Lesson 45: beat up car with a tiny motorcycle mirror bolted to the passenger side door = white trash
The car couldn't get any sexier!
January 25, 2010
Adam's Car Gets an Upgrade
Since the guy that hit Adam doesn't exist we are responsible for the repairs. Adam needed to get the car inspected and his mechanic said he really didn't need a big side mirror because of the car's dimensions. This gave Adam a great idea.
January 16, 2010
Zhu Zhu Pets
The hot trend this past holiday season, the zhu zhu pet. I had absolutely no idea as I watched the commercials at the end of summer that these little fake pets would be the "it" thing.
The funny thing is that I didn't even buy any for Christmas. My quest for the elusive zhu zhu started in September. It happened to be the only thing Marky asked for his 10th birthday on October 8th, Mr. Squiggles and a zhu zhu ball for it to run around in. (He was too embarrassed to ask his dad for it, so he asked me.)
After we realized he wouldn't be returning to my house until after his birthday, since his party fell on my weekend, we decided to go and get what he wanted together. He didn't mind that he wasn't going to get to unwrap it.
Unfortunately, when we got to Toys R Us that Saturday morning in September they informed us that they didn't have any in stock. "Really?" I skeptically asked, wondering why there would be such a demand for a toy hamster.
"Come Wednesday morning......and be early!" the sales lady warned in a tone that let me know I was about to enter a strange world I wanted no part of.
When we got home I suggested that we look online to make Marky feel better. Sold out. Everywhere. Except for Ebay where they were selling these $9.99 pets for a minimum of $30! No way!
"I'll go on Wednesday morning." I promised my son who was slipping into a zhu zhu depression. He wouldn't have it before he went home but I swore I would get the stuff and mail it in time for Oct. 8th.
Wednesday morning came and Adam decided to come with me. We dropped Jet off at preschool at 9 and wasted the hour until Toys R Us opened at Target and McDonalds with Jude and Jovie. We arrived at the toy store at 9:50 thinking that would be early enough. We were wrong. A line of people came out the door.
"What the heck?" Adam asked, "this isn't a line for what Marky wants, is it?"
"Uh, I don't know."
More people were pulling in after us, so Adam suggested I go get in line while he loaded our two youngest into the stroller. When I got in line I recognized some of the mom's of Jet's classmates. They smiled.
"Are you here for a zhu zhu pet?" one mom asked.
"Yeah, my oldest son wants one for his birthday in October." I explained.
"Oh. We're Christmas shopping." they told me.
Now, I'm not one of those year round Christmas shoppers. Each one of my kids get three presents. That's it! So buying something too far in advance is no good. The things my kids are into change every other day. To avoid disappointment we wait until December. That way, what they are into will probably still be the same on December 25th.
My sights drifted up to the front of the line. There sat two ladies in lawn chairs with coffee. How long had they been waiting there? I was deeply disturbed. It was September for crying out loud! I thought this behavior only happened on Black Friday. (Which I avoid at all costs being a germ-a-phobe and all.)
Adam and the kids soon joined me. Adam looked around, "Is this a line for that thing Marky wants?" he asked in disbelief. I nodded. He let out a very loud sigh. "Oh man. I promised myself I would never be this parent!" I couldn't help but sympathize. "What is it exactly we're waiting for?" he asked.
"A zhu zhu pet and ball." I told him.
"Huh? A zoo pet? What the hell is a zoo pet?" I could tell the whole ordeal was getting to him. Adam is one of those "cool" guys. He's always reminded me of James Dean, Danny Zuko, or the Fonz. Can you seriously see any of those men waiting in line at Toys R Us for a zhu zhu pet?
"Not a zoo pet, a zhu zhu pet. It's a little mechanical hamster." Looking back, I should have left off the last part.
Adam's mouth dropped open as he stared at me for a good minute. "We're standing in this ridiculous line for a mechanical hamster?!" his voice breaking at the end. "A mechanical hamster?! Are you serious?!"
He waited for an answer but didn't get one. The doors had opened. I left Adam to suffer in his "uncool" torment. My attention went to the lawn chair ladies who had grabbed two carts and ran into the store. I could see the small display. Pets on the left, accessories to the right. Each lady grabbed four pets and then filled the rest of their carts with accessories. They didn't even seem like they cared about what they were getting. By the time their carts were full, there were hardly any accessories left, and there were still a bunch of people ahead of us.
"I'm not doing this." Adam stated as he pushed forward toward the non-zhu zhu pet door. "The kids and I are going to go look at real toys."
By the time I got to the display the accessories were long gone. There was a limit on the hamsters. You were only permitted to buy four at a time. The employees looked at me like I was some sort of nut when I walked up for my turn and only picked up Mr. Squiggles.
