I don't have time to really blog...well, I haven't blogged for damn near a year now so that is a pointless statement.
But I do want to say this and I plan on re-visiting shortly, along with several other musings I'd like to share....
What the hell happened to Kmart???
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Spoiled, spoiled baby...
As you can probably tell seeing that my last blog entry was July 21st, I haven't had much time to blog lately. Not that I haven't had anything to say...there's always tons I could write about. Time is just getting away from me. Truth be told, I miss blogging. It gives me an outlet for my thoughts that my husband just doesn't want to hear about.
If anything will prompt me to sign on, I wish it wasn't that Brett Favre is a big, whiny, spoiled brat. Unfortunately, this is the case. Today we found out that only about 3 weeks after deciding to stay retired (again), he has instead decided to fuck us Packer fans up the ass and sign with Minnesota. I mean really, what is he accomplishing by doing so? Tarnishing his image? Check. Screwing us fans? Check. Making himself look like an asshole? Check. Wanting me to put every single piece of Favre memorabilia Joe owns on Craig's List so I can buy some new handbags? Check check check.
I married a very stubborn man and he will attest, until the day he dies, that the Packers screwed Favre. Never mind the fact that they are a BUSINESS. Favre's wishy, washy ways backed them into a corner. How long can they wait around for the prima donna to decide if he wants to play or retire (Joe: "Until he's damn good and ready.)? Yes, his track record with the team was stellar, in most respects, and it was a great partnership. But let's get real here...Favre was not the Packers. They are a team. And until he buys a team, he doesn't hold the right to call the shots. Agree or disagree with how shit went down, this fact cannot be disputed. (Joe: "Yes it can.")
Our marriage is solid and we find common ground on a lot of things by talking through them (Joe: "Yes Dear.") This is one thing we cannot get past. I think Favre has become a self-absorbed media whore. Joe thinks he is a victim. Call me nuts, but if I lived years in the spotlight and was loved and adored by fans worldwide, respected by coaches and other players nationwide, I'd retire, no matter what the circumstances are and relish in that glory. I'd buy a condo in Jamaica (on a all-inclusive resort of course) and sip on tropical drinks all day long. I would not do everything in my power to erase those warm fuzzies and screw the very people who elevated me to super-hero status. Way to screw us all, Favre (Joe: "He's not doing it to screw the fans. He's just bitter." Yes, that makes it better...).
Sigh. You look shitty in purple anyways.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
There's a Sucker Born Every Minute
And unfortunately, I am now one of them...
I pride myself on being a cynic. This way, I avoid falling victim to scam and thus ridicule. Trust me, my friends and family can be brutal. I approach things in a very logical way, for the most part, and research and analyze until it drives even the most patient saint nuts. This is not to say I am not spontaneous, because I am very much so, just not where my money is concerned. Often times it can be pretty damn difficult to pry a buck out of my hands. The other day I made a comment about money and Braeden responded "Mr. Krabs likes money." Smart boy, as green is one of his favorite things. This is a bit unnerving to realize how much I have in common with a talking crab with whale for a daughter.
At any rate, here's the point to my story...
I love that stupid lift in the crown of women's hair. I've been a fan for a long time and it's funny that it only recently has become a nationwide obsession. Nobody has flat hair, they all have that pouf in the back. I have a LOT of hair so up until now, I've been pretty lucky with being able to just give it a little tease should the mood strike me and on my way I go. I've also pulled up the sides (now that it's long enough again) and used them as anchors to pull the middle hair up. Works pretty well if I do say so myself. However, I always felt there just had to be another way... And to think some people spend their days worrying about finding a job. How shallow I've become.
Well I'd be a bird with no leg (thank you, Wes) if I didn't recently see a commercial for Bumpits, plastic inserts concealed in the crown of your hair to give you that most desirable look. Of course, why didn't I think of that! I'd be a millionaire! Of course, I never patented my stupid idea way back when to cut off the feet of my nylons either, and look where that's gotten me. (Reality check Amanda...I don't think it counts as an idea when you think of it while you're wasted at sorority formal and are sick of just getting holes in the bottoms of your nyloned foot...hardly the purpose of Spanks).
