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Archive for the ‘The Dictator’ Category

Scene 1: Wednesday night around 5:30pm after dropping Deuce off at Grandma Claire’s house. The weather is miserable and it is dark out. Mommy (me) is driving the MazdaCar while Dictator is jabbering to me from the backseat. We are on our way to a special Mommy/Dictator only dinner and then off to pre-school registration.

Dictator: Can I see a big yellow dog?

Mommy: If I see a big yellow dog I will point it out to you.

Dictator: Can I see a big black dog?

Mommy: If I see a big black dog Mommy can point it out to you.

Dictator: I never seen a blue dog before.

Mommy: No peanut, Mommy has never seen a blue dog before either.

Dictator: Dictator wants to see a blue dog.

Mommy: If I ever see a blue dog I will let you know OK?

Scene 2: Thursday 8:30am Mommy is in the shower, Deuce is dozing peacefully in the swing after her morning feeding and Dictator is busy playing trucks on the main floor. We are getting ready to meet a friend and do some shopping for the morning.

Dictator enters Mommy’s master bathroom.

Dictator: Dictator has never seen a blue dog before.

Mommy: Neither have I buddy (continue scrubbing shampoo in to head)

Dictator: Dictator has seen a purple dog.

Mommy thinks anything is possible with TV now at days and thinks nothing of it.

Mommy: Really? Where have you seen a purple dog?

Dictator: Dictator seen a red one too.

Mommy: That’s nice dear, are they on TV right now?

Dictator: No they are on Paprika!  LOOK IT HERE!!!!! WHATS GOING ON HERE???!!! (because he says ‘whats going on here’ all the time this week)

img_3411s1

Artistic rendition of painted dog.

Obviously:

  • My son didn’t care if he ever saw a blue dog, purple and red would do.
  • He obviously thought Mommy’s red toenails are pretty since he drew some on the dog.
  • Crayola washable markers may not come out of your dogs hair with just water – BUT a phone call to the lovely people at Crayola will tell you that copious amounts dish-soap will do wonders in this situation.
  • Given the speed of response from the Crayola staff they OBVIOUSLY had this question a number of times before.
  • The dude at Crayola laughed when he heard the dog was white (originally;  before the art experiment) and thought that it was an inviting blank canvas for a child to work on.
  • Paprika is obviously a patient (and NICE) dog to sit through the amount of coloring that was done in the 5 minutes I had been in the shower.
  • My son may have a future as a hairdresser given the nicely spaced out hi-lights that the dog was given. And because he loves shoes and purses…
  • I am an idiot for not taking a real photo before washing the dog.
  • My dog now smells like Palmolive soap – original formulation.

Conclusion:

I have not taken the markers out of reach because they are so totally washable, and I just can’t make material like this up so I need to let my 2 year old be the funny one.

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Halloween Re-Cap

The kid DIGS Halloween! He trick or treated for almost 2 hours with Stewart and wanted more. I honestly was a little worried he would wuss out and come home since he is scared of kids in masks. The only thing he was scared of? Giving his Dad candy to put in the overflow bag.

Inspecting the candy haul.

Inspecting the candy haul.

One happy little Moose.

One happy little Moose.

I have a feeling now that he understands presents and treats that CHristmas is going to be a total HOOT this year!

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Six weeks until the official due date.

I feel like there is so much to get done to finish preparing for this baby – yet trying to summon the energy to get the list accomplished is near impossible. I start each day more sore then the last and end each night short of breath and completely uncomfortable. I curse the fact that my fucking arms even exist right now – because my god where the hell do I put them when I am attempting to sleep? I am an emotional wreck and in a (well concealed) state of panic because soon there will be two little people to take care of and still only one me and one Stewart. I worry about how the hell I am going to get meals cooked with the world’s busiest toddler in the house AND a new baby. Oh and cleaning? HAH! Another point for me to panic over. Already I feel overwhelmed, and soon it will get worse. I want to spend as much time with The Dictator as possible before the baby is born – yet I want to teach him to be independent and to learn that I can not carry him around any longer. I still need a good middle name for The Deuce.

I want, I need, I have to, I should…….. it never seems to end.

