~
Jake's Father, AHEM, has allowed Jake to stay home from school today.
Hence the title of this post.
I had lots I wanted to get done today, thinking I would have a house filled with NOTHINGNESS).
AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Somebody will be walking the plank by the end of the day today.
And it very well could be Hurricane Rojo!
It's a Pirate's life for Me.
~
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
Turkey Boycott - CONTINUED
~
So.
I thought we were through with the Turkey Costume nonsense.
We talked it to death.
Two Swords bribed the Captain into wearing the Hat.
The Captain wrote the apology note to his teacher, the Infamous Dot Giver, on Wednesday, and she loved it, and she cried, and she framed it on the wall of her classroom.
Done.
HA!
You must have been reading someone ELSE's blog.
Someone who has constant peace and calmness and serenity in their lives.
Someone who probably took their kids to Disney World on leashes.
Yeah, that someone is definitely NOT Hurricane Rojo.
And The Turkey Boycott story was definitely NOT over.
Let's see.....where did I leave off?
(Why do I feel like Peter Falk reading The Princess Bride to his grandson Fred Savage)?
I digress..........
So yes, the Captain goes to school on WEDNESDAY, gives the apology note to his teacher, the Infamous Dot Giver, proceeds to practice the Thanksgiving songs with his mateys, makes his Turkey hat, and goes on about his day.
Rojo and Two Swords make plans to attend said feast on Thursday afternoon.
It was an uneventful evening (NICE!) and we all were nestled in our bed linens, I in my kerchief, he in his cap, when suddenly.................
3:10 A.M.
A BAWLING Captain Jake Sparrow approaches my side of the bed.
(For the record, we are anti-co-sleeping parents. The children have not slept in our bed. Our children do not sleep in our bed, except on the rarest of occasion where it is necessary for one of us to be with them so that we can help them get to the toilet quicker than they could on their own, or because little ones just need and want their mama when they are ailing. That being said, it was highly unusual for the Captain to approach my bed in the middle of the night, crying.)
"Jake? Honey? What's wrong?"
He climbs into bed with me, crying and crying and crying.
I can't get him to talk to me.
I assess him in the dark.
No fever.
No runny nose.
No wet pants.
No distended tummy.
Nothing is physically wrong.
Still bawling.
Now that he has a 'big' bed, I opt to go with him to his room, rather than disturb Two Swords peaceful slumber.
I pick him up and carry him to his bedroom.
I turn his little man lamp on.
He's still crying pretty hard, but somewhat quietly, in a respectful sort of way. Not bad for four, if you ask me.
I go to the kitchen, to get him some water and a straw.
I come back to his room, shut the door, keep the little lamp on, and just hold him for awhile, rubbing his back, and "shhhhhhhh"ing him.
A few minutes later, I asked the Captain, "Did you have a bad dream?"
Sniff Sniff and a very pathetic, "No."
I stroke his back some more.
"Are you hurting any where?"
Sniff Sniff and a very pathetic, "No."
I stroke his back some more.
"Jake? Are you feeling bad? Are you sick?"
Sniff Sniff and a very pathetic, "No."
Okay, I'm done. Totally perplexed. No injuries. No nightmares. No need for a CT Scan that I can discern. I'm not a nurse so that rules out bloodwork. Hmmmm.
I stop stroking his back, and make him "look me in the eye".
"Jake?"
In the mousiest, whiniest voice one has ever heard, "yes, Mama?"
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want them to eat me."
Humm-in-a?
Say What?
Did you just say - I don't want them to eat me, when you previously said you had NOT had any bad dreams?
"Um, Jake, who do you think is going to eat you?"
"The Cowboys and the Indians."
Not to be sacrilegious to any and all religious sects but I believe that my revelation at this point is up there with the seven signs, the Angel Moroni, the Ten commandments, the Jamestown kool-aid festival, you name it, the plot had been REVEALED to me, friends.
Let me clarify something here.
Captain Jake Sparrow thinks that Pilgrims are in fact Cowboys. Not sure why.
What I CAN tell you is that last year for the Thanksgiving feast, when it was his turn to be a PILGRIM, he wore his cowboy boots, his wrangler jeans, a white shirt, his authentically Texan hat purchased in Dallas, Texas, and his Gi-Tar.
Yessirree, Bob.
So Jake actually thinks the COWBOYS AND THE INDIANS are going to eat him.
And so the revelation continues.
Now, for the first time, do I FULLY GRASP why he refused to be a turkey.