Back on point...as with everything that costs me money, I researched. Google is my best friend. I read all the reviews and was quite saddened to see that most people were very let down by said plastic. I read that you can see the combs, they don't stay in place, the arch is visible, there is a bad "dropoff"....etc, etc, etc. So I shelved the idea, both because of the reviews and because I make it a practice to never order anything from TV. My Father in Law only reinforced that with his recent purchase of the GT Xpress.
Yesterday it resurfaced. While lying sick in bed with some ridiculous virus that took both my voice and my breath, a bumpits commercial came on. Again, my hopes soared. Until I saw the price, plus shipping and handling. Crazy, I say....crazy!!! Yet once again I found myself on the net researching them...perhaps in the last month or two they've changed the product, or someone's uncovered a secret to using them????
And then I saw it...someone posted they got them at Sally Beauty Supply (cue ad on right). At 9 am this morning I was calling my local store and by 11 am, I was in the door picking up the last blonde one they had in stock. The checker explained I can return them if they don't work out, which was music to my ears, because even those the $9.49 price tag is over half what they wanted on tv, $10 is still $10 and I don't want to spend $10 on crap. I save that money for a pack of smokes when I hit the bar. See the logic????
When we got home, I set Braeden up with some colored pencils and Spongebob and eagerly went to work. I could feel my heart racing in anticipation. I read the directions. Followed them precisely. Here's what I am hoping to acheive. My hair is a bit longer now but this is just cool:
Take 1: OOOHHHH!!!! Look at that height!!!! But shit, you can see the teeth on the combs. Easily.
Take 2. Tease more. Insert. You can see the insert. It's shiny.
Take 3: Tease more. Hairspray more. I guess this is like primer? Insert. Comb teeth. Why does my hair feel thin? I have enough freaking hair to cover this gadget.
Take 4: Flip upside down and tease and spray. Obviously this volumizing device needs volume to work. I look like Bride of Frankenstein. You can see the combs.
Take 5: Pull more hair forward so I have more hair to cover the crescent. Tease. Insert device. It now sits too far back on my head and looks like I have a strange tumor. And you can still see the combs.
Take 6: Flip upside down and tease furiously again. Blood rushes to my face. Flip up and ugly blue vein is protruding from my forehead. Insert and tossle hair with fingers while spraying hairspray. Separate hairspray-doused strands of hair with comb. Bump stupid Bumpit with comb and knock it out of place. I now have lift on the right side of my head. You can see the combs.
Take 7 - 10: Guess.
Take 11: Take stretchy headband and insert in hair, fluffing back of head with fingers, no device. Nice volume in back, decent lift in the crown.
Fuckers.
Guess I'll be going back to Sally soon to return these "As seen on TV" pieces of plastic. What a fool I am.... :(
I pride myself on being a cynic. This way, I avoid falling victim to scam and thus ridicule. Trust me, my friends and family can be brutal. I approach things in a very logical way, for the most part, and research and analyze until it drives even the most patient saint nuts. This is not to say I am not spontaneous, because I am very much so, just not where my money is concerned. Often times it can be pretty damn difficult to pry a buck out of my hands. The other day I made a comment about money and Braeden responded "Mr. Krabs likes money." Smart boy, as green is one of his favorite things. This is a bit unnerving to realize how much I have in common with a talking crab with whale for a daughter.
At any rate, here's the point to my story...
I love that stupid lift in the crown of women's hair. I've been a fan for a long time and it's funny that it only recently has become a nationwide obsession. Nobody has flat hair, they all have that pouf in the back. I have a LOT of hair so up until now, I've been pretty lucky with being able to just give it a little tease should the mood strike me and on my way I go. I've also pulled up the sides (now that it's long enough again) and used them as anchors to pull the middle hair up. Works pretty well if I do say so myself. However, I always felt there just had to be another way... And to think some people spend their days worrying about finding a job. How shallow I've become.
Well I'd be a bird with no leg (thank you, Wes) if I didn't recently see a commercial for Bumpits, plastic inserts concealed in the crown of your hair to give you that most desirable look. Of course, why didn't I think of that! I'd be a millionaire! Of course, I never patented my stupid idea way back when to cut off the feet of my nylons either, and look where that's gotten me. (Reality check Amanda...I don't think it counts as an idea when you think of it while you're wasted at sorority formal and are sick of just getting holes in the bottoms of your nyloned foot...hardly the purpose of Spanks).
