My Tenderoni.

Jun 29, 2012

Bedtime with Ben.

Ben: “I am going to sleep with Duckie on my chest tonight. He needs me to protect him because sometimes he gets afraid of monsters.”

Mom: “Oh! Well that is very sweet of you to protect him.”

Ben: “There’s no real monsters though, right?”

Mom: “Right. There’s no such thing as monsters.”

Ben: “They’re just stories.”

Mom: “That’s right.”

Ben: “Stories from your eyeballs.”

Mom: “Hm?”

Ben: “Like at night, you close your eyes, and there are stories on your eyeballs.”

Mom: “OH MY GOD THAT IS THE SWEETEST THING I HAVE EVER HEARD ANYBODY SAY EVER.”

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MY WEEKLY ROUND UP!

The Politicus: Supreme Court tells non-white Arizonans to sleep with one eye open

Reckless Video: Read my review of The Artist!

Imperfect Parent: Did you know that every time you click on one of my articles at Minor Topics, an angel gets its wings? And I make about 1/8 of a penny? But, you know, do it for the angels.

The new way my children like to torture me.

Jun 27, 2012

These fucking kids.

It’s called “The Yawning Game.” It started when I told them that when one person yawns it makes other people want to yawn. Now, those little fuckers are using it against me. This is what happens when you give children knowledge.

If we go on a car ride, after a while there will be an exaggerated yawn from the back seat “YAAAAAAAAAAWN. I’m so tired.” And then the other one. “YAAAAAAAAAAAAWN. Me too.” And then they just sit there, giggling, because they know I can’t fight it. And the first few times it’s cute. We’re all cracking up, everybody is smiling. But by the 5th or 6th yawn in a row it gets a little irritating.

I start to say things like, “Ok guys that (yawn) that’s enough now.”

And they’re all “YAAAAAAAAAWN.”

And I’m all, “Guys, really I (yawn) mean it. That’s enough.”

“YAAAAAAAAAWN.”

“Dang it! (yawn) Guys I am really starting to get irritated (yawn) now!”

You know how you can scratch that one part of a dog’s stomach and it will start scratching itself with it’s back leg? And it’s really funny the first time but a half hour into it the dog has scratched itself bloody and now you’re guilty of animal cruelty? It’s like that.

And did I mention that Mike thinks it is completely hysterical? Oh yeah. He’s no help at all. Well, he can go help the kids yawn-rape people in hell. Because that is exactly the kind of horseshit they do there.

Nothing but rainbows in this house.

Jun 20, 2012

So…………my daughter was looking through the photos on my phone the other day, when she came across this one I took of a painting:

And what did she ask me?

“Is that a picture of your DEAD DAD?”

Like I just keep a picture of his corpse on my iPhone. “This is the kids at the beach……..and this is the kids at Halloween……..and this is my father’s dead body………..what? Is it that baby next to his corpse that’s weirding you out? I know. But they were like, ‘Oh can we have a picture of our baby with your body?’ And we were like, ‘Uh, I guess.’ And then they were like, ‘Can you put his hand on the crib?’ and we were like, ‘What?’ and they were like, “Aw, come on! It’ll be hysterical!’ and we were like, ‘………HA! You’re right! And then what if we put him in a dress and laid his head on the bed like he’s super tired?!'” And a masterpiece was born.

But seriously, we’ve been talking a lot about death lately and how Grandpa died a long time ago.  It’s been super good times. Maybe we’ll go take a field trip to the local cemetery or watch a little “Terms of Endearment” later. You know, keep it light.

Car-versations: Braaaaaaains.

Jun 11, 2012

(The car is silent. We are driving to school.)

Meg: “Mom?”

Mom: “Yes, Meg?”

Meg: “Do bunny rabbits have brains?”

Mom: ……….”You know Meg, I was just asking myself the same question. The answer is yes. Bunnies have brains.”

Meg: “Are their brains in their ears?”

Mom: “Did you say ‘are their brains in their ears?'”

Meg: “Yeah.”

Mom: “Just checking. No, honey, their brains are not in their ears. Their brains are in their heads, and they are for thinking. Their ears are on the top of their heads, and they are for hearing.”

Meg: “What’s ‘thinking’?”

Mom: “Oy. Uh……….thinking is what your brain does. And hearing is what your ears do.”

Meg: “Oh. Daddy must have a really big brain!”

Mom: “Are you saying that because of his big ol’ head?”

Meg: “Yeah.”

Mom: “Right on.”

The Blands fail at participation. Again.

Jun 8, 2012

The Blands are not good joiners. Mainly because we aren’t good around people and don’t enjoy group activities. But yesterday I made an effort to participate in an activity. And it went just as wrong as I could I have hoped.

