One-liners

Something that I absolutely love about kids is their one-liners.  They have the ability to make you crack-up with one simple, innocent statement and revelations.  Here are a few of Chase's statements from yesterday:

“Mom, you love me so you cooked bacon for me.”

(Yes, little one, I fry pork for everyone that I love.)

 "Mom, I picked my nose with my cotton candy."

(Note to self: remember to eat around the booger contaminated portions.)

“Mom, you a poopy butt head.” 

(I’m sure this is way better than what I will be called during his teenage years, so for the time being, I welcome the poopy butt heads.)  

“Mom, I put my finger in my nose, then I wiped a boogie on your leg.”

(Darn, this will force me to finally wash my jeans and I just got them to fit just right on day 46.)

Yes and No

Yes, my child once cried when an episode of The Real Housewives was over. 

No, that doesn’t embarrass me.  I understand where the tears came from- I, too, become saddened when the hour long episode comes to an end and I know I have to wait an entire week to see who will get into a verbal altercation next. (And plus, it’s a lot less pathetic when you are watching trashy tv with a buddy.  Although, I think it makes me more trashy since I’m letting my 2 year old watch it with me- oh well, at least I’m not watching it alone.)

 ___________________________

Yes, my child’s new favorite word is booby.

No, I don’t try and stop him from saying it (Seriously, have you ever heard a two year old belt out his own musical number entitled: “Booby, Booby, Booby” in the middle of a crowded park?  I have…it’s hilarious.)

 ___________________________

Yes, my child asks to go to a restaurant as he pushes his dinner plate to the center of the dining room table every night without fail. 

No, that doesn't offend me.  I am fully aware that my cooking is awful. I want to go out to eat every night too. (Last night I forgot that I was making a frozen pizza for dinner and burnt it.  Chase got a cupcake for dinner.  We should have just gone to Chucky-E-Cheese like Chase suggested in the first place.)

  ___________________________

Yes, I am a helicopter parent.  Anytime my child steps more than an inch out of my peripheral site, you can start to feel the wind from my propellers spinning overhead.  Make sure you bring a light coat if you are going to be at the same location as me. 

No, I don’t get frequent flier miles. 

 ___________________________

Yes, my child farts on me at least 10 times a day. 

No, I don't find that to be odd behavior.  I think of it as more of a term of endearment than inappropriate social behavior.  (I fear I may be on the path to raising a socially awkward child.  Which I'm totally okay with.  The less sleepovers he's invited too, the more nights I have a buddy to watch The Real Housewives with.- Totally, kinda kidding.) 

Who wouldn't want this little guy farting on them every day? 

Mall of America

Yesterday, Cory, Chase and I went to the Mall of America to Sea Life (But, I still call it Underwater World because I’m stuck in the 90’s, because frankly that was the decade that flattered me the most- I was under 80 pounds with a stunning bowl cut struttin' around in multicolored wind-suits- What was not to love?).

After we spent an over abundance of time dodging sharks and jellyfish, it was time to hit up the food court (which is actually the real reason why I enjoy going to the Mall of America.  Who doesn't love 15 restaurants at your disposal within spitting distance of each other?- it’s like an indecisive person’s dream).  Before eating, I took Chase into the bathroom with me to change his diaper and wash his hands.  While waiting in line for the changing table, Chase slithered like a snake out of the bottom of the stroller and made a break for it.  All I could see was his blonde curls flying in the wind, and his arms flailing in every direction. (Have you ever seen Febe from Friends run?  Yes, my child runs like a 30 year old gangly woman.)  However, I was able to cling onto the back of Chase’s sweatshirt just before he turned the corner to enter the Men’s restroom (I still maintain that Chase ran there on purpose knowing full well I couldn’t enter).  I felt like I was on a tv show playing in slow motion as I dove for him yelling, “Noooo,” ya know, right before someone dodges in front of a loved one to take a bullet for them.  Well, although my dive wasn’t nearly as heroic, I did end up wrangling Chase away from the restroom.

