Monday, August 31, 2009

Farm Town

Is it wrong that I set Big Kid up with a facebook account just so he could help me harvest the crops in my virtual "Farm Town" farm?

To be fair, he's been wanting to play; hovering around me and mouth breathing while I do.

I locked down all of his security settings so no one can try to friend him, and used an alias and an email address no one knows. I also hid my wall posts from him so he can't stalk me.

I told him that he was ONLY to play on Farm Town, nowhere else. That he was NOT to start Facebooking at 6. Of course, we're one day into it and I keep hearing things like, "Facebook wants to know what's on my mind. Why can't I tell dem?" and "How 'bout I least get a picture of me and maybe I could get 1 friend?" and "Why isn't dere a Facebook for kids?"

So, there's a good chance this was a really bad idea, but he did just diligently harvest a very large field of mine and he sends me flowers every day.

I personally don't see anything wrong with virtual child slave labor.


Big Kid's latest obsession is Pocketville at It's a little pinker than he'd like, but there are boy avatars and apparently it doesn't bother him too much because he loves playing.

Here's a voucher code for 250 free Pocketville tokens--Voucher Code: B9GX8NUDYS
(the code expires Sept. 30)

You enter that soon after you set up your kid's account (which only takes a minute) in an optional voucher code box. I only mention that because I thought you'd enter it around the little virtual store, but you don't. From what I've seen of it, the game looks pretty cute and I like that kids can enjoy it without having to buy a stuffed animal or something in order to get a code. I also like that I don't have to download anything--they play online.

There is an option for parents to buy tokens with small amounts of real money, but kids can also earn tokens by doing things throughout the site and that's what Big Kid has been doing (along with his starter tokens) and he's been having a great time for free.

Big Kid will be reviewing this himself on his own blog, which will be unveiled shortly, so stay tuned for his take on it too.

The Shred and Life

I've made a new deal with myself.

I'm going to do the 30-day Shred Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. No one ever said the 30-days had to be consecutive.

I will say that today was SIGNIFICANTLY easier than last week, but my dread for doing it is growing and we all know if I decide I hate it, it will be a done deal. For someone who has hardly exercised in the past 6 years, working out for 20 minutes 3 days a week is not bad, and I'm going to try to hold myself to 20 minutes of some sort of physical activity on the days off too.

My new "life plan" (I'm so sick and tired of these life plans constantly failing) is 20 minutes of exercise, 20 minutes of writing (you all and work don't count), and 20 minutes of housework a day. This should be very doable and isn't nearly as much as I could/should be doing.

I turn 31 at the end of September. That sense of "holy crap, you're failing adulthood" has me in its grasp lately and now that I have 2 kids, a buttload of problems, and am officially IN my thirties--I can no longer deny official adulthood. Unfortunately.

So, I need to learn to be good at it, I guess. At the very least, I need to get some of this shit done.


little kid just called me a "Stoopid Nipplehead".

He's in big trouble right now, but I do admire his creativity.

I'm gathering up the motivation to get back to "The Shred" today. Blah. I'm starting to think it would be much easier to just learn to love the muffin top.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Back Away

The kids have been screaming, fighting, wrestling, biting and insulting each other because Big Kid has decided little kid is standing too close to the tv screen.

(To be fair, little kid is standing too close to the tv screen).


"You not my boss. You don't worry about me," little kid said with a smirk.

Big Kid, trying a calmer approach, "Look, little kid. I'm tryin' to help you. Do you want glasses when you grow up? Is dat what you want?"


"NOOOO! NO AT IS NOT WHAT YOU WANT! You WILL back away from dat screen. You WILL. I'm not lettin' you do dis!!"

"Big Kid, knock it off--now he's only standing there to bug you. It's not your problem."

"It IS A PROBLEM! Him needin' glasses is a problem! He needs to be listenin' to me. LITTLE KID, I SAID BACK AWAY FROM DA TELEVISION. Dat's it...dat's it...." storms over there to engage in physical combat.