Recently we went to our weekly playgroup which is held in the basement of a community hall. The stairs down to this basement are completely open and freak The Dictator out so normally I have to carry him down the stairs to the play area. On this particular day I bent over to pick him up and contractions started HARD (like 7 cm dilated no epidural contractions – yeah fun times). This has been happening for a couple weeks and is one of the reasons my awesome OB/GYN put me on sick leave from work.  There is no way in heck I can carry a two year old, diaper bag and his hot chocolate down the stairs with that kind of pain – so The Dictator threw a fit. And started crying. And started begging me to carry him. And started apologizing for absolutely no reason (it isn’t his fault – I really needed to sit down a few minutes and let the contraction stop) and breaking my damn heart.  After 15 minutes of trying to get him to calm down (and me being in tears myself) one of my friends walked by on her way down the stairs and carried The Dictator down for me.

And I couldn’t help but be mad.

Mad at myself for crying because I couldn’t do something so simple for my son. Mad at my son because he just wouldn’t wait a minute for Mommy to feel better. Mad at the world for seeing me so upset over really nothing. Mad at all the fucking old people who parked in the community hall parking lot (like a bunch of douche-bags in Oldsmobiles and Buicks with Kleenex boxes in the back window) so they could get their free flu shots and yet we had to walk 2 blocks (no joke) from a parking spot in a residential area to the community hall to go to an organized playgroup. Mad that not one person who walked by and heard me explain to my child that I could NOT carry him down the stairs offered to help me – even just with the fucking bag. Mad that I just didn’t turn around and take The Dictator back to the car (which was the aforementioned 2 blocks away) instead of trying to get him to relax while I caught my breath and got him down those stairs. Mad that I got mad and upset.

I am just a tired emotional wreck with a crampy, slightly bitchy uterus and compressed lungs. Sent your condolences to Stewart in the comments OK?

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  • I always said I would never get my kid a buzz cut. I mocked the lazy parents who did that shit to their kids. BUT, due to someones irrational fears over scissors lately (WTF??? and where the hell did it come from?) I decided a full on #3 clipper cut was the way to go. You know what? He still looks damn cute and it took no time at all. Still cost $13 like a real haircut though, go figure.
  • Seven more weeks until my official due date. I am totally ready mentally to have this baby. House wise? Not so much. I still need curtains for the girls room, and The Dictator has an art project to complete for her room as well. We need to eat our way through the freezer and re-stock on stuff. I am also going to a meal prep place to make 12 dinners for post-baby so that I will not be stressed out over cooking on those really crazy days. Also hospital bag is nowhere near packed yet. I would like to be done Christmas shopping before my due date, which can be underway anytime now since we drew names last weekend. I got Stewart out of the hat (lucky me) which means I have to get him a family gift and our personal gifts. GAH!
  • I ordered this bag from LeSportsac (Yes DogMama I KNOW you are totally surprised) and am greatly anticipating the arrival. So cute and so versatile at the same time. It can be a diaper bag or a funky ass tote for all my stuff. I almost bought it in Vegas but $350 is a little much for me, but 75% off makes me happy. Also ordered was a hanging travel toiletry kit for my Mom since she seems to have the travel bug, so that is one small Christmas gift done.
  • I am on the hunt for a winter coat for my kid. Not one of those 3 in 1 deals because the sleeves always drive me batshit crazy. Nothing is worse then chasing a second arm up the sleeve of your coat trying to keep two jackets stuck together. Sadly everything else out there is so damn bulky that it makes dealing with buckling a toddler into a car seat near impossible. Also needed: snow pants for a kid with really short legs.
  • I am officially off work now. My lovely doctor put me on sick leave last week (even though I worked a couple more shifts before I decided I was done) which means I can enjoy more time with The Dictator before The Deuce arrives. I am actually really enjoying not working at all. Here is hoping that Stewart’s lottery ticket pulls through for tonight. Yeah that’s my retirement plan in this economy, you got a better one?
  • Am I crazy? Go ahead and answer that one. I decided to go buy a few canvases for The Dictator to paint for The Deuce’s bedroom. I painted the canvases pink and green and decided to let him do whatever he want to them with white paint. Could be a disaster or it could be cute. I will post photos when we are done with this little project. The Dictator also picked out the ribbon to hang them from the wall – the kid did well! Two year olds and paint? Whoo-boy.
  • We have a first name for the baby (and a back-up first and middle name) but we need a middle name. Wanna weigh in on it? Since the first name starts with a vowel we want a middle name to start with a consonant, and Stewart likes the idea of a middle name starting with a J. Me? I still vote for Deuce. :

