More Conversations with Grasshopper (You Can't Make This Stuff Up)

JR and I were talking at the dinner table the other night while Grasshopper mowed through a cheese quesodilla and grapes. JR glanced over to find that our son had managed to join the Clean Plate Club in under 4 minutes. They had the following conversation:

"Wow! Where did your dinner go, Grasshopper?"

"It in my tummy!"

"Aww, but I wanted to have some quesodilla and grapes! Now what am I going to do?"

"I dunno, but you can't have mine! Mine is in my tummy, and my tummy is attached to me."

*

*
"And not wif tape!"

Still More Conversations With Grasshopper (You Can't Make This Stuff Up)

Today, Grasshopper gave me more evidence of his ever-shrinking britches:

"Grasshopper, why don't you help me clean up these toys so that we can vacuum the den? Unci* and Granddaddy will be here tomorrow for Thanksgiving and we want everything to be nice and clean for them."

"Unci and Granddaddy are coming today!"

"No, Grasshopper. TOMORROW. The plan is for Unci and Grandaddy to be here tomorrow."

"Well, dat not my plan. I planning for dem to be here today! Humph!"



Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I hope that your family brings you many laughs during the holidays and everyday.

*Unci means grandmother in the Lakota language

More Conversations with Grasshopper (You Can't Make This Stuff Up)

"Ben took my patient." Grasshopper announced shortly after clambering out the car after school on Friday.

"Ben took your patient?"

Solemn nod.

"I'm not sure that I understand. What is a patient?"

"It when you get mad 'cause you don't wanta wait anymore!"

"Oh! You mean PATIENCE! Ben took your patience?"

"Yes! I wanted to pway wif da blue car an I asked him if it could be my turn next and him said "yes!" but him not GIVE IT TO ME!

Foot stomp. Pouty lip.

"I'm sorry honey. That's tough, huh?"

Stifling laughter.

"Yeah. Him took my patient and I didn't have it no more."

Long-suffering sigh.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Don't you hate those days where you get yourself all dressed to go cut the grass, and the lawnmower won't start and then your cell phone won't pick up a signal?



Yeah. Me too.

This is pretty much how it is on Mom Street

Susan Wagner posted this on her delightful blog Friday Playdate and I just had to bring it over here to share with you all. This is my life until next Wednesday at 9:00 am. Which is ONE WEEK. One extra-long week from today.



I'm not sure I'm going to make it...

Edited to add: I realized after posting it that this is my 150th post. That's gotta be symbolic, right?

Save Me From Boy Humor

I was in the kitchen this morning, prepping shrimp for tonight's dinner by getting the peeling and de-veining (one of my least-favorite kitchen tasks, by the way) over with.

Grasshopper was in the den being babysat by Handy Manny (have you ever noticed that the character on Handy Manny with the bad comb-over is named Mr. Lopart? or rather LOW PART!?! I only realized this after watching approximately 57,000 episodes. I am slow. And easily entertained, apparently.) and suddenly announced that he needed to go potty.

"Mommy I need to go potty!"

"Well, then go, Sweetie! You don't need me for that."

"Yes, I do!"

"No Grasshopper. You don't. You're a big boy, and you can go potty on your own. I'm busy right now."

He runs for the bathroom and a few seconds later is calling for me again. I contemplate feigning deafness, but ultimately decide that perhaps he has had some aiming issues or maybe needs a body part wiped (ahem) and give up on the shrimp so that I can investigate.

"Hang on, I'll be right there!"

"Hurry up Mommy!"

I head for the bathroom while he continues to urge me to hurry.

"Okay, dude. I'm here, what do you need?"

"You almost missed it Mommy!"

"Missed WHAT Grasshopper? I'm trying the get things done this morning and..."

"The Pee Party!"

"The what?"

"The Pee Party!"

"Grasshopper, what in the world is a pee party?"

"It like a Tea Party!"

"A PEE PARTY IS LIKE A TEA PARTY?????????"

"Yes! But different. It's funnier than a Tea Party!"

"...."

"Mommy? Where you going Mommy? I still having a Pee Party. Mommmmmmyyyy!"

Marketing FAIL

I dragged myself and Grasshopper to the grocery store yesterday, in spite of feeling like I might just be at death's door (okay, not really, but colds still SUCK) and as I wandered the produce department, Grasshopper suddenly yelped, "Dinosaur, Mommy! DINOSAUR!!!!!"

