My Child the Sinner

I’m pretty sure my child, at the young age of three, has already sinned.  

This past weekend my sister-in-law, Mindy, got married.  Cory, Chase and I were all in the wedding party so the weekend was filled with many, many wedding festivities. On Friday, we went to the church to practice walking down the aisle and for Chase to practice walking up the aisle with two of the cutest flower girls in the world.  After some bribing (okay, a lot of bribing), we managed to get Chase to accompany the two flower girls down the aisle, one holding each of his hands. (On a side note: Chase looked like a little Hugh Hefner.  Not that I’m promoting my child becoming Hugh Hefner, but Hugh does have a thick wallet and that could put me into a very nice nursing home in 60 years. Although, I’m pretty sure I won’t need to live in a nursing home.  When I’m in my 80’s, I see my life going in one of two directions: 1. I will be living with Chase and he will be spoon feeding me when I’m too old and brittle to feed myself OR 2. If Chase continues to head down this sinning path, he will be wearing my skin like an apron and my skeleton will be sitting in a rocking chair in his bedroom collecting dust.  But honestly, I would be happy with either outcome.)

Any who, after the rehearsal we headed to the Groom’s dinner at a local restaurant.  After a blessing from the Priest, we feasted on chicken and ribs until I had to go into the bathroom and take off my spanks. I thought the night was going well and my little nugget was on his best behavior.  Okay, maybe not his best behavior, but he wasn’t destroying anything or insulting anyone.  Mindy and her husband, Alex, got up at the end of the dinner and gave a beautiful speech thanking everyone for coming.  I’m a sucker for a good speech and engulfed myself in the words they were speaking.  So engulfed that I momentarily forgot I was in-charge of another human being (oops, my bad).  My little nugget snuck up to the head table where Mindy and Alex were standing.  Then it happened.  My child crouched down, started to shake his derriere and started twerking on the Priest.

That’s right, my child practically twerked on Jesus.  

My child, my child, my child. Forehead smack, forehead smack, forehead smack.

My family at the wedding.  

Forehead Scratchers

Over the weekend Chase said some pretty interesting things to Cory.  Luckily, I heard all of them. Some of these things even made me scratch my head. 

Chase (to Cory): “Daddy, I like Mommy the most because you don’t have hair.  Sorry you don’t have hair, daddy.” (Way to kick Daddy when he’s down, buddy.)

Chase (to Cory): “Can I stick my finger in your belly button?” (Seemed like a legit question, but I didn't stick around long enough to hear the answer.)

But this one had me scratching my head the most.  I scratched so hard I now have a scab smack dab in the middle of my forehead.

I hear a little knock on the bathroom door downstairs.  Then I heard Chase sweetly say, “Daddy, I have something in my underwear for you.”  Of course this peaked my interest so I trotted downstairs to find Chase standing outside of the bathroom door, in his undies, with a light-up Spider-Man toy in-between his undies and his butt.   Then, I turned around and walked right back up stairs. 

Happy Monday!

Chinese and Shopko; A Normal Family Outing

It has been a few weeks since I have blogged and I have no excuse for that except; we have been enjoying the arrival of something wonderful (no seriously, stop thinking we are going to have another child.  “One and Done” is our family motto); NETFLIX.  I thought I knew the meaning of true love, but now I truly understand how you can love something with all of your heart and soul.  (Sorry, Cory.)

Since Cory and I wait to enjoy Netflix until after our little guy drifts off to sleep (not necessarily because of any wonderful parenting philosophy but because we watch shows about serial killers and that may scare- and scar- him), we decided to go out to dinner last night.  We let Chase pick, which actually worked out well.  He chose Chinese, of course.  He doesn’t necessarily enjoy the food, but enjoys getting the fortune cookie at the end with the folded up piece of paper in it with a secret message (sort of like a treasure map).  Last night his fortune read: “To see the light, you must travel through the darkness.”  And of course he had that memorized in a heartbeat and recited it to other foodies on our way out the front door.  He looked sort of like a midget fortune teller.  We’re thinking about investing in a crystal ball and a tent and bringing him to local fairs.

