Sharp Dressed Man

Here is little kid in around-the-house attire:Note the batting gloves and curtain rod. That is paint on his face, but don't worry, he PROMISED me that he had never, ever removed the brush from the paper. The paint smeared across his forehead was from an unexpected and isolated splash of paint, and was not his fault. Nothing ever is.

Here's his out-on-the-town look:

He's not allowed to take the curtain rod out of the house, and lately I've been restricting the boots and gloves since it is so hot. He switches the boots out with black Converse with flames on them and still fights to wear his corduroy pants or jeans in 90 degree weather. I request that he wear flip flops or Crocs so I don't have to tie laces, but he resists as often as possible.

"It's too hot, little kid!" I protest.

"But I'z your sharp-dressed man, mumum! Dis is what I wears!" he answers, making me regret ever affectionately calling him that.

He does get a lot of attention dressed this way.

Probably mostly from people wondering why I would dress him in boots, pants and gloves during a Florida Summer.

Girls Night

Girls Night Out was totally fun.

We had a nice Italian dinner. The food was great, but it was one of those open air, fancy-schmancy sort of places that's missing its front wall so that everyone can walk by and see the good looking people inside. It had just finished raining so it was as hot and humid as hell itself. I was wearing a small dress and had moisturized very well beforehand, so I felt totally sweaty and slick (in a bad way) the whole time. Damn Florida humidity, wrecking hair, makeup and lives on a daily basis.

I was relieved when the single lady of our group suggested the next location and was grateful that it had 4 walls, doors and cold air. It was the sort of place where the lighting scheme changes every minute as the dorky DJ relives the glory years he missed out on in high school and the patrons all stand awkwardly around the bar thinking they are hot stuff.

So there we were, shouting over a remix of "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night" as our faces switched from red to green to blue to silvery-white, having fun people-watching and laughing from our big round booth, when the inevitable sleaze bag made his move. "Imma buy all you ladies shots," he said, flashing his fake diamond watch with the fake leather band.

"Dude, save your money. We're old. We're waiting for coffee," I replied, wishing very much that it was the sort of place that served coffee.

"No one's ever said that to me. Y'all don't look old," Sleazy McCheesy said, sliding into the booth. "Whatchoo all doin' after?"

"Going home to our husbands."

"Imma write my number on your hand. You'll be callin' me later," he said, reaching for my arm and pulling out a pen.

"No, sir! You most certainly will not be writing anything anywhere on me. For real."

"Aww, shit. Well, Imma write it on this napkin. Don't lose it!" We rolled our eyes at each other and laughed as he scribbled it down and danced away. My friend pulled the napkin in front of her and wrote GROSS!! under his number and got up to use the restroom.

A few minutes later, he comes dancing back over and spots the napkin. "What?! Did you write that under my number? What the fuck, ladies?" We laughed.

"I like your watch," Girl Crush offered.

"Oh yeah, you like that, don'tcha?" He flashed his ridiculous bling and lifted his shirt so we could see his abs.

"Did you get it at Best of Everything? That accessory store downtown?"

"Bitch, please. You know this shit be real." At this point we were cracking up and his friends at the next booth were howling with laughter and snapping pictures with their iphones. The manager walked over and asked if everything was all right, escorting him back to his own area before we could even calm down long enough to answer.

I did tell Girl Crush about the discussion our sons had about her husband shaving his butt--we laughed until we couldn't breathe over that one and then text messaged her husband to share the embarrassment. At one drunken point in the evening, we even had a long conversation about her amazing boobs.

It was 100% fun with no awkwardness at all! Instant friendship, just add alcohol. The Summer of Socialness may end up being more enjoyable than I had thought.

Idolizing George

"What's that?" Big Kid asked, during one of his sessions of openly spying on me while I'm online.

"Mayan ruins in Belize. They are thousands of years old."

"I bet they were built before God was born!"

"No, not before God."

"Doh! I mean George Washington. I always get them mixed-up."

Sigh.

I'm sorry, God.

Rest in Pieces

"My wook fwiends and me are gonna hunt dinosaurs when we grows up and shoot 'em wif guns," little kid told me.

"Dinosaurs are extinct, remember? They aren't alive anymore. You could search for their bones, be a dinosaur scientist."