I looked around, expecting to see a dinosaur balloon or perhaps another child wearing a dino t-shirt, but saw nothing. Then, I realized that he was pointing at a display of fruit. On closer inspection, they were Dinosaur Egg pluots and each one had a teensy tiny sticker with a green brontosaurus on it.

"These are called Dinosaur Egg Pluots, buddy. Would you like some?"

"Yes! Them like apples."

"Well, they're red and they are fruit, but they're more like plums than apples. You like plums!"

"Yes! I want dem."

"Okay, we'll get a couple."

I begin sorting through the pile of fruit to find some that are ripe, but not too ripe, and with no obvious bruises.

Grasshopper is prattling on, and I'm listening with half an ear, until...

"Mommy! Give dem to me! I need to sit on dem!"

"Grasshopper, why in the world are you going to sit on our fruit?"

"So dey will hatch Mommy! I gonna hatch my dinosaur eggs!"

I am trying so very hard not to laugh in his earnest little face.

"Oh, well, see these just LOOK like dinosaur eggs, Sweetheart. They don't have baby dinosaurs in them, just fruit."

Grasshopper's bottom lip sticks out farther than I think I've ever seen and he announces, "Dat. Not. FAIR."

And he's absolutely right.

More Conversations with Grasshopper (You Can't Make This Stuff Up)

JR had to go on a long business trip this week, so I decided to throw Grasshopper in the car and drive 5 hours south my parents house and spread the waking-up-at-6:00-in-the-morning love.

The trouble with living in north Georgia, and having family in north Florida, is that you have to travel through central and south Georgia to get there.

With a three year old who has mastered the fine art of staying awake in the car so that he can ask questions (often the same question) approximately every 2.3 seconds without even pausing for breath. Patience, I haz it.

So, south Georgia: not too scenic, but full of an-mals which makes it's lack of attractive scenery forgivable, "Look Mommy, cows! Moooooo Mooooo Mooooo!" "Look Mommy, horses! Neeeeigh Neeeeigh Neieeiiigh!" "Look Mommy goats! Maaaaaa Maaaaaa Maaaaa!" etc, etc, etc.

Yesterday, as we finally approached my parent's city, signs of civilization started springing up and I figured that we were done with barnyard animals until our return trip.

Instead, I got this:

Grasshopper: "Mommy! Mommy! I saw an an-mal!"

Me: "Did you? What kind of animal was it? I didn't see one..."

Grasshopper: "It was a reindeer! A wittle one!"

Me: "You saw a little REINDEER?!?!"

Grasshopper: "Yes! It was a baby. And it was talkin!"

Me: "What was the baby reindeer saying?"

Swiveling around to look for signs that my child has somehow come down with a raging fever causing hallucinations involving reindeer in Florida.

Grasshopper looking at me like I am the stupidest person he has ever had the misfortune to spend 5 hours in the car with:

"Goo-goo, gah-gah. It a BABY Mommy."

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Grasshopper's first swim lessons.











No, I didn't know that his instructor would be incredibly patient, kind and...charming when I chose the program. Really. Stop looking at me like that!

Besides, the karma at that pool owed me.

More Conversations with Grasshopper (You Can't Make This Stuff Up)

JR: "Hey buddy, where did all of your fish sticks go?"

Grasshopper: "Dem in my tummy!"

Me: "All of them?"

Grasshopper: "Yep!"

JR: "Is there a party in your tummy?"

Grasshopper: "Yes! A Tummy Party!"

Me: "Well, what about your strawberries? They want to go to the party too!"

Grasshopper: "Whoopsie!"

[Begins cramming strawberry chunks into his mouth. Chews. Goes back for more until they're gone too.]

Grasshopper: "Now da strawberries are at my Tummy Party!"

JR: "I bet they're having fun!"

Grasshopper: "They are going to have cupcakes and a pinata at the Tummy Party!"

Me: "Oh, really?"

[Struggles not to laugh.]

Grasshopper: "And da Monkey Boy* is there!"

Me: "The Monkey Boy is in your tummy?"

Grasshopper: "Yep! I eat him!"

JR: "You ate The Monkey Boy?"

[Grins widely and nods his head enthusiastically while patting his tummy.]

Me: "That is so silly!"

Grasshopper: "No Mommy, dat's NAUGHTY!"




* The Monkey Boy is Grasshopper's best bud.

Flashback Friday: Every Woman's Worst Nightmare

I've been participating in Flashback Friday for a few weeks now, and I had something different planned for today, but since Pasha made a fool out of me yesterday...I am bringing back her most embarrassing moment. Bwahahhaha!