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Dearest Dictator,

Your little cold kept me up most the night while I listened to you hacking from your bedroom. This morning though you seem to be fine except for a few boogers that you keep picking out of your nose and wiping on me. Mommy on the other hand is a little peeved that your cold has caught up with her and knocked me on my but. I am never a fan of calling in sick to work, but yet today I did. I need to get rid of your cold, my cold and catch up on the laundry. Also? I need some sleep since your coughing and Daddy’s tossing and turning kept me up most the night

Daddy and I would like to inform you that when the doorbell rings at 9:30am on a weekday morning, it is very unlikely that it is the Pizza Delivery Guy. Or Grandma. Please stop yelling PIZZA PIZZA to the Purolator/DHL/UPS drivers OK? You make it look like Mommy never cooks and has the Pizza Guy on speed dial. Stop turning me in!

Also, when Mommy goes to the drive through bank machine; it does not dispense french fries. No matter how hard you are wishing for them.

Other then that you are pretty damn awesome.

Love you more then chocolate,

Mommy.

P.S. Please stop asking for beer to drink when we take you out to eat. You are 2, and I am sure Daddy will have no problem letting you have a sip of beer at home when you are 97 years old but until them we have to continue pretending we are Parents of the Year.

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Tonight will be night number one without The Dictators soother.

I would be such a big fat liar if I said I was fine with this; but the truth be told I am so not fine with it. For one it means my little boy is officially a big kid, and more importantly I have lost the ability to plug him to get him to calm down. The soother was a big tool  the only quiet inducing tool in my parenting arsenal you know?

What finally brought me to this decision?

This week I had a few people over from my Mom Group for lunch and a playdate and my friend DogMama was telling me how Mayson has been without her soother for a week now and it wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. This made me think that maybe it was fine time to ditch our soothers, because like DogMama said “do you really think it is going to get any easier”? Hell to the no it wasn’t going to get easier, I was just hoping he would grow out of them and decide he didn’t need them anymore.

Heh. I much prefer when my child takes care of his own parenting needs…

Knowing in my heart that this was never going to happen I decided that today was the day.

After nap-time I piled all the soothers I could find into the soother jar and hauled The Dictator off to Toys ‘R Us (first we picked up Grandma Danielle). The deal was that he was supposed to hand his jar of soothers over to the cashier to pay for his new toy that he picked out. First my darling son picked out two annoying and loud toys (a talking Mater from Cars and a fire station) and second he was much too distracted by the giant gumball machine at the checkout to even care about giving up the soothers.

To top it off AFTER I explained the situation to the idiot casher she was so confused she gave The Dictator back his soothers. What about the following conversation is so hard to understand?:

Me: My son is going to give you a jar of soothers as payment for his new toy – please put that jar in this non see-through green bag and hand it back to me after OK?

Her: OK. That will be 35$ please.

Me: Whip out debit card – have The Dictator cermoniously hand over the soothers in the jar….

Her: Oh you want to buy this jar of assorted soothers too?

Me: Um no, he is paying you with the soothers that go in the green bag right?… wink wink.

Her: Oh.

Her: Hands the jar of soothers back to The Dictator, who is thankfully distracted by the gumball machine.

Me: Do me a favor, make sure you don’t tell the kids there is no Santa Claus at Christmas OK? That would be a total deal breaker….

This was not a smart girl.

When we got to the car we made a fuss over how big The Dictator was and how all the little babies would like to have his soothers that he left at the store. He seemed pretty OK with it but MY chest felt tight and I was breathing funny and tearing up at the same time. I seriously was freaking out on the inside.

Edited to add:

WTF was I so concerned about? The kid asked for it a few times before bedtime and then went to sleep last night with no issues whatsoever.

Obviously I was the one with the issues.

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Dearest Dictator,

Saying ‘Happy Birthday’ does not guarantee that you will be given cake. Especially when no birthday’s coming up any time soon. Sorry for any confusion previous birthday celebrations with copious amounts of cake may have caused.

Cake can happen on non-birthdays too. Thankfully you have not learned that yet.

Love Mommy

P.S. Please stop saying ‘Garbage Truck’ 200+ times a day, you are driving your Daddy and me insane. Garbage day is in 2 more sleeps. Wait for it.

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