Wednesday, July 27, 2011

I've Failed Her Already

Did you ever have one of those moments where you see something that makes you question if you've already ruined your kid for life?  Killed her future?  Ensured her place in therapy? 

I had mine today.

I passed a sign for Twaddler Soccer - 18 months - 6 years old.

Epic Fail, Mom.

There goes her career as a professional soccer player.

*Seriously, who the heck would try to teach an 18 month old soccer in a formal setting?  Helping her kick a ball without tripping on it and busting her face open?  Sure.  Soccer in a team setting?  Pass.*

Love & Shipoopies,

*I hope none of you passed out from my posting twice in one week.  tee-hee

Monday, July 25, 2011

I never knew...

Last Thursday, I had a day.  It was long.  It was umm... let's say irritating.  Work was less than ideal and the last 3.5 hours of it were spent double-duty-ing as Mom as well because Drew went to play golf.  T, of course, could NOT leave me alone.  I was pausing every 5 minutes to answer some question, do some redirecting, or help with something.  By the time my work day was over, I was DONE. 

There was to be no cooking.  Steak-N-Shake, here we come!

We hopped into the car and then the backseat began, "Mommy, can I... Mommy, why... Mommy, where's my umbrella?  Mommy, I need my umbrella?  Mommy, it's going to rain.  I need my umbrella now.  Mommy, where's my umbrella?  Mommy, can I have my umbrella right now?  Mommy, I really need my umbrella right now.  It's going to rain."

Now, this on a good day is irritating.  On a day where my brain is already one millisecond from explosion...


And here's the thing.  I HATE to be ignored.  DESPISE it.  LOATHE it.  I don't ever mind a, "Can you wait just a minute/day/while?" but flat ignoring chaps my hide!!! So I've never been one of those parents who can just turn up the radio and pretend the questions aren't coming in machine-gun-style.  It's not within me.  I feel the need to continue with "It's right below your feet. I'll give it to you when we get there.  Please stop asking.  I can't hand it to you while I'm driving.  You can't open it in the car. I'll give it to you when we get there.  When we get there.  WHEN WE GET THERE!!!!!"

But then...

The rain finally started.  And it wasn't your basic afternoon shower.  It was SERIOUS rain.  It was "slow down to 10 miles an hour because you can't technically see the lane markings or sides of the road or other cars" kind of rain.  It was "half the cars on the road turned on their flashers" kind of rain. 

It was rain SO LOUD that it drowned-out the questions...

and I didn't have to feel an ounce of guilt about not answering them.  I wasn't ignoring them.  I just couldn't hear them.

Can't control the rain.

There's something to be said for a good, hard rain at the end of an exhausting day.

Love & Shipoopies,

Friday, July 01, 2011

Be careful what you name them...

"Mommy, Granna pooped in her panties!"

Yep.  This is the moment when I spit out my drink, fell out of my chair, and began crying I was laughing so hard.

To be fair, it was a DOLL in her dollhouse, not the REAL Granna (my MIL).

It's the grandmother doll, which Granna bought and named Granna.

I told her pooping in her panties is what you get for naming a babydoll after yourself.

Happy Friday! (And Happy 4th!)
Love & Shipoopies,