them, told them my 2-year-old was locked in my van and could they send someone immediately. Also luckily, <a href="http://www.aaa.com/aaa/sem/sem.htm?redirectto=http://www.aaa.com/?area=JoinSEM&skin=JoinSEM&">AAA</a> is less than a mile from my house. So we waited. Monster was already strapped in his seat so he was sitting there playing with a small toy. The Ex was so anxiety-ridden and kept asking questions like: is he going to run out of air in there?; and are you sure you called? I passed the time by playing a peek-a-boo game. I’d duck down below the window and pop up and say, “Surprise!”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">It took about 20 minutes for the <a href="http://www.aaa.com/aaa/sem/sem.htm?redirectto=http://www.aaa.com/?area=JoinSEM&skin=JoinSEM&">AAA</a> tech to get there and only a minute for him to unlock the door. As soon as Monster was free, I hugged him for about 10 minutes. I also wanted to hug the <a href="http://www.aaa.com/aaa/sem/sem.htm?redirectto=http://www.aaa.com/?area=JoinSEM&skin=JoinSEM&">AAA</a> guy but thought he might find that inappropriate. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">All was well and I don’t even think Monster knew what was happening. It was just really nice to not be the f&#@-up for once.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">I also recommend <a href="http://www.aaa.com/aaa/sem/sem.htm?redirectto=http://www.aaa.com/?area=JoinSEM&skin=JoinSEM&">AAA </a>to everyone! I, myself, am a platinum member.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div></span>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-87418204284577861112011-10-10T14:53:00.000-04:002011-10-10T14:53:22.693-04:00A Toast to Mom Friends!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">All of a sudden, Monster seems to have grown up. Not just in size, but in spirit. He’s becoming more social, remembering his little friends and looking forward to seeing them. Ever since the great floods of ’11, we’ve been having weekly play dates with my friend who is also my step second cousin (wrap your brain around that one) and her son. My friend’s house flooded and her family moved in with her mom (who lives right near me) until the house is livable once again. Her son is a little older than Monster but is such a nice playmate for him. And not that little kids need a ton in common with their friends but they both enjoy cars, trucks, running around, and TV. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Sure it’s great to see a budding friendship but what’s better is the friendship I have with Playmate’s mommy! We like to let our kids play, drink, listen to music, and eat dinner. It’s so nice to have a mommy friend. I can’t believe I’ve survived this long without this kind of relationship. I have a ton of friends who are moms but to have a regular weekly ‘date’ with a mom who has a child near Monster’s age has changed my life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I’m not exactly isolated but I’m no social butterfly either so as soon as Monster and I get home, it’s been just he and I chilling at the house. Which means I usually turn the TV on around 6 and it stays on until bedtime which I feel kind of guilty about. But now, friends come over, the kids play, the music is on and we’re talking over a glass of wine about all kinds of things. It’s a nice change of pace. Monster is happily exhausted by the end of the evening and I’m not dying of loneliness after he goes to bed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Yay to mom friends! Yay to play dates! Yay to not feeling like a pathetic loser everyday!</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-39031918334583210822011-09-28T16:47:00.000-04:002011-09-28T16:47:14.636-04:00Happiest Memories<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday my dear cousin and I were gchatting and she reduced me to tears by sending me this <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=nuTj7nf4uUc">link</a> and encouraging me to watch it (and I'm glad she did!)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It got us talking about our happiest memories (many of which included each other). Inevitably, our conversation came 'round to our sons and how watching them out in the world are some of our happiest memories. Seeing my son hug her son for the first time nearly reduced me to tears. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fast forward to this morning as I was taking Monster to the babysitter's. He started saying goodbye to me right as we were getting out of the car. But he did something entirely new today. He said, "Hug, mama," and he squeezed me and held onto me the whole walk up the driveway. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just wanted to share one of my happiest memories with y'all.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-88767301936507880002011-09-23T09:48:00.001-04:002011-09-23T09:52:59.077-04:00New Life<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Remember that <a href="http://mom-topia.blogspot.com/2011/06/sunflower-chronicles.html">sunflower</a> I was growing? The one that Monster then <a href="http://mom-topia.blogspot.com/2011/07/broken-dreams-broken-flower.html">destroyed</a>? I never really did anything with it. I just left it out on the back deck to see what happened. Maybe it was denial, or maybe it was hope. Either way, two days ago it caught my eye.