Because he didn't want to be roasted, grilled, deep fried, sliced, diced, scalped, skin peeled off, you name it, by the 400 guests who would be delectably eating him, after the little song-and-dance about cowboys, indians, and turkeys who we are going to chow down on with our mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, corn casserole, and cranberry sauce before we get our grimy hands on that delectable pumpkin pie sitting over there............
This child of mine is NOT dumb!
He is merely horribly confused!
NOW I was able to work it out.
Oh, thank you God for gifting me with discernment.
In oh, so very many ways You have shown me again and again the truth as You want me to see it. And I praise YOU for it each and every day!
"Jake, honey. No one is going to eat you."
"Yes they are Mommy! We sing it in our songs. After the Cowboys and the Indians become friends and share corn and bullets, they sit down together and eat ALL the turkeys."
"Jake?"
"Yes, Mama?"
"Is this why you didn't want to be a turkey?"
"Well, yeah Mama, cuz I don't want them to EAT me!"
"Okay, Jake, okay."
"Jake, I promise you, you will not be eaten."
"But, Mom! How can you be sure?"
Ladies and gentlemen, by now, it is about oh, approximately 5:03 a.m.
"Jake, what would you think if I called Mrs. Butterworth in the morning (in an hour when she gets there, ugh), and tell her that you will not be attending school today, and that I will write a note and you will be excused from the feast. What do you think about that?"
"Are you sure mama? Can you do that?" (Jake NEVER misses school. He LOVES school)
"Yeah, buddy, I can do that. Do you think it will make you feel better?"
He grabs me around the neck and starts to hug me and rub MY back! and says, "Yeah, Mama, I promise it will make me feel better, cuz I don't wanna be no stinkin turkey cuz I don't want nobody eatin' me."
Rather than attempt to re-educate him on the first Thanksgiving feast and preschool Thanksgiving feasts in general, mostly because I can barely keep my eyes open, I tell Jake, "Okay Jake, you can stay home tomorrow. Will you please go back to sleep now, because it is still nighttime."
He hugged me and kissed me, and peeps, I am telling you he was sound asleep in less than a minute.
Scared because I think they're going to EAT ME?!?!?!?!?!!??
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK!
~
So.
I thought we were through with the Turkey Costume nonsense.
We talked it to death.
Two Swords bribed the Captain into wearing the Hat.
The Captain wrote the apology note to his teacher, the Infamous Dot Giver, on Wednesday, and she loved it, and she cried, and she framed it on the wall of her classroom.
Done.
HA!
You must have been reading someone ELSE's blog.
Someone who has constant peace and calmness and serenity in their lives.
Someone who probably took their kids to Disney World on leashes.
Yeah, that someone is definitely NOT Hurricane Rojo.
And The Turkey Boycott story was definitely NOT over.
Let's see.....where did I leave off?
(Why do I feel like Peter Falk reading The Princess Bride to his grandson Fred Savage)?
I digress..........
So yes, the Captain goes to school on WEDNESDAY, gives the apology note to his teacher, the Infamous Dot Giver, proceeds to practice the Thanksgiving songs with his mateys, makes his Turkey hat, and goes on about his day.
Rojo and Two Swords make plans to attend said feast on Thursday afternoon.
It was an uneventful evening (NICE!) and we all were nestled in our bed linens, I in my kerchief, he in his cap, when suddenly.................
3:10 A.M.
A BAWLING Captain Jake Sparrow approaches my side of the bed.
(For the record, we are anti-co-sleeping parents. The children have not slept in our bed. Our children do not sleep in our bed, except on the rarest of occasion where it is necessary for one of us to be with them so that we can help them get to the toilet quicker than they could on their own, or because little ones just need and want their mama when they are ailing. That being said, it was highly unusual for the Captain to approach my bed in the middle of the night, crying.)
"Jake? Honey? What's wrong?"
He climbs into bed with me, crying and crying and crying.
I can't get him to talk to me.
I assess him in the dark.
No fever.
No runny nose.
No wet pants.
No distended tummy.
Nothing is physically wrong.
Still bawling.
Now that he has a 'big' bed, I opt to go with him to his room, rather than disturb Two Swords peaceful slumber.
I pick him up and carry him to his bedroom.
I turn his little man lamp on.
He's still crying pretty hard, but somewhat quietly, in a respectful sort of way. Not bad for four, if you ask me.
I go to the kitchen, to get him some water and a straw.
I come back to his room, shut the door, keep the little lamp on, and just hold him for awhile, rubbing his back, and "shhhhhhhh"ing him.
A few minutes later, I asked the Captain, "Did you have a bad dream?"