Every Woman's Worst Nightmare Originally published on January 13, 2009

I'm sure we've all been there:

You've had the same hairstyle for a while (let's be real, you've had the same hairstyle for years) and you're thinking, "You know, I could go for a change. I should do something new, something sassy, something unexpected with my hair." Maybe it's the change of seasons. Maybe it's the end of a relationship. Maybe you're just sick of your ponytail. Whatever.

And so you scour magazines looking for photos of women with the hair you want. In an effort to remain practical you actually look for women with the same type of hair that you have. For example, with my natural waves, I'm never gonna have Keri Russell's adorable curls or Lucy Lawless's positively reflective straight hair. So I realize that I've gotta work with what I've got. You take these photos to your stylist brimming with hope and exuberance.

But what if you haven't been taking care of your hair? What if you've gone the route of "less is more" when it comes to your personal grooming?

What if your stylist says to you, "Face the facts, girl. It's all gotta come off!"

Well, then you might look my cat, Pasha. And then you might just be a teensy, weensy bit sorry that you refused to have your hair brushed.


Just sayin'.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

On Saturday mornings I usually make a "special" breakfast and then after we eat it, we move all of the chairs out of the dining room so that the table can be wiped down thoroughly before I vacuum.

As you can see, I had a lot of help this past Saturday.

Flashback Friday: that mom

Today is my first day participating in Flashback Friday and I think it's an outstanding concept! Here is how Scary Mommy lays it out:

You know those posts that you wrote way back when only your mother was reading? The ones you wish actual people had read? That’s what Flashback Fridays are for. Don’t have any? How about that old story or photo that you could never find a reason to post? Don’t be shy!

So I present to you, my first post EVER. I made the decision not to read it before posting lest I feel that need to edit or write something else instead...

Friday, October 10, 2008

that mom

Today I was that mom in the grocery store.

You know the one: the one who just wants to accomplish her shopping trip & get home in one piece. You will all recognize her: hair in a ponytail, clutching her crumpled list & desperately brandishing toy cars like weapons, "Here Grasshopper, don't you want to play with this little car?" waves frantically in toddler's face "Wouldn't that be so much more fun than trying to convince all of these nice people that your Mommy totally sucks?"

Alas, when it's your turn to be that mom, there is little you can do to stop it. Even when you realize that you should just hang on for the ride, you keep trying to forestall the inevitable. You try everything that you can think of to appease the wailing banshee taking over your child's body, all while trying to determine which is the better value on shredded cheese, the generic store brand or the name brand with the coupon.

I tried everything and I am here to tell you that the toddler did NOT want to play with his little car. He did NOT want to play with the free balloon fetched for him from the floral department. And he MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT want to stop screaming. Apparently what he DID want to do was hurl the contents of the cart like a miniature shot-putter.

Wham! goes the shaker of smoked paprika, oh thank GOD this aisle is deserted! Splat goes the package of neufchatel cheese! Thud goes a bag of key limes! Watches in horror as toddler contorts self and reaches for GLASS jar of marinara sauce.

I cut my losses and ran.

I tucked my proverbial tail between my legs and slunk out the front door of that store as well as any woman carrying a screaming two (but looks like he's four) year old can slink. I left the cart full of groceries (and probably a toy car or three) in the international foods aisle with neufchatel cheese and key limes on the floor. I don't know where the paprika ended up.

I always thought that when my turn came to be that mom I would be prepared. I was certain that I would remain calm and collected in the face of attempted toddler tyranny. I would do as the experts say and ignore the writhing, screaming child and continue doing what I came to the store to do. Failing that, I would carry the child to the car for a time-out until he could collect himself and we could reenter the store to cheers from admiring parents and non-parents everywhere.

This obviously is not what happened.

I hope that with each turn in the role of that mom I will gain insight, wisdom and confidence commiserate with the decibel level being achieved by my child. I hope that I will parent in the real world the way I do in my head. I hope that Grasshopper and I will both be better people for it.

In the meantime though, do they offer shot-put lessons for 2 year olds? I think I've got a natural!

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Best Buds

More Conversations with Grasshopper (You Can't Make This Stuff Up)

On a recent evening, Grasshopper, JR and I were playing in the backyard together. Grasshopper is just starting to get into role-playing sorts of pretending...

Grasshopper to me: "You Daddy, I Mommy!"

Me: "You want me to pretend to be Daddy and you'll pretend to be Mommy?"

Enthusiastic nod.

