Rant #147: "Parent-azzi"

I've created a new word. "Parentazzi". It's a cross between a "parent" and the "paparazzi". Oh yeah. You teachers know where this blog is headed...

So I'm getting a mani and pedi the other day at the nail place next to my neighborhood. I frequent this little place. I don't dress up, I rarely have make-up on, and I'm usually one step above pajama pants and a cami. 

I'm sitting in the peace and quiet of 9:15 in the morn and a woman comes in. She seems to frequent the place as well...chatting with everyone, picking out her colors...just a loud type of lady. Well she sits down three chairs from me and proceeds to get her nails done.  My nail tech starts chatting me up, and asks where I work. In my normal tone of response when it comes to my work, I reply with a somewhat whisper..."------- middle school". 

"YOU'RE A TEACHER AT ------ MIDDLE SCHOOL?!?! Oh my gosh my daughter will be in 6th grade there next year!!?!" I smile and give the appropriate "oh how awesome!" response, as she yells at her daughter across the room in another chair that I may be one of her teachers next year. Awesome. Let's get the three other women in the salon involved as well. Everyone stare at the slummin' looking  "teacher" getting her mani/pedi on! Then the lady proceeds with the following questions:

What is your name?

How do you spell it? I want to write it down! (She types my full name in her ipad)

How long have you been there?

What curriculum do they use?

What is the schedule like?

Where do you live?

Do you live near the elementary school in ----- or on the outskirts of the neighborhood? (really!?)

Who else is teaching 6th grade? 

What are their names? 

Where are they from?

WTH?! When did Nancy Grace begin cross examination at my nail salon!?

After bombarding me with questions, she then feels comfortable enough with me to get down to the nitty gritty: Parentazzi complaints.

"I'm really excited about my daughter starting ------ Middle School next year, but you know what I don't like about the district?" No...but I bet you'll tell me! (I'm thinking this, as I smile)

She then proceeds to lecture me on evvvverrryyything she doesn't like with my district. Band, choir, electives, curriculum, bell schedule, and no athletics in 6th grade. I did feel useful as I schooled her on UIL rules (ahem section 1400(b)(3): No Interscholastic Athletic Competition Below Seventh Grade. No interscholastic athletic competition is allowed in any conference for teams in the sixth grade and below. EXCEPTIONS: Certain athletic exceptions allow sixth grade students to participate. See (2) above and Sec- tion 1478.) Thanks grad school! ;)

I listened to this woman for the next half hour. She complained about everything she doesn't like about the school district. I just give understanding head shakes as we teachers know to do, and we try to be great listeners. Meanwhile I'm trying to relax with my pedi, my hot pink flower bra straps are in full effect, makeup is nonexistent and bobby pins are holding my hair back. Dead sexy.

Then her daughter starts telling me about her 5th grade teacher and everything she didn't like about this person. I don't know this teacher, and I don't want to know anything. Apparently this teacher was mean and blamed her for everything. She wants a nice teacher. She asks if I'm nice and if I'm going to be fair. Will I be nice? I won't blame her for everything, will I? I doubt this teacher was mean. I'm sure some of the issues were brought upon herself. I say that because within this one hour I heard the mother say "shut up", "ass" and "what the hell" at least ten times in front of, or to, her daughter. Newsflash: your tween looks up to you as a role model lady. Good job there. #keepitclassy

Please stop. It's my ONE hour this week I've had to myself. I've been with my toddler son ALL week, hubs has been in Canada, and I want ONE hour of quiet, enjoyable pampering before heading back to my toy explosion living room and keeping my cutie yet active son from setting the house on fire. This mom/daughter duo need-ed-to-GO. (notice the intense syllabication there, expressing my complete frustration/head nodding)

I finally managed to use my semi-wet left pointer finger to obsessively text my friends on my cell for the next 20 minutes to make it appear as if I was super busy and couldn't really chat. I had a nice, relaxing ten or so minutes toward the end, and got up to pay. The mom then asked me how to spell my name again to be sure she had it right, because she's emailing the principal today to request me because I seem very sweet. Oh and she asked me for my principal's email too, and proceeded to ask me twenty  questions about my boss' life. Damn people.