I broke it up and Big Kid just stomped off to the other room, with a "Fine, if you two don't care about his needin' glasses, I won't eifer. K? I won't. He's gonna need glasses and you're both gonna wish you could dest listen. Do you hear me? But I don't eben care. "

little kid walked away from the television the moment Big Kid walked away, so I guess the crisis has been temporarily diverted. I feel for Big Kid and appreciate what he's trying to do, he's just not familiar enough with the psychology of little kid to take the correct approach.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Day 3: Shred

Today I sat on the couch and ate several brownies.

That is all.

The Shred 30 day workout is on hold until tomorrow--possibly Monday. Now that I've broken stride, I have to start all over again and we all know that you can't start over again on a non-Monday.

I'm going to have to think about it tomorrow.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Day 3: Shred

Day 3 of the Shred has been postponed due to my inability to even lower myself safely to the toilet seat due to extremely sore muscles.

I'm pretty sure I might be dying. Mr. Ashley says I'm not but he's not a doctor, so that doesn't make me feel a whole lot better.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Car Rider in Disguise

Well, the car rider line isn't going so well.

I decided that this year I'd follow the rules and get in the stupid line and wait like everyone else, versus parking and grabbing my child and going. Yesterday was the first day of this. They called Big Kid's name 7 times before asking me to park in a handicapped spot and jump out and find him.

So we had a good talk after that about listening so he'd hear his name and we tried again today. I got there FIFTY MINUTES ahead of time (this is required if you don't want to wait in an insanely long line) and I was the 7th car in line. Finally the kids were brought out and I watched Big Kid hop up and down and wave at the similar-colored SUV in front of mine. After several minutes of this, the driver rolled down her window and Big Kid awkwardly realized it wasn't me. Then he spotted me and began squinting, waving and hopping in my direction, with me holding my hand in the "STOP" position so he would remember to wait until they told him which numbered spot to go to in order to get into my car.

There are 6 numbered spots. I'm number 7. The lady announces for him to go to spot #1. He's sitting less than 10 feet from me and spot #1 is clear on the other side of the car rider area, completely out of sight of me. After lots of waving and repeated instructions into the microphone, he reluctantly went, with a backwards glance at me. The current round of 1-6 takes forever though and he's waiting there a while, with me still in spot #7.

Suddenly I see him running back towards me. An adult reaches out and grabs him, turning him around as he angrily points to me and tries to make a break for it. I wave for him to go with her and he jerks his shoulder from her hand and sullenly follows her back to spot #1, where I pull up moments later.

The aid opens the door and cheerfully says, "He made it! See you tomorrow!" She closes the door behind him and I ask, "How did school go?"

Shaking with what could only be described as rage, he replied, "FINE! Until da LAST PART! I'm neber bein' a car rider again. Dat lady was tryin' to put me in a stranger's car and I was tryin' to tell her dat my mom's car was right dere and she MADE ME go to spot #1. TO A STRANGER'S CAR!! I 'scaped when dey weren't lookin' and sneaked back to you and she caught me and made me go back. I'll neber do it again. Unless I get a moustache and maybe some glasses so dey won't recognize me."

As I snorted back laughter, I explained how they were doing their jobs and how their car rider system worked and why they did it that way. "For safety reasons," I concluded.

"Well, puttin' me in a stranger's car doesn't seem safe to me. Takin' me from my mudder doesn't seem safe to me. DOES DAT SEEM SAFE TO YOU?"

"They weren't trying to put you in a stranger's car. Even if they accidentally did try, a stranger would realize you weren't hers and wouldn't take you. If she did take you, I'd see you drive off and chase her down and get you back. Seriously--it's safe. I promise. It will go smoother next time."

"As long as I get a moustache and glasses. And maybe a hat. Den dey won't know it's me."

So, I'd say the car rider ladies are officially on his shit list. You pretty much don't get off of that list either. The McDonald's near our house ran out of Teeny Beanie Baby Happy Meal toys and still had the advertisement up and he still comes unglued over them and their false promises any time we dare go through the drive thru.