After getting only half of what I came for, I went to find my family. I found Adam walking past the lawn chair ladies who were on their cell phones.
"You make me sick!" Adam yelled as he scoweled at the women. They paused to look at him then ran away.
"What was that about?" I asked feeling embarrassed by my husband's behavior.
"You should have heard them!" he said, "They were boasting about taking almost everything."
We walked by them again at the check out. They stared at Adam like he were some maniac ready to cut them. Instead, he pointed and said entirely too loud, "Honey, ask them what their ebay name is so we can get one of those balls for three times it's worth....plus shipping!"
I was slightly mortified by Adam's outbursts, but I didn't feel so bad when week after week the same ladies cleaned out the accessories making it impossible for us to get that darn ball.
The funny thing is that I didn't even buy any for Christmas. My quest for the elusive zhu zhu started in September. It happened to be the only thing Marky asked for his 10th birthday on October 8th, Mr. Squiggles and a zhu zhu ball for it to run around in. (He was too embarrassed to ask his dad for it, so he asked me.)
After we realized he wouldn't be returning to my house until after his birthday, since his party fell on my weekend, we decided to go and get what he wanted together. He didn't mind that he wasn't going to get to unwrap it.
Unfortunately, when we got to Toys R Us that Saturday morning in September they informed us that they didn't have any in stock. "Really?" I skeptically asked, wondering why there would be such a demand for a toy hamster.
"Come Wednesday morning......and be early!" the sales lady warned in a tone that let me know I was about to enter a strange world I wanted no part of.
When we got home I suggested that we look online to make Marky feel better. Sold out. Everywhere. Except for Ebay where they were selling these $9.99 pets for a minimum of $30! No way!
"I'll go on Wednesday morning." I promised my son who was slipping into a zhu zhu depression. He wouldn't have it before he went home but I swore I would get the stuff and mail it in time for Oct. 8th.
Wednesday morning came and Adam decided to come with me. We dropped Jet off at preschool at 9 and wasted the hour until Toys R Us opened at Target and McDonalds with Jude and Jovie. We arrived at the toy store at 9:50 thinking that would be early enough. We were wrong. A line of people came out the door.
"What the heck?" Adam asked, "this isn't a line for what Marky wants, is it?"
"Uh, I don't know."
More people were pulling in after us, so Adam suggested I go get in line while he loaded our two youngest into the stroller. When I got in line I recognized some of the mom's of Jet's classmates. They smiled.
"Are you here for a zhu zhu pet?" one mom asked.
"Yeah, my oldest son wants one for his birthday in October." I explained.
"Oh. We're Christmas shopping." they told me.
Now, I'm not one of those year round Christmas shoppers. Each one of my kids get three presents. That's it! So buying something too far in advance is no good. The things my kids are into change every other day. To avoid disappointment we wait until December. That way, what they are into will probably still be the same on December 25th.
My sights drifted up to the front of the line. There sat two ladies in lawn chairs with coffee. How long had they been waiting there? I was deeply disturbed. It was September for crying out loud! I thought this behavior only happened on Black Friday. (Which I avoid at all costs being a germ-a-phobe and all.)
Adam and the kids soon joined me. Adam looked around, "Is this a line for that thing Marky wants?" he asked in disbelief. I nodded. He let out a very loud sigh. "Oh man. I promised myself I would never be this parent!" I couldn't help but sympathize. "What is it exactly we're waiting for?" he asked.
"A zhu zhu pet and ball." I told him.
"Huh? A zoo pet? What the hell is a zoo pet?" I could tell the whole ordeal was getting to him. Adam is one of those "cool" guys. He's always reminded me of James Dean, Danny Zuko, or the Fonz. Can you seriously see any of those men waiting in line at Toys R Us for a zhu zhu pet?
"Not a zoo pet, a zhu zhu pet. It's a little mechanical hamster." Looking back, I should have left off the last part.
Adam's mouth dropped open as he stared at me for a good minute. "We're standing in this ridiculous line for a mechanical hamster?!" his voice breaking at the end. "A mechanical hamster?! Are you serious?!"
He waited for an answer but didn't get one. The doors had opened. I left Adam to suffer in his "uncool" torment. My attention went to the lawn chair ladies who had grabbed two carts and ran into the store. I could see the small display. Pets on the left, accessories to the right. Each lady grabbed four pets and then filled the rest of their carts with accessories. They didn't even seem like they cared about what they were getting. By the time their carts were full, there were hardly any accessories left, and there were still a bunch of people ahead of us.
"I'm not doing this." Adam stated as he pushed forward toward the non-zhu zhu pet door. "The kids and I are going to go look at real toys."
By the time I got to the display the accessories were long gone. There was a limit on the hamsters. You were only permitted to buy four at a time. The employees looked at me like I was some sort of nut when I walked up for my turn and only picked up Mr. Squiggles.
