"Welcome to Munchkin Land, Gun Store, Liberals"

A couple of months ago Cory and I got to spend an adult day together, just the two of us.  So of course we ended up doing what we do best- drinking.  But since we are sophisticated, mature adults we called it “touring wineries.”   

On the way to our first winery, we passed a gun shop.  And since Cory is always in the market for a new gun, despite having a gun safe filled to the brim with guns, he wanted to stop and take a look at their selection. Gun shops are never my thing.  I didn’t grow up around guns.  I buy my meat at a grocery store like every other over-privileged white girl.  But you know me, I’m a giver so I sucked it up and played the part of supportive wife and I didn’t object. We pull into the parking lot and I took one look at Cory and said, “If this gets political, I’m out.”  He just looked at me and winked without saying a word.   

We walk up to the front door of the business and the first thing my eyes land upon was a sign that read, “No masks. No Liberals.” (Of course, the word Liberals wasn’t capitalized on the sign, I did that for my own satisfaction just now.)  Cory turned his head to me as he reached for the doorknob with a smirk on his face and against my better judgement, I entered behind him.  (I feel like this is the theme of our marriage... following Cory against my better judgement and Cory leading me astray and finding full enjoyment out of it.)    

Not far into the store, after we passed two gentlemen wearing "Make America Great Again" hats, I see another sign that reads, “If you are vaccinated, you should leave.”  Again, in support of Cory I stayed and listened to him as he talked about everything guns. Who has what gun. What gun shoots what animal best and yadayadayada.  Nothing I have an interest in, but I’m trying to play the part of a good wife (which is a role I’m more suited as an understudy in, instead of the leading role, but much like the munchkin role 7-year-old Jayme played in the community ed’s version of Wizard of Oz, I curtsied to the audience and faked a smile.)   

I must have really looked like I was better suited in Munchkin Land because an onlooker interrupted our conversation to not ask, but more comment about how, “I must not be a gun person.” I politely smiled my liberal, vaccinated smile and continued listening to my husband talk about everything I don’t know, or even care, about.    

Cory picked up one gun and asked while propping it on his shoulder, “How about this one?” and I replied, “Why that one? It doesn’t even have a looking glass on it.” Cory quietly put the gun back, dropped his head to the ground defeated and whispered, “It’s called a scope, not a looking glass,” as if me calling a scope a looking glass was the most embarrassing thing happening in this store and then continued, “You really don’t belong here.  We can leave.”  

Any who, I ended the day using my body as a human puke bucket, which oddly enough was a better experience than going to the gun store.   

Excuse me while I'm busy teaching my child valuable life skills, like how to do a Jello shot without getting a stained pointer finger. Leave teaching the ABC's to the trained professionals.  We all have our own talents to pass down to future generations.
Don't worry Karen.  There wasn't booze in the tiny tot's Jello shot. 

Teardrop Tattoos, Toilet Paper, Free-Balling

Today on our way to school we noticed that one of our neighbors got toilet papered. 

Chase asked, already knowing damn well what the answer will be but wanting to shame me just a tad: “Mom, didn’t you get arrested toilet papering when you were in high school?”

Me, with a joking tone in my voice so Chase can see that he can’t shame his Mother: “Yes I did.  I did cold, hard, time and I’m not proud of it.  I lived an entire lifetime in the 30 minutes it took Grandma to pick me up from the clink.”

Ryder, horrified: “But I haven’t even seen your teardrop tattoo.”

Chase, rolling his eyes: “Ryder, you don’t automatically get a teardrop tattoo by your eye just for going to jail. You have to earn it.”

Ryder: “I will get a teardrop tattoo every time I go to jail. I’ll have so many my eyes will look like sprinklers.”

Chase looks at me: "Tell me again who your favorite child is?"

Me: "Ryder, how was school today?"
Ryder: "Great! I free-balled it all day."
And yes, he did.  And I know this because he showed me.
Had I known that seeing little boy balls multiple times everyday was part of parenting, I may have rethought a few life decision.

Mother’s Day, Candy Shop, D*ck

For Mother’s Day Ryder gifted me a ticket for a tour of his candy shop. You know, the candy shop that every over-privileged kindergartener sets up in the commercial corner of their bedroom.  Whenever Ryder gets candy from holidays or gas stations he hoards it and then sells it back to us. So essentially we are paying for the same candy twice. 