I marched him right over to Cory and told Cory what happened.  Cory calmly asked Chase why he ran away from Mommy in the bathroom and almost went into the Men’s bathroom.  Chase’s response, “Me a Man.” 

I guess it is hard to scold a child when he is just trying to decipher between which bathroom is gender appropriate for him to use- although, I do think you need to be out of diapers before security will be called on him for entering the Women’s restroom. 

Any who, our food court adventure doesn’t end there:  If I wasn’t embarrassed enough about my child’s ability to dart like a cheetah (and my not-so-cheetah like abilities to keep up with him) through the mall, I should be embarrassed about his lack of continental knowledge.       

As we were sitting down to devour Chinese food like the vultures that we are, Chase looks up at the sky (well, actually the skylights) and then back at me with his spoon, full of fried rice and asks inquisitively, “Mommy, is this the Americas?” I just looked at him, leaned down and whispered out of embarrassment of the question, hoping that the grey haired couple next to us wasn't following our conversation and said, “Actually Honey, we are at Mall of America, eating Chinese food.”  Well, I guess there is nothing more American than retail shopping while munching on foreign cuisine.   

We can chalk this up to another successful Mall of America trip (yes, I am claiming this trip as a victory because all 3 of us made it home).

I Swore I Would, I Swore I Wouldn't..

Over the years I have observed many parents, parenting around me.  From these observations, I created a mental list of things I swore I would do as a parent and things I swore I wouldn't do…

I swore I would:

Read to my child everyday and I am proud to say I am exceeding in this goal (Well, I am counting reading the TV guide channel out loud to my child.  How else is he going to know that Dora the Explorer and Sophia the First are his television options at 7 am?  Please note:  I offer my child shows that have a strong female main character to subliminally ingrained in him that women are in charge- otherwise I will be overrun by testosterone in my own home.)

I swore I would never….

Let my child watch Spongbob Square Pants.  I mean seriously, how many episodes will it take for Spongebob to realize he is a kitchen sponge and not a sea sponge? 

I have failed at this goal miserably.  My child has fallen head over heals in love with the porous character.  He will stand in front of the television sporting his over sized Spongebob T-shirt (that he insisted he needed from Shopko because he was sitting, “like a bog boy” in the cart- and who was I to argue- he had a point- he wasn't pulling items out of the cart one by one and chucking them onto the floor and he wasn't trying to scale the cart walls like a spider-monkey.) and his Spongebob crocs for an entire, grueling, episode. 

So I figured, if you can’t beat him, give up.  I guess there are some good qualities to Spongebob; Chase learns about the deep blue sea from the show. So ultimately, I guess, I would be a terrible parent if I withheld that education from him- right?- who knows, maybe one day he will want to be a deep sea diver or a shrimp fisherman. (Did I convince you? Because I’m not quite sure I convinced myself.)

I swore I would….

Offer my child a fruit or vegetable at every meal to encourage my child to have a healthy diet.  I have accomplished this goal with flying colors.  (Well, I am including candy orange slices and popcorn- those count right?)

I swore I would never…

Let my child have a DVD player in the car.  I used to peer into the windows of minivans as they passed me on the streets and swear to myself that my child would never have a DVD player in the car; my child could spend his time looking at books quietly as we drove off into the sunset (or towards Dairy Queen). 

As it turns out, books can cause serious injuries when they are unexpectedly hurled at your head from the backseat.  The DVD players were installed after one grueling, and bloody, book incident.  To all of the minivan mother’s out there- I apologize for my previous judgment.   

You win some, you lose some, and sometimes you just shake your head and walk away.

Knockers and Balls

Here are two of Chase’s statements this weekend that could be interpreted dirty if you didn't know the context behind them:

“I like those knockers.”

“These are my big balls and these are Grandpa’s little balls.” 

I know where your mind went (because mine went there too)... shame on you (and me)- this is a toddler speaking.  Curious to know what was behind those statements?

-Chase announced, “I like those knockers,” when he was watching a stranger look through a pair of binoculars and he couldn't quite mutter out the word binoculars correctly.  Honestly, I find humor in the fact that “knockers” is what came out and I didn't correct him.  