Any who, it’s no secret that my child likes to "spice" up every outing.  And this Chinese trip was no different.  During our entire restaurant experience Chase decided to call me by another name then simply Mom. While we were up at the buffet Chase shuffled behind me saying “no” to any offer of food I gave him except anything that was fried.  But anytime I would put food on my plate my child would say (loudly), “Moo.”  For instance:  Rice goes on my plate: “Moo.”  Egg roll goes on my plate: “Moo.” And so on and so forth.  He even chased after me at one point when I went up to get seconds and said, “Wait, Mommy, Moo, Moo.”  OUCH.  I understand I don’t enjoy working out, but I guess I need to cut down on my trips to the buffet. (Fun Revermann Fact: Cory and I once bought a year membership to Snap Fitness. We went once, but ended up at the Chinese Buffet across the street numerous times in work out clothes.) I didn’t find it all that amusing, but of course everyone else in the restaurant did.

On a side note: After our restaurant trip we headed to Shopko, not for anything specific but to browse, because that is totally the type of people we are.  I realized something about my family during this trip, and it was a little horrifying. While we were checking out I was holding Chase and he had his little curly top laid on my shoulder.  All of a sudden he lifted his head up, stuck his tongue out and said, “Mommy lick my tongue.”  The woman checking us out, who was probably in her early twenties and wearing a name tag with “Liz” printed on it, looked at Chase and said, “Wow that was a little creepy,” and went about her business. 

As we walked out, Cory looked at me and said, “Wow Liz, was a little strange.”  And I instantly became alarmed. What alarmed me was, it hadn’t even dawned on Cory that maybe our child asking me to lick his tongue was weird but in fact the weird one must have been the checkout lady for noticing how strange Chase’s request was.  Wow, having a child can mess with you.  Therapy here we come. 

I may need a few days to reevaluate my life, in multiple ways. Good thing I have a three day weekend coming up! 

My sunshine. 

Cheering for Daddy

There is never a dull moment when my sweet little Chasey is around (I know what you are thinking, isn’t he too big to be called “Chasey?”  Well, depends on who you ask.  If you ask Cory, the answer is yes.  If you ask me the answer is no.  If you ask Chase what his name is, he refers to himself as “Chasey.”  So Chasey it is and Chasey it will stay until his boss feels that “Chasey Revermann” doesn't seem professional enough for his business cards.)

Last night at Cory’s softball game, Chase and I participated in our usual routine; park the car, find what field Cory is playing on, plop down our belongings onto the chilly metal bleachers and race to the concession stands.  We purchased many treats that I always think will last us the entire 7 inning game, but of course they only last through the top of the 1^st inning. (Is anyone impressed with my sports lingo? Because, frankly, I impressed myself a little bit there.)

I have been working on teaching Chase to cheer (well to cheer appropriately.)  All day we practiced Chase yelling, “Go, Daddy!”  We went through different scenarios when Chase should cheer and he was doing great.  Well, at least he did great at home.  When Cory got up to bat, I encouraged Chase to cheer for him, thinking Chase would yell, “Go, Daddy!” I was half right.  Chase took his ring pop out of his mouth and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Go Daddy, spank your butt. You like to do it!”  I should also add that Chase was spanking his own derriere as he was yelling this.  And I did the only thing I could think to do... I skedaddled over to the concession stands and bough another Snickers.  I then spent the rest of the game trying to distract my tot from cheering for his Daddy. 

Luckily, for me, Cory’s softball season is almost done.  Every game I pray that Cory's team will lose so I don’t have to live through yet another embarrassing moment.  Sadly, Cory’s team is pretty good. 

Walk of Shame

So this past weekend I participated in my sister-in-law’s bachelorette party as well as Cory attended the bachelor party.  And man, I am not as young as I used to be.  I can’t recover from a night out as well as I did in college.  (I mean I go to a late movie (9:15pm) nowadays and end up needing to take the next day off of work just to recoup).  There were two things that happened to me that night that made me realize that this mama doesn't have her groove back (or maybe never had it to begin with).

1. One of the activities for the festivity was to decorate can koozies to sell at the bars that evening.  So being me, I figured I must make this can koozie as inappropriate as possible but as I started my artwork I drew a blank.  I had to ask a much younger woman to show me how to draw male genitalia correctly.   I found many things to be wrong with that and ended up with what looked like a lopsided rocket ship.