In addition to the very generous tour, Ryder also gifted me a dollar off coupon for his candy shop. After the tour, I happily pick out a piece of chocolate and handed him my ticket. He looks at me with his head slightly tilted towards the ground and sadly says, “Shoot. Just this morning I had to raise all of my prices to $3 for each piece of candy and your coupon is for $1. So your total is $2.” 

Thanks a lot inflation. I ended up paying $2 for my own Mother’s Day gift. Which seems pretty on brand with my life. 

But just so Ryder could ensure he wasn’t getting scammed, he used a hole punch to deface my coupon so I wouldn’t be able to use it twice. 

Ryder really does make every small interaction interesting...

 

Here was my morning yesterday...the boys and I ran some errands before school and got to school a few minutes early so Chase suggested we play Google Family Feud while we waited in the school parking lot.  

I hadn't played this game before but Google asks you partial questions and you fill in the blank part of the question based on what you think people Google the most.  

My boys are very competitive with each other and they were really getting into the game.  It sounded like answers were being yelled from every angle of the Jeep. Our final question before the boys needed to go into the school was, "What is the best kind of...." and we had to guess what the ending to that question was.  Chase yells, "Dog, candy, cake."  

Chase is firing answers so quickly that it got Ryder all wound up and he was struggling to come up with a word.  Then suddenly, Ryder, in fear of loosing the game panic yells, "dick" from the back seat. 

Yes, my kindergartener thought that most people Google, "What is the best kind of... dick." 

And I guess I'm not really sure if people Google that because I ended the game there because it was 7:45am and my child had already screamed the word "dick" at me. As I was scooting my children out the door of my Jeep and telling them to have a good day at school, I reminded Ryder to say an extra prayer for himself at church.    

I question a lot if Ryder's personality is a direct reflection of my parenting or just an anomaly. 

Ryder's Candy Shop
(In true Ryder fashion, his sign actually says "Pablo's Candy Shop")

"What. The. Actual. F"

It is no secret that my Ryder Jaymeson is hard on me.  It's like he was born to keep my self-esteem in check.  Like this kid looks for reasons to be upset with me.  Daily, he scans the garbage can to see if he can sniff out any candy wrappers that may show that I have broken my Lenten challenge to refrain from chocolate, just so he can shame me.  Which in reality, I just gave up eating chocolate in front of my children for 40 days.  But it's a little hurtful that Ryder is expecting me to fail and is simply waiting for the proof to appear.  

Well, this morning at 6am after I had already fed Ryder, showered him, dyed his hair blue, hand-washed his clothes from yesterday so he can re-wear his favorite shirt again today and packed his cold lunch, I was cleaning out his backpack only to stumble upon an art project.  Ryder must have been instructed to write about and draw someone who is 'worth more than gold' in honor of St. Patrick's Day.  I started admiring the project until I saw the drawing and noticed that the drawing didn't look like me. The cute little character Ryder drew didn't have any hair.  Then I started reading what he wrote and let out a loud, "What. The. Actual. F*ck." 

The project featured Cory.  Yes, you read that correctly....CORY.  To be more exact the project featured Cory helping Ryder complete his homework.  Excuse me? What? I'm not even sure Cory knows our kids have backpacks yet alone homework.   

I was also annoyed to see the sun shining in the background of the picture through what appeared to be our kitchen window.  Because, let's be honest, if we were being realistic, it should have shown an icy snowstorm from when hell froze over.  Because that is when Cory would be helping Ryder with his homework. 

There's nothing like an emotional kick in the crotch before the sun comes up to make you really optimistic about your day.

"My Dad is worth more than gold. He helps me with my homework." 

Little Feminists, Consent, Jack Daniels

I am trying so hard to do my part to raise two little feminists that will- hopefully- eventually turn into two grown-up feminists who will support others around them.  But I think sometimes my teachings may have missed the mark...  

Ryder has started this new thing where he likes to flash his man jewels at unsuspecting individuals. Like all of the time. And he thinks it is the funniest thing in the world.  I can't even count how many penises I see in one single day.  Probably more than a urologist and I can't even bill insurance for it.  

So the other day I had a conversation with my little tot about consent.  Well a kid's version of the conversation.  I told him that it is not appropriate to show someone your underwear area if they do not ask to see it and it's not okay to kiss someone if they do not want to be kissed.  Of course he was a little shocked to learn that not everyone wants to see his beloved penis.  You know, because he loves it so much.   

