A tale of the Barbie deranged mother
June 7, 2004
I have a confession to make. Well, not so much a confession as an admission of a character flaw trait.
I am obsessive. There isn’t really a rhyme or reason for why or for what I will become obsessive about, but when I do…look out. Let me show you an example of this that we are dealing with right now.
Do you remember when I told you about Little Diva’s favorite Christmas present this year? (This Barbie?)
Well, it’s missing. Gone. Everyone is convinced a neighbor-girl stole it one day after she was playing with Little Diva. (That was the last time it was seen.) Not only this Barbie, but 3 other My Scene Barbies.
A normal sane person (after searching the entire house several times) would give up, realize they are gone, and move the hell on. But me? Nope. There is literally not a day that goes by that I don’t look for those damn Barbies in one way or another. Remember, though, our house is for sale. There are no messy “under the beds” or cluttered closets or overflowing drawers. The house is very neat and clean. (Okay, we have a junk drawer or two, but no way that Barbie and her gang could hang there.) So, pretty much, I am apparently thinking they will appear out of thin air. That one day *shazamm* there they will be.
I know…this just isn’t normal. But damn it all, I want to find those Barbies. I think that my family thinks I have lost my mind. I am sure of it.
Clint: Honey, what are you doing? (As he sees me on my hands and knees looking under the couch that has been moved and swept under at least once a week for months.)
Me: Nothing. Really. Just thought that maybe… Nothing.
Clint: Were you looking for Barbie from da ‘hood again? *shaking his head in disbelief and probably some saddness, too*
Me: No. I mean, I’ve looked here. That would be crazy. It’s just that…I mean…Well….
Clint: Jenn. Jenn? Helloooooo?
Me: Okay, damn it. Yes, I was looking for that Barbie. For the love of God, where the hell is that Barbie?!! I MUST FIND THAT DAMN BARBIE!
Clint: *blank (frightened) stare*
I usually end up walking away shaking my head mumbling about “why would someone take a Barbie from a 3 year old? It’s not right. She just wouldn’t do that. It must be here somewhere.” And then off I am in my little deluded world in search of the Barbie that will never be found.
One night, around 12:30am after searching more than my normal one or two times, after a day of searches that included emptying out entire closets that were clean and organized in the first place, I popped up out of bed suddenly only to hear, “For the love of God, woman, if you are getting out of this bed to go look for that damn Barbie, I swear I will call the authorities and have you locked up. GO. TO. BED.”
I faked a cough, pretended I just needed water and then came back to bed. But damn, I know that Barbie would’ve been were I looked that night. But, alas, by morning , she had moved on again.
The oh-so-very sick part of this whole thing?? Do you know that this Barbie cannot be found. Oh, I am probably one day going to accept that Little Diva’s Barbie like this will never be found. (Yes, it will! It will too! I will find that damn Barbie if it kills me!) The horribly twisted part of this is that you cannot find this Barbie anywhere Which means that I cannot replace it. Do you get that? I cannot replace it. Which means that I am going to be searching for this frickin Barbie until the end of time. She is the Barbie that never was. (And she was so cute with her little do-rag and cup of coffee. She had a cup of coffee, people. She just cannot be gone!)
So, for the love of all that is Barbieness and not insane, if anyone comes across this Barbie, have a heart and let me know. Snag that little bitch up and I will pay you for shipping, handling and the money I would’ve saved when it helps me avoid being commited to a mental institution for the Barbie-deranged.
I thank you. Little Diva thanks you. And lord knows Clint will be eternally grateful. (Until I stumble upon my next obsession.)
If you need me, I will be looking for her over there. But have a heart….don’t tell Clint
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Posted by Jenn @
10:06 pm | |
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Mooooom! You are so immature!
May 24, 2004
Okay, I admit it. I have an immature side. No. I really do. Let’s just take an incident this weekend as an example.
