"I'm Doing A Trump."

Let me pre-warn you that this story dips a toe into the political pool (but from the point of view of a child). 

Our household is made up of two parents who belong to different political parties and live in harmony (just kidding about the harmony- we discuss politics frequently and know how to trigger each other when it comes to politics- so our trigger fingers are often sore from being overworked. It's a mystery how we have been married for almost a decade.)  

But, on a positive note, due to our differing stances on politics and how the world should work, our children are exposed to different ends of the spectrum.  Hopefully, this is laying the groundwork for them to independently decide what they believe and allows them to talk about it openly. 

This morning I was helping Chase finish his homework (that was due today of course, because that is how Chase rolls.  He forgets his homework at school and realizes at 7pm when he is getting ready for bed and then we end up doing homework at his desk in his classroom minutes before recess starts).  

Any who, Chase started to write a word but in the process, he messed up on one of the letters.  Since he messed up on it, he just continued to make that particular letter a jumbled mess, making it so you couldn't even tell what letter it was supposed to be.  

I asked, “What are you doing?” 

He replied, “I’m doing a Trump.”  

Of course this peaked my interested so I inquired further, “What does that mean?” 

He responded, “You know how when Trump does something wrong, and then just keeps doing the same thing wrong over and over and then maybe someone will think it’s right? That’s what I did.”  
Me: “Erase it and start over.”  

This isn't the first time my child has nonchalantly criticized the President. (Did you notice that I capitalized the word, "President" to show some sort of respect? (That was big of me, wasn't it?!  I really am becoming an adult.) 

Flashback to a blog 2 years ago:

"As we were walking out of the grocery store Chase was trying to open his container of tic-tacs not paying attention and he walked directly into the sliding glass doors.  And I don’t mean he tapped into it.  He smacked the glass, hard.  Like there were grease marks from his face on the glass (Side note: my child may be in need of “hygiene night” according to his body outline that was smeared onto the glass).  

As my child pried himself off of the glass door, he took a step back, shook his head, looked me directly in the eyes and said, “Wow, that must be how Trump feels. You know, because he’s a loser.” "

Through the eyes of a babe will we change the future. 

On an completely unrelated note- Ryder was having a rough morning.
Ryder: "Mom, I fell off of my bike."
Me: "I see that." 

One Week,Two Embarrassed Parents,Three Penis Stories

You may wonder why a parent would have so many penis stores from just one week.  Well, that is because I am the parent to Ryder.  I’m pretty sure the definition of Ryder is: A child who is pleased with his body.

1.      So the other evening Ryder took a bath.  When he takes a bath, I put a little standing mirror next to the bathtub (Yes, I understand how creepy it sounds when you say it out loud.) because he likes to paint himself with kid’s soapy bathtub paint and likes to look at himself as he puts soap in his hair and lathers up.  So here we are, midway through his bath.  I was in the closet that is attached to our bathroom as Ryder is playing in the bathtub.  And out of the silence I hear (in a full on- Homer Simpson voice), “Oh man, that’s a big penis,” as he is looking at his man jewels from all different angles in the bathtub.  If nothing else, I am raising a child who is very body positive. 

2.   Last weekend we were getting our taxes done.  There was a waiting room full of adults.  Ryder asked me to accompany him to the bathroom, in which I agreed.  He did his business, we washed our hands and headed down the long hallway back to the waiting room.  As we entered the crowded room, Ryder yells, “Stop! We have to see if my penis fell out.”  And we walked directly out to our car bypassing the room full of laughter.

3.      Today, Ryder and I were hanging out in my room. He was watching a cartoon and I was reading.  All of a sudden Ryder stands up, naked with three candy smarties stuck to his man jewels.  And he asks, “want a snack?” as he shook the smarties off.

Of course, I want a snack, but not one that was fastened to your penis with sweat. (Also, I don’t know why he was naked or where he got smarties.)

Ryder, being Ryder. 

Candy Canes, Snowballs and Blow Me

Ryder has really been a 2 year old lately and frankly I am exhausted. 

Me to my 10 year old nephew, Holden: “We put 12 candy canes on our Christmas tree and Ryder ate them all in one day.”

Holden: “Weren't you watching him?”