After getting only half of what I came for, I went to find my family. I found Adam walking past the lawn chair ladies who were on their cell phones.
"You make me sick!" Adam yelled as he scoweled at the women. They paused to look at him then ran away.
"What was that about?" I asked feeling embarrassed by my husband's behavior.
"You should have heard them!" he said, "They were boasting about taking almost everything."
We walked by them again at the check out. They stared at Adam like he were some maniac ready to cut them. Instead, he pointed and said entirely too loud, "Honey, ask them what their ebay name is so we can get one of those balls for three times it's worth....plus shipping!"
I was slightly mortified by Adam's outbursts, but I didn't feel so bad when week after week the same ladies cleaned out the accessories making it impossible for us to get that darn ball.
Lesson 43: exploiting poor parents via ebay = white trash
Marky was very forgiving when I sent a pet with no hamster ball. I told him we would eventually get one, and he was alright with that. Little did I know we wouldn't be able to get one until Thanksgiving weekend!
It just so happened, that a chef that Adam worked with called him and told him that her mom worked at Hallmark and they had gotten a large shipment of just zhu zhu balls, and she wanted to know if Adam was still looking for one. So, not only did we finally get a ball, but we also got the chef's mom's discount. Suck it lawn chair ladies!!
After the whole ordeal, Adam and I never wanted to see another dang zhu zhu pet as long as we lived. We didn't think we had anything to worry about since the other kids thought Squiggles was cool but never asked for one of their own.
It is now January. The kids are back in school, Christmas is over. All I have to say is "Darn you show-and-tell!"
To my horror, Jet came home from pre-school this week after "bring a Christmas present" show-and-tell day. He got in the van and stated, "I need a zhu zhu pet for my birthday." (Which is in February.)
"We'll see." I responded, trying to quickly dispel the thought from my mind, but there was no escaping it. The whole way home I got a detailed account of all the zhu zhu pets, and zhu zhu balls, and zhu zhu cars, etc that his classmates had brought in. It was like he was the only one without them. Curse you peer pressure!
When we got home, Adam had to take a quick trip to work to do the ordering and he let Jet tag along. A few minutes after their departure I called Adam, "Hey, ask Jet what he wants for his birthday."
"What do you want for your birthday buddy?" I heard him ask. After a few moments of silence Adam quietly said, "I hate you", under his breath so Jet wouldn't hear.
I chuckled as I hung up the phone.
Lesson 44: ample amounts of stress and anxiety because of a mechanical hamster = white trash
Oh, the things we do for our children. ;)
January 3, 2010
Booger Eye
Yet again, the Mother of the Year Award eludes me. I try so hard to be June Cleaver, but always end up like Peg Bundy.
Now, everyone knows how much I love germs. Anyway, the kids got some never ending cold three days before Christmas vacation and have been sick ever since. The cold consists of extremely thick disgusting green boogers and horrible cough and one day of fever. Fun. We went no where this Christmas holiday and warned anyone who wanted to come to our house. I don’t like to share our diseases.
I, of course, was the last person to get sick. (On Christmas Day! Lucky me.) The next day was my day of fever and the kids were extremely restless and coming down of their Christmas high. They were all miserable and nasty to one another. Adam had to work, so I had to deal with all the nonsense very sick, 8 months pregnant, and alone.
The kids obviously didn’t care how sick I was because their demands were high and their fighting was out of control. This is where I messed up. Jagger and Jude had gotten into a fight and Jag ended up hitting Jude. Jag of course had to go to time out. He refused to go so I had to pick him up and carry him. (He weighs over 50 lbs. Ugh.) This caused me to have some Braxton Hicks on top of feeling like a feeces sandwich. I turned and Jude had big tears running down his face accompanied by a stream of bright green flowing out both nostrils down into his mouth. I sighed and got a tissue. I picked him up and immediately removed the boogers. Then, without thinking, because I was barely alive and in pain, I wiped his eye with the booger part of the tissue. The voice in my head screamed at my hand that seemed to be on autopilot. My hand finally realized what it was doing and threw the tissue. I ran him over and tried to clean him up properly with clean rags, but the damage was done. I knew it was coming, but I didn’t know how bad.
The next morning, just as I had suspected, Jude woke up with that eye crusted shut. He cried as I put a warm moist rag on his eye to remove the nastiness. I cleaned it, but it oozed all day. It was such a challenge to try and keep him from picking at it. He kept rubbing his eye and then would immediately try to rub the other one with the same hand! It made me insane! Of course, two days later the other eye was crusty. I called the doctor and told him what happened, despite being mortified to tell him it was entirely my fault. Mother of the Year right here! He told me he figured it would clear up on its own and didn’t need any medical attention. I just needed to keep the warm compresses on it. Not like that was an easy task, holding a 3 year old down to remove hard crust from his eyelashes that are sticking like they were placed there with super glue.