"No! Some are alive, we's gettin' those," he insisted.

"No, not really, hon. Every single dinosaur died. There are no more dinosaurs."

He thought about that for a moment. "So, are theys in Heaven with God now?"

"Uh--maybe? Not sure on that one, really."

"We'll find out when we die. I hope them dinosaurs is in Heaven. I feel sad they died. Will we's die one day, mumum?"

"Yep, everyone dies. Not for a long time, though."

"How we gonna die?"

"Probably in our sleep of old age, in a very long time from now." It made me sad to think about. He was quiet for a minute and I believed he was having similar thoughts.

"No!" he said, enthusiastically, "Not me. I's gonna run myself over wif a motorcycle, 'at's what I'm gonna do! I could do you, too!" He seemed excited at the thought.

"Hmmm. No thanks."

"Why? Why no?" I had obviously insulted him, turning down his generous offer of euthanasia via vehicular homicide.

"I...I don't know, little kid. I'm done talking about this now, it's sad." I didn't really feel like having him attempt to convince me that this was how I should die.

"Well, 'at's how me's and mine wook fwiends are doin' it."

Yet another impressive life goal.

S.o.S--Girl Crush

I'm sure you are all sitting on the edge of your seats, waiting for the next installment of The REAL Real Housewives of Ashley's Closet to find out how my play date with Girl Crush went.

It went...well.

Not a whole lot to report there, since I always end up being way more normal than I give myself credit for. We had fun and I like her and her children. I believe she likes me, too. We went swimming and she looks completely amazing in a bikini, but I still like her anyway. We had plenty to talk about, no blatantly awkward moments or silences.

Of course I deep-cleaned the entire house, in accordance with the Ashley first time visit policy, but by the time I got to the 4th bedroom/office, I was tired and thought, "Forget that, I'll just keep the door closed. No one will go in there!" I have recently let the boys take over that room as an art room since there's not a lot of working going on around here and since I'm sick of having their craft supplies everywhere. So, it's messy even at it's best--papers stacked and scattered, supplies strewn across two desks, a few misc. boxes and picture frames that haven't found homes yet. Naturally, the second they walked into the house, Big Kid said, "Come see my art room!" and led them straight to the messiest, only un-vacuumed room in the otherwise spotless house. Thanks, Big Kid, that was an awesome move!

Later when she was in the bathroom with her child, Big Kid whispered, "Mom, it worked! I think they believe our house is always this clean!" I cringed and then laughed, repeating it to her once she returned to the room. She also thought it was hysterical and said that she cleaned up for 48 hours when I came to her house. As she was leaving, she thanked me for inviting them to our beautiful home and I promised her that she was unlikely to ever see it this clean again and declared that we were now to the stage of friendship that didn't require major clean-up before visits. She laughed and agreed, so that was good.

That night Mr. Ashley and I were talking about how the day went when Big Kid piped up with, "Their dad shaves his butt!"

"Uh, what?" Mr. Ashley asked.

"Yep, they told me that their dad shaves his butt in the shower."

"How did that come up in conversation?"

"I dunno, we were walking along and the boy just blurted out, 'My dad shaves his butt in the shower!'" answered Big Kid, shrugging.

We tried not to laugh too hard. Aren't kids fun?

Exciting stuff, I'm sure you'll agree. The Summer of Socialness continues this week with a going-away party for a mom friend on Thursday (definite potential for social awkwardness here, I love the guest of honor but barely know/haven't seen some of this crowd in a long time. Pushing myself with this one), a possible beach trip with Girl Crush on Friday, and the Ladies' Dinner on Saturday. I also may get to see Catfish on Sunday, but that doesn't really count toward the S.o.S. since we're already at the lifelong friend level and it's not much of a challenge.

Typing all of that Thursday/Friday/Saturday stuff makes my brain scream "CANCEL ALL OF THAT, IT DOES NOT SOUND LIKE FUN," but I'm gonna try to ignore it because it will probably be at least a little bit fun. I hope.

(Ugh.)

Nerdiosity

I'm sick and sunburned, a double-whammy of internal and external misery. I was wearing sunblock, too! Anyway, here's some links to relieve my guilt of neglecting you:

Violinist playing Mario song in real time More impressive than you think it's going to be.