Ryder walks out of preschool as it is snowing one afternoon and yells, “Ahh! The sky is throwing snowballs at my face. I must kick them!”

(And there I stood, in the parking lot of Ryder’s preschool, watching my little ninja even out the score between him and nature. Kicking and kicking the sky ….until I realized that I was the adult and could leave.)

And my personal favorite:

Ryder walks up to me as I’m reading a book on the couch and says: “Blow me.”

Me (startled): “What?”

Ryder (starting to get annoyed): “Blow me."

Me: *Crickets.

(As it turns out, Ryder realized that his breath is warm and wanted me to feel his warm breath and then he wanted to feel mine. Apparently he wanted to "blow on me" but I'm still cringing at the fact that my 2 year old asked me to blow him, no matter the context.)   

Dog-Pile, Boobs, and Ponchos

Lately, my kids have been very hard on me. And mostly because of what I wear.  And it's not like I'm wearing anything outlandish.  I'm not wear prom dresses and clown wigs around town.  I am wearing normal, weather appropriate clothing.  This fall I could not live down my favorite black jumpsuit.  Chase would honestly pray during his bedtime prayers that I wouldn't wear a jumpsuit the next day.

Now that it's chilly out, my spawns are not loving my ponchos.  I mean, what is there not to love? They are warm and fuzzy and made of all things lovely (pretty much the exact opposite of my children).

One morning Ryder woke up, took one look at me wearing a poncho and said, "Oh, yous are wearing that today?" and pulled his blanket back up over his eyes. (It seems like a lot of criticism coming from someone who wears a pull-up at night.)

Oh man, and don't get me started on my lipstick.  As soon as Chase sees me putting on lipstick he rolls his eyes and tells me how "sticky and old lady" my lips look.  (This coming from the kid who has a collection of ponytails on his wrist that he has found on the ground throughout the school year and wears as bracelets. I'm pretty sure if our family gets lice, it is going to be from one of his "lost and found ponytails.")   
 
Both of my kids are terrible, but Ryder is always a little bit more of an a**hole each and every day.... 
So, I am going to the bathroom one morning when the door opens and Ryder strolls in.  He makes eye contact with me sitting on the toilet.  He stops, starts walking backwards out of the room and whispers, while still holding eye contact, "You disgust me."

I'm not saying that having children ruined my life... but I'm not saying that it didn't.

On an unrelated note: Last night, Cory was laying on his stomach on the living room floor and the boys were having fun dog-piling on him.  Ryder gets up, looks at me and says, "You can lay on daddy, just lay your boobs on his back." :) 

An Adoption, A New Mom and Dad

It was such a great day yesterday.  My sister’s (Jess) husband, Eric, officially adopted her two children; Holden and Adam.  You see, Eric has been their Dad for quite a few years already, but yesterday it was legal in terms of the court system.  Nothing will really change with their day-to-day lives because Eric stepped up to the plate years ago but now the family gets to share the same last name and have the peace of mind that they will forever be a family.

On a side note: The judge asked Holden if he wanted to change his last name.  He said yes, and also said that he wanted to change his first name to Jeff. (F*cking Jeff, really?)

Of course, after a big day like this, we had to celebrate at the only place acceptable for a day like that- at Chuck-E-Cheese.  On the way there, Holden wanted to bring in his new Lego set but Jess told him that he couldn’t because the pieces would get lost.  Holden was quite upset and let her know that he was upset.  Meanwhile, Chase was in the backseat, observed the conversation, leaned over to Holden and whispered (not quietly), “Don’t you wish you got a new Mom today, too?”

So Holden and Adam were very happy to get a new Dad, but kinda wished they got a new Mom, too.   

Also, my kids really know how to ruin a moment for my sister's family.  Ryder refused to smile and kept repeating, "I will not smile. I will not be happy."  And he stuck to his words. Honest little man he is.


My kids also ruined their wedding photos.

Piss, Left Eye, 4 Ankles

I’m not quite sure I’m equipt to deal with a toddler.  Like mentally. And physically.

So we have been doing the whole bedtime song and dance at our house.  Ryder needs to go potty, and then he needs a drink, and then he needs to cry about something completely irrational. And then I need a glass of wine.