I'm thinking it might be in everyone's best interest if I just park and grab him, so he doesn't have to lurk in the car rider line wearing a Groucho Marx disguise, and for the safety of the unsuspecting car rider line ladies.

Day 2: Shred

Uh yeah, this thing is kicking my ass.

I guess in a good way. There are muscles that hurt that I didn't even know existed, so I guess those muscles could use some work.

On Day 1, I went in with confidence. I'm not "in shape" per se, but I figured with it being a 20 minute video and me not being horribly out of shape, I'd be okay. I chase and carry little kid around a lot, I must be strong.

It started with push ups and I enthusiastically assumed push up position and almost knocked out my front teeth on the tile as my arms collapsed in protest that I would even try such a thing. I got it together for the modified push up and pushed through.

Just when I got to the "Oh hell no, not one more second" point, it was over! As I dragged my shaking body to the shower (where I sat) I tried to figure out what was so hard about it and really couldn't. It was only 20 minutes. Not too much of any one thing, a good little routine of stuff. But man. Man oh man oh man. I only shaved one underarm before going to the beach yesterday because I just couldn't make the other arm perform the necessary actions.

I thought no way I could do it again today, but I did. And again, when I got to the "Screw this" point, I was done. And again, I hurt like freaking heck. FREAKING HECK I TELL YOU. It hurts. I can't imagine I can do it again tomorrow. But I'll try.

Monday, August 24, 2009


I have stuff to tell you since it was Big Kid's first day of school today and my first day of doing the Shred.

Unfortunately, since it was Big Kid's first day of school today and my first day of doing the Shred, I'm way too tired to tell you much of anything.

I'm putting the kids to bed right now and going to bed myself soon after. I'm doing absolutely nothing but screwing around online (and working, but nothing else) tomorrow, so we'll catch up then.

Oh, I guess I have to do the freaking Shred video again tomorrow too, it being a 30-days-type-thing, but I'm not even sure if that'll be physically possible, so we'll see.

Dear little kid,

Happy 3rd Birthday!

You are everything I never knew I needed. You're a challenge, no doubt about that, but you're also one of the most interesting characters I've ever had the pleasure of knowing (and loving!). You have a larger-than-life personality and your steadfast determination and the constant joy you get from life are inspiring.

You make me laugh on a daily basis and your smile is genuine and full of happiness, all of the time. I love how you love being my baby, and the way you completely melt your body into mine when we snuggle. I love the way you love me and I love loving you back. I truly believe that you will always be my baby, no matter how old we get.

I have to go now because you and your brother were fighting and I'm pretty sure you ripped the thing that holds your tongue to the bottom of your mouth. Now I will go hold you in my lap and comfort you even though we both knew you shouldn't have been trying to bite your brother in the first place.

I like you, I love you and I will always protect you (as best I can).


Friday, August 21, 2009

Suggestions Needed

The big motorcycle party is tomorrow night and I need suggestions for the play list. I'm thinking stuff like "Bad to the Bone", "Born to be Wild", etc.

You know, bad-guy-on-motorcycle type tunes.

Please list your suggestions below, they will be much appreciated.


Here's Big Kid before his violin lesson today.

Violin is...not going so well. Is it possible to get worse after 6 lessons?

He spends most of his time looking like he wants to murder his teacher for correcting his stance or posture for the 300th time. He is very clearly sick of her bossy shit and the exaggerated sighs and slumped shoulders testify to that. She is very sweet--maybe too sweet. I've had to tell her a few times to feel free to get on his ass or interrupted them to remind him to straighten up. By the end of the lesson though, he seems fed up and tired.

However, if I point out that violin is perhaps a waste of money at this point, he gets pissed at me. The violin rental period is up and we've got 10 days to decide if we're buying an entry level violin or giving up all together because I'm not re-renting. I made him a deal today that if he practices every day for the next week, we'll buy him a violin and continue lessons. After an exhausted sounding sigh, he agreed. I pointed out that if violin makes him so tired, maybe it's not his thing and our argument started all over again.