Queen Elizabeth II changing a tire She volunteered as a mechanic and driver for the Women's Auxilary Territorial Service when she was a Princess.

Death masks of famous people So interesting! And I've shown you before but here is Mary, Queen of Scots' death mask. She was like a beautiful little doll! No wonder Queen Elizabeth hated her ass.

The original version of Sleeping Beauty Scandalous! I like it.

Evolution of the alphabet A little nerdy, but I'm showing you anyway because I want you to see.

Size of the Titanic Look at the guy at the bottom of the photo!

You are more fortunate infographic (love that word.)

Meet Zach He seems sweet, and he has a great sense of humor and Cerebral Palsy. Oprah is giving away a reality show and he wants a travel show, and I want him to have a travel show. Voting only takes one click--I think he would be great and an inspiration to many.

For making it this far (and hopefully voting for Zach) I give you a pig in boots.

Speaking of cute things like a pig in boots, I was having crazy sick dreams last night and I dreamt that I found two cuddly baby monkeys. They were hugging each other. Then I found a field mouse (don't know how I knew it was a "field" mouse or what that is, but I knew this in my dream) and then a baby squirrel and then a baby bunny. I had all of these sweet, cuddly animals in my lap and began feeling anxious about being able to care for them all--they were trying to run around and I was having a hard time keeping track of them, so I looked around and found a small crib (which happened to be an old doll cradle I had as a child, that I haven't thought of in forever) and I pulled it out and put all of these little sweeties in there, feeling thrilled about having found monkeys and wanting to get everyone settled so I could play with them. Then one of the monkeys picked up the field mouse and started to eat it and the mouse was screeching and twitching and I was screaming and crying but couldn't make the monkey stop. There was lots of blood and I was scared for the other animals and unsure about what to do. And then I woke up.

I also had a dream that my printer worked, but that's even less likely to ever happen.

Hope you're having a good weekend!

Um,

I just realized I have spent the entire morning with my shorts on inside-out.

Maybe I'd be more interesting on t.v. than I had previously thought.

House Wife

You know how we got rid of cable and satellite television in the Ashley household? Ironically, I am watching more television than I ever have.

I think the time I used to spend flipping through the hundreds of channels or watching commercials made it so I never really cared that much about any particular episode or show. Having to make a decision about what to watch and being able to watch the entire thing without interruption has changed my entire viewing experience and I have seen some amazing movies and television that I would have passed over before. I recently figured out how to hook my laptop to my television which opened up a world of possibilities, and also allowed me to catch up on Real Housewives. Wow. Those bitches are crazy!

Also, who came up with the term "Housewife" when casting these people? Almost all of them have either a career or adult children, and some of them don't have husbands or children! We've seen very little of them being wives or mothers, and a whole lot of them barely restraining from scratching each other's eyeballs out at some social event.

And I love that, I really do (like, a lot), but I don't think I would define a single one of them as a "Housewife". Don't even get me started on the Housewives of New Jersey. Those women really scare me; they could and would beat the rest of us up.

I am mostly writing this post in an attempt to hold off on the deep cleaning that must be done for my big play date tomorrow. I have considered calling her and asking if she wants to go to the beach instead, but that would seem weird and my house isn't all that dirty and this needs to be done so that we can move on to the type of friendship that doesn't require deep cleaning before visits. I guess this whole house-cleaning thing is supposed to happen regularly anyway, so at least this gives me an excuse to do it.

This is probably exactly why they don't use real housewives. It would make for the most boring t.v. ever.

Sun Shiney

Here is how every Summer morning starts (around 7:15 a.m.)

"Mumum, can I has peana buttuh cwackers?"

"No! Lay down and turn on a movie."

"I can has peana buttuh cwackers for lunch?"

"Yes."

"Mumum, is it lunch time yet?"

"No! I'm not awake yet, it's not even breakfast time, please turn on your movie."

"But for lunch I can. I gonna play Mario."

"'kay. Please turn it down." He turns the volume all the way up, the tinny sounds of the Mario theme song literally bouncing off of the walls. "Down! Quiet!"

"You can make this big jump for me? Just real quick? Then you can be not awake again, my mumum."

"little kid, I'm awake but I need 5 minutes of waking up before I start playing video games or making breakfast. Can you just chill for a few minutes while I wake up?"