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l5mzV06LYaA8vZ3IKUq5APIZBaWuklxgiIrKykQxZLVBpT1Ta9DkDxN4q1fphnGFzv0ru7DKHghpq0S8dJbkG1VeZxhXw6e-RdWv8q21bUiRaqVzyAXtatJRENz7aYCpaaGX9gO72gho/s1600/new+sunflower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0l5mzV06LYaA8vZ3IKUq5APIZBaWuklxgiIrKykQxZLVBpT1Ta9DkDxN4q1fphnGFzv0ru7DKHghpq0S8dJbkG1VeZxhXw6e-RdWv8q21bUiRaqVzyAXtatJRENz7aYCpaaGX9gO72gho/s320/new+sunflower.jpg" width="320px" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihs-pd4UT18VUGoXX5ifrE75-Fd8A2g1eue4rmz9-XHyNqRsrp9JoOd8FPUWKvyfaPKreMA_EN9SBW7JGBeUQnKmGgw9uSZbwiPCXgarxE49woJldFrMziZt98hKJ1OX-sUBiOrF0AhdOk/s1600/new+sunflower+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" hca="true" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihs-pd4UT18VUGoXX5ifrE75-Fd8A2g1eue4rmz9-XHyNqRsrp9JoOd8FPUWKvyfaPKreMA_EN9SBW7JGBeUQnKmGgw9uSZbwiPCXgarxE49woJldFrMziZt98hKJ1OX-sUBiOrF0AhdOk/s320/new+sunflower+2.jpg" width="320px" /></span></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These pictures aren't great, I know, but I'm obsessed with my retro camera app. The point is, there's new life in my sunflower! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There's a lesson in this, I just know it, but I haven't quite put my finger on what it is just yet.</span>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-68846482500253604662011-09-20T16:21:00.000-04:002011-09-20T16:21:49.251-04:00Avoiding an International Incident<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">In my former life I was an international woman of mystery. That was before Monster and my almost marriage and my corporate life. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">That's actually not true at all. My dad retired down to Mexico but I did live with him for several months about a million years ago. The point being that in order to go see my dad I need a passport. In order for Monster to go see Grandpa he needs a passport. In order to get Monster a passport, I need the Ex on board because he needs to be there when we apply for it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">We’re in the throws of a family emergency and I need to get out of the U.S. and into Old Mexico in a hurry. I’d even settle for in the next few weeks but the amount of money I have to pay for expedited passports and the hoops I have to jump through to get Monster a passport and then across the border without creating an international incident are huge hurdles over which I’m tripping. So I guess they’re hoop hurdles that I’m both jumping through and tripping over. That really tells you something there. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">“But don’t you have brothers who can help you?” you ask. Why yes, yes I do. I have two brothers to this particular father. They don’t actually communicate with each other for whatever reasons so I’m the hub. I’m also the one our dad calls when shit goes wrong (interestingly, I’m the last one my mom calls in a crisis but that’s another <s>therapy session</s> post) so I’m managing all of this via my cell phone whilst a certain needy toddler clings to me and forces me to watch Cars.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Plus I still have a job and crazy life things only seem to pop up when I’m in the midst of a huge project with a looming deadline.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">The bottom line is this: my dad needs me and he wants me to bring Monster with me so he can spend time with him. The Ex isn’t sold and I absolutely need him on board in order to get Monster out of the country. And I don’t know how to navigate this. Granted, it’s quite an unusual situation. Separated parent relationships are always a balancing act and up until now I’ve not had to resort to threats. I will totally use bribes. I’m not above that. But I really just want him to agree to it because it’s the right thing to do.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I need a sales pitch.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-23103061465816203642011-09-15T15:22:00.000-04:002011-09-15T15:22:05.960-04:00Cars<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No, this is not another post about how Disney is ruining my dear, sweet child. Instead, this is me telling you that my stupid car broke down again (second time in 2 months) and that it's time to start the hunt for a new one. I'm taking suggestions.</span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That is all.</span>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-28081023708409949232011-09-09T12:30:00.000-04:002011-09-09T12:30:51.795-04:00Look What the Flood Dragged In<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Here in my neck of the woods, we’re having historic floods. I’m talking the once-in-500-years-type floods even though, really, it’s only been 38 years since the last 500-year-flood. Still, there’s lots of water everywhere where it shouldn’t be: covering roads, filling up the local amusement park, and in people’s homes. It’s been scary and stressful and overwhelming even though my house is completely dry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">But the Ex’s house is in the flood zone. He has water in the basement which, in the scheme of things is no biggie, but electricity service was shut off for safety purposes last evening. So, because I’m the nicest fucking person on the planet, I invited the Ex and the dog to come stay out here on dry land with me and Monster. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I’m tired. So very tired. And when I start pining for a puppy, please remind me of this. Obviously, whenever the routine a puppy and toddler are used to gets meddled with, neither of them are happy. This was no exception. Monster was so confused as to why the dog was here and why Dada wasn't leaving. Bedtimes and usual wake up times were totally ignored. Monster ended up in bed with me but at a strange angle with his feet in my face and his head dangerously close to the edge. So, yeah, I didn’t sleep. Plus the damn dog was pacing and her toe nails tap tap tapped all over the floor all night.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Despite my sleepless night, I’m so very lucky to be safe and sound with only a boil water advisory. I hope all is well with y’all out there also. It’s been crazy in the Mid Atlantic region over the past few weeks. We’ve had an earthquake, a hurricane, and a tropical storm that caused massive flooding. Oh, and PA’s capital city is near state takeover so it’s pretty much Armageddon up in here. All the while I’m doing my best with a testy 2-year-old whose schedule is so out of whack I don’t know how/when he’ll recover. But, what can I do? Keep on keepin’ on. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">How are your kids at dealing with disasters?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-89240123589914678862011-09-07T10:09:00.000-04:002011-09-07T10:09:06.954-04:00Disney Is a Treacherous Bitch<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I kind of think of Disney movies as the pinnacle of family entertainment so I was really excited that Monster got into the first Cars movie (mostly b/c it meant less Caillou. See ya later sucka!) I love how, even though we’ve seen it a gazillion times, he is still surprised at the wrecks in the beginning. And he still throws his arms up in celebration when Lightning McQueen stops right before winning the Piston Cup to go get The King who has just wrecked (oops, SPOILER ALERT!) So, there are good lessons. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">However, the other night, when the Ex was returning him, Monster started yelling at him to “go away.” I was trying to be civilized and offer the Ex a drink and a seat but Monster was having no part of it. He does like for the parent dropping off to then continue on his/her merry way and often says, “bye bye!” like a not-so-subtle hint to get the F out but hearing him say “go away” was more than a little disturbing to me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">First, I felt bad for the Ex because no parent wants to hear that from their child, especially their 2-year-old. Second, Monster doesn’t get to decide when people come and go at the house. Third, where the hell did he learn that? I’ve never said that to him, near him, about him. I can’t imagine the Ex saying it or even the Step Twins. And I know it wouldn’t fly at the babysitter’s.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">So, I thought and thought and thought about it and it finally hit me that Doc Hudson says it in Cars. Yeah, that’s right. He says it to Lightning when he follows him home after watching him race. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Damn it Disney! I know you’re creating drama but can’t you do it more politely? And while we’re at it, do you have to use the words “moron” and “idiot” too? It’s only a matter of time before he picks those up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I emailed the Ex and told him the source had been found and he asked if I was going to ban Cars. I started shaking a bit. I don’t think I can ban it. It’s like crack to Monster. He loves it. He wants to watch it every day. I did some early Christmas shopping this past weekend and it’s all Cars-related merchandise. I can’t go back to Caillou. Don’t make me go back!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">This morning, as we were getting ready to go into the babysitter's, Monster told me to "go away." I looked at him and said, "we don't say that." He responded, "Ok, mama." Then, remembering that you're supposed to give them an example of what to do rather than just tell them not to do something, I told him, "we say 'I love you mama.'" To which he responded, "I yuv oo, mama."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Problem solved? I hope so. Should I ban Cars? Am interested to hear what others think.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-77949315730555889692011-08-31T21:33:00.000-04:002011-08-31T21:33:34.454-04:00This Post Isn't Funny<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">When I came into work this morning, I was greeted by an email from the future president of the company stating that the son of one our co-workers was in the hospital and no one knew what was wrong with him. He was found listless and then had several severe seizures. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I’ve talked to this co-worker about his kids. He and his wife adopted two children from China. Their son has had developmental issues his entire life. I think they knew he had them and still adopted him and had made great strides with him through therapy and love and time. Even with his history, no one expected this and I can only imagine what the family has been going through waiting for test results that will hopefully provide answers. Throughout the day news trickled in, news that some ailments had been ruled out as causes. It’s not meningitis; it’s not a brain tumor – all good news.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Stories like this terrify me. One second our kids seem indestructible – just needing a kiss on their boo-boo and then they’re back running full tilt. It seems implausible that inside them, where we can’t see, something could be really wrong. I don’t know how I would handle Monster being seriously sick as it breaks my heart to see him with the sniffles.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">I am thankful that my co-worker’s son has the parents he has – ones who went half way around the world to make him their son. They’ve already proven they would go to the ends of the earth for him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">Thoughts and prayers are with them and with all our kids. Hug ‘em tight y’all. </span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6914146052904171027.post-66652111049227590612011-08-30T15:59:00.000-04:002011-08-30T15:59:26.308-04:00From Toddler to Teenager in No time Flat -- awesome<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Lately I've had to wake Monster up in the mornings and this has been around 7:30 - 7:45. His first words? "Noooooo, I'm sleeping!" And that is how my precious baby went from toddler to teenager in no time flat. The end.</span></div>Mom-topiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16458670809275900029noreply@blogger.com1