Back on point...as with everything that costs me money, I researched. Google is my best friend. I read all the reviews and was quite saddened to see that most people were very let down by said plastic. I read that you can see the combs, they don't stay in place, the arch is visible, there is a bad "dropoff"....etc, etc, etc. So I shelved the idea, both because of the reviews and because I make it a practice to never order anything from TV. My Father in Law only reinforced that with his recent purchase of the GT Xpress.
Yesterday it resurfaced. While lying sick in bed with some ridiculous virus that took both my voice and my breath, a bumpits commercial came on. Again, my hopes soared. Until I saw the price, plus shipping and handling. Crazy, I say....crazy!!! Yet once again I found myself on the net researching them...perhaps in the last month or two they've changed the product, or someone's uncovered a secret to using them????
And then I saw it...someone posted they got them at Sally Beauty Supply (cue ad on right). At 9 am this morning I was calling my local store and by 11 am, I was in the door picking up the last blonde one they had in stock. The checker explained I can return them if they don't work out, which was music to my ears, because even those the $9.49 price tag is over half what they wanted on tv, $10 is still $10 and I don't want to spend $10 on crap. I save that money for a pack of smokes when I hit the bar. See the logic????
When we got home, I set Braeden up with some colored pencils and Spongebob and eagerly went to work. I could feel my heart racing in anticipation. I read the directions. Followed them precisely. Here's what I am hoping to acheive. My hair is a bit longer now but this is just cool:
Take 1: OOOHHHH!!!! Look at that height!!!! But shit, you can see the teeth on the combs. Easily.
Take 2. Tease more. Insert. You can see the insert. It's shiny.
Take 3: Tease more. Hairspray more. I guess this is like primer? Insert. Comb teeth. Why does my hair feel thin? I have enough freaking hair to cover this gadget.
Take 4: Flip upside down and tease and spray. Obviously this volumizing device needs volume to work. I look like Bride of Frankenstein. You can see the combs.
Take 5: Pull more hair forward so I have more hair to cover the crescent. Tease. Insert device. It now sits too far back on my head and looks like I have a strange tumor. And you can still see the combs.
Take 6: Flip upside down and tease furiously again. Blood rushes to my face. Flip up and ugly blue vein is protruding from my forehead. Insert and tossle hair with fingers while spraying hairspray. Separate hairspray-doused strands of hair with comb. Bump stupid Bumpit with comb and knock it out of place. I now have lift on the right side of my head. You can see the combs.
Take 7 - 10: Guess.
Take 11: Take stretchy headband and insert in hair, fluffing back of head with fingers, no device. Nice volume in back, decent lift in the crown.
Fuckers.
Guess I'll be going back to Sally soon to return these "As seen on TV" pieces of plastic. What a fool I am.... :(
Friday, July 17, 2009
"That Bird Has No Leg"
"That Bird Has No Leg"
And this shall furthermore be known as the primo diss.
On "The Bachelorette" we've been subjected to Wes' ride from super hottie to super scumbag. Unfortunately for Jillian, our fine Bachelorette, she was oblivious to his increasingly turd-like ways. And I shouldn't even use the word "unfortunately" because progressive episodes showed her being clued into the fact (clued in = being told point blank by several bachelors) that Wes has a girlfriend at home and that he's just on the show for publicity for his new record. She chose to ignore them and gave him a rose anyways because he's A) Hot and B) They have chemistry. I'm sure he's mastered the chemistry part already with that lady at home...
I'm finally catching up on the season and on the episode I watched last night, she gave him the long-awaited boot to the ass. This was after she noticed his emotional and physical distance. I've got news for Jillian... the beginning of the relationship is the good part. Not that things go downhill, but if you're meant to be with someone, there will never be those awkward silent moments. You should be jumping each other like dogs. I'm just sayin'....
Wes is now claiming he was the victim of bad editing. Let's look at this...I mean really look at it. Producers and editors, as evil as they may be in order to make a buck cannot make things come out of your mouth such as:
(Paraphrasing, but you'll get the drift)
"I'm the one going and I'll be home having lots of sex." (to one of the other contenders, mind you)
"I already got what I came here for...I've been on the show for 6 episodes and got all the publicity I needed for my upcoming album."