So, I don't know. He's not the natural-born violin virtuoso that I'd hoped he be. Or maybe he just tires too easily to demonstrate his skills. Maybe if someone else would hold the instrument for him, he could get down to creating masterpieces.

Lately he's obsessed with what he's going to be when he grows up. His main criteria seem to be: working from home, no hard work, nothing that takes too long to complete. I've tried to point out that this probably isn't the best way to search for a career, but you know what--maybe it is. Even if you're doing what you love, you usually wish you could work less. Maybe people just need to aim for finding a profession that allows them to work less from the get go.

Maybe he's right.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

6-8 More?

I'm watching the Octomom special (in horror) and have figured out what Octomom, Jon, and Kate all have in common, other than having litters of children.

They all get more time off of parenting than I do.

Every time I see photos of these people, they are on the beach, at the mall, going to dinner with friends--must be nice!

How many more kids do I need to have in order to get some days off?

I mean, it's abundantly clear that one person can't take care of 8 babies at one time (and I could have predicted that, but I am gifted) but I would think the mom would still have to be a part of the care-taking team for at least as many hours as I have to.

Another Day with little kid

So, lately I've been going to the bathroom all by myself, consequences be damned. Today after emerging from the bathroom I saw this:

That's most of my pantry. This sucked particularly badly because just last night I emptied and reorganized the pantry and had a genius system in place for canned food organization. Then there were my cans, all lined up there, far from their assigned places.

I reclaimed the potatoes right away, but I only took a few of the canned goods back. I let him stack the rest until I saw a can roll under the couch and then I made him put them all away, which really ticked him off.
I've noticed lately that our cats only come out at night and I'm 99% sure that's because of him. Today, Tangerine was trying to take up residence in a kitchen cabinet and Pearl pretty much lives on the plant ledges or in my bathroom.

That's him at the Marlins game in his favorite shirt. He calls that his motorcycle shirt (although there is no motorcycle on it.) He tries to wear it Regardless of its smell or condition.

Today we went to an open gym type of thing and once he was dressed and let me do his hair, I told him how handsome he looked. I said, "I'm afraid all of the baby girls at the gym will see you and want to marry you or something! What will I do if a bunch of baby girls try to follow us home? You're MY baby, I can't let the girls take you from me yet."

He looked at me very seriously and answered, "Mumum, if dose baby girls try to follow us, I will beat dem down. Beat dose baby girls right down til dey leave us alone!"

Luckily the baby girls left us alone and no one got a beat down today, but it was still a pretty long day.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

No I Don't

little kid is threatening to "beat me down" because I said he can't have pudding if he doesn't eat his dinner. Mr. Ashley finally had to get involved and told him to knock it off, and little kid walked over to the couch we were sitting on, shook his fist at Mr. Ashley and said, "You want some of dis?" and then turned to me and asked, "Do you want some of dis? Keep it up."

It was hard to hide my laughter long enough to be suitably outraged. This is very bad, completely unacceptable behavior.

Not a Good Boy

I was putting away dishes when I heard little kid behind me saying, "Mumum, look at my naked butt. Look at it," in an angry voice.

"No. What are you talking about? You need to knock it off with the naked butt stuff," I said, trying to ignore him.

"My baby butt is gone. It's gone! Look! It's gone!" he said sadly.

I glanced down to see his shorts pulled down and his naked butt out, looking like his naked butt normally does. "What are you talking about, silly?"

"It's a good boy butt. I got a good boy butt. Not a baby butt."

(He says good boy instead of big boy, despite us correcting him a thousand times.)

"Oh stop. Your butt's fine. It's still little."

"It's not a baby butt."

"It's a 3-year-old's butt, not really a big boy butt yet. You're still a baby. You'll always be my baby."

"I not 3, mumum, I 2."

"You'll be 3 in 3 days."

"I still 2! Don't call me 3! I not a good boy, I a baby."