I am with the kidlets (all 3 of them) at a Chain Bookstore that doesn’t sell Starbucks but does sell coffee. (Yes, okay, I was at Borders.) So anyway, I let Kidlet Jr. take the Little Diva to the children’s reading area to look at some books. Kidlet Sr. takes off towards whatever it is that preteen boys like to read that won’t give their mother a heart attack in shock. I wander just 2 aisles over towards the computer section. (Yes, I was in the computer section. It’s all for you, people. I sacrificed my time in a bookstore to look at computer books in order to make this place a bit better for you. As you can see, I didn’t stay there long.) So anyway, Kidlet Jr. comes over to me looking a bit upset. This is the conversation that took place.
(Perhaps here would be a good place to warn you that if you do not find elementary school bathroom-crude type humor funny, you really won’t enjoy this story. You should probably just move along and come back later.)
Kidlet Jr.: “Mom. I have a problem.”
Me: (without looking up) “What’s up, dude?”
Kidlet Jr.: “Well, I was playing with my balls and one of them slipped out of my hand and it bounced up on top of a shelf and I can’t get it now.”
Me: “Well, maybe you should just keep your balls in your shorts and that wouldn’t happen.” *giggle giggle snort*
Kidlet Jr. “Moooooommmm! I mean it. I need you to see if you can find my balls.”
Me: *laughing too hard to respond*
Kidlet Jr.: “Mom. I am serious. Stop laughing I don’t mean those balls. Now come help me before someone steals my balls.”
Me: “Dude, really. You really shouldn’t be playing with them in the store anyway.”
Kidlet Jr.: *stare*
So, I get my immature self up off of the floor to go rescue my son’s balls when I glance over at a man sitting at the end of the aisle in a big comfy chair. He is laughing so hard he is holding his side.
I just nod all mature like….
… then burst out into a fresh fit of giggles.
I swear. You just can’t take me anywhere.
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Posted by Jenn @
12:37 pm | |
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When does school start again?
May 22, 2004
School is out. They are home. Shall I tell you how many times I have heard “I’m bored! What can we do? Can we ________ ?”(Fill in the blank with anything that costs money.)
I did manage to get everything finished that needed to be finished before the end of the year. (Did I mention that I dropped off everything PTA related? Everything! Did I tell you that I cried…with joy?) I even got both teacher gifts made in time. Just under the wire, yes, but in time! (Yea, me!)
Want to see them?
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Posted by Jenn @
4:59 pm | |
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School Schmool! It’s summertime, now, baby!
May 21, 2004
<scriptions) in preparation. My kids are having mixed emotions about the whole thing. They are excited no more school, but the reality that they are not returning to the only school they have known in hitting. I am sure it is nothing a week of sleeping in won’t cure.
Oh, and ask me how many PTA binders etc I have at home. Go ahead. Ask. None! Did you hear (errrr, read) that? None. Nada. Zilch. Zero.
Happy Last Day of School! The following is for my teacher buddies out there. Have a great day!
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Posted by Jenn @
5:54 am | |
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What a day!
May 18, 2004
Today is going to be one of those days that energizes me. Oh sure, on the surface it looks hectic, but in reality…well, it is hectic. But it all revolves around the kids, so I am excited.
It started with taking the hamster up to the school for show and tell. Oh yes, we were such the hit. (I am working it. I got called cool by the tough-to-find-anything-cool-these-days boy, so I am workin it.) Of course, I absolutely love his teacher, so I stayed much longer than the 5 minutes I swore to him that it would take. I think he knows by now to add at least 30 minutes to whatever I say when I say I am going to the school. (I wish I could just take this teacher and pack her up with our things and let her not only teach the kids every grade, but be my very own best friend. Oh wait. That’s just psychotic. I mean, a little too “Misery“-sounding to be healthy. Maybe what I meant to say is that she ranks as high as it comes when it comes to wonderful teachers and people and I will miss her.)