Can't a gurl get pampered in peace?! I'm not even working yet. Teaching in my own neighborhood may be a little more difficult than I thought. 

Hey Zoe send me a big hat and some face covering shades...the parentazzi is coming.

Face Down on the Floor of Central Market

So, today I decided to take Kyle over to the Central Market cafe for some lunch. He loves CM's lunches. It's such a gorgeous day!

Well, the second we get into the cafe area and I attempt to put him in a highchair, he starts kicking and screeching as loudly as possible, for no apparent reason.

Sweat.

As fast as I can, I grab some snacks from his bag and feed him little nibbles while we're standing in line to order. He reaches over and almost pulls a bottle of cabernet sauvignon off of the metal shelf, and I catch it just in time.

Sweat.

We get up to pay at the counter, and he's crying because he went one second without a snack. He grabs the vibrating coaster thingy and throws it across the room at the cashier girl. (I should've stopped here, but I'm an optimist idiot.)

Sweat.

I manage to roll him over to the drink bay, holding the coaster thing, my empty cup, receipt, my LV and his huge bag, and I'm wearing uncomfortable shoes. As I struggle to get the lid on my tea cup as fast as humanly possible, he begins to yell...again.

More sweat.

We get outside and all he wants to do is go over and play. I know that, but I really wanted us to eat first before heading over there. It was getting crowded, tables were filling up, and I didn't want to give up our seat. I finally decide to leave his diaper bag on the table, his sippy cup, my tea, and his highchair, "suggesting" that our table was taken.

As soon as we head over to play, the coaster vibrates.

More sweat.

I wrangle him back to the high chair, where we had a pretty solid 20 minute lunch...he only threw three perfectly grilled strips of chicken on the ground, along with his cup...two times. No one was stabbed and we didn't melt down, so I call this a win. 

Blood pressure decreasing.

We go over to the play area and he plays pretty well for 15 or so minutes, but due to his Casper complexion and the sunscreen I left in the car, I have to drag him away...literally.

Sweating again.

We walk inside and I reeeally wanted a refill of my tea, but I have to pee. Ugh...dilemma. So, we head to the restroom. There's one stall open, and I have no stroller. This is a first. I have my strongman 31 pound 18 month old, two large bags, and I'm holding on to that damned tea cup if it kills me. I'm freaking thirsty.

I lock the door, hang up my bags, and he immediately runs to stick his hands in the water, where I yell out "NO NO!"...and the lady int he stall next to me says "excuse me!?" (not realizing my son was in there), and I had to tell her I was referring to my toddler. So, I sit down to pee (sorry if this is TMI) and Kyle's unrolling the toilet paper, looking underneath the stall at the woman next to me, and trying to grab her feet, laughing. I have to pick him up, and literally set him on my lap...while I pee. You can't get any more "mom" than that.

Full-body sweat mode.

After the fastest urination I've ever experienced, I set him down, flush, pull up my pants, grab the bags, my empty cup, and unlock the door. There are now three women waiting in this tiny restroom...we open my stall door, Kyle attempts to run out, I grab his hand and say "No, wait for mommy Kyle"...and BAM.

There's my son, screaming, face down, on the floor of Central Market's bathroom.

Mortified.

I proceed to bend over and pick him up (totally limp) with my hands completely full, and now I'm frantically trying to get him off the floor, wash his hands and face, and my own as well. Ewwww. He's still fussing. I get us washed up, and there's no paper towels. Really? My Loft pants are just as absorbent.

At this point, my hopes for a refreshing peach and ginger tea refill are shattered. I reluctantly throw the cup away and carry him out the door.

So that's it folks. My son's mouth was on the floor of a public restroom today. Oh well. At least he got his lunch.

Embrace it, love it.

Dreamlights...Please Just Stop

I'm really tired of seeing this "Dreamlight" commercial. WTH is wrong with the producers, directors, or whoever created this three minute waste of my life. Have you seen it? Good Lord. I'm so tired of watching this hot mess.

