Conversations with my children are an endless source of amusement lately. They are what makes being a parent totally worth it, my kids are hilarious. Truly.
They also have big ears and even bigger mouths. We really have to watch ourselves around them now.
Example, as we're trudging to school this morning;
Nicky: I need to hold your hand for energy mom.
Me: just walk in front of me for this part. The people who live here are too (fucking, but I didn't say that out loud) lazy to shovel their sidewalk so there's not enough room.
Nicky: Oh they're lazy? That's what daddy called you.
Me: oh REALLY? Why did he say that?
Nicky: because you didn't wash the dishes.
Me: I see. When did he say that?
Nicky: When you were at work.
Of course I immediately texted Jeff and warned him about bitching in front of the kids. The fact that he called me lazy? I'm pretty sure he said that the same night he wrote really this really hard on the fridge pad:
"RINSE THE DISHES BEFORE YOU PUT THEM IN THE DISHWASHER"
(Only reason I knew he wrote that is because I saw them imprint of the words on the paper underneath. He wisely ripped that message up after he got over his fit of pique.)
We all have our limitations. He's a major hothead and I'm A-Okay with leaving a sinkful of dirty dishes for him to clean.
Anyway, point being! We're past the point of being able to talk freely and them not really understanding.
Also, he didn't deny calling me lazy. Shit. My cover has been blown.
14 November 2012
2 November 2012
Manipulation
I've hit upon parenting gold. I just have to figure out how to make it work for every possible scenario that might come up.
It's simple really; fear. The concept is nothing new, and here's how it played out today while we were waiting for our lemonseed poppy cupcakes to bake.
Nicky: if I have a drink of your coffee, will I DIE??
Me: of course not!
*he brings the mug almost to his lips*
Me: wait! It WILL kill you!
Nicky: what? It will KILL me?
Me: well, no not really. I was just kidding.
Nicky: well what will happen if I drink it?
*thinking quickly*
Me: you'll stop growing. You won't grow as big as Liam or Daddy.
Nicky: are you serious?
Me: I am.
And he slowly put the mug back on the table muttering something about how THAT was not a good thing.
Guys, it was so effective. And I didn't have to yell myself hoarse over him doing something that I didn't want him to do.
Win/win.
It's simple really; fear. The concept is nothing new, and here's how it played out today while we were waiting for our lemonseed poppy cupcakes to bake.
Nicky: if I have a drink of your coffee, will I DIE??
Me: of course not!
*he brings the mug almost to his lips*
Me: wait! It WILL kill you!
Nicky: what? It will KILL me?
Me: well, no not really. I was just kidding.
Nicky: well what will happen if I drink it?
*thinking quickly*
Me: you'll stop growing. You won't grow as big as Liam or Daddy.
Nicky: are you serious?
Me: I am.
And he slowly put the mug back on the table muttering something about how THAT was not a good thing.
Guys, it was so effective. And I didn't have to yell myself hoarse over him doing something that I didn't want him to do.
Win/win.
9 October 2012
Kids are a blessing.
My teenager did two things on Sunday that guaranteed his life for the next month at least. I say that because the teen years are WAY HARDER than toddlers any day. Teenagers can make you so frustrated that it's a good thing they prefer to shut themselves up in their rooms. Because if they were in your face like a toddler, they'd die.
Maybe that's just my house? My teenager? Is mine weird?
Anyway, he hugged me. Voluntarily. With witnesses! For a boy who was so attached to me that he forced me to carry him well into kindergarten, and who held my hand till at least grade 2, he hates hugs.
And then he thanked me for giving him life. That one came out of left field, even though it was Thanksgiving. You see, usually he lives in a boat named LIAM, floating on the sea of ME, way out on the planet called SELF INDULGENCE.
I had to wipe a tear from my eye.
I kid. He's not THAT bad. Actually he's much the same as I was as a teenager. I'm fond of telling him that too. He LOVES when I tell him that.
Now, if he could only wake up to his damn alarm clock so he didn't spend the whole morning stomping around because he's slept in. If that happened I could maybe see the end of the hell that has been the last 4 years with his moodiness.
(well, the last 13 if I'm being completely honest. That kid was born with WAY more estrogen than I was expecting for a boy)
Of course then we're going to get into smoking and drinking and skipping school and drugs and ohmygod why does anyone have kids.
And then I get to do it all again with pretty much two at the same time.
I'm so glad we stopped at three.
Maybe that's just my house? My teenager? Is mine weird?