"Okay, baby," I agreed, in order to end this argument.

His constant refusal to grow up has me a little worried, as I could see this lasting well into his 30s.

Monday, August 17, 2009


Against my better judgment, I was cruising around around 1am when I decided I needed to buy something (because that's what always happens when I go to the Amazon site, and although I know this, I like to pretend I'm just looking and then some sort of buying emergency comes up and sure enough I've bought something. They make it way too easy, prime shipping, credit card on file. I can hardly be blamed.)

Just then the Flirty Girl workout infomercial came on and I decided I'd buy that. (I don't know why. I really don't.) The reviews sucked and I realized what a totally ridiculous idea this was, but came across the Jillian Michael's 30-day Shred video which got glowing reviews. Most of the reviews said it was hard and although I hate stuff that's hard, I bought it.

After I bought it, I found myself thinking that I'd better not mention it to you all in case it sucked and I didn't want to do it for 30 days, and then I realized how completely counterproductive it was to set myself up to cheat before my order confirmation had even come through.

So, I'm telling you all. Reluctantly. I'll also keep you posted. No promises though, remember when I tried Master Cleanse? Yeah. This could end up being 12 straight hours of me bitching and then 15 minutes of me convincing myself it's okay to quit.

I DO want to tone up. I DO want to look better in (and out of) clothes. The new school year seems like a good time to start, little kid and I can do The Shred together. So stay tuned for more news on that. We'll hopefully be starting on Monday.

Saturday, August 15, 2009


Here's Ethan! He's so sweet and perfect, we're all totally in love. Big Kid in particular, he can't stop talking about how cute he is and how he just wants to stare at him all day.

little kid's not as impressed. He had been getting rather hostile to the idea of a new baby in the last few weeks, even blaming "baby E-fan's " arrival on him having to turn 3. He would get sad any time I mentioned Ethan and would start talking about how he was still a baby. I finally sat him down and promised that he would always be my baby, and Ethan would never be my baby--that he was Uncle G's baby. He claimed to be excited about the idea from that point on, but I was getting some dirty looks as I held the baby and when we urged the boys to say goodbye, Big Kid gave him a heartfelt goodbye and a kiss and little kid gave him a casual, half-assed, see ya kind of wave from across the room. When we ask if he thinks he's cute, we get a distracted mmm hmm. I think he's trying to like the idea of a cousin, but doesn't want anyone trying to steal his thunder.

Here's the elephant we gave Ethan, you can't see its cute eyes or the different pattern on the bottom of his feet, so you'll have to take my word for it on it being extra cute (like Ethan himself)

E is for Ethan

I'm an Aunt! Officially! Ethan is here!

I have yet to meet him, but news is that he's 7lbs 14oz, is very pink and has lots of fluffy hair. Awwwwww. I'll go take a look later today and share pics of brand new babyness with you all!

I threw a baby shower for him 2 weeks ago with an E is for Ethan theme:

Hosted by
I ordered this E is for Ethan banner from an awesome seller who was easy to work with and did a really great job.

Hosted by

Hosted by
The favors were brownie bites in little cello bags with an E is for Ethan tag. Cute bucket from Target's $2.50 spot.

Hosted by

Hosted by
I also made cupcake pics (which was a total pain in the butt). Publix made the cupcakes and they were delicious as always.

I had ordered an elephant stuffed animal to match the elephants in the Shutterfly invite from Auntie Jill (who I've worked with before--she's amazing, her toys are heirloom quality, she's super easy to work with and I love her snuggle bunnies) but I had post office issues so I didn't get it in time for the shower. I have it now and it is darling, soft and squishy in blue and brown retro-style fabrics with "E is for Ethan" embroidered onto his ear. I will take pics of it (with Ethan himself!) later today.