"I'm just here to promote my new album." (we saw your band on the show dude....seriously, I wouldn't quit your day job any time soon)
"I'm the first dude who's made it all the way to the final four with a girlfriend."
"My acting days are over."
Really, who does this guy think he is??? These words could not be taken out of context. You are not being portrayed as an asshole. You are an asshole. Good luck with that record dude. You just pissed off half the female population. Exactly HOW did you think behaving like this would get you further in your career???
But my favorite quote had to come from their awkward, distant date. Jillian asks Wes if he'd consider moving if she picked him in the end. After he responds that most important is "numero uno" (not shitting you), he spills his beer and points and observes "That bird has no leg".
Exactly the words every woman waits to hear.
(and for the record, I am in love with Reid. Not a little, but a lot. Unfortunately, he has that whole neurotic thing going on. It may be cute now but trust me, neurotic tendencies can get really trying really fast.... I love Kiptyn too but his mom scares the bejeezes out of me)
Monday, July 13, 2009
Searching for a Trip Down Memory Lane...
One might think I've been in mourning since MJ passed away 2-1/2 weeks ago because I haven't blogged since. Rest assured, I was not that rabid of a fan. Okay, maybe a little, but certainly not enough to overshadow my entire life. We've just been busy. There are many things I could have blogged about, but nobody wants to read about how we got drunk on Fourth of July due to one to many "Wayners." I'm a little more random here than that.
So today, who the hell knows WHY, I was thinking about McDonalds. Not today's McDonald's, but old school Mickey D's. I don't know why, it was just one of those freak things that worms it's way into my head. Maybe it's because we eat there entirely too often. It's not even a treat anymore for Braeden, who asked to go to Subway instead the other day. Don't get me wrong, my child is not fed a diet of chicken mcnuggets and french fries on a daily basis. Look at the kid, he's a twig. But life is busy and sometimes on the run, I have no qualms about stopping. He eats apples there too, but not in place of his beloved french fries. He's not a freak. But when I was a kid, going to McDonalds was a special occasion.
Anyhoo, I plopped my lazy ass in front of the computer and Googled vintage/old school McDonalds (cue banner ad on right). What I was really looking for was old packaging. I know, you're thinking WHY? Again, I don't know. But you know how sometimes when you see something as simple as an old advertisement or tv show or something it takes you back and you get that warm and fuzzy feeling all over? I wanted my fuzzies to come from that old brown chicken mcnugget packaging. Me=Dork.
That's what I was looking for. Instead, what I found was a slew of old McDonalds commercials. Have you seen the really old ones? I never have. I didn't realize that Ronald McDonald started out as a creepy clown (well, I guess some things never change) who wore food on his head and a cup on his nose. You didn't either. Don't pretend you did.
THIS..
STARTED AS THIS:
Fascinated by the pictures, I then watched some old ads on You Tube. I'm telling you right now, if you're looking for a good time, not much can beat old television commercials. But this takes the cake:
Watch the Video From Hell Here
No really, you need to watch the video...
Four thoughts come to mind when watching this train wreck...
1. Mom says not to talk to strangers but apparently she forgot to mention not eating food that falls from the sky or comes from the general crotch area of a creepy clown. "I'm not a stranger, I'm Ronald McDonald!" Uh-oh, this can't end well.
2. Why is the kid trying so hard to grab Ronnie's ass at the end of the advert?
3. Why on EARTH did someone think that the food Ronald has on his magic tray would appeal to ANYONE? Look at those "french fries"! Seriously, WTF are those???
4. And finally...Ronald looks like a goddamn pervert! And the kid walks away with him in the end! Who thought that this would make a good face for McDonalds? No Mother I know would be okay with their children being within 10 feet of this lunatic. Except, I suppose, the ones that sent their children to Neverland Ranch. (Ooops, it's not nice to speak ill of the dead...but really...).
When reading some comments posted after the ad, it seems I am not alone in my own subliminal world....
I'm supremely creeped out. And think, all I wanted was warm fuzzies. Instead, I won't sleep tonight...