It was really embarrassing when my mom, dad, and siblings came to visit. We woke one morning and the kids had already gotten up. Jude didn’t wake me to clean his eyes. I couldn’t figure out why, but the chocolate beard he had when I came down explained it. There stood my youngest son with his eyes nearly crusted shut, green crust surrounding both nostrils with a stream of green ooze coming from the middle, accompanied by a self-made chocolate beard.
Now, everyone knows how much I love germs. Anyway, the kids got some never ending cold three days before Christmas vacation and have been sick ever since. The cold consists of extremely thick disgusting green boogers and horrible cough and one day of fever. Fun. We went no where this Christmas holiday and warned anyone who wanted to come to our house. I don’t like to share our diseases.
I, of course, was the last person to get sick. (On Christmas Day! Lucky me.) The next day was my day of fever and the kids were extremely restless and coming down of their Christmas high. They were all miserable and nasty to one another. Adam had to work, so I had to deal with all the nonsense very sick, 8 months pregnant, and alone.
The kids obviously didn’t care how sick I was because their demands were high and their fighting was out of control. This is where I messed up. Jagger and Jude had gotten into a fight and Jag ended up hitting Jude. Jag of course had to go to time out. He refused to go so I had to pick him up and carry him. (He weighs over 50 lbs. Ugh.) This caused me to have some Braxton Hicks on top of feeling like a feeces sandwich. I turned and Jude had big tears running down his face accompanied by a stream of bright green flowing out both nostrils down into his mouth. I sighed and got a tissue. I picked him up and immediately removed the boogers. Then, without thinking, because I was barely alive and in pain, I wiped his eye with the booger part of the tissue. The voice in my head screamed at my hand that seemed to be on autopilot. My hand finally realized what it was doing and threw the tissue. I ran him over and tried to clean him up properly with clean rags, but the damage was done. I knew it was coming, but I didn’t know how bad.
The next morning, just as I had suspected, Jude woke up with that eye crusted shut. He cried as I put a warm moist rag on his eye to remove the nastiness. I cleaned it, but it oozed all day. It was such a challenge to try and keep him from picking at it. He kept rubbing his eye and then would immediately try to rub the other one with the same hand! It made me insane! Of course, two days later the other eye was crusty. I called the doctor and told him what happened, despite being mortified to tell him it was entirely my fault. Mother of the Year right here! He told me he figured it would clear up on its own and didn’t need any medical attention. I just needed to keep the warm compresses on it. Not like that was an easy task, holding a 3 year old down to remove hard crust from his eyelashes that are sticking like they were placed there with super glue.
It was really embarrassing when my mom, dad, and siblings came to visit. We woke one morning and the kids had already gotten up. Jude didn’t wake me to clean his eyes. I couldn’t figure out why, but the chocolate beard he had when I came down explained it. There stood my youngest son with his eyes nearly crusted shut, green crust surrounding both nostrils with a stream of green ooze coming from the middle, accompanied by a self-made chocolate beard.
Lesson 42: this week, my son Jude is the poster child for white trash
Please don’t ever, EVER wipe your kids’ noses and then put it in their eyes. It’s not pretty. Trust me!
I’m sorry Jude for the eye contamination. Maybe I’ll do better this year! Mother of the Year 2010, here I come!
I would also like to take a minute to wish the love of my life a Happy Birthday! Happy Birthday Adam! With out you this crazy life wouldn't have been half as enjoyable. I love you so much and am so thankful you are my husband!!
December 23, 2009
Christmas Family Photos
Ah, the family photo. A beautiful moment of time captured on a glossy 8x10. For most people family pictures are treasures, where everyone is dressed in their best and their beautiful pearly whites dazzle the shot.
Eh, not so much in my family. We keep the torture to a minimum and only do family pictures once a year. We do them at Christmas and we take them at home. There is no need to drag poor innocent bystanders into our craziness. We’ve tried on a couple of occasions to have individual pictures taken of our kids and we never left without a frustrated photographer or some weird pose that I compromised on to get a certain kid to take a somewhat normal picture. (I have a professional photo of Marky on the wall wearing a scuba mask and snorkel. His ears are bent down and the goggle part is completely fogged over, but he wouldn’t stop being difficult without knowing scuba gear picture was in his future.)
Eh, not so much in my family. We keep the torture to a minimum and only do family pictures once a year. We do them at Christmas and we take them at home. There is no need to drag poor innocent bystanders into our craziness. We’ve tried on a couple of occasions to have individual pictures taken of our kids and we never left without a frustrated photographer or some weird pose that I compromised on to get a certain kid to take a somewhat normal picture. (I have a professional photo of Marky on the wall wearing a scuba mask and snorkel. His ears are bent down and the goggle part is completely fogged over, but he wouldn’t stop being difficult without knowing scuba gear picture was in his future.)