So anyway, in 2 hours it is back up to the school for a field trip with Kidlet Jr’s class. Last week I got to go to the Natural History Museaum with the stinky-sweaty 4th graders. (And I am still a bit peeved with a few of you poopy-heads who laughed at my expense when I moaned about the smelly bus ride home.) This time it is to the Nature Center. I have taken this field trip every year for 5 years. Starting 3 years ago, I have gone twice a year. (Once with each kid.) I am pretty sure I now qualify to actually lead the tours and make the presentations. Of course, with any field trip, you run into the situation of what other parents are going… otherwise known as “who am I going to be teamed up with to watch these crazy pint sized people and am I going to want to cause bodily harm to this person by the time it is over?” I don’t know this group of parents as well as the 4th grade parents, so it will be a crap shoot. The teachers are amazing though. Both boys had this teacher for 2nd grade and I absolutely adore her. She is one of the other top ranking teachers and women I know. So, all in all it will be fun if for no other reason than I get to spend a few hours with my kiddo and hang with a great lady. Oh sure, there will be bugs and it will be hot and I have will have to try my best not to lose any of the other kids, but I am looking forward to it.
For those of you who thought the rainy, wet-dog smell of the 4th grade bus trip was funny, you’ll get a kick out of the fact that this time it will be a humid, sweaty-because-they-all-have-to-wear-jeans, tired group of 2nd graders on the bus. Ahhh, the bliss. (But, yes, I will still call you poopy heads for laughing. Just so you know.)
That is my day today. This is the kind of volunteering I love. The kind where I get to be with the kids and interact and actually see the teachers and students in action.
I’ll let you know how it goes later today. Wish me luck. (And send me coffee. I think I am going to need it!)
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Posted by Jenn @
8:19 am | |
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So un-mom-ishly cool!
May 15, 2004
On the way home from picking the boys up tonight (at about 11:30pm after a must-do run through the What-a-burger drive through), we are cruising with the windows down rocking to the Scorpions.
My oldest shouts over the music:
“Mom, you rock! You are so un-mom-ishly cool!”
Coming from a 10 year old, “it’s all about cool” boy, I consider that high praise.
So for you rocking, un-mom-ishly cool people out there, here are a couple of tunes for you. (I had to add in the Aerosmith because, well, I felt like it. Consider it a bonus.)
Scorpions- No One Like You
Scorpions- Rock You Like a Hurricane
Aerosmith- Dude Looks Like a Lady
(right click and “save target as” or I will have to send the PTA mafia after you and trust me, they can break even the toughest of the tough!)
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Posted by Jenn @
11:08 pm | |
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Maternal Confession
April 29, 2004
I have a confession to make. I am ashamed to admit it. I said something to my child that I swore I would never say. (While we are on the topic, it really is important that you realize the dangers of saying “I’ll never…” when it comes to childrearing. Seriously. There are factors and fates at work that will immediately align things just right so that before you know it, you will discover that you have in fact done your “I’ll never…” proclamation. Trust me. This is a proven scientific fact.)
Okay, on to the confession.
Please don’t judge me harshly. I mean, I heard it so much growing up, it was bound to slip out accidentally. Ready?
Kidlet Jr. was begging and bugging and begging again to do something that just was not going to happen. I gave him legitimate reasons. The bugging continued. I gave him logical reasons. The begging ensued. I flat out said that it was not going to happen. And then it began. The “why nots”. I truly despise the “why nots”, especially after I have given an answer. After being driven to the edge of sanity, I actually looked my dear sweet boy, my precious offspring and said to him…
“Because I am the Mother. That’s why!”
Oh sure, you think you’re above it. You swore it would never happen to you. And there it is. Out there with no way to snatch it back. Like a cartoon bubble hanging over you in silence. Ohhhh, the shame!
Mark my words, I’ll never say that again! Uh-oh, did I just say that?! Damn!
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Posted by Jenn @
9:29 pm | |
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No really. There needs to be a manual
April 28, 2004
Today after playing my 785th game of Hungry, Hungry Hippos I began to wonder if there is a manual or rulebook somewhere that tells you at what point you have qualified as the “good and involved” mom and you get to quit this kind of game of torture. Is there a certain point where you get to say (if only to yourself) “Look! I reached the pinnacle of good mom for the day and don’t have to play this god-awful game anymore. Time for Oprah.”