So today, who the hell knows WHY, I was thinking about McDonalds. Not today's McDonald's, but old school Mickey D's. I don't know why, it was just one of those freak things that worms it's way into my head. Maybe it's because we eat there entirely too often. It's not even a treat anymore for Braeden, who asked to go to Subway instead the other day. Don't get me wrong, my child is not fed a diet of chicken mcnuggets and french fries on a daily basis. Look at the kid, he's a twig. But life is busy and sometimes on the run, I have no qualms about stopping. He eats apples there too, but not in place of his beloved french fries. He's not a freak. But when I was a kid, going to McDonalds was a special occasion.
Anyhoo, I plopped my lazy ass in front of the computer and Googled vintage/old school McDonalds (cue banner ad on right). What I was really looking for was old packaging. I know, you're thinking WHY? Again, I don't know. But you know how sometimes when you see something as simple as an old advertisement or tv show or something it takes you back and you get that warm and fuzzy feeling all over? I wanted my fuzzies to come from that old brown chicken mcnugget packaging. Me=Dork.
That's what I was looking for. Instead, what I found was a slew of old McDonalds commercials. Have you seen the really old ones? I never have. I didn't realize that Ronald McDonald started out as a creepy clown (well, I guess some things never change) who wore food on his head and a cup on his nose. You didn't either. Don't pretend you did.
THIS..
STARTED AS THIS:
Fascinated by the pictures, I then watched some old ads on You Tube. I'm telling you right now, if you're looking for a good time, not much can beat old television commercials. But this takes the cake:
Watch the Video From Hell Here
No really, you need to watch the video...
Four thoughts come to mind when watching this train wreck...
1. Mom says not to talk to strangers but apparently she forgot to mention not eating food that falls from the sky or comes from the general crotch area of a creepy clown. "I'm not a stranger, I'm Ronald McDonald!" Uh-oh, this can't end well.
2. Why is the kid trying so hard to grab Ronnie's ass at the end of the advert?
3. Why on EARTH did someone think that the food Ronald has on his magic tray would appeal to ANYONE? Look at those "french fries"! Seriously, WTF are those???
4. And finally...Ronald looks like a goddamn pervert! And the kid walks away with him in the end! Who thought that this would make a good face for McDonalds? No Mother I know would be okay with their children being within 10 feet of this lunatic. Except, I suppose, the ones that sent their children to Neverland Ranch. (Ooops, it's not nice to speak ill of the dead...but really...).
When reading some comments posted after the ad, it seems I am not alone in my own subliminal world....
I'm supremely creeped out. And think, all I wanted was warm fuzzies. Instead, I won't sleep tonight...
Friday, June 26, 2009
The Day the Music Died
The world lost a legend yesterday.
You cannot turn on the television or radio right now without hearing all about the tragic loss of one of music's most incredible icons, Michael Jackson. When news of Farrah Fawcett's death hit yesterday, I asked Joe who he thought the third would be...you know, these things always come in threes. First was Ed McMahon, then Farrah....who would be next? Joe said Patrick Swayze. I almost slapped him. I'm not the President of Johnny Castle's fan club or anything, but I admire the guy and his determination. Never, ever in my wildest dreams that it would be Michael Jackson.
To children of the 80's, he WAS music. If I sat and tried to recount all of my memories involving MJ, this blog entry would go on forever. I can honestly say that he was the first artist that propelled me from listener to fan....and a damn near rabid fan at that. I had the shirts, buttons, tapes, VHS recordings of his videos...hell, at one time, I even had a red leather jacket. Although it didn't look anything like the article he made famous, in my mind, it was perfect. I knew all the lyrics of Thriller and BAD by heart (and now my favorite MJ CD is "Off the Wall"....It was years before I could recognize how amazing and groundbreaking that CD really is). I thought I was going to marry him. I mean, look at that completely natural, unaltered face...the man was sexy as hell...
(I know plenty would argue, but I thought he was gorgeous)
One of my earliest memories involving MJ was in our home in Arizona, circa 1985.... "We are the World" was released and I remember dancing around our unusually large great room with the song blasting from our file-cabinet sized speakers. I pretended I was Cyndi Lauper, because who DIDN'T want to be her at the time? But I was wearing my Michael t-shirt and when the song was over, I couldn't figure out how to switch the tape to play "Thriller." Goes to show you how different things are nowadays... my son can easily switch his own DVD's. Psh.
Ask any of my friends what the logical progression of any evening with me and cocktails involves....