Anyway, he hugged me. Voluntarily. With witnesses! For a boy who was so attached to me that he forced me to carry him well into kindergarten, and who held my hand till at least grade 2, he hates hugs.
And then he thanked me for giving him life. That one came out of left field, even though it was Thanksgiving. You see, usually he lives in a boat named LIAM, floating on the sea of ME, way out on the planet called SELF INDULGENCE.
I had to wipe a tear from my eye.
I kid. He's not THAT bad. Actually he's much the same as I was as a teenager. I'm fond of telling him that too. He LOVES when I tell him that.
Now, if he could only wake up to his damn alarm clock so he didn't spend the whole morning stomping around because he's slept in. If that happened I could maybe see the end of the hell that has been the last 4 years with his moodiness.
(well, the last 13 if I'm being completely honest. That kid was born with WAY more estrogen than I was expecting for a boy)
Of course then we're going to get into smoking and drinking and skipping school and drugs and ohmygod why does anyone have kids.
And then I get to do it all again with pretty much two at the same time.
I'm so glad we stopped at three.
10 August 2012
I get no love.
I made my way downstairs because it was FAR too quiet for my liking and already today they had demolished a set of blinds. I can't leave them to their own devices for too long after all.
I was eating my lunch in the next room when the blinds thing happened, incidentally. Not napping, or on another floor, or anything like that. They're quick little buggers.
The basement was immaculate and they were both playing with cars in the playroom. Aw. It was a sweet picture, one of those ones where your heart swells and you feel like maybe you're doing something right.
Me: you guys look cozy, are you having fun?
Nicky: oh ya, oh ya.
Josh: Nicky's my best friend!
Me: that's awesome. Nicky, who is your best friend?
Nicky: it's not you mom.
Me:....okay?
Nicky: my best friend is Liam.
Wtf? He's not even here and if he WAS, he'd most likely be yelling at his brothers to get out of his room. I'll have to remember this in 5 years when they're beating the hell out of each other for some reason or another.
I was eating my lunch in the next room when the blinds thing happened, incidentally. Not napping, or on another floor, or anything like that. They're quick little buggers.
The basement was immaculate and they were both playing with cars in the playroom. Aw. It was a sweet picture, one of those ones where your heart swells and you feel like maybe you're doing something right.
Me: you guys look cozy, are you having fun?
Nicky: oh ya, oh ya.
Josh: Nicky's my best friend!
Me: that's awesome. Nicky, who is your best friend?
Nicky: it's not you mom.
Me:....okay?
Nicky: my best friend is Liam.
Wtf? He's not even here and if he WAS, he'd most likely be yelling at his brothers to get out of his room. I'll have to remember this in 5 years when they're beating the hell out of each other for some reason or another.
3 August 2012
Not by the hair of MY chinny-chin-chin.
I contemplated taking a picture to illustrate. Only thing is, I also have big pores and wasn't in the mood to highlight them. Another product of the Foote family gene pool.
I'm talking about chin hairs, people. And from what I've been able to tell, it runs in the family.
First was my mom with her mega-long thing that she was trying to grow out like a dreadlock. Seriously. She thought it was hilarious.
Then my sister mentioned she had one. I think. I may just be inventing that to not feel so alone, and I have an awful memory so I'll have to wait and see if she confirms*. But anyway, I'm pretty sure she had one too. She probably cried like a baby plucking it out.
And then a few years ago Jeff started laughing and pointed out that I was the proud new owner of my very own. Blech, was gone super duper fast. I found another one this morning, which is what brought this on. They sprout up a couple times a year. Again, blech.
Thing is, our genes are really strong. Like, mega strong in that you could pick the Footes out of a crowd of 500 people. And I feel a real responsibility to my female Foote cousins, so that they can keep an eye out for this. I betcha my aunts get them. It's a family secret. A revolting, but strangely fascinating, family secret.
Chin hairs, big pores, hairy toes (oops, let another one slip). Something has to balance the bright and sunny Foote smile right?
Consider this my PSA to you Chelsea, Brittany, Melissa, Stephanie, Brooke, Raeanna, and Kayleigh. You're welcome.
*She did NOT, in fact, get a hair on her chin. It was on her arm, and it's called a CALCIUM hair. And OMG please tell her that I DID NOT just write that for 20 people to read on the internet. Yes, I was yelled at and threatened until I cleared that up. She would probably have preferred me not to say she had a long hair on her arm but we're going for entertainment here guys. And I still maintain that she cried like a baby plucking it out.
I'm talking about chin hairs, people. And from what I've been able to tell, it runs in the family.