Because really, at some point you have to have earned enough points to not feel guilty for quitting. If it were up to the toddler, you would play until the game either broke or you had a break-down. With this game , it is a toss-up over which would happen first.
Finally this afternoon, having no access to such a manual, I was nearly giddy with glee when I noticed that it was almost time for the boys to get home from school. As soon as they walked in (and I mean that literally. The backpacks were not even taken off yet) I happily said to Little Diva, “Ohhh look! Your brothers are home. They want to play with you! It’s their turn now!” She eagerly gave them the look that they cannot resist and they begrudgingly sat down to play the game.
Meanwhile, I tried hard to conceal my deliriously thankful smile as I grabbed my cup of coffee and ran quickly to hide in my room with my book. Did I feel at all guilty for passing the buck and basically trapping the boys into a marathon session of this horrible game?
Not one bit. Each man for himself and I had managed to escape.
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Posted by Jenn @
10:00 pm | |
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Y’all behave!
April 23, 2004
I have a hot date tonight. He’s sexy, kind and I heard he’s pretty easy. Should be a great date!
So, in preparation I am laying down the law for the kids.
“Do not taunt the babysitter. She is older and can hurt you. She has my permission to hog tie you and make you watch hours of Barney videos.”
“Do not prank call your friends, neighbors or local restaurants. We have caller ID. They can (and will) find you. And I will let them deal with you.”
“Do not torment each other. We have hidden cameras throughout the house. We will know what you do when we are gone.”
“Dialing 911 is not to be done unless it is a real emergency. Being told it is bedtime is not an emergency.”
After laying down the law, Kidlet Sr. looked up at me and said (completely seriously), “Who are you talking to? Him (motioning towards his brother) or me?”
So I say to him, “Both of you. Why would you ask that? Do you think I just meant those rules for him?”
He nods and replies, “Well, you said “you”. “You” means one. If you meant both of us, you say “y’all”. I was just wondering who you were talking to since it was a “you” and not a “y’all” I wasn’t sure who you meant.”
Yes, he was serious. Yes, I did just walk away. Yes, he has lived in Texas all of his life. Why’d y’all ask that?
I think I’m staying home tonight.
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Posted by Jenn @
4:23 pm | |
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Tales of the Potty Training
April 21, 2004
When you have a toddler potty training, there are many amusing things that come up. They have a great knack for saying the hilarious (unwittingly). These are just a few that have recently come up:
While Little Diva is with me in a stall in a public restroom at a restaurant.
Little Diva: “Mommy, your underwear is broken.”
Me: “No, sweetie, they are supposed to be that way. Shhhh”
Little Diva: “No, Mommy, I can see your hiney! (quite loudly proclaimed) They aren’t supposed to be that way. See! (as she lifts her dress to show me her PullUp.)
Me: “But mine are supposed to be this way. But you are right. I’ll never wear them again.” (at least not when you may see).
But to make it more embarrassing, as I am washing my hands, the woman in another stall comes out, looks at me, grins and says (trying not to laugh) “Thong?”
As my face turns bright red, I nod.
And then we have the neverending questioning of strangers like we had yesterday at the grocery store in the checkout line.
Little Diva (to the checker): “Do you poop in the potty?”
Checker: “Excuse me?”
Little Diva: (quite clearly and overly exaggeratedly as if she is talking to a moron) “I said, do you poop in the potty? I poop in the potty. I pee in the potty, too. Do you?”
Checker: (laughing) “Why yes I do. Thanks for asking.”
But this is my all time favorite.
Last week I walked in on Little Diva as she is going to the bathroom. She had her fingers in her ears (as if she heard a loud noise or something).
Me: “Sweetie, what are you doing with your fingers in your ears?”
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Posted by Jenn @
7:58 am | |
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