JR: "If you're Mommy, and Mommy is Daddy, then who am I?"

Grasshopper: "You a girl!"

Takes in the aghast look on JR's face and the grin on Mommy's.

Grasshopper: "You a Big Boy girl!"

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Last evening, we went to Grasshopper's Spring Concert at his preschool. To watch kids age 2-5 dance and sing songs about weather. Oy.

It was a big crowd, and when Grasshopper's teacher led his group in, I could tell that he was more than a little overwhelmed. Which is funny because at the Fall Concert, he was the kid who wouldn't stop spinning in circles and trying to perform with other classes. But I digress.

Once he saw JR and I sitting there, he ran over and attached himself to his Daddy's leg. And.would.not.let.go. His teacher had to pry him off and let him sit in her lap to get him back into the performance area (not a stage, obviously, just the center of a big room). The new music teacher led the littlest kids in a stirring rendition of "Rain, Rain Go Away" (okay, so none of them actually sang. They were stinkin' cute anyway.)

Then it was Grasshopper's turn.

He sat on the floor and wouldn't move. The other kids in his group were waving their arms almost in time to the music and following the music teacher's lead. Grasshopper sat on the floor and looked miserable. JR and I just laughed. What else could we do?

Then it was over, and time for the 3 year olds to perform. Grasshopper perked up, still in his spot in teacher's lap, and started singing along and doing their arm movements. By the time the pre-k kids were banging on drums (whose bright idea was that, anyway?) and dancing with streamers, he was on his feet and doing it too!

Once it was over, we scooped him up, told him how great he did, and took him out for ice cream. On our way out of the building, we passed the new music teacher.

"Say bye-bye to Ms N!" I told Grasshopper, "Bye-Bye!" he said giving her an excellent showing of his dimples.

"Bye Grasshopper," she said, "Did you have fun?"

Grasshopper nods. As she starts to rush off, I make the mistake of opening my mouth.

"It was fun when it was over!" is what comes out.

Ms N rushes away and JR is staring at me like he's never seen me before.

"That came out wrong, didn't it?"

"I think you need an ice cream too."

The fine print

The scene: Daddy is in the kitchen doing the dishes, Mommy and Grasshopper sit on the couch in the den, looking at a picture book [thankfully NOT Follow the Tow Truck] Mommy points to a photo of a newborn baby with black hair and serious eyes.

Mommy: Grasshopper, you used to be a little baby like this!

Grasshopper: No way!

Mommy: Yes! It wasn't very long ago that you were a little baby like this. But then you went and got big..

Grasshopper: Yeah! I big boy!

Mommy: That's right, you are a big boy. I don't know why you had to go and do that. I mean, I don't remember authorizing you to get big...

Daddy, from the kitchen: It's all in the fine print, My Love!

Mommy: Well, darn!

Grasshopper: It in da pwint Mommy.

More Conversations with Grasshopper (You Can't Make This Stuff Up)

Grasshopper: Mommy?

Me: What Grasshopper?

Grasshopper: I need key.

Points to the car key hanging from a clip on my handbag

Me: Why do you need the car key?

Grasshopper points to my car in the driveway while giving me his best "Duh" look.

Grasshopper: I drive.

Word to the Wise

Just a little piece of advice and also, an explanation of why I've not been around, blogospherically speaking, for a few days:

Do NOT. I repeat, DO NOT leave your [husband's, technically] laptop open on the dining table when you hear the dryer beep. Just because the small boy child is deeply engrossed in his Little People garage in another room does not mean that his toddler radar for "Things I Should Not Touch" will not start pinging the minute you walk away from said laptop.

Secondly, do not forget that when you are in the laundry room folding clothes and the washer is running you cannot hear squat from other parts of the house. A tornado could be moving through your living room [and from the looks of things this does indeed happen quite often] and you would.not.know.

Thirdly, when you screw up the courage to call husband at his office to tell him that the letters "i" and "u" are mysteriously missing from the laptop's keyboard and that all of the plastic bits that were once under those letters that made them springy [behold my impressive use of technical jargon] are broken...well, just be thankful that you didn't wait until he was in the same room as you and the wayward child.

Finally, call Dell support and discover that Oh My Yes, There is A God, and Hubby paid for total coverage and they will send a tech to your house with a new keyboard on Monday.

You might want to skip flinging your arms around the tech and thanking him for saving your marriage though. Apparently this weirds them out....

Almost Wordless Wednesday

What happens when Daddy changes the toddler into play clothes after Sunday lunch with the Grandparents...