Join Me in Snarkville

You know there are times when the world around you seems way too full of things to do, things to get done, and places that require your presence?  Well, I’m in one of those places.  You wouldn’t know by the fact that I only have a desire to sit in my chair and stare at the walls perhaps with drool forming at the corners of my mouth, but I’m there.

I see things piling up around me and feel overwhelmed with the need to do them all right now.  Yet, I know that none of them will get done while I’m contemplating the ceiling.  Yes, it has been one of those days, ok, maybe a week. (more…)

Week one of Summer Camp was AMAZING.  I want to put summer camp in my pocket and take it home with me and keep it with me always.

Duke loved playing with new friends, he loved getting away from his mother for a few hours a day, and he got to SWIM in a pool for him on Friday.  Seriously, I couldn’t have made camp any better if I’d soaked it in chocolate and put sprinkles on it.  All my worries about a late night camp decision is gone and I’m trying to decide if I’m going to extend his camp experience into August or try out other camp options (like Soccer Camp — who knows.)  However, there is one very sad bit from Camp - Week One. (more…)

Ok, so of the many reasons I was looking forward to the end of preschool for Duke was that I was hoping to separate him from the single worst, most horrible, icky thing at his school…. (more…)

Before I begin, I have to tell you that as a kid I loved from the deepest parts of my heart summer camp.  Yes, sleep away summer camp and day camp alike.  I loved it all.  I loved it with the swimming in the middle of the day, the odd smell of sunscreen and sweat, and I loved the camp games.  This is really good since I spent much of my growing up summers in various camps.  I’d go to church camp, girl scout camp, YMCA camp, you’ve got a camp and I was there.  While some might say this was because my parents worked, I have to say that I loved camp enough that I never minded it. (more…)

1. That I dropped a chocolate cake out of the fridge that Duke and I had made earlier in the week.
2. On the FLOOR. (it had two kind of frosting, only two LITTLE pieces ever cut out of it, and it sort of exploded in a mushroom cloud of cake/frosting/shame)
3. I considered having a slice and sharing with Duke, even after it hit the floor.
4. That the spot where the cake fell is the single cleanest bit of floor in my kitchen. (more…)

Allergies have hit one member of the royal household pretty hard these past few weeks.  (Hot stock tip:  If you were planning to invest based on what we consume, I’d strongly suggest a few shares of Kimberly-Clarke*.) So, since our stockpile of tissues was GONE, Duke and I had an outing yesterday to our local tissue purchasing store. (more…)

When Duke isn’t informing me how to drive when we are in the car, he is ordering his own fleet of cars around our home with the intensity of your average prison warden.  He is, um, SERIOUS about his cars.  As I’m typing this he is ‘racing’ a car and an airplane on the deck of an aircraft carrier.  (Yes, I know where he gets these ideas, thank you, Top Gear.)

Anyway, the point is that he’s a ‘car guy’ in the making — though I’m doubtful that he will be changing his own oil or restoring a classic Mustang; he seems to like cars.  That said, he’s been discussing getting a driver’s license (this may be the result of the popular phrase while driving “If you don’t have a driver’s license you may NOT comment on my driving.”) and driving his car.

I present to you, Duke’s request for Christmas — he would like a ‘Duke-Sized Car,’ specifically this one:

I’m sure it will fit under the tree, right?

My son is a backseat driver.  Oh, if that wasn’t the understatement of the year.  Duke is more than a backseat driver, he is more of a backseat dictator.  He feels that he massive amounts of driving experience (i.e., none) affords him the knowledge of the rules of the road.

Case in point, he once (ok, honestly, MORE than once) argued the Queen Mum down about if she was allowed to  make a right turn on red.  He firmly held for the longest time that since red lights mean stop then you were not allowed to stop and then make a right turn.  I can not tell you how long we took to try to convince him otherwise, but alas we did.  Then he decided that you could not make a left turn without a green arrow, so what about all those intersections without turn lanes or green arrows??  See, to argue is pointless and may be the cause of my twitch.

So, given this, I’ve been forced (for my own sanity that is) to try to teach my future driver what the various street signs mean.  I’ve done very well with the various kinds of parking spaces we can’t park in (dang those blue spaces) and the traffic light colors and meanings.  Then today, he spotted a sign and he decided he would tell me what it means.

First the sign:

Duke’s Traffic Lesson:

“That sign means ‘No Smoking when driving backwards’”

Now you know.  Go forth and drive in good health, both smoke-free and driving in reverse on a major road.

Yesterday was a tough day. Seriously, you’d think it would have gone up after the toothbrush incident, but I have to say that yesterday was tough. When Prince got home, we had a moment in the hallway reminding me that this really was the best idea and I can and will have better days.

This morning Duke bounds out of bed declaring that today will be a better day. Ah, yes, it will be, after all this is Waffle Wednesday. (more…)

I started this morning off feeling really good about my abilities to balance at home work and mommyhood.  I fed both Duke and myself a decent breakfast, I cleaned up the dishes (even unloading the dishwasher from last night — which would make FlyLady happy), I even made a game of picking up the shoes and toys in the living room so I could finally vacuum up the fur.  We giggled and worked and it was good.  I did all of this before 8am this morning.

Then, I did the unthinkable.  I showered.  I dressed.  I asked my child to dress.  The train came off the tracks when I suggested he brush his teeth.  You see my perfect and darling child could not find his toothbrush.  I came in the bathroom to help only to find out that he knew EXACTLY where his toothbrush was, he just couldn’t get it.  Why?  Because he has shoved his toothbrush DOWN the sink drain!  Yes, he pulled the stopper out and then shoved (with some amount of force) the entire length of his child sized toothbrush into the drain until it hit something and wedged itself under the drain ring.  Then he had the nerve to be UPSET that he couldn’t get his toothbrush out. Imagine that?

Him: I can’t get this out.

Me: How did it get in there?

Him: It’s stuck.

Me: I get that, HOW.DID.YOUR.TOOTHBRUSH.GET.INTO.THE.DRAIN?

Him: It’s not coming out.

Me: Did *YOU* shove your toothbrush in the drain?

Him: Yes. Why is it not coming out?

Me: Because you wedged it in there.  Let me find pliers before I eat you.

(He tasted good, sort of like chicken — I added BBQ sauce for flavor you know)

He knew I was upset, so he begins to take LOUD deep breaths (like we’ve taught him to do to calm down) and nearly hyperventilates.  Did you know it is impossible to still be mad at your child when he is taking deep breaths and looking sad.

With effort, I got the toothbrush out of the drain.  With considerably more effort, I calmly explained the importance of the stopper and why he is NEVER.EVER. no, not even then, to remove the stopper from the sink and SHOVE anything down the drain.