"Yes, after you make this jump, I's be quiet! Then we's can make my peana buttuh lunch cwackers!"

Grrr.

The other child sleeps until 9ish. He has always slept late. When he was a toddler, we frequently slept until 10 a.m. Every mom I knew envied us.

Summer has been mostly fun, though. Yesterday I broke out the Slip 'n Slide and when it became obvious that my kids totally sucked at it and were failing to grasp the concept, I forced them to stand to the side to watch me demonstrate my technique. Repeatedly. Slip 'n Sliding is fun and they are already improving. I wanted to soap it up but Big Kid said I would get soap in everyone's eyes, and that seemed like a good point.

We've also been at the pool a lot and they both swim like fish. Two months ago, they couldn't swim at all and now they are diving to the bottom of the deep end and swimming from side to side. So fun! This means I can sit on a nearby lounge chair and read a book. There are no words to express the happiness this freedom brings me. People are also super impressed with my kick-ass 3-year-old swimming star, and I like that.

I am stepping slightly outside of my lazy comfort zone this Summer and have declared it to be the Summer of Socialness. I hate this idea, but once a week I'm going to make an effort with a new friendship. I really like being alone, but I do see the benefit of having friends and there is a great circle of families that I met through a mom's group years ago that already know that I struggle with keeping in touch but who seem to like me and reach out anyway. I need to capitalize on that before they are totally sick of me. All of the efforts won't be with this particular group but in order to make more life-long friends, I need to hang out with people other than the life-long friends I already have. I guess. It should also make for good blogging material.

So Girl Crush (remember her?) is coming over on Friday and I'm more nervous about it than I should be. I have ZERO reason to be nervous, we have hung out before and we always have fun. She likes me and is open and outspoken about liking me. I'm just neurotic, particularly about it being at my house. My house is lovely and in an awesome neighborhood--no reason to be neurotic about it but I AM WHAT I AM. And I'm a bit of a freak.

I was also invited to a Ladies Dinner next week and don't know what to wear. Again, no one will care and I will end up looking fine (probably) but they all make it look so effortless. I really wish Tim Gunn and I were friends--but that could never happen because I would never want to invite him over. Sigh.

Other than these minor social issues and the 7 a.m. wake-up calls, Summer has been fun so far. I'm hoping the social and early morning stuff will work itself out sooner than later.

Breakfast Service

Today we slept in a bit after putting a movie on for the boys.

They decided to make Mr. Ashley breakfast and filled a bowl FULL of Lucky Charms, poured some milk in there, got a clean spoon out of the dishwasher, carefully filled a plastic cup full of ice water and set it all up on the kitchen island, where it sat for about 30 minutes before they couldn't stand the anticipation and woke Mr. Ashley up to enjoy his soggy cereal.

They were so proud of themselves and so excited about their little bout of responsibility and so, so, so freaking cute. They were beaming with pride and talking over each other to let us know who did what and who came up with which ideas, praising each other for being so helpful. They were grinning ear-to-ear as they told us about their breakfast-making adventure.

They are such sweet boys.

And I am so glad I didn't have to eat that mushy bog of congealed cereal.

Summer of...Fun?

Today is the first official day of Summer break for us.

I was so excited yesterday. We had a family Summer kick-off party, complete with balloons and a cake and treats and those firecrackers that pop when you throw them on the ground. Big Kid got to choose dinner, so we had sandwiches.

But today I'm apprehensive about this whole thing. They have been fighting a lot--a major problem since one of the big benefits of Summer was having Big Kid around to distract and amuse little kid. I think I forgot how annoying they can be with all of the fighting and wanting stuff and raiding the fridge every other minute.

I'm also afraid this will mean the official end of naps for little kid. He usually falls asleep in the car rider line and if there's no car rider line, there may be no nap. This would be horrible, so we may have to go for a 3 o'clock drive every day. A slow, quiet drive. (It won't work, I know it won't.)

Things can't go wrong though, this is supposed to be the perfect Summer. I'm not working, we have a pool and the beach nearby, I look good in my new bikini, kids are at a (supposedly) manageable age. This is my time to shine. Summer WILL be fun, dammit!

I don't care if I have to beat some ass, this is going to be the best Summer ever.