Sniff Sniff and a very pathetic, "No."
I stroke his back some more.
"Are you hurting any where?"
Sniff Sniff and a very pathetic, "No."
I stroke his back some more.
"Jake? Are you feeling bad? Are you sick?"
Sniff Sniff and a very pathetic, "No."
Okay, I'm done. Totally perplexed. No injuries. No nightmares. No need for a CT Scan that I can discern. I'm not a nurse so that rules out bloodwork. Hmmmm.
I stop stroking his back, and make him "look me in the eye".
"Jake?"
In the mousiest, whiniest voice one has ever heard, "yes, Mama?"
"What's wrong?"
"I don't want them to eat me."
Humm-in-a?
Say What?
Did you just say - I don't want them to eat me, when you previously said you had NOT had any bad dreams?
"Um, Jake, who do you think is going to eat you?"
"The Cowboys and the Indians."
Not to be sacrilegious to any and all religious sects but I believe that my revelation at this point is up there with the seven signs, the Angel Moroni, the Ten commandments, the Jamestown kool-aid festival, you name it, the plot had been REVEALED to me, friends.
Let me clarify something here.
Captain Jake Sparrow thinks that Pilgrims are in fact Cowboys. Not sure why.
What I CAN tell you is that last year for the Thanksgiving feast, when it was his turn to be a PILGRIM, he wore his cowboy boots, his wrangler jeans, a white shirt, his authentically Texan hat purchased in Dallas, Texas, and his Gi-Tar.
Yessirree, Bob.
So Jake actually thinks the COWBOYS AND THE INDIANS are going to eat him.
And so the revelation continues.
Now, for the first time, do I FULLY GRASP why he refused to be a turkey.
Because he didn't want to be roasted, grilled, deep fried, sliced, diced, scalped, skin peeled off, you name it, by the 400 guests who would be delectably eating him, after the little song-and-dance about cowboys, indians, and turkeys who we are going to chow down on with our mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, corn casserole, and cranberry sauce before we get our grimy hands on that delectable pumpkin pie sitting over there............
This child of mine is NOT dumb!
He is merely horribly confused!
NOW I was able to work it out.
Oh, thank you God for gifting me with discernment.
In oh, so very many ways You have shown me again and again the truth as You want me to see it. And I praise YOU for it each and every day!
"Jake, honey. No one is going to eat you."
"Yes they are Mommy! We sing it in our songs. After the Cowboys and the Indians become friends and share corn and bullets, they sit down together and eat ALL the turkeys."
"Jake?"
"Yes, Mama?"
"Is this why you didn't want to be a turkey?"
"Well, yeah Mama, cuz I don't want them to EAT me!"
"Okay, Jake, okay."
"Jake, I promise you, you will not be eaten."
"But, Mom! How can you be sure?"
Ladies and gentlemen, by now, it is about oh, approximately 5:03 a.m.
"Jake, what would you think if I called Mrs. Butterworth in the morning (in an hour when she gets there, ugh), and tell her that you will not be attending school today, and that I will write a note and you will be excused from the feast. What do you think about that?"
"Are you sure mama? Can you do that?" (Jake NEVER misses school. He LOVES school)
"Yeah, buddy, I can do that. Do you think it will make you feel better?"
He grabs me around the neck and starts to hug me and rub MY back! and says, "Yeah, Mama, I promise it will make me feel better, cuz I don't wanna be no stinkin turkey cuz I don't want nobody eatin' me."
Rather than attempt to re-educate him on the first Thanksgiving feast and preschool Thanksgiving feasts in general, mostly because I can barely keep my eyes open, I tell Jake, "Okay Jake, you can stay home tomorrow. Will you please go back to sleep now, because it is still nighttime."
He hugged me and kissed me, and peeps, I am telling you he was sound asleep in less than a minute.
Scared because I think they're going to EAT ME?!?!?!?!?!!??
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK!
~
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Turkey Boycott
~
I received an email from Captain Jake Sparrow's teacher, the Infamous Dot Giver, in the middle of the day yesterday:
The title of the invoice was: NEED YOUR HELP!
You can only imagine what was going through my head.
Did he eat all the fruit snacks from the snack pantry?
Did he poke his teacher in the eye with a stick?
Was he trying to negotiate his way out of a timeout?
Did he smear poop all over himself, the toilet, the bathroom walls, the.....
Ohhhhh.....nooooooooooooooo.
It is soooooo much more unimaginable than any of those things.