First was my mom with her mega-long thing that she was trying to grow out like a dreadlock. Seriously. She thought it was hilarious.
Then my sister mentioned she had one. I think. I may just be inventing that to not feel so alone, and I have an awful memory so I'll have to wait and see if she confirms*. But anyway, I'm pretty sure she had one too. She probably cried like a baby plucking it out.
And then a few years ago Jeff started laughing and pointed out that I was the proud new owner of my very own. Blech, was gone super duper fast. I found another one this morning, which is what brought this on. They sprout up a couple times a year. Again, blech.
Thing is, our genes are really strong. Like, mega strong in that you could pick the Footes out of a crowd of 500 people. And I feel a real responsibility to my female Foote cousins, so that they can keep an eye out for this. I betcha my aunts get them. It's a family secret. A revolting, but strangely fascinating, family secret.
Chin hairs, big pores, hairy toes (oops, let another one slip). Something has to balance the bright and sunny Foote smile right?
Consider this my PSA to you Chelsea, Brittany, Melissa, Stephanie, Brooke, Raeanna, and Kayleigh. You're welcome.
*She did NOT, in fact, get a hair on her chin. It was on her arm, and it's called a CALCIUM hair. And OMG please tell her that I DID NOT just write that for 20 people to read on the internet. Yes, I was yelled at and threatened until I cleared that up. She would probably have preferred me not to say she had a long hair on her arm but we're going for entertainment here guys. And I still maintain that she cried like a baby plucking it out.
23 July 2012
Countdowns
I posted on yesterday on Facebook that I was starting a countdown for my upcoming trip to Las Vegas. This trip has been in talks for...oh about 10 months or so and the fact that it's 59 days away is super exciting! I should mention that it's a stagette for my oldest (one of them anyway) and closest (again, one of them) friends. Lest anyone think that it's just an excuse to have an uninterrupted 4 days away from my family. Or something like that...;)
The thought of a countdown, and how close we are to ripping it up Hangover style (seriously. Vegas should prepare) reminded me of how I was planning on meeting my weight loss goal by then. I'm really not anywhere near it. And that's taking into account the muscle I've built up from being active and getting in shape.
Because I'm actually really proud of myself at how far I've come. I can run for a solid hour, with just a couple 60 second breaks in there. That is MILES from where I started, when even thinking about running for 3 minutes freaked me the hell out. And as anyone who runs can tell you, getting into the zone and feeling that adrenaline rush makes you feel like a rockstar. It's addicting.
But I digress, because my love affair with running is NOT the point of this post. No, the thought of the countdown has prompted me to see if I can give up fast food for the next 59 days. Because as much as I'm eating FAR healthier now, I still have a weakness for Subway, Edo, McDonalds. Wendys. A&W, the list goes on and on. Quick Wok. YUMMO.
It doesn't help that I work evenings in a mall with a foodcourt. You know, evenings...that time of day when you eat dinner? And how many times have I not eaten the dinner I made for my family because I'm working that night and can just grab something there. It's ridiculous. I'm pretty sure the foodcourt is the reason my scale has stalled.
So that's the deal. No more fast food. If we hit up K-Days this year I am going to be in torturous hell. I mean, have you ever smelled fair food? We can see the fireworks and hear the live show from our house, and I'm pretty sure I can smell the mini-donuts too. Should I give myself ONE cheat day? We'll just have to see how it all plays out.
So countdowns:
To Vegas.........59 days
No fast food......2 days
The thought of a countdown, and how close we are to ripping it up Hangover style (seriously. Vegas should prepare) reminded me of how I was planning on meeting my weight loss goal by then. I'm really not anywhere near it. And that's taking into account the muscle I've built up from being active and getting in shape.
Because I'm actually really proud of myself at how far I've come. I can run for a solid hour, with just a couple 60 second breaks in there. That is MILES from where I started, when even thinking about running for 3 minutes freaked me the hell out. And as anyone who runs can tell you, getting into the zone and feeling that adrenaline rush makes you feel like a rockstar. It's addicting.
But I digress, because my love affair with running is NOT the point of this post. No, the thought of the countdown has prompted me to see if I can give up fast food for the next 59 days. Because as much as I'm eating FAR healthier now, I still have a weakness for Subway, Edo, McDonalds. Wendys. A&W, the list goes on and on. Quick Wok. YUMMO.
It doesn't help that I work evenings in a mall with a foodcourt. You know, evenings...that time of day when you eat dinner? And how many times have I not eaten the dinner I made for my family because I'm working that night and can just grab something there. It's ridiculous. I'm pretty sure the foodcourt is the reason my scale has stalled.