New babies are so exciting. The world seems a little less boring and a little more hopeful today.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Monday, August 10, 2009

Make it Stop

Mini-mental breakdown in progress. little kid has been a real jerk all morning long. He was ramming furniture with his ride-on motorcycle so I took it and put it in the garage and he's really pissed at me. As he sobbed that he wasn't going to play with me ever again, I heard him say, "See dat? I got my naked butt out for you. At's for you, mumum," and I looked up to see him mooning me. "I got my butt out for you," he said angrily. So I put him in time out and 10 minutes later he is still sobbing and crying. He's standing here screaming now that he was born with that motorcycle and that I need to go back to work and leave him alone and how we can never be friends again.

During this, Big Kid is talking over him to tell me that he's creating (that's his new word, he is creating all kinds of stuff these days) a meatball shooter so that instead of cooking the meatballs, I can just shoot them from a gun onto his plate which is a pretty cool idea even though we don't eat spaghetti and meatballs, but now is really not the time to broach the subject with me.

Now little kid is screaming about what a good boy he is while vibrating in anger and making his Hulk faces. He just told me he's going to make a bunch of bees sting me.

I'm ready to lose my mind. I just want everyone to be quiet.

Call the Garbage Man

little kid and I are in an epic battle for the phone because he insists that the garbage man gave him his telephone number and that he needs to give him a call.

I don't think the garbage man did give him his phone number, nor do I think he needs to be calling the garbage man, so I've been hiding the phone and/or sticking his little ass in time out on an every-5-minutes basis.

He actually insists that the garbage man has 2 numbers and is furious I won't let him get on the phone.

He's also started getting suspicious of the lawn men and thinks they are trying to steal his watch (A $6 fake Burberry watch). He wants to make sure I'm not going to invite them to his party and I've assured him that I won't invite the landscapers. He does concede that they "do a nice job", he just doesn't want them after his watch.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Dear Big Kid,

Happy 6th Birthday, Big Kid!

I've been a mom for 6 years now, all on-the-job training with you as the boss. What a boss to have! Although parenthood isn't always necessarily what I expected, it's more amazing than I could ever put into words. (But here comes the part where I try...)

I remember being pregnant and having experienced parents look at me starry eyed and saying things like, “There's nothing like having a baby. The love you have for them--there's nothing like it.” At first my heart warmed at their nostalgia, but towards the end of pregnancy, I began to lose my patience with it. “Of course it's amazing, I'm growing my own person here. What kind of mom doesn't love their baby? I get it, I know,” I'd think, exasperated with people's need to educate first time mothers.

And then I had you, and realized there was no way to experience those depths of emotion without having been there yourself. The other day I was studying your profile as I snuggled you in my lap (which is increasingly awkward to do, with your ever-growing limbs seemingly all over the place) and reflected on my time as your mother and the spectrum of emotions that came with it.

As I studied the perfect swoop of your nose and the freckle over your lip and the tiny golden hairs that grow near your hairline, I felt euphoric with love for you, pride at having made you, panic that 6 years with you could have already gone so quickly, and fear and sadness for life's inevitable hardships that you'll be forced to suffer. My heart soars and sings and aches all at the same time with love for you. Contemplating your very existence fills me with excitement and anxiety over what the future may hold. You amaze me and amuse me and the responsibility and honor of raising you to fulfill your potential fills me with wonder and fear.

Even if I did the best job in the whole world of describing the emotions that make up the love that a mother feels for her child, it would still fall radically short of the true feelings in a mom's heart. There truly are no words to explain how much I love you and how glad I am to be your mom. I look forward to seeing what the future holds for you, but selfishly wish you could stay small forever. The last 6 years with you have been a joy, and I know the next 6 will be too (the 6 after that--I'm not so sure). I'm lucky to have a boss like you and I think you're teaching me well. I hope you can say the same for me.

So, Happy Birthday, my Big Kid.

I like you, I love you, and I'll always protect you.


Friday, August 7, 2009

He's Right

Big Kid: When are we moving my new fish Bubbles into my room?

Ashley: Uh, soon. I guess we were just waiting to make sure she'd make it and I think daddy was waiting until we got a couple more.