This is the email she sent me, word for word:
i presented to the class today our costume for the thanksgiving feast. jake was very disappointed to find out that we are the turkeys. he really wanted to be a pilgrim or an indian... what is your suggestion for convincing jake to be a turkey. i am usually pretty good at this, but he is not giving and even cried! HELP!
Upon receiving this email, my immediate response was:
Whack that kid on the head with a 2x4, tell him he's going to be the biggest 'effin butterball turkey there ever was, and send him to the damn principal's office.
Doesn't want to be a turkey.
Who the HELL does this TURKEY think he is?????
UGH!
Might I casually mention that at the same time, I was dealing with another of our two children who had to be taken home early from school with a one hundred degree fever and swollen tonsils, as well as attempt to get this stable of a house ready for a party of about 40 adults and children for a 'young family' party on Saturday?
Apparently, she either didn't get my email telling her to march him to the principal's office (I politely removed all the other angry mom stuff), or she chose not to use that method of punishment, because when Billy Two Swords arrived at school to retrieve the anti-Turkey Costume Wearer, the Infamous Dot Giver begged Two Swords for help on the matter.
Two Swords was able to bribe the Captain with, of all things, the privilege of helping him to grill steaks for dinner.
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK.
That's how the Captain thinks he's swearing.
So that's how I'm going to swear right now.
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK.
So the Captain says, "Yeah, I guess I'll be a Turkey."
OH NO! OH NO! OH NO!
You are NOT getting off THAT easy, my little ANTI-TURKEY COSTUME WEARING friend!
So I forced him to write an apology note to the Infamous Dot Giver.
Please note, the Sparrow only knows how to write about, um, three letters.
And shall I casually remind you that his name contains FOUR letters?
And the three letters that the Sparrow knows are not three of four letters in his name.
By the way.
AHEM.
I just counted the lines on this note - TWENTY.
He and I wrote the note, AHEM, together.
I squeezed his hand so hard as we were writing it, he kept begging for me to stop.
And he was complaining that his hand was too hot.
And he was complaining that it was taking too long, that we were going to miss GI Joe.
And I was hurting his pen. (Hurting his PEN? ARE YOU Frick A Frack A Frick A Frack KIDDING ME? Hurting his PEN?)
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK.
We wrote the following DAMN apology note, painful as it was for the Turkey Costume Boycotter:
Dear Mrs. Infamous Dot Giver:
I am sorry that I was whining about my Turkey costume on Thanksgiving.
I was disobedient.
I was disrespectful.
I was disruptive to the class and I am sorry.
After talking to my parents, we have decided that it is absolutely in my best interest to gladfully accept your invitation to wear a turkey costume and participate with the class in the joyful celebration of Thanksgiving.
Please forgive me for my behavior and for my Jake-ness.
Jake
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK
~
I received an email from Captain Jake Sparrow's teacher, the Infamous Dot Giver, in the middle of the day yesterday:
The title of the invoice was: NEED YOUR HELP!
You can only imagine what was going through my head.
Did he eat all the fruit snacks from the snack pantry?
Did he poke his teacher in the eye with a stick?
Was he trying to negotiate his way out of a timeout?
Did he smear poop all over himself, the toilet, the bathroom walls, the.....
Ohhhhh.....nooooooooooooooo.
It is soooooo much more unimaginable than any of those things.
This is the email she sent me, word for word:
i presented to the class today our costume for the thanksgiving feast. jake was very disappointed to find out that we are the turkeys. he really wanted to be a pilgrim or an indian... what is your suggestion for convincing jake to be a turkey. i am usually pretty good at this, but he is not giving and even cried! HELP!
Upon receiving this email, my immediate response was:
Whack that kid on the head with a 2x4, tell him he's going to be the biggest 'effin butterball turkey there ever was, and send him to the damn principal's office.
Doesn't want to be a turkey.
Who the HELL does this TURKEY think he is?????
UGH!
Might I casually mention that at the same time, I was dealing with another of our two children who had to be taken home early from school with a one hundred degree fever and swollen tonsils, as well as attempt to get this stable of a house ready for a party of about 40 adults and children for a 'young family' party on Saturday?
Apparently, she either didn't get my email telling her to march him to the principal's office (I politely removed all the other angry mom stuff), or she chose not to use that method of punishment, because when Billy Two Swords arrived at school to retrieve the anti-Turkey Costume Wearer, the Infamous Dot Giver begged Two Swords for help on the matter.
Two Swords was able to bribe the Captain with, of all things, the privilege of helping him to grill steaks for dinner.
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK.
That's how the Captain thinks he's swearing.