Lesson 40: professional photos of your children wearing dollar store scuba gear = white trash
We don’t feel guilty, however, asking our family and close friends to suffer through the nonsense. They know us; it’s not really a shock when my children act up when asked to pose for a picture. They have strict orders to just stand there and snap away no matter what is going on. That way, after about 20-some shots maybe, just maybe, we’ll have something we can use.
We’ve never achieved that “family photo”. It’s like a unicorn that I just can’t touch, or that lottery ticket that’s always off by two numbers, or that pregnancy test that always reads positive right when Adam gets promoted. You always have these grand ideas but reality is no where near what’s in your head.
Sure, I’ll admit it. I envision that beautiful picture where my kids are all smiling and wearing clothes that match. My boys wearing ties and my daughter in a frilly dress with bows in her hair, while Adam and I look put together and respectable all cuddled together with our well behaved children.
WAKE UP JESS!!!
No, our pictures are nothing like my visions. They are in fact, quite the opposite. They usually resemble some sort of out of control nightmare. We never attempted a family pic until Jet was born, but these are the results.
2005: Jagger was throwing such a tantrum about a Mario and Luigi doll that the only way we could get him to stay put was for Adam to hold him. In the photo that was “the best one” Adam is holding a screaming red-faced Jagger upside down. “Merry Christmas!”
2006: Big surprise, Jagger is crying again. Bonus….Jet is crying as well,and Marky is giving psycho Jagger rabbit ears. Awesome. “Happy Holidays!”
2007: Adam had to work early, so I took a picture of the boys. I had morning sickness and could seriously care less about how it turned out. Oddly enough, it’s probably the best photo I have of my boys.
2008: Marky was in a REAL bad mood. He refused to even take down the hood of his sweatshirt. It wasn’t just over his head, oh no, he had pulled it completely over his face. He sat there blindly holding a screaming Jovie. My beautiful baby girl, remember the one in the frilly dress and bows? Nope, red-faced and hating life.
2009: I finally gave up on the dream. If you can’t beat em’, join em’. This year we took a crazy picture on purpose and in addition to the Christmas card we gave out some of Adam’s delicious home-made spiced nuts to go with them. “Merry Christmas! From The Nut House” (Yes that is Marky's butt!Don't ask)
We’ve never achieved that “family photo”. It’s like a unicorn that I just can’t touch, or that lottery ticket that’s always off by two numbers, or that pregnancy test that always reads positive right when Adam gets promoted. You always have these grand ideas but reality is no where near what’s in your head.
Sure, I’ll admit it. I envision that beautiful picture where my kids are all smiling and wearing clothes that match. My boys wearing ties and my daughter in a frilly dress with bows in her hair, while Adam and I look put together and respectable all cuddled together with our well behaved children.
WAKE UP JESS!!!
No, our pictures are nothing like my visions. They are in fact, quite the opposite. They usually resemble some sort of out of control nightmare. We never attempted a family pic until Jet was born, but these are the results.
2005: Jagger was throwing such a tantrum about a Mario and Luigi doll that the only way we could get him to stay put was for Adam to hold him. In the photo that was “the best one” Adam is holding a screaming red-faced Jagger upside down. “Merry Christmas!”
2006: Big surprise, Jagger is crying again. Bonus….Jet is crying as well,and Marky is giving psycho Jagger rabbit ears. Awesome. “Happy Holidays!”
2007: Adam had to work early, so I took a picture of the boys. I had morning sickness and could seriously care less about how it turned out. Oddly enough, it’s probably the best photo I have of my boys.
2008: Marky was in a REAL bad mood. He refused to even take down the hood of his sweatshirt. It wasn’t just over his head, oh no, he had pulled it completely over his face. He sat there blindly holding a screaming Jovie. My beautiful baby girl, remember the one in the frilly dress and bows? Nope, red-faced and hating life.
2009: I finally gave up on the dream. If you can’t beat em’, join em’. This year we took a crazy picture on purpose and in addition to the Christmas card we gave out some of Adam’s delicious home-made spiced nuts to go with them. “Merry Christmas! From The Nut House” (Yes that is Marky's butt!Don't ask)
Lesson 41: Christmas family photos that are always a hideous train wreck featuring screaming kids or their rear ends = white trash
December 19, 2009
Pedicure
Adam called me today and told me he scheduled me for a surprise haircut in honor of my 30th birthday tomorrow. That's right, today was my last day in my 20's. Not that I care. I'll be having my 6th baby soon and I always think people assume I started having kids at 12.