Big Kid: (stops and stares at me) ...more?

Ashley: Yeah, more fish. For Bubbles.

Big Kid: Mom, we've had like 4 fish and dey all died. I'm finkin' we dest need one fish. Like how Dorofy was one fish. We had her a long time.

Ashley: Well, the website said Zebrafish like to be in packs of 5 and I think they died beca--

Big Kid: Look, I'm dest sayin' we probly only need one fish. Bubbles looks fine right now and she's alone. It's okay dat we can't do more fish, we're not a four fish family. Dat's fine.

Ashley: Can we get another small suckerfish one day?

Big Kid: One day. Maybe.

That's a Look

little kid just came sauntering out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a marker cap on the end of his penis.

Once I recovered from my initial shock, I laughed until my stomach ached.

Big Kid swears he is never, ever using the markers again now.

little kid has already been in time out for filling his cowboy boots up with water and attempting to fish out of them with a toy fishing pole this morning.

So, this new behavior is actually an improvement (or at least less messy for me).

Thursday, August 6, 2009

little kid requests

little kid wants a "bad guys on motorcycles" party and a "poop cake".

The poop cake part I could (but won't) do, but I'm really at a loss for ideas for a "bad guys on motorcycles" party. I don't think there's such a thing as Hell's Angels party ware or anything.

I'm hoping he'll settle for a Hulk party.



Yeah baby!

My parents have been searching all over town and I underestimated Ganz's (is that right? Would it be Ganz'? I'm really stumped there) ability to create a false exclusivity surrounding this stupid thing, so not wanting to pay shipping, I figured I'd find it in town. Yesterday when I realized that wasn't happening, I went to order it through Amazon even though it was grossly overpriced, and it was sold there through an outside seller--making 2 day shipping not an option. I ordered it anyway, knowing it wouldn't get here in time.

Then I started calling all Webkinz retailers in my area and 6 out of 7 were jerks when I called. I was just about to give up when I decided to try Justice in the mall and THEY HAVE THE FOX.

So Big Kid will get his Arctie on time and I'll have one to return.

Although we're not doing a "real" birthday party this year (I'm all partied out), I am putting together a Webkinz adventure day for Big Kid, Em and little kid and maybe having some family over for pizza and Bingo. Webkinz party stuff isn't easy to come by so creativity, printer ink, paint and effort will be required, but I know Big Kid will be impressed with my hard work.

If he HAS to turn six, I may as well make it fun (for him).

P.S. I killed 4 more fish and finally had to confess to the kids (I only told them about the first 5 though, our grand total is up to 9). They're taking it well. We have one teensy tiny survivor and a freezer full of corpses.

Five not Six

I'm really behind on everything, including the closet, right now but felt the need to stop and take a moment to tell you all that I am kind of freaking out about Big Kid turning 6 on Saturday.

How have I been a mom for 6 years already? Also, if he's only legally mine for 18 years--I'm already through a third of it. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it makes me want to cry.

I want him to stay 5 forever.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Another 4 Bite the Dust

Would you believe that I took the kids out today, bought them 5 fish, and then managed to kill 4 of them before getting them safely into their tank?

I bought the special water drops, scrubbed out the old tank with scalding water, removed the old rocks and rinsed the new ones until the water ran clear, added water, put a special and expensive magic tablet into the water, put the fish bag in there for a few hours to neutralize the temperature, began slowly adding aquarium water to the bag in small increments to acclimate them--and 4 out of 5 of those little fuckers are floating.

The kids don't know, and won't know. I put a towel over the tank and said it was part of the process of making them comfortable in their new home and Mr. Ashley just ran out to the pet store to purchase stand-ins.

This could get expensive.

Edited to add: make that 5 out of 5. We will need to sneak a new sucker fish stand-in in tomorrow. The store has admitted that it was probably their fault and said we could get a refund if I bring in the dead bodies and a receipt.

So now I have a Ziploc full of dead pets in the freezer and need to find a way to sneak them back to the store for a refund.