So that's how I'm going to swear right now.
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK.
So the Captain says, "Yeah, I guess I'll be a Turkey."
OH NO! OH NO! OH NO!
You are NOT getting off THAT easy, my little ANTI-TURKEY COSTUME WEARING friend!
So I forced him to write an apology note to the Infamous Dot Giver.
Please note, the Sparrow only knows how to write about, um, three letters.
And shall I casually remind you that his name contains FOUR letters?
And the three letters that the Sparrow knows are not three of four letters in his name.
By the way.
AHEM.
I just counted the lines on this note - TWENTY.
He and I wrote the note, AHEM, together.
I squeezed his hand so hard as we were writing it, he kept begging for me to stop.
And he was complaining that his hand was too hot.
And he was complaining that it was taking too long, that we were going to miss GI Joe.
And I was hurting his pen. (Hurting his PEN? ARE YOU Frick A Frack A Frick A Frack KIDDING ME? Hurting his PEN?)
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK.
We wrote the following DAMN apology note, painful as it was for the Turkey Costume Boycotter:
Dear Mrs. Infamous Dot Giver:
I am sorry that I was whining about my Turkey costume on Thanksgiving.
I was disobedient.
I was disrespectful.
I was disruptive to the class and I am sorry.
After talking to my parents, we have decided that it is absolutely in my best interest to gladfully accept your invitation to wear a turkey costume and participate with the class in the joyful celebration of Thanksgiving.
Please forgive me for my behavior and for my Jake-ness.
Jake
FRICK A FRACK A FRICK A FRACK
~
Monday, November 16, 2009
Not Me! Monday
This weekend, Reilly the Red and I were NOT graciously invited to attend a world famous bell concert by the Raleigh Ringers.
We were NOT.
Reilly the Red was NOT the youngest person in attendance at said concert.
Billy Two Swords and Captain Jake Sparrow did NOT have huge 'guy' plans for a Sunday afternoon withOUT the girls.
When asked what his mom and sister would NOT be doing on Sunday afternoon, Captain Jake Sparrow
absolutely,
positively,
did
NOT
respond
with
"going to some STINKIN' bell concert with a bunch of old people."
No.
He did NOT.
NOT.
NOT I say.
NOT.
NO way.
Did NOT happen.
NOT my son.
NOT!
~
Friday, November 13, 2009
Me and God Had a Talk
~
I haven't been feeling well the past few days, so I've been pretty much bed-ridden.
The kids know this, and respect it.
I have not been a part of supper time, or homework time, or tv time or any time, really, which is highly unusual, but happens from time to time when your Mama has Crohn's Disease.
It totally sucks, because I really like being a 100% part of my children's lives, not just because I'm their Mom, but because they are pretty interesting kids, and often have very neat and colorful stories for me to steal and put on the blog!
Anyway.
Last night, before Captain Jake Sparrow went to bed, he came in to my room to say goodnight.
He said, "Mama?"
I said, "Yes, Jake?"
He was shifting his weight from leg to leg, and you could tell he was either scared about what he had to say, humbled by what he was about to say, or he had to pee really bad.
Before we went any further, I said, "Jake, do you have to pee?"
He said, "No, I just went."
The uncomfortable shifting continued.
"Mama?"
"Yes, Jake?"
"I have to tell you something."
Okay, here we go. He broke the dishwasher by standing on top of the open door. I knew it. It was inevitable. Calm down, Rojo, he's fessing up, prepare.....
"What's up Jake?"
"Mama, ummmmmm, last night.........ummmmmmmmmm, when I was saying my prayers with God.......ummmmmmmmmmm........we were talking about my new sport sheets.............ummmmmmmmm......and Me and God Had a Talk about them.........ummmmmmmm............and God wants me to keep them...............and after God was done talking to me..............ummmmmmmmm.......I decided I really like them too....................................................................
...............so.........ummmmmmmmmmmmmm.........you.........ummmmm.........you don't have to take them back.
Is that okay, Mama?"
Is that OKAY?
Is that OKAY?
Of course it's OKAY!
It's OKAY because my little man is praying to God about sheets!
Hello!
Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!
Which means...............my little man is also talking to the BIG MAN about BIG stuff, not just the little stuff like sports-themed sheets and comforters!
Woohoo!
We have gotten through!
One of our children has an amazing, heartfelt, honest, outspoken, relationship with God!
Woohoo!
And he's only FOUR!
Woohoo!
We don't completely suck as parents!
Woohoo!
And I don't have to take the sheets back!
Woohoo!
