Stumbling & Bumbling

How Grandma and Grandpa saved Halloween

Sorry sorry sorry that I didn't post about our Halloween adventures earlier, I caught a nasty cold on Halloween and have been laid up with this newest plague. 

Halloween did not start out that great here in the Lindo household as my kids woke up in a mood that can only be defined as crappalicious. Yes, that isa word. I tried to coax them into being appropriately happy that they were soon going to dress up in their cool costumes and go out and get free candy! Candy that you wont really get to eat! Candy that will make mommy's life a happier place because SHE is going to eat it all! I cant fathom why they weren't  more happy about these prospects seeing as how I let them pick out their own costumes and they were going absolutely bat-shit crazy over them when we bought them. I tried to make them happy but I think they might have snuck out the night before and gone on a mega chocolate milk drinking binge and were suffering from some weird toddler hangovers because they sure weren't in a good mood. 

When Mike and I tried to put their costumes on, the reaction was a resounding NO EFFING WAY, CRAZY PARENTS! WE REFUSE! I was confused. I mean, Seba loves Thomas Train. He is obsessedwith all things Thomas Train and you can imagine that he had picked out that costume for the big day. But now he was acting scared of it. I mean I can commiserate because to tell you the truth Thomas sort of freaks me out. That big gray face, I dunno, its weird. We left Seba to stew in his own juices for a few minutes, its better not to push him into anything. Nicky, taking a cue from his little brother, was now saying that he didn't want to be a dinosaur. This was equally as incomprehensible to me because the child has more than a regular dinosaur obsession. He's learned the all the complicated sounding names of the dinosaurs in his "Dinosaur Search" book and will point out the meat eaters from the "weird dinosaurs that like vegetables, mommy". Here he was, the boy that knows the difference from an Alosaurus and a Tyrannosaurs, saying that he wanted to be a super hero! NOT A DINOSAUR! I was near my wits end, ready to call off all trick or treating, when my mom calls. She and my dad are in Target, do we need anything? YES! PLEASE! A superhero costume! ANY super hero costume please please for the love of jeebus. And grandma comes through and saves the day with a red power Rangers costume that Nicky willingly donned. Seba, seeing that his brother had succumbed to halloween's call, also willingly donned his Thomas Train costume and Halloween was saved. The boys had fun, they were happy and i...I got to eat 17 tons of candy. Thanks, mom!

 

Karaoke Hell, Uh, HEAVEN!!!

Mikes brother and his sister in law gave us a karaoke machine. I will give you a second to digest that fact...

...

...

Don't get me wrong, I totally appreciate the gift. They always give my kids awesome gifts that the kids love and they are the sweetest people. However, sometimes I wonder if karaoke isn't a form of PUNISHMENT FROM GOD. I mean, I love my kids, and I think its hilarious when they sing, but the echo feature on this particular karaoke machine seems to be especially fascinating to my children and induces inhuman shrieking outside of registrable levels. 

Regardess of the spontaneous combustion of my eardrums after a session of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" I put on a cd and had them sing along with "I Gotta Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas.

So here I present Nicolas and his BFF Anthony singing. Rather, Anthony was singing and Nicky was going off an a rant that occasionally coincided with the song's lyrics.

Please disregard the absolute MESS my house was in, we had 5 toddlers running amok here that day and I was drinking secretly in the kitchen to make the head pounding go away. You know, till the next day.

Famous Last Words

"I'm going to regret this..." I mumbled as I opened the jar of play-doh for my youngest. I thought I had thrown all the mini jars of play doh that they got as part of the goodie bags from a friends birthday party away, but either my kids go dumpster diving or I missed one. I am betting on the dumpster diving.

Now don't get me wrong, I enjoyed playing with play doh as a kid and I think its a fabulous tool for fostering young imaginations. But the drawback is that it.gets.everywhere. As in, my carpet, my rugs and oh did I mention MY CARPET?

Sigh. I need to invent a type of play-doh that resists the will of a toddler to grind it into the fabrics in my home. Maybe then I can get rich and stop this ridiculous job search where I am informed that I am OVERQUALIFIED to work at a certain chain of stores. 

Famous Last Words. Excuse me while I go pry the play-doh out of my sons mouth. 

Happy First Day Of Fall!

Fall has always been my favorite time of year. Right now I am sitting by the window in my home office, feeling the cool are waft in and smelling the change in the air. It electrifies me, calms me in a way no other season can. I dont know why, fall really being the indicator of he long winter to come, but it makes me hopeful and puts my eyes on the future path. Maybe its because it signifies the beginning of the weather that brings the best holidays and activities of the year, Halloween, apple picking, Thanksgiving, family game nights, baking (read: eating!) and then best of all, Christmas and New Years. Maybe its because school always starts in the fall and even though about 10 days in I was hating school, every year at the very beginning I was always happy and excited. Who knows? The fact is that I love, love, love fall and I am so happy its here.