Excited, since it's been a year since my last haircut, I took a quick shower and made my way down to the beautician. I walked in and told them who I was.
"Oh, your husband scheduled you a haircut and a pedicure." the lady said with a smile.
My smile faded, "A what now?!" I demanded.
"A haircut and a pedicure?" she answered with hesitation.
"Are you kidding me?!"
It's not that I wasn't thankful for the present (I'd never had a real pedicure before), but he could have told me all the details. The problem was that my feet and legs were absolutely not presentable. Adam has been working from 9am-midnight every day except Sunday and I'm extremely pregnant and uncomfortable. I never have time to shave my legs nor do I really want to bend that way unless absolutely necessary. Not only have my legs not been shaved in over a month, but I haven't painted my toe nails since my brother's wedding on August 1st. Needless to say, all that was left were weird colored shapes on my big toes. Classy.
Excited, since it's been a year since my last haircut, I took a quick shower and made my way down to the beautician. I walked in and told them who I was.
"Oh, your husband scheduled you a haircut and a pedicure." the lady said with a smile.
My smile faded, "A what now?!" I demanded.
"A haircut and a pedicure?" she answered with hesitation.
"Are you kidding me?!"
It's not that I wasn't thankful for the present (I'd never had a real pedicure before), but he could have told me all the details. The problem was that my feet and legs were absolutely not presentable. Adam has been working from 9am-midnight every day except Sunday and I'm extremely pregnant and uncomfortable. I never have time to shave my legs nor do I really want to bend that way unless absolutely necessary. Not only have my legs not been shaved in over a month, but I haven't painted my toe nails since my brother's wedding on August 1st. Needless to say, all that was left were weird colored shapes on my big toes. Classy.
Lesson 40: going to your first pedicure with hairy legs and chipped painted big toes = white trash
December 7, 2009
Prize In The Box
I really miss the days when I could get a simple bowl of cereal with no surprises!
For all those who are wondering.....yes, I still ate it.
Lesson 39: pouring a bowl of cereal and having a dirty Hot Wheels car fall into your bowl with some added chunks of dirt = white trash
For all those who are wondering.....yes, I still ate it.
December 5, 2009
Jet, The Precocious 'Planer'
My third son Jet is the calmest child I have. He has never really given us any grief. Even my pregnancy was easy. I never had morning sickness, I didn’t feel tired, and the actual labor was short and sweet. As a baby, Jet rarely cried. He sat quietly, seeming quite content with observing his surroundings. When he did cry he had an abnormally deep voice that sounded ridiculous next to any other crying baby.
As he’s grown these past years, (he’ll be 5 in February) I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “Jet’s an old soul.” Truth be told, he really is! Now that he is able to express his wants, he often makes us laugh at what he thinks is “cool”. For instance, when he styles his hair, his two older brothers have the messy look, but he demands that his hair be parted on the side and combed neatly over. “I need my hair in a circle.” he tells us. He enjoys button down shirts, and when it came time to choose a backpack for school he chose one that resembles a briefcase. It has Hot Wheels on it, but he does in fact carry it like a briefcase even though it has a strap to go over his shoulder. He looks like a middle aged man on his way to the office when he goes to preschool.
It’s not only his appearance that is more mature than most 4 year olds, it’s also the role he’s taken in our family. At a very young age he took it upon himself to pretty much take care of Jagger, even though Jag is 19 months older. He learned how to work the tv, vcr, and dvd player when he was a little over the age of 1 so he was able to appease a screaming Jagger who melted down every time one of his favorite shows or movie ended. Jet would immediately toddle over and put in a movie he knew Jagger enjoyed, stopping his tantrum. He also has a hard time watching Jagger struggle with various tasks. When Jagger is doing work at the table with his TSS Jet gets in trouble at least once a day for whispering the answers to his older brother.
I’ve also noticed over the past year that Jet has become an authoritative figure to his brothers, definitely not Marky, but to the other two. I listen to them playing upstairs and I hear Jet listing the rules, and then occasionally when someone is out of line I hear, “Do you want to go to time out?” He’s never actually put them in time out. I would never allow that, but he has put himself in time out on a couple of occasions. I’m not exactly sure why. He does get in trouble when the boys are doing something undesirable and I ask them to stop, just to be told “Jet says it’s ok.” I always respond with, “Jet’s not the boss. I am!”
Lesson 37: your kids thinking your 4 year old is the boss = white trash
Other than being somewhat of a know-it-all, Jet is the sweetest and most helpful little boy you’ll ever meet. The one thing that makes me absolutely crazy is that he whines. A lot. It’s not really his fault. It was a crucial time for Jagger when Jet was learning to talk. It was the point where Jagger was at his worst. He cried and threw tantrums all day, which took up most of my attention. Since Jet was so easy going we rarely paid him any attention. Unfortunately, he learned that if he whined we immediately responded. Jet making any kind of fuss made us think there was something seriously wrong. Soon he only spoke in a whiny voice. Now that he’s a little older he doesn’t whine quite as much, but going from all the time to just 80% of the time isn’t exactly where I’d like to be.