There are times in parenting when I look back on a teachable moment and think, You know what? I nailed this conversation. I think I really got through to him. And after that conversation I was feeling really upbeat about my parenting skills.  But apparently I jumped the gun on this one.  A few minutes later, I walked out of the laundry room minding my own business, reflecting on my stellar parenting, trying to ponder if there has ever been a better parent that has walked this earth, when all of a sudden a little Ryder jumps out in front of me with his pants and underwear around his knees, dangling his man jewels while yelling, "Consent!"   

Me: "That's not how consent works."

Ryder while pulling his truck underwear up while simultaneously rolling his eyes : "I think you're wrong."

But I thought I still had some hope for the big kid... 

Chase has recently learned that he will need to get a tooth pulled. He didn't quite understand in the dentist's office what would happen so on the way home we discussed it.  

Me: "The dentist said that your tooth needs to come out."

Chase:  "No, it doesn't. It will stay in my mouth."   

Me: "I know it's probably not what you want but there isn't a choice.  If the tooth stays in your mouth it could cause an infection."

Chase: "So what? Now you don't believe in my body my choice?"

Me: "It doesn't work like that."

This is what Ryder looks like when he is disappointed in me for only giving him "One finger" of Pepsi, when he clearly wanted 2.  Who are you kid? Jack Daniels?

'Shrooms, Porn Voice

 Parenting Ryder is 10% disciplining him and 90% trying not to laugh at something we should be disciplining him for. 

Ryder puts on a Luigi costume from the Nintendo video game and lunges towards me as if he’s flying in the video game and asks me, “Want to try 'shrooms?” 

I reply, “I don't think Luigi runs around asking people to try 'shrooms.” 

Cory quietly whispers to me, "Did our 5 year old just ask you to try 'shrooms?"

Me: "I'm going to walk away before I start laughing and pretend like this conversation didn't happen."

Cory: "Fair."

On another note, we went to the park this past weekend with my parents.  Ryder was being his typical, naturally loud self on top of the jungle gym just babbling away to no one in particular.  I saw my mom step away for a second to take a phone call and all I heard was, “Hi.” Followed by a pause.  Then, “Yeah, that’s just Ryder using his porn voice again.” And then she continued on with her conversation as if it is normal that Ryder has a porn voice.  

And it was true.  So true.  Ryder does have a porn voice. Sometimes he talks in this voice that sounds dirty, especially coming out of his little baby toothed mouth. He doesn’t know why we hate when he uses that voice.  But of course, he uses it all of the time because he knows we hate it.     

You know how you always see those Facebook posts that tell you how to come up with your porn name?  Like you add your first pet's name and the street you grew up on to come up with this porn/stripper name. Well, according to those, Ryder's porn name would be... just kidding.  Even I have some discretion. I'm not going to give my child a porn name.  But for those curious (and I'm sure you are), mine would be Cocoa Marshall. 

Any who, we've almost made it to Friday my friends.  

Doctor's Office, 4-Square, Doritos

Last week, Chase had a well-child check at the doctor’s office. I decided that Chase should be the one to answer questions from the doctor and I would just help answer any questions if he needed assistance, as a way to help him take control over his own appointments and learn to communicate with health professionals. As it turns out, I make poor choices. 

Doctor: “Is your mother healthy?”
Chase: “Yes.” 

Doctor: “Is your Dad healthy?” 

Chase: “No.” 

Doctor: “What’s wrong with him?” 

Chase: “He eats so much junk food. He eats too many Doritos.” 

Doctor trying to control her laughter: “Does he at least share with you?” 

Chase rolling his eyes: “Not usually.” 

 ****** 

Doctor: “What do you like to do for fun?” 

Chase: “Play 4-square.” 

Doctor: “That is fun. Who do you like to play with?” 

Chase: “I like to play with my Mom and Grandma Klein because it’s usually an easy win.” 

 ****** 

Doctor (while doing, what I’m assuming to be, a mental health screening): “Is there anything concerning you in your life?” 

Chase quickly and with confidence jumps to the edge of his chair: “Yes, I have a little brother.” 

Me with my facing turning red *quickly interjects*: “I don’t think now is the appropriate time to air your grievances about having a little brother.” 

Doctor: “These appointments are fun.”