(P.S. The kids aren't wanting to sing the Summer jingle I made up. That shit ends right now--they WILL sing the jingle. Songs are fun.)

Cleaning Service

Good news: little kid's work friends started a cleaning service, and until he gets called away on a work call, he will clean my house for free. Of course, this means he gets to use the feather duster, broom and spray bottle, and there are frequent arguments about my vacuum or the use of toxic chemicals, but who can argue with that kind of deal?

Bad news: little kid's work friends apparently believe in cleaning shower tile with a mixture of vinegar and water (from his spray bottle) and toilet paper. Lots of toilet paper, because it gets all clumpy and then you need more to dry the wet toilet-papered tile walls.

This is not how I do it.

He has announced that he will need to clean the house every day or his work friends will fire him.

I gave him his own cleaning rag, hid the toilet paper, and am starting to like his work friends more.

I did it

Big Kid hopped into the car after school the other day and said, "I want you to tell me 'bout how kids are made. How their parents make them, the babies."

Warning bells and sirens began to ring in my head. "Why? Was someone talking about that in school or what...what makes you ask?"

"I just wanna know. I asked you before and you said you'd tell me one day when little kid wasn't around. I see he's sleepin' and I'm just tired of not knowin'. I asked you lots of times and I still never do know."

"Oh, er, um, well, when mommies and daddies love each other very much, sometimes they decide to make a baby and then the mommy carries it in her tummy and then there's a baby! Pretty neat!" My final valiant effort at deflection.

"No. I wanna know HOW THE BABY GETS INSIDE THE MOMMY'S TUMMY, I know that other stuff. I want to know HOW THE MOM AND DAD MAKE THE BABY BECOME A BABY."

"Oh, yes, that. Okay, well--"

"Is it about the S-word?"

"When you say the "S-word, you mean...sex?" I ventured.

"Yes."

That's when I knew there was no escaping this conversation this time. I know he is aware and confused about the existence of the word “sex”—thanks in part to the song Birthday Sex (Are they saying Birthday Sex? No, they're saying Birthday Six. No, they are saying Birthday Sex, for sure, I can read it when it comes up on the car radio screen. Hmm, what the heck station are we even listening to? This song makes no sense!) and Michael Scott from the Office (thanks, Michael) but now I was realizing that he understood more than I had originally assumed and was piecing things together on his own. I took a deep breath, mind racing.

"Yes. When a man and a woman really love each other, they might have...sex," I said, cringing. "And when they're trying to make a baby, sex makes it so the man's body puts something like a seed into the woman's body."

I glanced in the rear view mirror. He looked as horrified and as confused as I felt.

"Oh, gross! Are you kiddin'?"

"Well, it's kind of like a seed? But it's a fluid--"

(at this point, my brain is screaming OMG! TOO MUCH INFO! ABORT MISSION, pull into Wendy's, buy him a Frosty and hope to God we can put this behind us! Shut up NOW! NOW!)

"...I don't know, but anyway the seed plants itself into an egg the mommy has in her tummy and then a baby grows from that. It really is an amazing thing. I know you're still confused but I think that's enough information for someone your age. I promise that we'll talk about this more often as you get older and when it is time for you to know, I will make sure you have no questions, but...yeah, that's the gist of it."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Ookaaay, well, I've heard enough about that. I am confused, but I think you're right that it's enough."

"Yeah. Don't go telling other kids though, okay? That's a job for their mommies and daddies." (Mwahahaha, I will not be alone in this discomfort!)

"I'm not going to be tellin' first graders about sex, mom. Man, I'm so embarrassed I even just said that."

"Yeah, I'm a little embarrassed about all of this, too. I mean, it's a nice thing and it's a good thing but...let's be done talking about this now and try not to use that word, like, at all."

"Good plan", he said as he leaned back in his booster seat and quietly looked out the window, while I silently freaked out at how awkward I had been about the whole thing but also felt glad to have temporarily staved off his curiosity on the subject.

I hope.

Memo from Work Friends

"Look! I got a letter fwom my wook fwiends," said little kid.

"Oh? What does it say?" I asked, humoring him.

"It says, 'Dear little kid, your mumum is really dumb."

"little kid, how dare you say that? This is your first and last warning, watch your mouth or you're getting a time-out. I have really had it with you."