But mostly -----
We don't COMPLETELY suck as parents!
WOOHOO!
WOOHOO!
WOOHOO!
I haven't been feeling well the past few days, so I've been pretty much bed-ridden.
The kids know this, and respect it.
I have not been a part of supper time, or homework time, or tv time or any time, really, which is highly unusual, but happens from time to time when your Mama has Crohn's Disease.
It totally sucks, because I really like being a 100% part of my children's lives, not just because I'm their Mom, but because they are pretty interesting kids, and often have very neat and colorful stories for me to steal and put on the blog!
Anyway.
Last night, before Captain Jake Sparrow went to bed, he came in to my room to say goodnight.
He said, "Mama?"
I said, "Yes, Jake?"
He was shifting his weight from leg to leg, and you could tell he was either scared about what he had to say, humbled by what he was about to say, or he had to pee really bad.
Before we went any further, I said, "Jake, do you have to pee?"
He said, "No, I just went."
The uncomfortable shifting continued.
"Mama?"
"Yes, Jake?"
"I have to tell you something."
Okay, here we go. He broke the dishwasher by standing on top of the open door. I knew it. It was inevitable. Calm down, Rojo, he's fessing up, prepare.....
"What's up Jake?"
"Mama, ummmmmm, last night.........ummmmmmmmmm, when I was saying my prayers with God.......ummmmmmmmmmm........we were talking about my new sport sheets.............ummmmmmmmm......and Me and God Had a Talk about them.........ummmmmmmm............and God wants me to keep them...............and after God was done talking to me..............ummmmmmmmm.......I decided I really like them too....................................................................
...............so.........ummmmmmmmmmmmmm.........you.........ummmmm.........you don't have to take them back.
Is that okay, Mama?"
Is that OKAY?
Is that OKAY?
Of course it's OKAY!
It's OKAY because my little man is praying to God about sheets!
Hello!
Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!
Which means...............my little man is also talking to the BIG MAN about BIG stuff, not just the little stuff like sports-themed sheets and comforters!
Woohoo!
We have gotten through!
One of our children has an amazing, heartfelt, honest, outspoken, relationship with God!
Woohoo!
And he's only FOUR!
Woohoo!
We don't completely suck as parents!
Woohoo!
And I don't have to take the sheets back!
Woohoo!
But mostly -----
We don't COMPLETELY suck as parents!
WOOHOO!
WOOHOO!
WOOHOO!
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Take 'em Back
~
Captain Jake Sparrow has a new bed.
A REAL bed.
A REAL big boy bed.
It is a full size bed, actually.
He had a Crib for Life, and was in the 'toddler' stage of the crib.
Since he only weighs 32 pounds (even though he is nearly FIVE), there was no sense of urgency to move him into another bed.
But we came upon a pregnant single mom in need of a crib.
So we decided it was time.
We gave her the crib, and at the same time, Dirty Diana and Tide Water Ted gave us a full sized bed.
Everybody is happy, right?
HA!
Captain Jake Sparrow has done very well in his new bed, for the most part.
He likes being able to go to bed at night, with his little lamp on, on top of his little man end table, with a REAL alarm clock, and all sorts of little man things stashed into his little man end table, with books, and the permission to read books until he gets tired and then he has to turn his lamp off and go to bed.
With the exception of one night, he has done amazingly well.
So I don't have any full size sheets or comforters or anything, as all the other beds in our home are Queen sized.
Yesterday, Reilly the Red and I went shopping for sheets for Jake, as it was Veterans' Day, and she was out of school, and there were big sales.
We went to EVERY SINGLE store in CLERMONT, FLORIDA that sells sheets, comforters, blankets, etc.
And EVERY SINGLE store in CLERMONT, FLORIDA had amazing sales on bed items.
The Captain's request, nope, DEMAND was for camouflage sheets.
Brown and green.
Not blue.
Brown and green camo.
That was it.
I didn't think it would be that hard to fulfill his request, because we live in the redneck capital of the world.
Oh, how wrong was I.
Even Reilly the Red was shocked at our failure.
Finally, at the very last store available to us, I found what I thought would be a most suitable runner-up.
A sports-themed bed set.
A complete set, with two sets of sheets, and all the shams, and a navy blue comforter with all types of BALLS on them.
And it wasn't a 'baby' boy kind of set.
A teenager who loves sports might put this on their bed.
And the Sparrow loves Navy Blue.
And we know we are going to have to repaint his room, and this will be super easy to match colors to, as there are all sorts of blues in the sheets, and some reds and even a spot of orange.
How could he NOT love it?