:::

So what have I been doing you ask? There's been a lot of serious viewings and discussions of and about "Wall-E", the Disney movie that is a commentary on how pollution affects our home the earth. There have been several readings from various different books, there have been trips to the park and about eleventy gazillion bubble baths taken. There has been an endless influx of hugs and kisses and snuggles and for all of that I am so very grateful to the company who laid me off. This is the best time of my life.

Supermom?

I startle awake and look around myself, bleary eyed and disoriented. I wonder what has pulled me out of sleep and reach over the bed to Mike, only to discover rumpled sheets and a still warm pillow. Ah, today is his early day on the ambulance and he is already gone. My turn to get the kids ready all by myself. I listen for a second and can hear the high pitched babbled conversation that signifies two very awake toddlers. I squint at the time display on the clock and realize that I am late, late, so very late.

Crap.

What to do first? Get the children up and ready or get myself ready? Realizing that they are happily content in their room, speaking in their indecipherable toddler-ese, I decide to take a quick shower. I know that if I were to get them ready first, my shower would be interrupted at least 5 bazillion times;  the shower door will be thrust aside and a small head poked in inquiring "What are you doing, mami?" "Can you get me juice/cereal con leche/candy/bread/my toy?" So, I jump in and take a super fast deluxe shower. In 5 minutes I am toweled off, and half dressed. Why half dressed? Because I have no pants. None. The only pants I have that are clean and pressed are sitting in the dry cleaners. Ok a skirt! Skirt, skirt, skirt WHERE ARE MY SKIRTS???? Ah ok here we go....sheeeeeeeeiiiiit it needs to be ironed. Ok well that can wait, as I hear the babbling ratcheted up to near hysteria levels coming from the kids room.

I run into their room, dressed in a shirt and my underwear, hair still wet and scraped into a barely manageable pony tail-like contortion.

"MAMI!!!!!!!" "HI MAMI!!!!" - I am greeted by two happy bouncing boys. Literally bouncing on their beds, hard enough to make me wonder how strong those beds really are and if the mattresses had a voice, would they be pleading to "make it stop, PLEASE MAKE THEM STOP FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY!!!???"

I send Nicky off to the potty while I wrestle Seba out of his Dinosaur Pj's, which immediately starts the howls and cries of "NOOOOOO I want it" because if he could, he would wear that pajama shirt with the dinosaur skeleton emblazoned across the chest on a trip to the freaking VATICAN, if I let him. Because that is his absolute favorite Pajama. For this week, anyway. Further wrestling ensues and a minute later and I have one fully dressed toddler, now consoled by the fact that he is wearing his favorite cookie monster shirt and shorts set.

I turn to look for Nicky only to find that he has not returned from his potty excursion. I go into the bathroom and encounter toothpaste. Everywhere. Attempting to squeeze the toothpaste onto his Wall-E toothbrush has turned into a fiasco. There is toothpaste on the floor, his hair, the toilet, and oh look, on my shirt. Super mom kicks into gear and I clean up the mess, strip off my shirt, give Nick a quick shower while simultaneously brushing both sets of teeth AND my own, get him back to the room, dress him and then we all run out to the living room. Ok, we are good on time. The babysitter is picking them up in 5 minutes. I throw the diaper bag together, I get their lunch (leftovers from last night) and snacks (cheese, apples a banana and granola bars) milk and sippy cups all ready. I congratulate myself as she rings the doorbell and I run downstairs to let her in. I am triumphant! I got everything ready on time!! I am SUPERMOM!

Why is she looking at me like that through the glass on the door? Is she...is she laughing? I reach up and smooth my hair as I unlock the door. As the cool breeze from the street wafts in I realize why she is laughing at me.

I am standing in my doorway wearing only my underwear. Sigh. Another day. I wave at my neighbor.

fin

Sugar and spice and everything nice...

Mike wants another baby. Ok let me rephrase that, Mike wants us to have a GIRL baby. As in female. As in pink and flowers and Malibu Barbies and princess themed birthday parties. Hold on a second while I breathe into a paper bag.

*gasp* *gasp* *gasp*

Why the hyperventilation on my part, dear readers? Well there are a few things that come to mind that I will list here for you.

1) Girl babies, while just as adorable as boy babies, have one flaw - namely that they grow up to be *gasp* TEEN-AGED GIRLS.
(puts head between knees and tries to calm down)

2) Girl's tend to like pink, Barbies, and ruffles. I hate pink, Barbies and ruffles. I never wanted to be a princess.

3)What if I have a girl and *wheeze* she's NOT a tomboy? WTF do I do then?

4) THEY GROW UP TO BE TEEN-AGED GIRLS!!!!!!!!