1) Amanda drinks
2) Amanda's volume goes up
3) Amanda cries about thinking she's a terrible mom because she's cocktailing
4) Amanda plays Michael Jackson CDs
The chain of events is inevitable. Despite the headlines that overshadowed his music starting with the face lightening, child molestation allegations, and oddity after oddity, I was still a fan. There are very few artists that I can put aside their personal lives or beliefs for to just enjoy the music (Springsteen, I'm pointing at you...and Cake, you're on thin ice). My enthusiasm for the man never faltered. I doubt it ever will.
So as I sit and watch the stream of endless videos (they so far went beyond videos...they were events) on MTV today, I'm not ashamed to admit I get a little teary eyed now and then. He was the mark of a generation and his impact was global. It's a shame that so many will only remember the quirky, damn near scary Michael Jackson. Future generations will never know how he made us feel, the excitement, the energy because it was something you had to experience first hand. But to those of us who were there, who lived it and grew up with Billy Jean, yesterday was a sad day. It was our Beatles passing. Our Elvis.
It was the day OUR music died.
RIP Michael.
You cannot turn on the television or radio right now without hearing all about the tragic loss of one of music's most incredible icons, Michael Jackson. When news of Farrah Fawcett's death hit yesterday, I asked Joe who he thought the third would be...you know, these things always come in threes. First was Ed McMahon, then Farrah....who would be next? Joe said Patrick Swayze. I almost slapped him. I'm not the President of Johnny Castle's fan club or anything, but I admire the guy and his determination. Never, ever in my wildest dreams that it would be Michael Jackson.
To children of the 80's, he WAS music. If I sat and tried to recount all of my memories involving MJ, this blog entry would go on forever. I can honestly say that he was the first artist that propelled me from listener to fan....and a damn near rabid fan at that. I had the shirts, buttons, tapes, VHS recordings of his videos...hell, at one time, I even had a red leather jacket. Although it didn't look anything like the article he made famous, in my mind, it was perfect. I knew all the lyrics of Thriller and BAD by heart (and now my favorite MJ CD is "Off the Wall"....It was years before I could recognize how amazing and groundbreaking that CD really is). I thought I was going to marry him. I mean, look at that completely natural, unaltered face...the man was sexy as hell...
(I know plenty would argue, but I thought he was gorgeous)
One of my earliest memories involving MJ was in our home in Arizona, circa 1985.... "We are the World" was released and I remember dancing around our unusually large great room with the song blasting from our file-cabinet sized speakers. I pretended I was Cyndi Lauper, because who DIDN'T want to be her at the time? But I was wearing my Michael t-shirt and when the song was over, I couldn't figure out how to switch the tape to play "Thriller." Goes to show you how different things are nowadays... my son can easily switch his own DVD's. Psh.
Ask any of my friends what the logical progression of any evening with me and cocktails involves....
1) Amanda drinks
2) Amanda's volume goes up
3) Amanda cries about thinking she's a terrible mom because she's cocktailing
4) Amanda plays Michael Jackson CDs
The chain of events is inevitable. Despite the headlines that overshadowed his music starting with the face lightening, child molestation allegations, and oddity after oddity, I was still a fan. There are very few artists that I can put aside their personal lives or beliefs for to just enjoy the music (Springsteen, I'm pointing at you...and Cake, you're on thin ice). My enthusiasm for the man never faltered. I doubt it ever will.
So as I sit and watch the stream of endless videos (they so far went beyond videos...they were events) on MTV today, I'm not ashamed to admit I get a little teary eyed now and then. He was the mark of a generation and his impact was global. It's a shame that so many will only remember the quirky, damn near scary Michael Jackson. Future generations will never know how he made us feel, the excitement, the energy because it was something you had to experience first hand. But to those of us who were there, who lived it and grew up with Billy Jean, yesterday was a sad day. It was our Beatles passing. Our Elvis.
It was the day OUR music died.
RIP Michael.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
A Mom's Main Duty
I just asked Braeden what he thought my main job as a mom was.
His response: "To make sure I don't get out of my bed."