The other night, we put Ryder to bed.  We did our usual prayers, our usual family hug, our usual bedtime song and our usual routine of covering him up with all 1,900 blankets that we own (in a specific order- that is different every single night so of course we can never get it right on the first try).  Then we tell him that we love him and exit his room.  And secretly hope that we don’t have any more interactions with him until morning (but never mention that out loud because it makes you seem like a gigantic a**hole and apparently when you say things like that out lout to other parents they think you are the devil and hate your child.  And that’s only 50% true).

So anyways, after Ry was supposed to be sleeping, we hear him wailing from his bedroom.  We go into his room and ask him why he is crying and he says in-between sobs, “Because I have an ankle.” And continues to cry.  We calm him down showing him our ankles to reassure him that he is, in fact okay.  After a couple more minutes we hear him sobbing again and he yells from his crib. “I have four ankles.”  We, again, calm him down.  A minute later we hear him crying and yelling, “My toe is wiggly.”  This time, with less patience, Cory yells from the couch while sipping a beer, “Then stop wiggling it,” and continues watching tv.  Because you can only give a shit for so long.

Speaking of Ryder and bedtime- the other night after we put Ryder to bed he said that he had to go potty.  But this was the 17^th time I had taken him to the bathroom since laying him in his crib so I was a little less than impressed with his potty needs. And this bathroom trip was a complete shit show.  Like for real.  Ryder likes our master bathroom the most, but it is across the house so I made him use his own bathroom (God forbid).  So he was already crying about that and not being helpful.  Once we got into his bathroom I realized his stool wasn’t in there so I would have to hold him up in the air while he hovered facing the toilet and urinated.  But of course I wanted to save time and didn’t pull his pj pants or pull up all of the way down to his ankles- but just enough for his tiny little man jewels to hang out.  But then, when he was mid-stream, he wiggled.  Wiggled enough to somehow face his penis upward all while spraying into my left eye.  And apparently, when I am being shot in the eye with urine, I freeze and don’t think to move said penis out of my eye range.  I just stood there until he was out of pee.  I then set him down, wiped off my eye with toilet paper and looked to the bathroom door as if making a silent cry for help.  And there stands Cory and Chase trying hard not to laugh, but failing miserable.  All Cory said was, “You could have moved.” 

And so here I am, in my 30s at 8:30pm getting shot in the left eye with piss.  And I did absolutely nothing about it. What does that say about me? What does that say about my life goals?  Have I given up?        

But who wouldn't take a pee shot to the eye for this little nugget in red? (And then there is Chase, sitting there, not giving a damn. Story of his life.) 

Swearing Toddler

Okay, so you know how my parenting choices are sometimes questionable?  Like the time I forgot my child had a neck tat on at church or the time I accidentally bought my child a porno? Well, along with all of these terrible parenting choices, I have also decided that I don't necessarily censor my language around my children.  Instead, we try teach our children about what time and places certain language is appropriate and not appropriate.  Apparently, 2 year olds don't always understand this (Who knew? Come on kid, you're making me look bad.).

So, we took Chase and Ryder to the aquatic center in Hutchinson yesterday. (On a side note, this place is awesome. What is not awesome is that Ryder learned that no one knows when you pee in a pool. What he didn't know is that his mother knows his pee face and his "pee shiver" and will still scold him for peeing next to the newborn in the kiddie pool even if no one else sees.) 

Ryder had a blast climbing up this children's slide that sprays water and makes it super slippery as you go down.  Ryder must have climbed up and slid down a mere 19 million times.  On his millionth slide down, Ryder reached the bottom and stood up.  As he stood up a child walked past him and accidentally splashed him with water.  Ryder looked at me angrily and yelled, "That G*d damn kid splashed me in the face!" while he wiped his eyes with his wet arm.  

And now we can't show our face again at the aquatic center. 

Speaking of places where we can't show are faces anymore- Chase, Ryder and I had to leave the park one day this summer because Ryder kept yelling, "Assh*ole" over and over again for no apparent reason.  And now Chase refers to the park at Ripley Elementary School as the Assh*le Park.

I would say that my parenting is pretty stellar.  (You know, if you think stellar means terrible.  Extremely terrible.) 

Anywho, isn't Ryder cute, though? So he'll have that going for him when he is in juvie.