*OHMMMMM*

Yes I know I am being silly and ridiculous. Still, I am used to boy babies, and boy toddlers. I am used to diaper changes involving scooping poop out from the space between little testicles and chubby thighs. I cant even imagine scooping poop out of, well you know.

*dizzy*

But then- we went to a picnic yesterday with a bunch of family and friends and my brothers sister in law (SIL) showed up with her adorable brood consisting of 3 girls and a boy. Her newborn is a sweet, beautiful little girl with a smile like sunshine and twinkling eyes. I carried her around an Oh oh oh , she was just so sweet and tiny and adorable. She was even dressed in pink and she looked like a little pink flower and I thought she was beautiful.

It started me wondering what having a girl would be like, what playing at make believe tea parties and one day sharing my high heels and clothes would be like; what talking about boys and someday watching her get married and then helping her out with her own pregnancy and babies would be like.

So, well, there you have it. A lot of my hot mama friends have girls and they tell me its great and wonderful and that I should go for it. Mike says he wants a girl that looks like me and has long curly hair like I do. What to do, what to do...

Seeing as how I have not won the lottery yet and have no super rich relatives that want to bequeath me their fortunes I don't see how I can have another baby, whether it be a boy or a girl. Three kids in college at the same time makes me queasy and turns my bowels into ice. Sorry TMI, I know, but it's true. Still, I feel like I am meant to have one more and that she is out there, waiting for me to make the decision to go ahead and risk it all and start liking the color pink and Barbies *shudder* and make believe tea-parties.

Advice?

See No Evil, Hear No Evil, REPEAT NO EVIL

Yes I am back again with yet another embarrassing tale that can be used as further proof that I will be winning no 'Mother Of The Year Award' for good old 2009.

My potty mouth is legendary, well at least to me it is. I am absurdly proud of the fact that I can work a curse into just about any thought and sentence at the drop of a hat. Wait, let me redact that last statement, or at least edit it to meet today's needs; I am absurdly proud of the fact that I used to be able to work a curse into just about any thought and sentence at the drop of a hat.

Now that I have 2 children whose little brains are made up of tiny recording components that seem to capture only the worst things that come, unbidden, out of my mouth when I am in a frenzy of finding lost keys (they were in the freezer), cleaning up dog vomit (Dog: Why must you always vomit on the rug? Why? What is wrong with the hardwood floors or the easy to clean linoleum?) or picking poop out of my EYELASHES when Seba sharted as I was changing his diaper. (The unbidden word that flew out of my mouth then was, I believe, "FUUUCK!")

So getting back on track, I have a potty mouth that I have curbed to a certain degree around the kids but which I seem to let loose on many an occasion - the contents of which are immediately downloaded and saved for future reference in two toddler brains. Aside from my own slips, Mike doesn't have an angel’s vocabulary per se, and then there are the songs on the radio. I can’t keep up!

Case in point:

1) The "Coño" incident

2) The incident that occurred in the car yesterday after he picked up the kids from the sitter's house as related to me by Mike this morning:

Mike: So this douche cuts me off and I have to swerve a bit to avoid him hitting the car, so I say "FUCKING ASSHOLE!" and then I hear Nicky echoing me from the backseat "Yes, dada. What a fucking asshole. That's right! " (Nicky ends most of his sentences with a "that's right!")

Me: Sheeee-it. We have to stop cursing around them.

Seba: (standing behind me unnoticed) "Sheeeee-it!"

Aside from copy cat incidents of the spoken variety there are the incidents where the children will re-enact something they have seen their father do. I am placing this one squarely on Mike since I don’t go around lifting up the skirt of his dress and saying "Wooooo - Mommy's butt!" in front of the boys. Because damn, Mike in a skirt is a scary thought. So, yes, Mike felt compelled to do this to me today in front of both boys and now they think it’s just so funny, so hysterical to do this to me all the time. It didn't help that they were chastised in a half-assed manner by their widely-grinning father who wasn’t exactly oozing any dissatisfaction at their antics.

Now to sum up what I have learned from these experiences:

1) Make sure the kids are finished pooping before removing diaper and leaning in close to wipe poop residue from little behinds.

2) Stop cursing.

3) Do not listen to the radio anymore or let Seba happily sing along to the unrated version of “Boom Boom Pow” by the Black Eyed Peas, who have sneakily thrown in the S-word all over the place.

3) Do not wear skirts while in public with my kids. Ever.

Klepto

The culprit:

 
Name: Nicholas
Age: 3

The means:
See that backpack he's wearing?:
 
One "Cars" backpack.