Mother's instinct is so unbelievably powerful.
They should find a way to bottle it, market it, and sell it.
It is ALWAYS on the money.
Dammit.
I knew he wouldn't like it.
The Sparrow wanted Camo.
Period.
End of story.
But I freaking bought it anyway.
It was a great deal.
It was on sale.
And the store even GAVE me ten dollars to buy it.
Super score, for someone who is a super bargain hunter and NEVER pays full price for ANYTHING.
We come home.
I leave it in the car, but take everything else out.
Billy Two Swords likes it.
Reilly the Red likes it.
Hurrican Rojo LOVES it.
But Rojo knows.
So I told Two Swords - leave the sheets in the car, and let me go break it to him.
Two Swords thinks I'm nuts.
He says, "He's FOUR YEARS OLD! He doesn't get to dictate these sorts of decisions!"
Yes, but that kid can be sold, if you sell it the right way.
So I go to talk to him.
I explain the WHOLE story, about ALL the store, and NO camo anywhere, and I found something I REALLY like, and I think you will REALLY like it too, will you give it a CHANCE?
"No."
He hasn't even seen it!
"Jake, come on, come with me.."
"No. I'm not going to like it. Get me the camo."
I try to explain AGAIN that not only did I search Clermont, I searched the internet the whole week before, and I CANNOT find what he wants.
"No. Get me the camo."
Finally, I don't know how, but I am able to coerce him to come outside and look at the sheets.
I think I carried him, if I remember correctly.
I put him on the swing outside, and I got the package out of the car.
I walk it over to him and say, "Whaddaya think?"
He shakes his head violently, sticks out his tongue and makes that face like a nine year old eating beets for the first time, and says (and I swear),
"Take 'em Back."
And he walks his very decisive butt into the house and shuts the door.
And there I stand, in the middle of the driveway, with a large package of gorgeous little man sports sheets and comforter, and I just look up to the sky and sigh.
"Take 'em Back."
Who does this freaking kid think he is?
"Take 'em Back."
As I write this, the large package of unopened gorgeous little man sports sheets and comforter sits right next to me.
Do I or don't I?
Do I wash them and put them on his bed before he gets home?
Or do I......
"Take 'em Back."
Ugh.
~
Captain Jake Sparrow has a new bed.
A REAL bed.
A REAL big boy bed.
It is a full size bed, actually.
He had a Crib for Life, and was in the 'toddler' stage of the crib.
Since he only weighs 32 pounds (even though he is nearly FIVE), there was no sense of urgency to move him into another bed.
But we came upon a pregnant single mom in need of a crib.
So we decided it was time.
We gave her the crib, and at the same time, Dirty Diana and Tide Water Ted gave us a full sized bed.
Everybody is happy, right?
HA!
Captain Jake Sparrow has done very well in his new bed, for the most part.
He likes being able to go to bed at night, with his little lamp on, on top of his little man end table, with a REAL alarm clock, and all sorts of little man things stashed into his little man end table, with books, and the permission to read books until he gets tired and then he has to turn his lamp off and go to bed.
With the exception of one night, he has done amazingly well.
So I don't have any full size sheets or comforters or anything, as all the other beds in our home are Queen sized.
Yesterday, Reilly the Red and I went shopping for sheets for Jake, as it was Veterans' Day, and she was out of school, and there were big sales.
We went to EVERY SINGLE store in CLERMONT, FLORIDA that sells sheets, comforters, blankets, etc.
And EVERY SINGLE store in CLERMONT, FLORIDA had amazing sales on bed items.
The Captain's request, nope, DEMAND was for camouflage sheets.
Brown and green.
Not blue.
Brown and green camo.
That was it.
I didn't think it would be that hard to fulfill his request, because we live in the redneck capital of the world.
Oh, how wrong was I.
Even Reilly the Red was shocked at our failure.
Finally, at the very last store available to us, I found what I thought would be a most suitable runner-up.
A sports-themed bed set.
A complete set, with two sets of sheets, and all the shams, and a navy blue comforter with all types of BALLS on them.
And it wasn't a 'baby' boy kind of set.
A teenager who loves sports might put this on their bed.
And the Sparrow loves Navy Blue.
And we know we are going to have to repaint his room, and this will be super easy to match colors to, as there are all sorts of blues in the sheets, and some reds and even a spot of orange.
How could he NOT love it?
Mother's instinct is so unbelievably powerful.
They should find a way to bottle it, market it, and sell it.
It is ALWAYS on the money.
Dammit.
I knew he wouldn't like it.