-Chase talked about the different sizes of balls while holding up his bag of candy whoppers and my dad’s bag of candied peanuts.  I guess boys learn to compare balls (no matter what kind) at an early age. 

Man, I love toddlers! 

Old Wise Man VS A College Frat Boy

I used to believe that my child had the soul of an old wise man (I pictured his soul to be spending his days on the front porch of an old country farm (painted white of course), sitting on an old rocking chair swaying to and fro, gazing into a wheat field, pondering the meaning of life and the reason for our existence.

I thought this because as a baby, Chase used to be calm as a summer’s evening and loved to wear hats and matching sweater-vests (Come to think of it, it’s not like my infant matched his hats and sweater-vests together- so maybe I was contributing to his old man complex.)  Any-who, I’m starting to think that nowadays Chase is more of a 20 year old frat boy at heart instead of a wise old man. 

Recently, my child has:

-        Asked his childcare provider’s husband if he likes “whisky.”  (What 2 year old strikes up a conversation about whisky? None- but a college frat boy would.)

-        My child cannot keep his hands off of his “man jewels.” It’s like there is a magnetic force going from his hand to his genitals, pulling them together at all costs. 

-        My child has told me that he enjoys “chew tobacco” on more than one occasion. (Can you actually picture a 2 year old with a huge dip in his bottom lip trying to sing the theme song to Barney and Friends, using his Mickey Mouse Club House sippy cup as a spitter? Of course he would need an adult to remove the lid off of his cup first.)

   

I rest my case. 

Chase during his wise, old man days- calmly sleeping, sweater-vest and all.

You know you’re a parent when….

-At 1 pm your coworker informs you that you have poop smeared all over the side of your shirt and you don’t think to change your shirt because you only have 5 hours of work left. (And you are so used to the aroma of your child’s feces that you didn't notice the smell all day.)

-You’re pleased your car only smells like sour milk on a hot summer day, and you actually welcome the smell, as opposed to what your once loved vehicle could smell like.   

-You retire for the evening at 9 pm and you think- why did I stay up so late?

-You “forget” how to tell time and accidentally tuck your tiny tot into bed at 7 pm, not 8 pm…. (Oops!  I don’t know how I could momentarily forget how to read a clock. Luckily, it just so happened that The Real Housewives was on early so I found a way to fill my extra hour of quiet time.)

-You wake up to the rowdy neighbors kids walking home from the bars at 2 am and think to yourself- disrespectful kids- and then complain about it the entire next day and claim that your child will never be that disrespectful. 

-You cringe at the thought of fireworks on the 4^th of July, (for 1 of 2 reasons- 1. Because the loud booms might wake up your sleeping child-which will lead to a long, exhausting night  OR   2. Your child will drag you outside on the front steps to look at the fireworks all while getting eaten alive by mosquitoes-which I’m sure are just as painful as gunshot wounds.)   

-You find yourself using your child’s fears against them just to make your night a little easier (for instance- if Chase doesn't want to brush his teeth, I give him 2 options- he can either brush his teeth or jump in a jumpy castle (You know, one of those large inflatable jumpy castles that are at birthday parties and block parties?).  For some reason my child is frightened of these- which works out great for me, I can use it to negotiate teeth brushing with him and I never have to crawl inside those hot, sticky castles and bump into other people’s cranky children and convince them it was another child in the castle that actually pushed them over- and not you- because you don’t want to have to deal with their parents) Overall, It’s a win-win. 

Reasons Why You Should Be Nice To Your Child...

Reasons why you should be nice to your child:

-They determine if you get to dream blissfully throughout the night or if you are sleep deprived at work.

-They decide if you get to browse through Target at your leisure or if you race through the aisles like you are being chased by a zombie grabbing any type of toilet paper and tampons you can get your hands on just to get you by for the next few days (until hopefully, your little one decides he wants to go shopping, happily).

