Kids Will Be Kids, Or Why It’s Not A Good Idea To Let My Husband Go To The Park By Himself Ever Again…

Now, to be fair, I feel the need to explain that my husband has not been allowed to go to the park with just him and the children for several years now. Ever since the Duck Incident of 2005. My husband is an animal lover. He is a rather large man, but so very gentle. He doesn’t take kindly to seeing anyone or anything mistreated. Especially a small, defenseless duck. He became quite angry while at the park one afternoon with the boys because a little boy was throwing rocks at the ducks. Not pebbles. Rocks. While his Mama did nothing. My husband told the little boy he ought not to throw rocks at animals and the little boy’s Mama¬†proceeded to start yelling at my husband instead of her mean little kid. Can you believe it? He packed up the boys and brought them home. He informed me that he would not be going to the park without me . Ever again.

And in almost four years, he hasn’t. We take the boys to the park almost every weekend. We have a great one close by. The play area is rockin’. Truly. There are nature trails, biking trails, a lake, open areas, and even a historic site. We love to go there and always have a lot of fun. Except last weekend. Let’s just say that last weekend someone should be lucky I didn’t beat her snooty ass into the ground. Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say that out loud? Well. She should be…

The park was a little more crowded than usual. We didn’t think anything about it. The weather was absolutely gorgeous. You know, one of those perfect days right before Fall? Not too hot, not too cool, with just enough of a breeze. The boys went out to play on the playground and we settled in to watch. It wasn’t long before we noticed this kid being really nasty to Nub. He kept telling him to get off his playground. He then had two of the kids he was playing with stand guard to make sure neither of my children could play on the playground. The boys were visibly confused. No one has ever treated them like that. One of the children said that Nub was weird and he didn’t want to play with him. I was shocked. I know kids will be cruel. I understand that. I just never imagined that they could be such little shits either. The same little boy actually pushed Nub. He came over and told us that he wasn’t allowed to play there anymore. His father and I told him he most certainly was and to get right back up there. He marched back up there and told those mean little kids that they shouldn’t talk to people like that. That they should take turns and not talk ugly to people. Dub right by his side. The kid told him again to leave and gave him another shove. The boys parents were right there the whole time. And never said a word. My husband calmly got up and walked over to them and told the little boy that it was NOT his playground and that all the children could play there. At that point in time the mother of the child took him and the little brother off to another area of the playground. Lucky for her. We went to school together. I would have enjoyed pounding her to bits. Not that I would have. There were children¬†present. I would have never gotten into an altercation with another parent in front of our children. But Jesus, was I ever pissed. Still kind of am.

What kind of parent lets their child act like that? AND DOES NOTHING? I would be MORTIFIED if either one of my children ever behaved like that. And then after the embarrassment wore off I would totally kill them. But that is beside the point. I just don’t understand parents who don’t seem to care how their children behave or treat other children.

I do have to say that we have NEVER been more proud of Nub and Dub than we were last weekend. They never yelled at the children nor did they push them back or touch them in any way. They stood up for each other. And when that was done, they went off to play in the sandbox. Together. Don’t get me wrong, they will pound on each other with no compunction. But you better by God not mess with either one of them while the other is right there. Then they are thick as thieves. Nub and Dub. Just wait until they are in the same school.

Look out world, The H%^&*$ Boys are not to be trifled with…


The Downside To Pre-K…

All those germy, little beasts. Spreading their delicious little germs to everything and everyone. Germs! Galore! Germy-germ factory.

That’s right, the Nub has brought the Plague of Death to his poor Bubba and his beloved Mama. Although the beloved part is now in serious doubt… It is awful, truly awful. There is hacking and absolute rivers of neon green snot.Fevers and supreme grouchiness are the orders of the day.

And that’s just me. Ba-dum, dum-dum. Sorry, it cried out for me to do that.

Back to the sickness. Fortunately, we still have some of the cough medicine their Doctor prescribed the last time they were this sick.It’s good stuff. As for moi? I am taking OTC goodies by the truckload. I still feel like crap, but it’s more headachey than anything else. And my throat feels like someone has recently grated the hell out of it. Other than that? Good times.

And now I am off to the kitchen. The least germiest beast has woken up and is demanding cinnamon toast. Or there will be consequences.

The Best Part of My Day…

My day did not start off so well this morning. I ended up having to drive my husband to work at the ungodly hour of six thirty. Bah. Work was work. Except towards the end. When this beeyotch made me get a frickity-frackin’ TRAVEL SYSTEM off the top shelf in the toy area. Because she wanted to look at it. Never mind that it weighed three million pounds. Or that I had to stand on a LADDER to get it. Oh hells no. Then, and here is the kicker, SHE DECIDES NOT TO GET IT. Wait for it. Because the cup holder on the top of the stroller was dirty.

Pissed does not even begin to cover just how angry I was. Still am. Monkeys will fly out of my ass before I lift one finger to ever help her again. Truly.

But the very best part of my day? Watching my boys “dance” to Louis Armstrong. And the rest of the songs on my dad’s Ken Burns Jazz CD set. They love it. They love all music really. It gives my father a kick to be able to share his love of music with my children.

Just like he did with me and my Bubba all those years ago.

How is This Possible?

Here’s the deal. Why is it that going out to dinner with an actual newborn, and all that that entails, seems like a piece ‘o’ the cake compared to eating out with frickin’ toddlers? Toddlers from hell, I might add. H-E-L-L. All caps. Yeah, I said it.