Mike and I did a lot of hiking and outdoor stuff in our younger days. And we have these fantasies about taking the kids out camping and hiking. Our kids. The ones who whine when they walk around the block. Don’t get me wrong — they are active kids……when they are chasing each other around the house screaming “I’m your Grandma!!” (don’t ask, I don’t get it either). And we can spend hours at the playground. But getting out and enjoying nature with no real destination? Not my kids’ bag. But we are trying really hard to get them there.

So the other day I met a gal at the park who was starting a Meet Up.com group for outdoor kids activities. Awesome! Cool! I’m in! I joined and we agreed to meet yesterday morning to go for a hike in a nearby park. I was totally psyched. It was raining, but we put on our boots and rain coats and headed out for our adventure.

What a glorious place to whine.

We arrived at this other woman’s house to meet everybody and their kids for the walk. I knew immediately we were in trouble. These women were Outdoorsy. Yes, with a capital O. They came outside in full on, head-to-toe rain gear. Serious boots, rain pants, waterproof backpacks, multiple layers………….and what did I show up in? My jeans, an old tee shirt, my extra wide calf boots that still don’t totally fit my freakishly large calves (Calfs? Are calves just baby cows? What is the plural for leg calf? Or is this a “baby cow”/”large calf” = “tomato”/”tomato” situation?), and my 10 year old rain coat. Their kids were suited up like their moms — water-tight from head to toe. My kids? Sweatpants, rain boots from Target, and cute little rain coats that we got on sale from Hanna Andersson. They looked ready to rock the open tundra. We looked ready to rock a trip between the mall parking lot and JC Penney.

“One of these things is not like the other, one of these things does not belong……”

But off we went! But not before my kids started whining. Oh my god, you guys. It was like the steady drone of bees the whole time. From “when can we go?!” to “where is the path?” to “how will we get back?” to “I’M HUNGRY!!” One of the women told me that her daughter only eats three meals a day and that is it. I said, “Hm. My kids eat all day with occasional breaks to use the toilet.”

So we are walking down this path and it is awesome. We’re outdoors, we’re walking, it’s deserted, it’s rainy and beautiful and quiet. I loved it. Well, I WOULD HAVE loved it if not for the steady drone of whining. These other gals’ kids were obviously old pros at this and just hiked along. We would stop and look at trees and berries, talk about what we were seeing, and they would listen. My kids would ask for more snacks and an ETA on when we were going home.

After about half an hour of this, I decided it was time to pull up stakes. I HAVE to listen to that shit. Those guys did not. So I said, “You know, they just aren’t really behaving, so I think we are going to head back.”

Folks, they did not argue with me.

We turned around and headed back up the trail. I was so disappointed. It was one of those moments where you question every decision you have made as a parent that got you to this point. But, true to form, once we were on our own the Blands perked up. We had quite a nice walk back to the car. Until we got into the car, and then they wanted to know when we were having lunch.

What did I learn?

1. What a salmon berry is, and that Ben would eat a forest full of them if it were possible.

2. That whining is my kids’ super power. And I need to work on that, stat.

Here is the text message I sent Mike when we got home:

“Your passport arrived. Miss you. Might sell the kids this afternoon. Will make sure to get a fair price.”

He didn’t respond. I’m pretty sure that means “throw in the cats for free.”

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My weekly round up!

The Politicus: Headline Round Up, More Headlines and a short scene about STDs

Reckless Video:  Read my review of John Carter!

Must be Post-Traumatic Tantrum Disorder.

May 30, 2012

After listening to our daughter wake up, scream some words, then go back to sleep for the fourth time in two hours, Mike turned to me and said:

“Who the hell wakes up in the middle of the night, screams for 5 seconds, and then goes back to sleep? The only person I know who did that was my Grandpa and he was in a war.”

WHERE’S MY PURPLE SIPPY CUP??!!!!!!!!!

I shall mold the next Martha Stewart.

May 28, 2012

Meg: “Oops! Mommy, I’m sorry. I spilled your water on the carpet.”

Mom: “That’s ok, honey. I’ll take care of it. Let me go upstairs and get a rag.”

Meg: “Ok, momma.”

Mom: “OR, I could just use these socks right over here. They’ll soak it right up!”

Meg: “But Momma, if you use those socks on the water then you will have to put them in the washing machine!”

Mom: “Yes, but here’s the beauty part, Meg. These socks are already dirty! I was just going to put them in the wash anyway!”

Meg: “Ooooooooooohhhh.”

Living in filth………it’s a good thing.

RIP Naps: February 6th, 2008 — May 12th, 2012.

May 16, 2012

On Sunday, May 12th, 2012 (Mother’s Day, of all days), we finally pulled the plug and said goodbye to Naps.