These moms are freaking creepy. Heck a couple of boys are sleeping under some blanket fort on a hardwood floor. Yeah that's not comfortable. The kids all wait until the light is off and the door is shut before they turn on their "Dreamlight" pals. What are they waiting on? Why not turn them on while ole' mommy is in the room? Something to hide? There's such anticipation with the turning on of the Dreamlight. And what's up with the fiercely bright stage lighting the commercial advertises? We all know these stuffed animals aren't going to light up the room like a freaking Lady Gaga concert. If your  kid needs that much light at night, just turn on the ceiling light and buy something more practical. Like a Shamwow.

Keep dreaming on with #failDreeeeamliiight!

Normal Things I Hate Doing

There are all things we hate to do on a daily basis. Small things that just suck. Here is a list of things I hate doing on a daily basis. Why? Because it's super interesting.

1. Getting gas: I detest getting gas. I ride the fumes as long as possible. Now that my car has one of those spiffy screens that tells you exactly how many miles you have before you're stuck on the side of the road calling your husband for help.

2. Showering: Now that I'm a mom, showering is just a pain. It's a race against time. While we're on the subject of showering, I pretty much hate conditioning too. Why can't my hair get silky soft with shampoo? I hate drying my hair too. My arms get tired and I sweat. Ugh.

3. Looking for remotes: When we lose the remote to the tv, I'll do a general living room/kitchen scan. If I can't find it, I either get on my laptop or I just push the button on the tv and watch whatever comes on. Kyle hides them now anyways. They were in the dryer last week. 

4. Wearing a bra: Yeah, I hate bras...any type of bra. I especially hate them now that I've had a child and my boobs are larger and droopier. Suck. Bras are tight, uncomfortable, and I just don't like them. I think wearing nursing bras or no bra at all the first few weeks of Kyle's life spoiled me. I wear one most of the time, simply to prevent my boobs from falling any further south. 

5. Small talk: I avoid small talk whenever possible. I mean, when people ask how you've been, you're going to say "great!" or "fine", and we reply with the general "oh good" or whatever. It's even worse when you visit your hometown and you see people you haven't seen in maybe a few years, and you're like, uh how much information am I required to disclose in order to seem polite? So stressful. It's easier to look the other way and avoid it all together. Besides...that's what FB is for.

6. Putting on mascara: Mascara is that number one make-up product I can't live without. I look like a creepy ghost of a person without it. It takes me like 20 minutes to pile on the layers of mascara I prefer. Ugh...I really want to use that brush on prescription that makes your lashes grow at a scary rate...but apparently it can change the color of your eyes and I like mine, thanks. I'll just keep globbing my mascara on and complaining about how long it takes me. Washing it off...oh good Lord don't get me started.

7. Changing diapers: My son is 32 pounds of muscle, and he HATES getting his diaper changed. It's like two minutes of complete torture on both ends. I take kicks to my face multiple times daily.

8. Putting clothes away: Yeah, I do laundry, but I hate putting it away. I don't know why. It sucks. I'll wash all day, and pile the clothes up. I'll even separate them, and maybe fold them into piles. But, getting them back into appropriate drawers is like climbing Mt. Everest. Hell, hanging up my "hanging" clothes is even worse. My dining room table is used more for laundry than food. I'd rather clean bathrooms than hang/put away clothes. I'm weird.

9. Getting ready for bed: I hate the whole night time routine. Putting on pj's, washing/drying my face, brushing/flossing, peeing, it's just time consuming at a time when I'm usually exhausted and I just want to go to freaking bed. 

10. Washing dishes: Yeah, we all hate dishes, but I reeeeally hate it. I can't stand touching plates and utensils that have already been used. If the high pressure from the sink faucet doesn't get rid of it, I'll throw it in the dishwasher. Cleaning pots and pans is completely gross to me...ewwww. 