"You can't give my wook fwiends a time out! And you can't give me a time out just 'cuz my wook fwiends thinks you're dumb! I tode you they are bad guys, sometimes."

"Don't start. I have been very patient with this whole thing with your work friends. Knock it off with the language, that's what I'm telling you."

"I'm tellin' you my wook fwiends writed this letter!"

"I watched you write it. You sat at the kitchen island, wrote it with a pen you got from my purse and then read it to me. I'm not dumb."

"I don't think you are, just my wook fwiends does."

He Wins

The arguing with little kid has gotten truly out of control. First, he has an answer for everything. Can't go to the pool because we have stuff to do? Yous can do your stuff tonight! No money for Star Wars toys? I saw dollars in your purse or yous can swipe your card! I can't have popsicles for breakfast? Well, yes I can, yous can just get them fwom the fweezer! This is the day to day (minute to minute) dialog. He cannot hear the word "No" or any variation thereof without offering a counter-argument or solution.

Then there's the true arguing, in which he yells, "Oh really? You wanna piece of me? You'll pay for this!" when I attempt to discipline him. This is less frequent (but still plenty frequent) and it makes me sympathize with child abusers. Telling a child to go in time-out and hearing this back is maddening.

We just finished debating about whether or not he can watch the Omen IV on Netflix Instant Watch, because he claims to love scary movies (He saw Beetle Juice once.) It's clearly not even up for debate, there's no freaking chance of it happening, but that doesn't stop him from trying...and trying...and trying.

And when I say he will argue about ANYTHING, I really do mean anything and everything. Here is one of his new favorite conversations:

I loves you, mumum.

I love you, too, little kid.

I loves you more.

No, little kid, I love you more. The mommy always loves the baby more.

No, I loves you more! I! Loves! You! More! Mumum!!

Okay, we love each other the same. You have a very sweet heart.

No, mumum, I loves you more. Right? Right, I loves you more? I do loves you more.

I am so sick of this conversation, as sweet as it is, that I usually just agree that he loves me more. This satisfies him and immediately concludes the conversation. Sure, one day he'll tell his therapist that his mom frequently agreed that he loved her more than she loved him, but whatever.

The other day we were at Target (not buying Star Wars toys, much to his dismay) when he started the "I loves you" debate. When I cheerfully answered, "Okay!" to his "I loves you more" I realized how awful I may sound to anyone overhearing us.

But I got over it as I went on to shop peacefully without fighting over who loves who more for 10 more minutes.

I really cannot win.

(But I do love him more.)

Man Up

"Big Kid, whatever happened to that Puppy Luv game on the Wii? You don't play that anymore."

"Yeah, Puppy Luv. I quit playin' that when I manned up at 5. It was a good game though."

"Manned up?! When you manned up at 5? You had to quit Puppy Luv?"

He sighed and looked wistful, "That's when I learned a little about looooove, when I was 5. Sometimes I wish I didn't."

Unfortunately, I never figured out what exactly he learned about love because Mr. Ashley and I laughed for so long afterward that my muscles ached the next day.

No Deal

Me: little kid, we're going to have a better day today, right? Yesterday was not a good day.

little kid: Does this mean you're gonna take me to Target and get my Star Wars guys?

Me: No! No, little kid, this means you're just going to be good. For the sake of being good.

little kid: No deal. Can we go to Target a day?

Oh yay, Tuesday!

Don't you love it when people sneak into your bed in the middle of the night to pee in it?

I freaking love that. Nothing better than waking up in a cold puddle of pee to the soft snoring of an extra person in your bed hogging the covers at 3am. In my experience, it's even better if you've recently rented a steam cleaner and cleaned all of the mattresses. Also, there's the extra laundry to look forward to!

Then when that same person starts his day by asking for everything under the sun, confident that you'll cave on at least a few of these things as the day wears on, it's like, "Gosh, being a mom is so fun! Why yes, you can have candy and popsicles and go to the pool and play baseball and go to Target for Star Wars toys and wash the sliding glass doors all by yourself and then play Mario on the Wii, all before lunch time. Why, yes, you certainly can, little light of my life!"

It's 9:23 a.m, he's already had a piece of candy and he's playing the Wii as I type.

I never said I was good at this whole parenting thing.

(Well, I may have said that when I only had one child--I believed that then.)