I do want to tell you about his whiny voice. It is very distinct since he has that bizarre deep raspy voice. You can always tell when it’s Jet with a complaint. There is no mistaking it.
Anyway, on a beautiful spring day last year I had gone out to sit in my favorite spot, the rocking chair on the front porch. I rocked in the sunlight enjoying the vitamin D, since I had been deficient for so long after winter. I had the door and the living room windows wide open so I could hear the kids who were resting and watching SpongeBob. My cousin Brett (basement dweller) came out to join me. (Our family’s mood depends on the sun, so he often joined me in the basking.) We sat and chatted about trivial things until I heard Jet whining.
“What Jet?” I asked, not getting up from my chair. No response. I looked at Brett and shrugged. “Guess it wasn’t that important.”
A few minutes later I heard him again. “Jet, what’s the matter?” Still no response.
“What’s his deal today?” Brett asked.
“Who knows? Someone is probably looking at him funny.”
Again, Jet lets out another distinct plea. I was fed up by this point and got up from my relaxing place, going to the door to see for myself what was causing his grief. “What is going on in there?” I demanded as I stepped inside the door. To my surprise I see the boys sitting peacefully on the couch looking as if they were going to fall asleep. Jet’s fingers were in his mouth and he sat sniffing his blanky. I looked at them for a minute as they stared back seeming as confused as me. It didn’t look like anything was going on. They weren’t even anywhere near each other. Hmmmmmm, I growled. I gave them 'the eye' just in case, to let them know I didn’t appreciate being interrupted from my relaxation. (Which I never seem to get!)
I went back to my chair and resumed my rocking. “What’s going on in there?” Brett asked.
“I have no idea. They’re all just sitting there.”
“Then why does he keep whining?”
I shrugged my shoulders and rolled my eyes. Right as I do, I hear it again. I slapped my hands down on the chair arms and looked at Brett in a way to say, Can you believe this? He chuckled, “He’s being ridiculous today.”
I stood up and quietly made my way to the door. I was determined to find out what was really going on. I stood by the door in a manner that allowed me to see them, but they couldn’t see me. I watched Jet like a hawk. He sat motionless, completely zoned out on the nonsense that is SpongeBob. As I observed I heard it again, but oddly Jet didn’t move. I whip my head out and give Brett a confused look.
“What’s he whining about?” he asked, because he had heard the noise too.
“It wasn’t him.” I said bewildered.
“What?!” Brett immediately got up and joined me at the door. We both watched intently waiting for the sound to come again. Sure enough, a few seconds later, it came with absolutely no movement from my whiny son. We reeled our heads away from the door and stared at each other completely dumbfounded.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Maybe he’s a ventriloquist.” Brett joked.
If he was, at age 4 he put a lot of professionals to shame!
We both laughed, but that didn’t answer my question. We sat and listened to the sound as it rang out several more times. Realizing it was coming from somewhere at the top of the hill, I went up to investigate. It turns out, someone up the street was in the middle of home renovations and had been using a wood planer.
I walked back down the hill, laughing all the way. When I got back on the porch I told Brett what I saw.
“Are you serious? It sounds just like Jet whining!” He laughed.
A few minutes passed when we heard a louder version of what we had been hearing coming from the open window.
“Quit plane-ing!” Brett yelled to Jet.
Brett and I looked at each other for a minute before breaking out into hysterics. It worked on so many levels. Complaining….Plane-ing…..it was too perfect! We’ve used it ever since. Jet is our ‘planer’, and when he whines too much “Stop plane-ing” is what we tell him.
Lesson 38: having a whining child that sounds like carpentry equipment = white trash
My son’s whine may resemble the grating sound of metal on wood, but I wouldn’t trade him for the world, and I am so glad he’s part of our family!
As he’s grown these past years, (he’ll be 5 in February) I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard, “Jet’s an old soul.” Truth be told, he really is! Now that he is able to express his wants, he often makes us laugh at what he thinks is “cool”. For instance, when he styles his hair, his two older brothers have the messy look, but he demands that his hair be parted on the side and combed neatly over. “I need my hair in a circle.” he tells us. He enjoys button down shirts, and when it came time to choose a backpack for school he chose one that resembles a briefcase. It has Hot Wheels on it, but he does in fact carry it like a briefcase even though it has a strap to go over his shoulder. He looks like a middle aged man on his way to the office when he goes to preschool.
