Go The F*ck To Sleep: The Play

Scene:
           Living Room-- Mother and Son prepare to read a bed time story.  Mother is feeling very proud and slightly superior at this moment for she is ENGAGING Son's imagination and EXPANDING his vocabulary and IMPARTING wisdom.  (Large action words indicates that Mother is envisioning the day that when Son accepts Nobel Humanitarian World Record Prize for his works in the field of Neuro-Literature-Artology, he will recall this evening.)

7:15--Aesop's Fables read

7:30--Son tucked into bed, nightly orisons occur.

7:35--Mother begins work plays on Pintrest; Son announces from top of the stairs that he has to clip a hangnail.

7:37--Son pronounces that all toe nails and several finger nails need to be clipped.  Mother makes mental note to sweep bathroom floor as it is now littered.

7:45--Son bounces down the stairs, pleads for Mother to re-tuck him into bed.  Mother pauses video of duck skate-boarding to act in a maternal fashion.

8:05--Mother hears footsteps overhead.  Sighing, she stops looking at food porn and addresses Son.  He inquires as to her nightly routine, as he is unable to sleep without knowing when she will be finished "working" on the computer.

8:07--Son is re-re-tucked into bed.  Mother wonders if any new articles on Cracked have been published since she was on at 5pm.

8:20--Son stomps downstairs, tears trailing down his face.  He is "sooooooooooooo hot!"  And "has a little bit of a headache, especially when I shake my head like this."  Son imitates wet dog shaking self dry.

8:30--Mother updates Facebook status with a sideways frowny face, informs sister that the new family dog will be named Sherlocka as 'Chelsea' is a stupid name. 

8:33--Mother realizes there is nothing to drink in the house which would give her a buzz, so she makes a cup of herbal tea.  House Mate makes pointless inquiry about Son not sleeping.  Mother wishes to roll eyes but refrains by digging her nails into her leg.

8:47--Mother, no longer dreaming that Son will live to see the an award winning future, much less next day, ascends stairs to threaten child with bodily harm if he rises from bed again. Son is re-re-re-tucked into bed.

10:22--Mother finally feels she has earned the right to relax.

Son has gone the fuck to sleep.

 

  

Next Time on House: Dr. Chews Gum While He Amputates Leg

I'm damaged good.  Naturally all women want to hump me.

Search engines, all I have to say is what the hell?  How to you explain that two people searching for "Can Dr. House amputate his leg" and another searching "Why do I chew gum daily" land on my site.  I find it hard to believe that terms like Dr. House's leg has been so underutilized that my page pops up first in Google results.  I don't know if I should be flattered or irritated.  Maybe I should start throwing out random words and see what happens next.

Burbank, California!
Kittens
Old Spice (just cuz I luv the dreamy man your man could smell like man)
The Book of John
Ice Cream Cones

I'll let you know what that brings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 I'm going to introduce you to a new segment of my blog I'd like to call "News that Pisses Me Off (Because It's so Fucking Dumb.)" So without further ado:

News That Pisses Me Off  

(Because it's so fucking dumb)

• First up, Bolton, England where a British whorehouse fitness group is offering a pole dancing class. FOR SEVER YEAR OLD GIRLS!  I understand the way capitalism works.  You make a product, no matter how dumb it is (see truck testicles below) and the consumer will by it, thereby you laugh all the way to the bank.  Now here's what really pisses me off.  It's not the "gym" that is offering the classes.  It's the PARENTS that are allowing their pre-prepubescent innocent girls to attend these classes.  I mean for Gods sake, why don't you just pimp them out of the street for an honest dollar if you want your child to have a career in pole dancing.  That's every pedophiles wet dream come true.  I'm not for Big Brother stepping into peoples lives, but in this cases, I'd be all for it.  Do these assholes even realize what they are doing to these babies, turning them into sex on a stick when most of them can't ride in a car without a booster seat?  For you parents in Bolton, England--You are sick fuckers!
• Apparently a cop in Bonneau, North Carolina had nothing better to do than to hand out a $445 ticket to a woman who had 'truck nutz/bull balls' hanging off the back of her truck.  Here's the thing, personally I find those things juvenile, disgusting, and frankly, if you have to hang fake beanbags off your truck to prove something, you're overcompensating  (i.e. men who drive fast, red sports cars).  Citing an obscure public decency law, her trial is set for August 1.  If he wants to play fair, what's good for the goose is good for the gander, why doesn't officer jackass pull over semis with naked lady mud flaps.  Oh, that's right.  Because he'd be too scared to do that.  

It's late now, I've finished my rants.  I should finish up a page I've been working on for The Band, but I think I'll make some cinnamon and sugar toast. 

Laughter Isn't Always the Best Medicine in the Kiddo's Case

This week has been a bit of a down for me. 

 I've been struggling with writer's block, bad moods due to massive amounts of rain, and two bouts of food sickness (word to the wise: if you are eating out, never eat a salad!  Restaurant Salads = E.Coli!).

But on the up side, I made a UK DJ laugh, my honesty and openness made 2 authors cry, and I got caught in a violent rainstorm while out on a walk with the Kiddo.  I wish I could have had a camera to record that moment.

As I child I grew up playing in the rain.  If there was a rain storm and no lightning, I would be outside swimming in the neighbor's pool , bouncing on a trampoline, or walking in the gutter pretending I was Laura Ingalls Wilder playing in the creek.  When I went off to college, my love of the rain didn't abate and that hasn't changed since I hit 30. 

So yesterday when the Kiddo and I were walking back from the Post Office and the rain started to pelt down and I mean REALLY nail you in the head hard, I started to laugh.  The Kiddo, on the other hand, freaked out.  He was a good two house-lengths ahead on his bike and froze in place.  By the time we got to the house, we were SOAKED!  Me still laughing, him quite hysterical. 