11. Going to the bathroom: I'm probably going to start peeing my pants when I'm 50, because I hold my pee too much. Not to the point where I'm putting it off for hours, but I just get annoyed with going to the bathroom. It's always such an inconvenience. Like right now. I need to go, but I think it can wait 20, 30 more minutes. It's even worse after you have a child, and you have an audience anytime you need to sit on the freaking toilet. And then mid stream your son gets into the cabinet and starts throwing toiletries or unused pregnancy tests everywhere. Or, he flushes the toilet while you're trying to go. It's like have a bidet. I'm classy that way.

Overambitious Mommy Thursday!

Have you moms ever had a day where you wake up feeling extra awesome and you have these awesome mommy/baby plans for the day? Yeah, that was me this morning.

I thought we'd have our first trip to the Saratoga pool. Kyle was sick pretty much all last summer, so he's never been swimming. Then, I thought we'd come home, clean up, and head to Southlake for a nice CM Cafe patio lunch together. Next, a nap, followed by playtime, coloring then dinner for the family.

But of course, great plans rarely go as expected with a baby toddler.

While getting ready for pool day, I remembered that Kyle needed a life jacket. Now, he'll be 18 months on the 25th, weighs 31 pounds, and I have no idea what type of floaty/jacket/tube thing to buy. So, we head to Academy to buy one! Fun!

No...not so fun. Who forgot to bring snacks into Academy? This girl! Who is cranky and TERRIFIED of life jackets? My son! He wanted nothing to do with any of the swimming equipment. Kyle was crying, yelling, he wanted nothing, except to be out of the basket and out of the store. He literally cried 98% of the time we were in there. A couple with a newborn son walked by us during a particularly heightened part of the tantrum, and I saw them look at each other in pure fear of their potential future. 

#fail

Well, we get to the pool, and there's a nice lady there with her two year old daughter. The lady is pregnant and laying on the chaise lounge in the 1ft kiddie pool, her daughter sitting quietly next to her, feet dangling in the water. We say hello, and I see her daughter and think...okay...I can do this.

This is our new form of "hold mommy's hand". Notice my death grip...and right after I got this shot to show his daddy, he freed himself and ran straight toward the pool. Did I give birth to one of those strong man guys?

WHOOOAAA. As SOON as I sat my bags down, Kyle was trying to dive head first into the pool. Going limp, pulling away, he was so excited to get in! I got in with him, sans the floaty, thinking he'd walk around in the little pool for a few minutes, waving his arms back and forth, and slowly get used to walking on the bottom of the pool. 

#fail

As soon as we got in, he throws his body forward, out of my arms and dives underwater. Really?! My child is afraid of nothing! I was happy he was so excited, but geez! The next 15 minutes I was trying my hardest to keep his face/head above water. He was jumping, thrusting, pulling away from me, etc. He wanted to swim like he's 20. He wanted nothing to do with me, the floaty, my hands, nothing. He's a little independent, wouldn't you say? I blame this on his father. I used to cling to my mother's leg in complete terror at those swimming lessons growing up.

My grip is somewhat loosened here, as Kyle was playing in the mushroom waterfall. Immediately after this picture he attempted to jump into the waterfall, and landed face first in the water. He loved it though! Chlorine anyone?

Anyhow, we tried the floaty, it just enabled him to flip forward or backward more easily. Then I thought, okay. I'll take the floaty off and take him into the adult pool. Yeeah...I'm smart. I would just walk around with him in the deeper pool while he's in my arms. 

#fail

Kyle wanted to swim all by himself. I was struggling thinking, how do parents do this? How do I hold him without braking my arms or drowning him? I had a little success, keeping him on his tummy and letting him paddle and kick, but OMG I had no idea what I was getting into! I was completely exhausted and winded from trying to keep my crazy active toddler above water.