It’s not only his appearance that is more mature than most 4 year olds, it’s also the role he’s taken in our family. At a very young age he took it upon himself to pretty much take care of Jagger, even though Jag is 19 months older. He learned how to work the tv, vcr, and dvd player when he was a little over the age of 1 so he was able to appease a screaming Jagger who melted down every time one of his favorite shows or movie ended. Jet would immediately toddle over and put in a movie he knew Jagger enjoyed, stopping his tantrum. He also has a hard time watching Jagger struggle with various tasks. When Jagger is doing work at the table with his TSS Jet gets in trouble at least once a day for whispering the answers to his older brother.
I’ve also noticed over the past year that Jet has become an authoritative figure to his brothers, definitely not Marky, but to the other two. I listen to them playing upstairs and I hear Jet listing the rules, and then occasionally when someone is out of line I hear, “Do you want to go to time out?” He’s never actually put them in time out. I would never allow that, but he has put himself in time out on a couple of occasions. I’m not exactly sure why. He does get in trouble when the boys are doing something undesirable and I ask them to stop, just to be told “Jet says it’s ok.” I always respond with, “Jet’s not the boss. I am!”
Lesson 37: your kids thinking your 4 year old is the boss = white trash
I do want to tell you about his whiny voice. It is very distinct since he has that bizarre deep raspy voice. You can always tell when it’s Jet with a complaint. There is no mistaking it.
Anyway, on a beautiful spring day last year I had gone out to sit in my favorite spot, the rocking chair on the front porch. I rocked in the sunlight enjoying the vitamin D, since I had been deficient for so long after winter. I had the door and the living room windows wide open so I could hear the kids who were resting and watching SpongeBob. My cousin Brett (basement dweller) came out to join me. (Our family’s mood depends on the sun, so he often joined me in the basking.) We sat and chatted about trivial things until I heard Jet whining.
“What Jet?” I asked, not getting up from my chair. No response. I looked at Brett and shrugged. “Guess it wasn’t that important.”
A few minutes later I heard him again. “Jet, what’s the matter?” Still no response.
“What’s his deal today?” Brett asked.
“Who knows? Someone is probably looking at him funny.”
Again, Jet lets out another distinct plea. I was fed up by this point and got up from my relaxing place, going to the door to see for myself what was causing his grief. “What is going on in there?” I demanded as I stepped inside the door. To my surprise I see the boys sitting peacefully on the couch looking as if they were going to fall asleep. Jet’s fingers were in his mouth and he sat sniffing his blanky. I looked at them for a minute as they stared back seeming as confused as me. It didn’t look like anything was going on. They weren’t even anywhere near each other. Hmmmmmm, I growled. I gave them 'the eye' just in case, to let them know I didn’t appreciate being interrupted from my relaxation. (Which I never seem to get!)
I went back to my chair and resumed my rocking. “What’s going on in there?” Brett asked.
“I have no idea. They’re all just sitting there.”
“Then why does he keep whining?”
I shrugged my shoulders and rolled my eyes. Right as I do, I hear it again. I slapped my hands down on the chair arms and looked at Brett in a way to say, Can you believe this? He chuckled, “He’s being ridiculous today.”
I stood up and quietly made my way to the door. I was determined to find out what was really going on. I stood by the door in a manner that allowed me to see them, but they couldn’t see me. I watched Jet like a hawk. He sat motionless, completely zoned out on the nonsense that is SpongeBob. As I observed I heard it again, but oddly Jet didn’t move. I whip my head out and give Brett a confused look.
“What’s he whining about?” he asked, because he had heard the noise too.
“It wasn’t him.” I said bewildered.
“What?!” Brett immediately got up and joined me at the door. We both watched intently waiting for the sound to come again. Sure enough, a few seconds later, it came with absolutely no movement from my whiny son. We reeled our heads away from the door and stared at each other completely dumbfounded.
“What is that?” I asked.
“Maybe he’s a ventriloquist.” Brett joked.
If he was, at age 4 he put a lot of professionals to shame!
We both laughed, but that didn’t answer my question. We sat and listened to the sound as it rang out several more times. Realizing it was coming from somewhere at the top of the hill, I went up to investigate. It turns out, someone up the street was in the middle of home renovations and had been using a wood planer.
I walked back down the hill, laughing all the way. When I got back on the porch I told Brett what I saw.
“Are you serious? It sounds just like Jet whining!” He laughed.
A few minutes passed when we heard a louder version of what we had been hearing coming from the open window.
“Quit plane-ing!” Brett yelled to Jet.
Brett and I looked at each other for a minute before breaking out into hysterics. It worked on so many levels. Complaining….Plane-ing…..it was too perfect! We’ve used it ever since. Jet is our ‘planer’, and when he whines too much “Stop plane-ing” is what we tell him.
Lesson 38: having a whining child that sounds like carpentry equipment = white trash
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