-You’re child has the ability to get you to do anything he wants and get you to lose your better judgment (and I don’t say this one lightly- I once scooped an ice cream cone and let my child dip his chicken nuggets in the cone during dinner because he promised he would eat his dinner then.  Had I rethought this at the time, I should have been okay with Chase skipping his meal of nuggets and french fries for the night and I shouldn't have let my two year old negotiate with me but at the time I actually thought I was winning the battle-now I’m thinking I lost, big time.)   

-And most importantly, they determine which nursing home you will eventually reside in (and for that reason alone, I will treat my Chasey like a prince with the hopes that he won’t relocate me to “Shady Pines” when he is sick of changing my old lady diapers). 

Feel free to comment and add to this list.... 

Yup- my child is obsessed with skunks (not cute little puppies or kitties like normal kids), but I wouldn't expect anything less from my little sidekick. 

Alvin

Sometimes the conversations I have with my child amaze me.  Our conversations also make me weep for the future of our country…

Chase (while watching Alvin and the Chipmunks):  “Which one is Alvin?”

Me: “The one in the red shirt.”

Chase: “Which restaurant?”

Me: “I said the one in the red shirt.”

Chase: “Me going to a restaurant?”

Me: “No, Alvin is the chipmunk in the red shirt.”

Chase: “I want my flashlight.”

I don’t know what bothers me more: the fact that we were having a conversation about a talking, fictional rodent or that neither of us could follow the conversation. 

Life Lessons

Life Lessons I hope my child learns… quickly:

1. You may need to consider looking at more than one identifying factor before determining the gender of strangers (I don’t believe the woman at the park enjoyed when you called her a man, repeatedly. It’s getting more and more difficult to find places to go where you haven’t inadvertently offended someone in one way or another.  Remember the time you called that slightly-overweight woman at the mall Honey Boo-Boo? I do.  I believe I clocked my fasted mile time that day).

2. You can leave your junk alone (I promise it isn't going anywhere, unless of course you enter into a relationship with Lorena Bobbitt).

3. You do not need to keep items (other than your man jewels and your feces) in your diaper. (For God's sake, you are not Tommy Pickle and it’s disturbing when I find random items, like stickers, in your diaper when I change you.  It’s not like they would even be sticky anymore.)

You would think these are lessons you wouldn't have to teach more than once, guess not. 

Awkward picture of the day- Chase and I hanging out in his crib (Please don't tell me how strange it is that I hang out in his crib with him- I'm already aware.) 

I think my child unknowingly hit on a 30 year old construction worker...

This week, Chase was introduced to the Shrek movies.  Along with the lovable, swamp living characters, comes the catchy tunes that the characters belt out.  Chase’s personal favorite has become donkey’s rendition of Sir Mix-A-Lot’s, “I like big butts.”  You know how the song goes, “I like big butts and I cannot lie... (and so on and so on).”  Personally, this song disgusts me, but for a toddler, this tune is rather catchy.  Unfortunately, for me, Chase doesn't always repeat the lyrics correctly.  

Chase and I went on a lunch date this afternoon.  He chose Burger King (only because that was the only choice I gave him because I haven’t had a whopper in weeks and needed my fix in order to stop the shakes).  It seems as though our timing for lunch wasn't that great.  A group of construction workers formed a large line ahead of us.  Chase was standing next to a middle aged construction worker with dirty hands, a fluorescent yellow shirt and a dirty blonde mullet.   Chase decided to strike up a conversation with this man.  This is nothing out of the ordinary; Chase likes to make small talk with strangers in public when I am within arms reach.  

First, Chase and the man talked about what they were going to order for lunch and what type of beverage they were going to get from the soda fountain to drink.  Right after a root beer conversation, things got creepy- real fast.  Chase looked the worker in the eyes and announced without a squeak in his voice, “I like your butt- that’s no lie.”  (He even added a little but wiggle to this compliment.)  The burly construction worker and his coworkers must have heard Chase’s flattering remark as clear as day because the worker’s cheeks became rosy and his buddies heckled him the rest of their lunch break.

Needless to say, Chase and I ate quickly and got the heck out of there before Chase handed out any more compliments.    

Oh why, oh why, can’t my child just sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star? 