The Sparrow wanted Camo.
Period.
End of story.
But I freaking bought it anyway.
It was a great deal.
It was on sale.
And the store even GAVE me ten dollars to buy it.
Super score, for someone who is a super bargain hunter and NEVER pays full price for ANYTHING.
We come home.
I leave it in the car, but take everything else out.
Billy Two Swords likes it.
Reilly the Red likes it.
Hurrican Rojo LOVES it.
But Rojo knows.
So I told Two Swords - leave the sheets in the car, and let me go break it to him.
Two Swords thinks I'm nuts.
He says, "He's FOUR YEARS OLD! He doesn't get to dictate these sorts of decisions!"
Yes, but that kid can be sold, if you sell it the right way.
So I go to talk to him.
I explain the WHOLE story, about ALL the store, and NO camo anywhere, and I found something I REALLY like, and I think you will REALLY like it too, will you give it a CHANCE?
"No."
He hasn't even seen it!
"Jake, come on, come with me.."
"No. I'm not going to like it. Get me the camo."
I try to explain AGAIN that not only did I search Clermont, I searched the internet the whole week before, and I CANNOT find what he wants.
"No. Get me the camo."
Finally, I don't know how, but I am able to coerce him to come outside and look at the sheets.
I think I carried him, if I remember correctly.
I put him on the swing outside, and I got the package out of the car.
I walk it over to him and say, "Whaddaya think?"
He shakes his head violently, sticks out his tongue and makes that face like a nine year old eating beets for the first time, and says (and I swear),
"Take 'em Back."
And he walks his very decisive butt into the house and shuts the door.
And there I stand, in the middle of the driveway, with a large package of gorgeous little man sports sheets and comforter, and I just look up to the sky and sigh.
"Take 'em Back."
Who does this freaking kid think he is?
"Take 'em Back."
As I write this, the large package of unopened gorgeous little man sports sheets and comforter sits right next to me.
Do I or don't I?
Do I wash them and put them on his bed before he gets home?
Or do I......
"Take 'em Back."
Ugh.
~
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Bucket
~
The Captain was cleaning his room.
I heard some strange words.
Actually, I heard a strange WORD.
Actually, it wasn't strange.
I have heard this word many times in my life.
And as ashamed as I am to say it, I have uttered the word more than I have heard it.
You know the word.
Anyhoo.
I thought I heard the Captain saying "F--- It", "F--- It", "F--- It",
Over and over and over again.
But as he was saying it, I heard cars being thrown into his toyboxes.
And I heard drawers being slammed shut.
And he wasn't mad.
So I wondered if perhaps I was hearing things?
So I went into the Sparrow's room.
He was cleaning. Scary, but true.
I asked him, "Jake, are you saying a bad word?"
He looked sincerely surprised.
"No, Mom! I'm not saying ANY bad words."
"Jake, are you sure?"
"Yeah Mom!"
"Well, Jake, what was that word you just kept saying over and over?"
"I was saying BUCKET Mom!"
"BUCKET? Are you SURE you were saying BUCKET, BUCKET, BUCKET, and not some OTHER word?"
"Yeah Mom! I wouldn't say that OTHER word! I wouldn't."
"Okay, Jake."
"But sometimes I say Damn and Shit and other words like that."
Of course you do, Son.
Of course you do.
~
The Captain was cleaning his room.
I heard some strange words.
Actually, I heard a strange WORD.
Actually, it wasn't strange.
I have heard this word many times in my life.
And as ashamed as I am to say it, I have uttered the word more than I have heard it.
You know the word.
Anyhoo.
I thought I heard the Captain saying "F--- It", "F--- It", "F--- It",
Over and over and over again.
But as he was saying it, I heard cars being thrown into his toyboxes.
And I heard drawers being slammed shut.
And he wasn't mad.
So I wondered if perhaps I was hearing things?
So I went into the Sparrow's room.
He was cleaning. Scary, but true.
I asked him, "Jake, are you saying a bad word?"
He looked sincerely surprised.
"No, Mom! I'm not saying ANY bad words."
"Jake, are you sure?"
"Yeah Mom!"
"Well, Jake, what was that word you just kept saying over and over?"
"I was saying BUCKET Mom!"
"BUCKET? Are you SURE you were saying BUCKET, BUCKET, BUCKET, and not some OTHER word?"
"Yeah Mom! I wouldn't say that OTHER word! I wouldn't."
"Okay, Jake."
"But sometimes I say Damn and Shit and other words like that."
Of course you do, Son.
Of course you do.
~
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