When I got him inside and into dry clothes, he looked at me with his great big eyes and said, "I'm not having a really good day."

Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight

He's really pissed at me in this photo.

It's a good thing my Kiddo is still cute (pic is 7 months old) because when he flipped on the overhead light in my bedroom at 3AM I was ready for a fight.

My first thought was, "I'm being raided!" quickly followed by, "Wait, I don't have any open warrants nor do I live near a crack den."

The Kiddo's saving grace was saying, "I woke up and wanted to tell you I love you."

This is why I don't sleep with a gun under my pillow. . .but I would love to have one in the house.  (First, must learn how to shoot).

Daylight Circadian Time My A$$

My Fisher-Price Rhino Puffalump, a steadfast bed-mate for almost 25 yrs.

Yesterday was a fail day of epic proportions.  The Kiddo and I squabbled about EVERYTHING.  In addition to him not understanding why he had to go to bed 'while it was still daytime,' which he valiantly fought against until 10PM, he did not want me to work on the computer at all.  I, of course, was wired from being uptight all day and couldn't fall asleep until 2AM.

I'm too tired to really focus, which is a shame because earlier I had a really funny idea, but it flew out of my head faster than the money disappears from my paycheck.

For now I must be content to obey the signals that my body is giving me.  Roughly translated my brain is saying: "Idiot, go take a shower because you smell like a gym sock.  You're Your intellect is duller than hospital hallway wallpaper and the bags under your eyes have their own set of luggage now."

Parenting for Dummies: Part I

I try not to be too judgmental when it comes to parenting now that I have a child of my own.  I readily admit that during my pre-child-rearing days I was a judgmental snob; my list of "things my kids will never do" was extensive, pretentious, and down-right obnoxious.  For example:

• My child will watch educational shows only, and then only in moderation. 
• My child will eat a wide variety of fruits, vegetables, and whole grains.
• Organic meats or nothing at all. No processed foods.
• My child will have the classics for bedtime stories; plenty of A.A. Milne and Aesop's fables, none of that Pat the Bunny crap.
• I will never raise my voice, spank, or yell, but will have reasonable yet firm discussions with the Kid.  I will never say, "Because I'm the Mother.  That's why," as my mother said to me.
• And on and on and on. 

Oh, the irony.  I make plans and God laughs at them.  The reality is:

• The Kid's favorite TV shows are Sponge Bob and The Penguins of Madagascar.
• The Kid enjoys vegetable as much as a hole in the head.
• Chicken nuggets are his favorite food.
• He (and I) laughs hysterically each time we read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and Fox in Socks.  (But thank God no Pat the Bunny). 
•  "BECAUSE I AM THE MOTHER!  AND I SAID SO!"
• And on and on and on.

So while motherhood has certainly relaxed my judgmental snob factor about the ins-and-outs of properly raising a child, there are some absolute standards that I will not relax, give a free pass, or ever change my mind.  Never.  Ever.  Even if I got beaned by a baseball.  Or really drunk.  Or brain dead. 

#1: Basic Parking Lot Survival
A child is auto-tuned to ignore every third word spoken by a parent, so this necessitates a parent to mimic an auctioneer when children climb out of the car: "We're in a parking lot, hold my hand.  There are lots of cars, give me your hand.  We are not moving until you give me your hand.  We're in a parking lot, with lots of cars, GIVE ME YOUR HAND!"

This is what I consider to be a good rule, an important rule, especially if you'd like to see your children grow up.  As most children are the size of garden gnomes and the distracted soccer mom in her behemoth Flex-Fuel SUV is not going to see your offspring, it's your job to hang onto their sticky hands.

What's a good example of NOT practicing parking lot safety with your child?  How about you standing by your car, hands on your hips, yelling at your child to not walk in front of a car?  While the child is three car lengths away? And is maybe 16 months old!!!!!

This is what I would consider to be an EPIC FAIL in car safety parenting.  

#2 Crash Test Dummies 
Car safety has come a long way since I came home from the hospital.  I rode home in a Moses basket set on the floor boards of my parents car.  While I had Mom's outstretched arm to prevent me from bashing my head into the dash when we stopped suddenly, today's car seats have built-in side air bags, juice cup holders, and designer colors.  So it always simultaneously baffles and pisses me off when I see a child riding around either in mom's arms or bouncing along the back seat.

For instance, yesterday while I was out running errands I happened behind a shiny silver compact.  And bouncing in the back window, like a bobble-head figurine on crack was an irritating troll of a child.  Now before you think I'm an ogre, can I say that the brat was picking his nose while making horrid faces at me, WITH his parents approval?!!!  Yea, I watched mom and dad turn and laugh at his hi-jinks.  Oh, my evil, dark side thought, "I'd love to tap the bumper of that car and watch the monster hit the headrest."  Which I'd never do because I'm not a psychopath, but still. . .  .I bet you've had that feeling too.

In all honesty if I hadn't been paying attention, say I was texting OR mobile blogging (which I just mastered) OR singing along with 3OH3(feel free to mock me), and I rear-ended the car, that kid was in the perfect spot to be hurled out the windshield.  I didn't like the kid, I didn't like the parents apathy towards their child's safety, and I didn't like the color of their car, but that didn't mean that I wanted their child to wind up as a crash test dummy.

While I'm sure I will have future posts on PARENTING FOR DUMMIES, I'm through with the lessons on car safety.  So parents out there, while I promise not to foist my particular brand of (ever-evolving) parenting rules onto you, I do demand that you adhere to the most basic of child and car safety.