2. The walk of shame.  (I know everyone knows what this is and has done it at least once (a weekend) while in college).  Well as it turns out, the walk of shame is much different as you get older.  A great friend of mine in college used to be my wing woman.  We would stay up late partying (I mean studying at the library-wink, wink) and then in the morning do the walk of shame to the college cafeteria where we would always find ourselves nursing hangovers with omelets and orange juice.  (On a side note: I totally understand how people gain the Freshman 15 in college).  But, as it turns out, those days are long gone.  On Sunday morning after the bachelorette party, I found myself walking to my car a block away from where I spent the night.  But this walk of shame was different and way less cool.  For one, my husband was with me. Secondly, I had an overnight bag packed (and had freshly brushed teeth) and lastly, we discussed rhubarb plants on the walk.  Man, I’m lame.

On a side note: It’s Monday evening and I’m still trying to recover.  I also discovered three shot glasses in my purse this morning that I must have "acquired" from a bar. 

Spencers

So, it’s pretty safe to say that my parenting choices can be questionable, at best.  And last night was no different.  My little family of three spent the evening at the mall (of course) and we had a mission.  I needed to pick up a few things for my sister-in-law’s bachelorette party.  We ended in up at Spencers.  This store has the ability to even make me blush but apparently my child enjoys its ambiance.

I’m sure you are wondering why I brought my child into a store like this.  And I have no real answer for you.  I’m still trying to figure that out as well.

Any who, while I was browsing the bachelorette section of the store (You know which section I’m talking about- the one with the shot glasses that light up and the necklaces covered with plastic replicas of male genitalia. Don’t act like you have never browsed in this section and don’t know what I’m talking about.).

While I was browsing, apparently, so was my three year old.  Chase was standing next to a young couple while he spotted a sucker.  A sucker of a- for lack of better words- man jewels.  Chase looks over at the couple and says, “I want that.  I want to lick it.”  The couple both looked at each other and burst out laughing.  All I could do was look at them and say, “I know, I know, this is inappropriate,” as I hung my head in shame and walked away (with a penis sucker in hand of course).

I completely understand bringing my three year old into this store may not have been a suitable parenting choice, but Chase really does enjoy suckers and his man jewels, so I could see why he wanted the tasty treat.  

On a side note, the store also sports disco lights and my child enjoys dancing under the lights yelling, “I like to dance like my mama.”  I am hoping he is talking about a different mama. 

Chase at Spencers begging for a giant drinking cup. 

Concessions Stand

This Holiday weekend we decided to go to Paul Bunyan Land.  We had discussed this mini-vacation with Chase for a week prior to get him excited.  And excited he was.  Well, he was excited when he kept telling everyone that he came into contact with that he was going to “Disney Land.”  He was always less excited when I corrected him and said we were actually going to Paul Bunyan Land.

Nonetheless, my parents, my sister, her two boys, Chase and I spent the entire day on Thursday going from one ride to the next.  The children had the time of their lives while I tried not to ralph on myself.  As it turns out, amusement parks aren't all that much fun as a parent.  I don’t know what made me more sick… the continuous spinning of the tilt-a-whirl or the fact that I was on a ferris wheel with two preschoolers and no seat belts.  Both made me queasy.  

After going on many rides, I saw a glimpse of heaven in the distance, well not exactly heaven, but close; a concessions stand.  Chase and I both share a love for snacks so it didn’t take much convincing to get him to head in the direction of the greasy, overpriced “snacky, snacks” (as Chase would call them).  Chase and I stood in line and discussed what snacks we were going to purchase.  All was going as planned until the cute blonde girl behind the concession counter asked my curly headed child what he would like.  I don’t know if Chase suddenly got confused or if he was trying to impress the leggy blonde, but he blurted out, “Miller Lite.”  The blonde behind the counter burst out laughing as I muttered (trying desperately to pretend like my three year old child didn't just try to purchase a beer), “He said lemonade. He wants lemonade.”  But she wasn't fooled and replied, “He totally just asked for beer.” 

Anyways, Chase ended up with a lemonade slush and popcorn and I ended up $7.50 poorer, with a tat bit less self-respect. (I know, I know. By now you would assume I wouldn't have any self-respect left. Don’t worry, at this rate, by next Friday there won’t be any left to loose.)