I remember going out to eat with Nub shortly after he was born. Which meant the ginormous diaper bag, eighty-four changes of clothes, thirty-six diapers, six bottles, and god knows what else crammed into that thing. Can you say first time Mama?! Y’all know what I’m talkin’ about!!! Then there is the lugging around of the carseat. Which almost never fits into a booth. And forget putting it on a chair. Not my preshus baby! So you have to place it in one of those thingys. Which then gets you dirty looks from all the waiters close to your table, because who the hell can get around those monstrosities? Then you get to scarf down your food. Or bring it home. Good times.

I also foolishly remember telling my husband something along the lines of “not being able to wait until the boys were older, because then it would be sooo much easier to take them out to eat”. Suckers. It is so not easier. It might actually be worse.

Little weasels.

Next time? My husband and I are going out to eat by ourselves. Where they serve cocktails. And lot’s of ’em.

Um, yeah. I am back. Again.

Hey y’all. I know it has been way too long since I have posted anything new. I do apologize. I shall begin to try and explain exactly what has been going on. You might want to make yourself comfortable. Grab a cuppa joe. It might be a while.

We can begin with my Diddy. He underwent a double bypass two weeks ago. It went extraordinarily well. He is recovering at home now. He looks wonderful and feels better than he has in what seems like forever. He tires easily and doesn’t quite have his appetite back yet. But he’s here. And that is what matters most.

My brother flew out for the operation. I volunteered to pick him up at the airport thinking that he would be arriving at a decent time. No big. And then he informed me that his flight was coming in at 11:38. PM, people. Still, I was okay with that. I am up later than that anyway. So I head out to pick him up. My parent’s are calling me to see if I am there yet, my uncle calls to tell me that everything will be okay, and then as I am talking to my brother’s girlfriend I find out his flight is delayed. By 45 minutes. Frick. We ended up leaving the airport right around 1 AM. I don’t think either one of us were asleep before 2:30-3:00. I then had to turn around and take my husband to work at 6:00. Then come back, take a shower and get dressed. Pack the boys up and drive them to their Momo and Pawpaw’s house. Then pick up my brother and go BACK to the airport to pick up my brother’s girlfriend who was flying in from Texas. Confused yet?! I was. And tired. And in dire need of some COFFEE! We all were. We hit up Starbucks and Panera for breakfast on our way to the hospital. We also picked up a little somethin’-somethin’ for my Mama, knowing good and well that she had not yet had any thing to eat.

We made it to the hospital fairly early. We all have books. We were told we would not be able to be in the same room with him until he was back in SICU. It sucked, but we understood. And then we met his nurse. Miss Ruby. What a jewel.I said that our last name was L. and she said that we weren’t who she was trying to find. The lady next to me started talking about how the lady she was looking for had these ” two cute little grandsons she had named Nub and Dub” and I turned to her and introduced myself as the Mama of said Nub and Dub. Apparently my mother had been waxing poetic about her grandbabies. Miss Ruby asked who we were and we gave her our names. And that was all it took. She immediately took us back to where Diddy was. We were able to talk to him for a few minutes before they began prepping him for the four hour surgery. It was a little scary seeing him like that. They had an IV hooked up yo his carotid artery, just in case. His doctor came in and introduced himself to J., J., and I. He was cool as a cucumber. I was very impressed. He explained what he would be doing and answered all our questions. Then the team came in to begin prepping him for surgery. We retired to the waiting room. And what would probably be the longest four hours of my life.

I don’t know what I would have done without my Bubba. He was a rock. Truly. He fed us, made sure Mama was okay, made jokes(yeah, we are those kinds of people- we choose to laugh rather than cry) and just pretty much rocked in the free world. Please don’t think his girlfriend wasn’t completely awesome too, she was. But she also had her own drama goin’ on at the same time. Really, what is the point of having drama if you can’t have a crapload of it going on at the same time?!

So, my Diddy is home. It should be all good. Except it’s not. He can’t work for another four to six weeks. My mother doesn’t work because she watches the boys so I can work. But now she is taking care of Diddy. So I have had to cut back on my hours. Which has hurt us financially. I decided to get another job. I am thinking about going back to work bartending on the weekends, but until I can find somewhere to hire me I had to come up with something else. So I am selling Avon. It was only ten bucks to sign up. I have a website, but I am pretty sure I am not allowed to mention it/pimp myself on my own blog. Which is lame. Whatev. If anyone is interested leave me a comment and I will give you my e-mail.

And now I am beginning the process of signing Nub up for Pre-K. Jesus. Pre-K. It pains me to think about it. He’ll be headed to college next week. I am joking, but damned if it doesn’t really feel like that some days. Time goes by so fast. Seems like it was only yesterday that we brought him home from the hospital. Okay, enough with all the moopy talk. I promise.

I am okay. Just tired and stretched way too thin. I am trying to just breathe and let go of some of the more unimportant things right now. Housework would be number one on that list! Kidding. Sort of. My house is semi-clean. Just not on par with my usual standards. I look at it this way- you don’t like it, then you can lump it. Or bite me.

I do feel better after unloading all of this on you guys. I need to get back to posting everyday, for my own sanity. Or what is left of it at any rate. Thanks y’all. You ROCK.

Pink Pig, Here We Come!

We have lived in Georgia for well over twenty years now. And I am ashamed to say, have never ridden “Priscilla”. I have received her as a Christmas present in all her stuffed glory numerous times. Ridden her? No. That is all about to change.

My mother informed me last night that “she was taking her grandbabies to see the Pink Pig”. Which means that I am driving and basically going along as back up. I asked her why we had never been to ride “Priscilla”. She said it was because we were too old when we moved here. I think that’s a load of bunk.

I don’t think you are ever too old to ride a Pink Pig named “Priscilla”. It’s a Christmas tradition, and therefore exempt from age limits.

That’s my story,anyway. Do y’all have any special family traditions involving the holidays?