Naps came into our lives on February 6th, 2008, when our twins were born. We couldn’t get enough of Naps back then, and had Naps every two hours. Yes, those were heady days. Then a year passed, then two years, and Naps were with us less and less. First we only had Naps twice a day, and then only once a day. Though we missed Naps when they weren’t around, we found peace in the fact that when we did have Naps, we loved them wholly and without reservation.

Over the past year, however, it became difficult to keep Naps around. Naps just came and went as they pleased, seemingly oblivious to our needs. We would beg for Naps, even threatened punishments if there were no Naps, but Naps were stubborn and not easily persuaded.

Naps had been fighting hard for survival for the past six months or so. There were good days, when Naps were easy and productive. But more often there were bad days when Naps simply would not come. Then this past weekend, Naps took their last, gasping breaths. We had our last two Naps, which were hard-won but so very delicious. Sadly, however, we found that when Naps left for the day, the aftermath was much too painful. Naps’ older brother Sleep would not show up on time, likely out of jealously for our time spent with Naps. And while we love Naps, we need Sleep. So finally, we had to let Naps go.

Good-bye, Naps! Your time with us was short, but we loved you with a passion unlike any other. We will think of you often, and pine for you.

Whenever a child screams, we will think of Naps.

Whenever we look at our watches at the end of a long, hard day, only to discover that it is 10:30 in the morning, we will think of Naps.

Whenever school is on break, we will think of Naps.

And whenever there is a new episode of Game of Thrones, or a cupcake we don’t want our children to see us eat, we will remember you, Naps, and shed a tear.

Naps are survived (just barely) by Mike and Meredith.

Farewell, old friend.

That is not why I brought you to the playground.

May 11, 2012

Here is why I take my kids to the playground:

• Minimum work, maximum payoff

They are outside, the jungle gym is there waiting for them, and I do NOTHING. Also, you get more cosmic parenting points when you take kids outside to play than when you put on a movie and sit them in front of the TV. Speaking of which, guess how many points I am earning this afternoon? Negative 400. It’s called BALANCE, people.

And this is NOT a reason why I take them to the playground:

• To play with them.

Holy shit, kids. Are you kidding me? I get you to the playground where they are swings and slides and towers and bridges, set you loose, and you want ME to come and pretend to be the dragon?! Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Nuh-uh. Really. Don’t make me be the asshole mom who has to tell her kids that she doesn’t want to play with them while all the other moms are watching. Then I have to be all, “Oh sweetie, mommy is so tired after the four hours of ponies and dragons that we have ALREADY played today! And then when we get home I have that craft project waiting for us where we make our own pot holders out of things we scavenged from the landfill! So mommy is going to take a little break right now. Ok?” All lies. Or I am honest and say, “Guys, please. I am so freaking tired. Let me have a goddamn break?!” And then the other moms give each other the side eye and go back to their potato sack races or whatever the heck they are doing to participate in their children’s lives.

I just want to sit down in the shade and read the third installment of “Fifty Shades of Grey” on my phone. Because I am the kind of mother that reads about sexual beatings at the playground. So please, go bond with your sibling while mommy learns about anal beads.

Bitch, please.

Bitch, PLEASE.

YES, bitches.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY EVERYONE!!!

Two games my kids are not allowed to play ever again. Ever.

May 8, 2012

**sorry about the 2 non-posts that happened earlier. Technical difficulties. Turns out if I am typing a post and I click tab and enter, it gets published mid-sentence. Lesson learned.**

Over the past week, my kids have come up with two games that I am going to have to forbid them from ever playing again.

1. Hide and Seek in public places.

You know what’s hilarious? Hiding from Mom and Dad at the grocery store. Or the zoo. You find some random corner to stow away in while they get all panicky and screamy? HA! Yeah. Good times.

No. Not good times, children. Bad, BAD times. Hide and Seek is no longer a game when there is actually a possibility that I WILL NEVER FIND YOU.

2. Playing “Lifeguard” at the beach.

We went to the beach yesterday so my kids could splash around in the water and look for condoms and crack pipes (it’s our own little unofficial scavenger hunt. I don’t encourage this, but it turns out we are AMAZING at this game. It’s like people throw condoms and crack pipes at us when we go to the beach), and I put down a towel and prepared to seriously chill out for about half an hour. Then I hear “ahhhhh! ahhhhh! Help me! Help me!” All of my internal organs had explosive diarrhea as I jumped up and started toward my kids…….who were giggling and playing happily.

Mom: “What the heck, guys?!”

Meg: “We’re playing lifeguard! I’m the lifeguard and Ben is the kid in trouble!”

Mom: “No. Nope. No way. Let’s have a huddle and discuss why this isn’t going to happen.”