Strange thing is that I thought I had many more important duties than that??? I mean, in his three year old mind, that probably does seem like what I spend a lot of mom hours doing (see post below on bedtime excuses). But there are many other, what I what consider, MAIN parts of my job as a mom. After all, I have to:
-Make sure he is warm, fed and safe on a daily basis
-Make sure he has clean clothes and underwear
-Cuddle him when he is sick
-Cuddle him when he is not
-Enrich him with exciting activities so his mind will grow
-Make sure he is secure so he feels free to explore the world around him
-Make him laugh
-Listen to him endlessly talk about tractors and diggers
-Remind him to pull the grundy out from his crack when he has his bathing suit on
-Tell him his shorts are on backwards
-Take him to the Power Center to get new "Simpidy" (Simplicity) pamphlets when he wears his down to the fibers
-Get the bugs out of the pool so he can play in it for 3 minutes until he decides to mow the lawn
-Pick the boogers out of his nose with my pinky nail
-Make sure his Cub Cadet power wheels riding mower is plugged in every night so it's charged every morning
-Give him time outs, sometimes upwards of 10 times a day....for the same thing
-Remind him that "poopy" is potty talk and not to be discussed in the presence of others
-Make him pot pie for lunch, at his request, only for him to eat the crust on certain occasions
-Make him 8 fish sticks and listen to him beg for more as though he had the stomach of a 20 year old
-Pretend to spray for bugs outside
-Search high and low for the tractor he got from the Dells last year so he can sleep with it
-Scrub the toilets often as sometimes, aiming just isn't fun
-Stiffle laughter as he throws himself onto the floor in fits because I won't turn on the oven and make him pot pie when it's 107 degrees outside (and because it may be the one out of 7 times he only eats the crust)
-Teach him that peeing on the patio is not appropriate, especially when we have guests
-Feed him string cheese without strings, because apparently strings are evil
-Remind him that it's probably not a great idea to tell everyone he meets that Daddy is funny because Daddy farts all the time...
I consider all of these very important Motherly duties. I suppose that making sure he doesn't come out of his bed 10 times an evening before finally going to sleep is important as well. It's just funny that that is the one thing he remembers... ;)
(and no, this is not said bed...I just thought the picture was cute)
His response: "To make sure I don't get out of my bed."
Strange thing is that I thought I had many more important duties than that??? I mean, in his three year old mind, that probably does seem like what I spend a lot of mom hours doing (see post below on bedtime excuses). But there are many other, what I what consider, MAIN parts of my job as a mom. After all, I have to:
-Make sure he is warm, fed and safe on a daily basis
-Make sure he has clean clothes and underwear
-Cuddle him when he is sick
-Cuddle him when he is not
-Enrich him with exciting activities so his mind will grow
-Make sure he is secure so he feels free to explore the world around him
-Make him laugh
-Listen to him endlessly talk about tractors and diggers
-Remind him to pull the grundy out from his crack when he has his bathing suit on
-Tell him his shorts are on backwards
-Take him to the Power Center to get new "Simpidy" (Simplicity) pamphlets when he wears his down to the fibers
-Get the bugs out of the pool so he can play in it for 3 minutes until he decides to mow the lawn
-Pick the boogers out of his nose with my pinky nail
-Make sure his Cub Cadet power wheels riding mower is plugged in every night so it's charged every morning
-Give him time outs, sometimes upwards of 10 times a day....for the same thing
-Remind him that "poopy" is potty talk and not to be discussed in the presence of others
-Make him pot pie for lunch, at his request, only for him to eat the crust on certain occasions
-Make him 8 fish sticks and listen to him beg for more as though he had the stomach of a 20 year old
-Pretend to spray for bugs outside
-Search high and low for the tractor he got from the Dells last year so he can sleep with it
-Scrub the toilets often as sometimes, aiming just isn't fun
-Stiffle laughter as he throws himself onto the floor in fits because I won't turn on the oven and make him pot pie when it's 107 degrees outside (and because it may be the one out of 7 times he only eats the crust)
-Teach him that peeing on the patio is not appropriate, especially when we have guests
-Feed him string cheese without strings, because apparently strings are evil
-Remind him that it's probably not a great idea to tell everyone he meets that Daddy is funny because Daddy farts all the time...
I consider all of these very important Motherly duties. I suppose that making sure he doesn't come out of his bed 10 times an evening before finally going to sleep is important as well. It's just funny that that is the one thing he remembers... ;)
(and no, this is not said bed...I just thought the picture was cute)
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