So that's the deal. No more fast food. If we hit up K-Days this year I am going to be in torturous hell. I mean, have you ever smelled fair food? We can see the fireworks and hear the live show from our house, and I'm pretty sure I can smell the mini-donuts too. Should I give myself ONE cheat day? We'll just have to see how it all plays out.
So countdowns:
To Vegas.........59 days
No fast food......2 days
17 July 2012
Adventures in Cookie Land
I've gathered all my ingredients, mixed most of them together, and am at the point of pouring the flour mixture into the egg/sugar mixture.
Nicky: What are you doing mom?
Me: (oh shit. COME ON I WAS ALMOST DONE) Just mixing together some stuff to make cookies.
Josh: Can I dooooo ittttttt???
Me: I....guess so. Okay fine, but be careful please.
Reluctantly, I hand Josh a cup of oats to pour into the VERY BIG, hard to miss mixing bowl. Which he promptly pours onto the counter.
Me: (breath. 1..2..3..) Oh no honey, you missed. Here let me clean it up.
Josh: I can dooooo ittttt.
And the oats that were on the counter are now on the floor.
Me: Okay you know what buddy, let mommy do this part.
Nicky: I can get it in mom, let me try.
Me: Here you go, just be very careful-oh, nice save! Amost had another mess! (rolling eyes, *&%#$)
A couple minutes and a few mishaps later, I am dropping blobs of of oatmeal and butterscotch yumminess onto the cookie sheet.
Nicky:(all wide eyes and high-pitched voice) OH HEY. Look at that MOM. It's like a COOKIE on that pan. Are WE making COOKIES????
Josh: I eat it?
Me: Yup guys, that's what we were doing. Making cookies! We can eat them after they've cooled down.
15 minutes later, after dancing around the kitchen and singing about cookies and Tinkerbell, we pull the greatly anticipated cookies out of the oven.
Me: Don't touch! They're hot you'll burn yourself.
Nicky and Josh: Okay mommy.
And what do you think happened next?
Josh: That's HOT! You no say it's HOT!
Nicky: Yes you did mommy, you did tell us it's hot. Josh you are not a good listener.
Me: (muttering to myself) Do I really sound like such a know it all?
....So, I know lots of parents like to bake with their kids. It's a 'bonding' and 'learning' experience. However, I find it to be a big pain in the ass. It takes double the time, creates 4 times the mess, and the little hooligans run off with all my measuring cups and spoons. I still do it though, because I'm a 'good' mom and it makes them happy.
We're creating memories over here, yo.
Nicky: What are you doing mom?
Me: (oh shit. COME ON I WAS ALMOST DONE) Just mixing together some stuff to make cookies.
Josh: Can I dooooo ittttttt???
Me: I....guess so. Okay fine, but be careful please.
Reluctantly, I hand Josh a cup of oats to pour into the VERY BIG, hard to miss mixing bowl. Which he promptly pours onto the counter.
Me: (breath. 1..2..3..) Oh no honey, you missed. Here let me clean it up.
Josh: I can dooooo ittttt.
And the oats that were on the counter are now on the floor.
Me: Okay you know what buddy, let mommy do this part.
Nicky: I can get it in mom, let me try.
Me: Here you go, just be very careful-oh, nice save! Amost had another mess! (rolling eyes, *&%#$)
A couple minutes and a few mishaps later, I am dropping blobs of of oatmeal and butterscotch yumminess onto the cookie sheet.
Nicky:(all wide eyes and high-pitched voice) OH HEY. Look at that MOM. It's like a COOKIE on that pan. Are WE making COOKIES????
Josh: I eat it?
Me: Yup guys, that's what we were doing. Making cookies! We can eat them after they've cooled down.
15 minutes later, after dancing around the kitchen and singing about cookies and Tinkerbell, we pull the greatly anticipated cookies out of the oven.
Me: Don't touch! They're hot you'll burn yourself.
Nicky and Josh: Okay mommy.
And what do you think happened next?
Josh: That's HOT! You no say it's HOT!
Nicky: Yes you did mommy, you did tell us it's hot. Josh you are not a good listener.
Me: (muttering to myself) Do I really sound like such a know it all?
....So, I know lots of parents like to bake with their kids. It's a 'bonding' and 'learning' experience. However, I find it to be a big pain in the ass. It takes double the time, creates 4 times the mess, and the little hooligans run off with all my measuring cups and spoons. I still do it though, because I'm a 'good' mom and it makes them happy.
We're creating memories over here, yo.
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