My Apologizes

I would like to take a few minutes to apologize.  I would like to apologize for anyone who sees me in public.  I swore this is something I would never give into, but it seems to me I am weaker than I thought.  I thought I would win the battle, but I fear the battle has just begun…

I swore I would never be one of those moms, you know who I’m talking about: the kind of mom who wears yoga pants to places other than the gym.  Before I was a mom, when I would see these women in public I would snicker to myself, thinking about how they have given up.

But now I think: Snicker, who has a Snickers… yum!

Since becoming a mother, I have fallen into a groove- well actually, my butt has fallen into a groove, right into the middle (and sides) of my yoga pants.  I am semi-embarrassed to say that I wear yoga pants so much that I had to buy 2 pairs.  And not only that, my yoga pants are both designated to be worn to different events (I say the word “events” loosely because I don’t have many events to attend-I have an 9 pm bedtime ya’ know). 

My first pair of yoga pants have been named my “play” yoga pants. This pair is for trips to the grocery store and the park.  It is acceptable for Chase to wipe his dirty little fingers on these pants, and I can allow myself to sit on a bird-poop infested park bench in these pants… but I would never dare do that in my other yoga pants.  

My second pair of yoga pants is dubbed my “dressy” yoga pants.  I may even straighten my hair and put on a cute pair of sandals to celebrate when I get to wear my dressy yoga pants.  These pants are worn to places like doctor’s appointments and Walmart. When I see Chase coming in my direction straight from the sandbox, I dodge out of his way to save the dignity of these pants.   These pants are too fancy to get dirty (Mothers- don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about).

I swore I would never surrender to yoga pants, but when I wear them they feel like they are giving me a great big hug- and who am I to turn down a hug…   

I am waiving my white flag in the air on this one.  (One of these days, I should actually take up yoga, but then again, that might require me to buy a new pair of pants.)

The Zoo

Yesterday, we went to the zoo.

We walked from animal to animal, talking about all of the different shapes, sizes and types of animals that we came across.  We talked about what types of food each animal eats, where they sleep and where they pooped.  But there was one thing we didn't talk about and Chase was dying to know the answer.

We got to some sort of horse exhibit. I’m not exactly sure what type of horse it was- honestly the animals all start to look the same.  About an hour into the zoo experience I couldn't tell the difference between and monkey and a giraffe (I think that’s why they have each exhibit labeled as to which animal is in the cage- I can’t be the only one that gets blurry zoo vision).  Anyway, Chase went close to the railing and inspected the animal from head to hooves.  After a couple minutes of pondering he looked up at me with his little eyebrows squished together in the middle of his forehead and asked, “Mommy, why hims not wearing crocs?”  Apparently, my child was worried about this poor animal’s foot apparel.  I guess animals need to keep up with current fashion trends and this horse clearly wasn't up to par and child found that offensive.  My response to his inquiry, “He doesn't have any pockets to keep his money in, so he can’t buy crocs.” Luckily, Chase seemed content with that answer and scurried off to see the next animal that was awaiting him.  As Chase ran ahead, I prayed in silence that the next animal had a sweater vest on because I didn't think I could come up with another lame answer.   

On a side note, I overheard a little girl talking to her mom by the prairie dog exhibit.  The little pig-tailed girl couldn't have been over 5, but she was very observant.  She was looking at two prairie dogs in a corner and wanted her mom to notice.  She said, “Oh, cute Mommy, they are piggy back rides on the ground.”  The mother looked up at me and we both busted into laughter as the mother shuttled her daughter away from “piggy back” corner.  

Say What?

Within the last 24 hours I have had to say many things to my child that I never once thought I would ever have to say…

1.       “Please stop putting pink milk on your pee-pee.”  (After all, flavored milk is expensive.)

2.       “Please stop licking my arm, it is getting sticky.”  (I mainly put a stop to the licking because I didn't want to have to take a shower today.)

3.       “Please stop tickling me with your chicken finger.  I don’t want to smell like BBQ sauce.” (Like the smell should be the only reason I don’t want to be tickled with my toddler’s dinner.)

