when the cat is away

What's that saying: 'when the cat is away, the mice will play'? I think that's bull. When the cat is away, the cat gets to play, and when I say 'cat' I'm referring to my husband.

I'm lucky though. My husband leaves on business only about once a year. (I'm sure lots of you are screaming at your computer screen about how I should quit crying in my tomato soup and get over myself, that your husband is gone all the time.)

We all know it's hard though, doing everything; dinner and dishes, baths, books and bedtime. There is no split shifts, it's just you and well, you. But for me, what seems to be worse than the pressure of doing it all, is the jealousy of him doing all that other stuff.

Sure, it's a business trip, but what happens after five?

Where's my dinner at where ever in the world I want as long as it doesn't have a kids' menu? Where's my going to a mid-week chic flick? Where's my complimentary breakfast I bring up to my room to eat in bed?

Where's my little trip away? Where's my fancy hotel?

Then I got a text from my husband's most recent trip with this picture:


Yep, that's his fancy motel room (the creepy kind with the front door going to the parking lot). Yes, that's a mini-fridge on top of the dresser, with a microwave on top of that. And oh yes, that's a baby bed bug breeder velour Harley Davidson blanket on the bed.

This picture helped.

It at least put a damper on the jealousy...

a bite bit.

just another WTF Friday

Dearest Caillou,

I'm going to be blunt, you are not normal.

Let's just lay out the facts here:

1) You're a 4 years old and you still have no hair. My children were all bald, but they eventually grew hair, and it was way before 4.

2) You're always playing by yourself and your parents are somehow doing other stuff; like talking on the phone, cooking dinner, chatting with friends... you are never playing with your parents and apparently, you're fine with that. (Does anyone in real life have uninterrupted phone conversations? Yeah, I didn't think so.)

3) You wear hats to bed. You probably wear socks too (shuttering at that thought).

4) Your voice is akin to a helium balloon being stretched apart and slowly leaking air out, and has anyone ever mentioned that you might whine complain a bit too much?

5) And apparently, from the book I just checked out from the library, you wake up at 10 in the morning.


See the close up of the clock:


I've heard from other parents that their kids get up at 5am, and I'm pretty certain I would die if that was me. I'm lucky enough to not have to drip coffee into my veins intravenously, but are any parents really getting to sleep in until 10am?

Come on, Caillou, WTF.

let's just cut to the chase

I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I felt pretty drained after searching for the perfect gift for Henry's classmates for his birthday. So, three weeks later, I just didn't care anymore what he put in his Valentine's cards. I drove to the nearest Dollar Store and bought these tiny little compass rings.

I suck.

These stupid compass rings stand for so much of what I hate: buying junk and giving people crap.

Remember when it was easy (and oh, the horror...possibly edible) and you could just scotch tape a sucker onto your card?

So, what was my favorite piece of crap from Henry's Valentine's cards from yesterday?

Yep, the Valentine card that just cut to the chase.

The one that wasn't crap at all... it was the one with a quarter taped on.


How I adore her parents right now.

It says "instead of me buying junk, I'm going to give you money, the money I would have spent on whatever."

Brilliant!

Of course, Henry, right away, wondered what he could buy with a quarter.

crap

the bigger the snack, the harder the fall

The most vivid lie I remember ever telling my parents was about me and a Rubik's cube. I sat in a swivelled chair, facing the corner, peeling colored stickers off and placing them back in right color order. I ran to my mom shouting that I 'did it myself!'. Though it was probably so obvious to my parents; the nail scratches, the corners pushed up, I thought at four years old, I'd gotten away with it.

I thought 'my parents officially know I am a genius.'

It took me over a week to finally admit to lying to them. (Or at least it felt like a week, I was 4 for goodness sakes, details are fuzzy.)

But yes, I was one stubborn genius child (a trait that my husband would say has only gotten stronger with age).

::

So, Wyatt sat in his seat from preschool going on and on about 'how hungry he was'. He then paused and started to tell me about how he didn't get a snack. Then he decided that wasn't enough, but that the whole school didn't get a snack.

He tells me "No one got a snack today, Mom. No one! No one in my classroom, no one in any of the classrooms!" He motions along with this like it's the end of the world.

I thought it was pretty strange, I mean, I pay $180 a month for a snack to be included, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Really?" I replied. "Don't you guys usually have a snack? Did you run out of time?

It was like I was his pawn... "Yes!" he shouted, "we ran out of time!".

"You must be starving then, I'll fix lunch as fast as I can." I respond.

I think I could physically see him deflate from the backseat.

Unknown to me, his plan for a snack before lunch didn't work. He reacted badly to this news. He started to get mad at stuff that well, usually makes him mad.

"My shirt is all wet (sobbing), I HATE my shirt! Why did you pick out this shirt for me?"

I snapped, "don't say hate and why in the world is your shirt all wet?"

"I spilled all my water," Wyatt whined back.

"Well, when did you have water?" I asked.

"At snack time"... that sort of tapers off to not being audible.

busted

Turns out it was even a huge snack, with granola bars, string cheese and water, which sort of makes me even a little bit more mad. The bigger the snack, the harder the fall.

So, Wyatt sat on the step in a time out as I made lunch. As he climbed the stairs after the timer went off, I then told him the story of my lie of pulling off the stickers of the Rubik's cube.

And when I finished, when I hoped for this big ah-ha moment from Wyatt, all he wanted to know 'why in the world would I have told the truth?'

Apparently, getting away with a lie would have been way more impressive to the storyline.

I heart you, literally

I imagine his preschool teachers plopped papers, paints and brushes on the table and told the table full of four year olds, "this week we are talking about Valentines. You know, love and hearts and all that kind of stuff..."

They continue "Could you all paint some beautiful hearts for your moms and dads for this upcoming Valentines? I'm sure your parents will love it!"

And they were right; I do, I love it.

Wyatt painted my heart...


and my stomach and those 'wiggly things' (intestines, I'm assuming, though there is no doubt he would correct me if not).

I have a feeling this child has my sense of humor.

::

My sweet Wyatt, I heart you too,

literally.

a tutorial worth pinning

I know many of you will be asking me to post this up on Pinterest so you can get a step-by-step tutorial on how to get the perfect family photo (after seeing my previous family photo), but I haven't succumbed to pinning stuff, just yet, so a blog post will have to suffice. My apologies.

So, have your family go to Chuck E. Cheese. (No remarks on the cleanliness level of your Chuck E. Cheese, please.)

Deposit one coin into the sketch photo booth thing with half your family members.

Next, deposit a second coin with the other half of your family members. (Remember to point clearly to where the camera is and where it isn't.)

Smile.

Trim to fit, scotch tape together and there you have it.

The perfect family photo... for the cost of only two coins (and perhaps your sanity as children around you are screaming about you taking too long in the photo booth).