Monday, August 3, 2009

Poor Dorothy

Dorothy Juliet (named by Big Kid) passed away some time last night. I can't say I was surprised, because she started looking pretty sick a few days ago and I rushed out and bought Goldfish medicine, which we (read: Mr. Ashley) administered faithfully.

Before I put the kids to bed last night, I noticed she was floating on her side and gasping. I figured that was a bad sign, and made the mistake of telling the kids that Dorothy was really sick and might die.

That was dumb of me.

I envisioned some open discussion on the upcoming loss of our pet and some time for goodbyes. I got two kids running around the house wailing, sobbing and then threatening that if she did die it was my fault for predicting it. Mr. Ashley was also highly irritated at me when he emerged from the shower to find complete hysteria. He administered an emergency dose of medicine and I convinced the kids that I had no idea what I was talking about, I was not a vet, perhaps she was just tired, please disregard any prior mention of death.

Big Kid wept continuously and begged me to take a photograph of her. Here she is:
It's a telling photo--her uneaten dinner in the rocks around her, the smudges on the tank glass from where the water dripped during her last dosage of medicine, the safety scissors little kid gave her some time ago and her oyster nearby; staring into her own reflection pondering her imminent demise. Poor Dorothy.

That night as I was falling asleep, I resolved to just get a new Dorothy and keep her death a secret when it happened, even if it meant going through 20 Dorothys in a lifetime, to spare them the heartache of losing her. But they beat me to her in the morning. Mr. Ashley heard Big Kid saying, "I wonder what she's doing?" and little kid answered, "Sleepin," when Big Kid yelled that fish don't sleep and started screaming "MOM WAS RIGHT" as he sobbed and cried.

And cried and cried and cried.

He was mad at the world and sobbed that everything should live 500 million years. That life wasn't worth living if everyone didn't get to live 500 million years and he didn't want things to change or be different and he hated the idea of heaven and there shouldn't even have to be one.

I can completely relate to this feeling. As my dad starts chemo, the temporary nature of life and what a fickle bitch it is has been on my mind a lot lately. So I cried with him a little and told him I agreed but that it is what it is and since we can't change it, we can at least look forward to the idea of a heaven and having everyone we love together again.

Then I offered him a hermit crab or replacement fish of his choice. He sobbed that he could never have a fish again, that it would make him think of Dorothy all of the time, and it would die in like 2 years and he can't deal with it.

"A tortoise," he declared. "I need a tortoise. Dey live like a fousand years."

"But remember how the pet store doesn't sell turtles to kids? There's a reason for that. It's not a good pet for kids and they can be difficult to take care of. They need more than we can give them."

"But I'm da type of kid who needs a pet who isn't gonna die. I can be good wif a tortoise, I promise, mom. It will live like, a hundred years."

I turned the conversation back to crabs vs. fish because I frankly cannot handle the commitment (or smell) of a pet that might live one hundred years, and then I luckily had to leave for a meeting moments later, so I turned the kids over to my mom and they were thankfully distracted from the loss of Dorothy Juliet.

So tonight, we go to the pet store (coincidentally the same pet store that carries hedgehogs which I not-so-coincidentally plan on holding and begging for) and the kids get a pet.

Also, tonight I must go in search of an Arctic Fox. Big Kid's birthday is Saturday and that is his must-have gift--a Webkinz Arctic Fox named Arctie (NOT Artie, don't even suggest Artie). I will probably have to pay rush shipping from somewhere because so far this little bastard has been elusive.

Wish me luck.

Saturday, August 1, 2009

Not Apoopriate

little kid just spent about 2 straight minutes calling all of us poopy heads. This is not allowed but sometimes if he's funny about it, we let it slide. Or if we're really worn out.

Today Big Kid was insisting that it wasn't appropriate. Finally fed up, he yelled, "little kid--IT IS NOT APOOPRIATE!"

He didn't mean to say it, or even recognize his unintentional comedy gold, but I'd say "Apoopriate" is my new favorite word.