4.       “Please stop telling the Walmart greeters that your daddy drinks beer.” (Because everyone knows the appropriate place for a toddler to tell the workers about his father’s leisure activities is at a liquor store. And yes, my child has been in a liquor store and announced to the cashier that, “Chasey loves wine.” Stop judging.)

5.       “Please take the quarters out of your diaper.” (For the love of God, I’m not raising a Chip and Dales dancer.  Not that my child can’t do that in the future if that is his dream- but I at least want to raise a college educated stripper, so the dancing career will need to be put on the back burner for now. Although, after these conversations, I don’t think I need to rush to start a college fund.)

Sometimes I am amazed at the conversations I have with my child. But I guess my job as a parent is to teach.  I just hope the lessons don’t become more difficult than instructing my toddler not to put strawberry milk on his genitals; otherwise I may not be able to keep up. 

That Naughty Wind

Anyone who has ever been around a toddler knows that toddlers can be a little "self-involved" and feel like everyone is doing them wrong.  I don’t understand why toddlers sometimes morph into teenage girls going through puberty, but who am I to debate evolution. 

Well the other day, Chase was pissed at someone- but he didn't know who- so I told him.

One morning Chase and I were sitting on the couch watching a never ending episode of  Mickey-Mouse Clubhouse along with his beloved blankie (which is pink and purple and another story in itself), Fruit Loops (In an orange bowl, not a blue bowl.  I had to learn that the hard way), and a sippy cup full of milk.  

We were going about our business as normal when all of a sudden, out of nowhere Chase let out an obnoxiously, animated sneezed.  He sneezed so hard his head flew forward and his lap looked like a soggy, chewed up rainbow.

Chase looked down at his lap and appeared to be horrified.  He then raised his little noggin up at me and growled in disgust, “Hey- somebody spit on me!”  

For the rest of the morning he demanded to know who the villain was who randomly spit Fruit Loops all over his lap.  I didn't have the heart to tell him that he actually violated himself.  So, I did what every good parent would do- I blamed it on the wind.  (I have a feeling this lie won’t work much longer because he will soon associate the wind with actually being outdoors- but for now I’m thankful it still works).  I guess I am just grooming my child to dislike Mother Nature.  Oh well, he’ll get over it, eventually.  

I know what you are thinking, “How could a mother lie to her precious child like that?” My only defense is that I didn't have to get out of my pajamas, do my hair and take him to the park that morning to play outdoors.  Besides, it was windy anyway.   

Final Score:

Mommy: 1

Park: 0

Confessions

I have found that since becoming a parent, there are many things I need to confess, and since I don’t make it to confession as often as I should often (I have been tardy for the last 10 years), I will just confess now:

We'll start off with an easy one:

1. I steal my child’s candy (and eat it when he isn't looking- that way I don’t have to share or give him the blue flavored tootsie rolls that we both enjoy).

Now the real shame starts:

2. I often lie to my child when he requests to watch Barney and tell him that it isn't on.  (What other option do I have?  He usually asks when I am watching the Real Housewives.  I think I have at least 1 more year until he learns how to use the remote better than me, so I have to utilize this time now.)

3. Most parents try to instill independence in their children by letting them pick out their own clothes.  Not me.  If my child picks out mismatched clothes, I often lie to tell him that the clothes are too small and pretend to throw them in the garbage.  I do feel like it’s not totally sin.  After all, I am trying to prevent him from being a social outcast.  That sounds more like a saint than a sinner to me. For the love of God child, stripes and plaid do not go together…ever!

4. Most parents take pride in their child’s athletic abilities.  But not me; I have a feeling I am stunting his athletic abilities instead of encouraging them.  Every time I see my child trying to scale the walls of his crib, I give him a little nudge from behind and he lands back on the mattress, wondering what the heck happened.  Then I proceed to blame it on the crib.  I tell him the crib pushed him down so he should never try to climb out again.  (I mainly do this because his crib matches the rest of his furniture quite nicely and I don’t want to go through the hassle of picking out a toddler bed).    

Now I must repent (on the couch with a glass of boxed wine and a family size bag of Cheetos).