I gave him that backpack for his 3rd birthday with the intention that we could do away with the diaper bag and he could carry around his own Pull Up's, crayons and some books when we go out. Instead, my kid has used the book bag and transformed himself into a hoarder of all items big and small. It hasn't become a problem until now, unless you count the fact that he puts about 56436726752765728 small metal trains, cars, random crayons, markers, books, papers, receipts, some mail, and my serving spoons in the damned thing making it weigh about 4 tons. He wears that backpack everyday to go to the babysitters house, and wears it around our house until we finally peel it off of him before bathtime and bedtime. Still, no big deal, right? Wrong. I say that because just the other day I was surreptitiously emptying out his backpack with the hopes of lightening it so that he doesnt suffer from scoliosis in the near future when at the very bottom I discovered these:

Those are six, count 'em, SIX butter knives (before you freak our dear reader and wonder how much I pay my babysitter that she can afford to buy pearl-handeled butter knives; those arent the exact butter knives. I  just forgot to take a picture...) So, back to the knives. I wonderingly pulled them out freaking out a little bit more with each one I extracted only to find yet another treasure:

Yes, that is a tube of toothpaste and yet another generic picture stolen from the internet. Shut up.

So there I was, sitting on the floor of the kids bedroom, surrounded by many thousands of toy cars, six butter knives and a tube of Crest that belonged to our babysitter, realizing that I am raising a criminal. I called Mike and showed him the stolen goods. We both sat there and wondered why in the world the kid had chosen butter knives and Crest to steal. I mean he couldn't go for the pearls? Yeesh.

We called Nicky and he came in already looking sheepish, which of course let me know that he knew that he had done something wrong. We had a talk with him and told him that he can't take things that aren't his and then we promptly marched him over to the babysitters to add humiliation to the punishment roster.  Being raised by old-school Latino parents I know the power of humiliation. We made him apologize and he did - although I had to shoot daggers at the babysitter with my eyes because she thought it was hysterically funny and was trying to baby him. Well, my little boy apologized and promised to never take anything again through trembling lips and with huge tears rolling down his face.

Mike and I both hugged him and let him know that he is a good boy and that he made a mistake and that we still love him very much and to please, please, please go for the pearls next time.

2 Early Morning Conversations

Nicky: (Upon entering my new master bathroom, which he had never noticed before): WHAT??!!! WHERE DID THIS ROOM COME FROM?

Me: Nicky, this is mommy and dada's new bathroom here in the new casa!

Nicky: Mami, this is blowing my mind! (collapses) Look, I fainted. This new room made me faint!

Me: You are not allowed to watch any more spanish soap operas at the babysitters house, Nicky.

Nicky: Ay Dios Mio!

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Seba: Mami, my butt (pronounced "baht"). Mami, my butt. Mami, my BUTT!

Me: Seba what about your butt? (I look at his little pampered rear end and see nothing amiss.)

Seba: SMELL IT! (bends over and points at his rear)

Nicky: HE GOT YOU MAMI! SMELL IT!

Me: ...

Both boys run off chortling with glee at their clever joke.

/end scene

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Prince

Dearest Sebastian (a.k.a. 'Seba"):

2 years ago today Daddy and I got up at a ridiculously early hour (4 A.M.) after having a bad (read: horrible, terrible, stress inducing nightmare of a) night with your older brother- who somehow sensing that something big was afoot and that Mami and Daddy needed to rest, staged and all night vendetta against us that took the form of his waking every 15 minutes crying his eyes out. So, once he finally succumbed to my whispered threats of "You better go to sleep right now Nicholas or so help me God I will sell you to gypsies" and I got all of 1.5 hours of rest it was time for us to head to the hospital.

My (your-um, OUR) C-section was the first one scheduled for the day and I must say that the only thing I wasn't looking forward to was the big huge IV tubes that would be inserted into my wrist. Other than that, your dad and I had a good time joking with the nurses and then, once we finally got into the operating room, with the Dr. who delivered you.

Believe it or not, we had a good time singing along with the mixed CD that the Dr. had created for your birth. I remember avidly singing along with the Sade song "Smooth Operator" even as the he started to operate on me. I thought it was hysterically funny that he would put that song on the CD and he had to tell me to calm down because I was laughing so hard while he was trying to, well you know, get you out. The song switched right before you made your entrance and what was playing as I heard you cry out your first cry was the song "All My Life" by the unfortunately named "K-Ci & JoJo". The chorus of the song was playing, and although it's a love song this is certainly how I feel about you:

 And all my life
I've prayed for someone like you
And I thank God that I, that I finally found you
All my life
I've prayed for someone like you
And I hope that you feel the same way too
Yes, I pray that you do love me too

 

The doctor held you up so I could see your little face and your big huge feet that you had walloped me with daily over the last 9 months. I reached my hand up to touch your long beautiful fingers and I fell in love with you my son, my little prince.

 

You've been with us for 2 years and I can't imagine what life would be like if you had never entered it. You're so much fun, gosh darn it - you bring such laughter and joy and craziness and stubbornness that I can't imagine your dad, brother or I would ever want to be without.

  

Happy Birthday Sebastian. We love you!