And what was the other lady and her daughter doing? Watching our hot mess. She was very sweet, and her daughter was afraid of the water so she just wanted to sit quietly on the side and let her toes get wet. It blows me away when I see moms and these quiet, dainty little daughters who just sit still and look cute. I can't imagine lol. Meanwhile my son thinks he's Michael Phelps. Kyle did have a blast though...and I'm so glad we went! Here's a shot of us before we left! He's just a little upset we were leaving. :)

We went home and just as we're walking in and thought, phew! I made it! I need to sit down! We're walking into the house from the laundry room, I'm shutting the door behind me, and I feel resistance. I immediately push the door back open, look down and see Kyle's two little fingers in the door. NOO!

My heart broke. There's nothing worse than the feeling you get when you accidently hurt your sweet baby. Especially when your accident took the skin off of two little fingers and he's screaming! 

#fail 

After a short nap to recover from the door incident, we take a shower, get ready, and decide on Jason's Deli instead of Southlake. Kyle's track record for the day isn't great, so the closer the better. And what happens when we get there? Sleeping baby! I thought about going back home, but he'd probably just wake up. I thought about driving around, but I really wanted a wrap. So, voila!

Sleeping baby, hungry mommy. I loved my turkey wrap and veggies, and he was sleeping soundly. Ahhh...just what I needed after my "pool workout". But, of course it didn't last. Kyle woke up and wanted lunch too. I got him a turkey sandwich and apple. This was his reaction, right before his explosion of turkey and cheese hatred. 

#fail

Anyhow, we finished up at Jason's Deli, and he actually ate most of his food. Glad he did, as he's lost a little bit of weight. I'm not ready for the fat rolls to dissapear just yet. :) On the way home he seemed happy and content, and to end on a happy note, mommy had to stop and treat herself for an overall, pretty good day.

White chocolate mousse flavored yogurt with coconut topping, anyone? YUMMAAYY

#success

Woohoo for "Overambitious Mommy Thursday"! Now, when does that hubby get home....?

Love this!

Karma's Bitch Slap: My FB Post

So, today I had a pretty relaxing, laid back day. I thought I'd share my happiness in the moment by posting my day's activities on my Facebook page for all my friends to read. Perhaps they would share in my happy-go-lucky, aquarius like, splendor of a day...

Woke at 7, GMA, eggs and pancakes for breakfast. Crafts in pjs, lunch out with Wendy, then a two hour nap cuddled with my sweetie. Next, shopping, a nice run, then cooking dinner for the hubby. Maybe some vino.
Staying. home. rocks.

Yeah, so I posted to the world how effing wonderful my day was, and how kick ass it felt to be able to stay home. Karma was laughing at me from across the room before he ran over and shanked me in the neck.

Michael went to sleep, and I was back on baby duty. Over the next TWO hours...

1: Kyle runs around laughing and trying to slap me. Repeatedly. In the face. Shit ain't funny.

2: I rock Kyle in his room in the dark, he jumps up and runs down the hall laughing at me.

3: I let him play, and he manages to get his fat little leg stuck in the coffee table railings, and screams murder until I untangle him.

4: Coke is spilt on the floor, leather couch, my blanket, and on him. This is the second diet coke spilt. Today.

5: I rush over to grab something from Kyle and stub my toe on the table leg. I let out a sweaty, white faced m*ther***** just low enough to hope that my son doesn't magically repeat it.

6. Kyle runs up to me on the floor, hugs me, and pukes all over my hair, shirt, and arm. This is no spit up. This is acid smelling, foul, puke. Then he rubs it in, sticks his hands in his mouth and rubs it all over my face before I can get him off of me. The towel I quickly grab to wipe my face with is covered in 409.

7. Kyle ran into the bathroom to play in the toilet water. And my face is on fire. 

8. I try rocking Kyle again, and he runs away. Again.

9. I chase him, pick him up, proceed to tickle his fat thigh, and I get a hand full of shit. Shit.

10. I try to put him in his crib, he screams bloody murder for 15 minutes. I pick him up and see he's busted his upper lip on the (padded) crib railing from throwing his tantrum. Blood everywhere.

11. I finally rock him to sleep...at midnight. And, he WILL wake up at 6am. My child doesn't sleep.

12. I return to my laptop to see all my shit was totally erased when it died.

And I still have no bacon.