I'm really bad about writing things in the moment. You know, something spectacular happens and then I don't write about it right away and two days later I try to ... and it all sounds like shit. This is because of my kids. I blame them. They're so needy and I, like, never get time to do things I want to do like pour out my soul in one shot.
So, jump into my time machine. I'm taking you back to Tuesday Nov. 12, 2013. Are you there? Good. Because this is going to be written like it all happened today.
*que funky time machine wavy mirage visual effects*
Out of all the weird shit that could come out of my children's mouths, today was kind of kick-ass.
OK, OK ... so most days are like that with these two mini-mes running around. I literally live in a permanent "Kids Say The Darndest Things" setting, which is then neatly packaged with our own version of "Are You Smarter Than A 5th Grader?" - only I call it "Try to Outsmart the Preschooler."
We all know kids can come up with some pretty crazy things, totally off-the-wall ideas and down right hysterical verbiage. They put words together that just make sense to no one in particular, but in their heads it's like magic smooshed together with rainbows and somewhere in there I'm sure there's a unicorn. And you know how I know this? I see the sparkle in my daughters' eyes when they open their mouths.
From the mouths of babes, today's toddler genius began with Charlotte stripping her pants off. This is her newest thing and I am scared to death she's going to find it appropriate to drop trow in the middle of Wegmans when I'm too distracted looking for obscure ingredients for my latest slow cooker dinner solution. For real.
Good thing this time her awesome junior stripper antics were relegated to the kitchen. And I looked up from the computer just in time to see a bare ass staring at me. Once I pried the palm from my forehead and remembered how to speak something other than, "Wha!? Hey! No!" I pulled up my mommy britches and began the process of begging Goob to put her pants back on.
"I don't want my underwear anymore! I want my baby!" complete with scrunched up face and foot stomping before she stormed off, sans pants, in search of her baby doll.
No words. And as a decent parent, I tried really hard to not start laughing hysterically right away. You just don't expect things like that to come out of your not-quite-2-year-old's mouth. Then again, most people don't hear full, complete sentences like that from a kid who hasn't even been on the outside for 24 months, and if I didn't live with it every day, I probably wouldn't believe it.
This further proves my child is super human, or supernatural ... or an alien.
But pantsless baby searching aside, once I wrangled Charlie and was able to get underwear on her again, it was nap time. Sadly, not for me.
Instead, with a little time to focus on the holidays that are quickly approaching, Josie and I set out to on a shopping spree. On the Internet. We didn't get far.
You know, because she was coloring and insisted she needed my help. I searched for things between drawing what was supposed to be Santa Claus, some stairs, various shapes ... and a chicken. What? Yeah. My kids are weird.
When she finally gave me a few minutes to focus on my search, Josie took over the coloring and out popped her little nugget of knowledge:
"Santa's
really sad because he lost his chickens. And he has a red hat."
I ... no words. Again. Because what do you say to that? "Oh, baby, I'm sure he'll find his chickens somewhere. Maybe he can borrow the neighbor's flock until then." I don't think that would fly with the 3-year-old. Or the neighbor.
At least we were able to end our day with this one as we were driving to dance later in the afternoon.
"There are a lot of bees out today!" No, Josie, that's snow. It's freezing and winter wants to start and if that stuff flying at the windshield were bees, I would never get out of the car again because there would be an epidemic on our hands.
*end time machine trip*
Thank God we survived that. This got long and rambling and not nearly as fun as it was when it all happened a week ago.
In my defense, I was really busy last week trying to get ready for Goober's second birthday - drunkenly trying to decorate a Mickey Mouse cake with broken legs because I didn't grease the feet enough, last minute morning of her birthday shopping for her gift and then beginning this week with two doctor's appointments for me and Josephine coming down with a touch of the bug.
Like I said, it's been busy since my last post. Not to mention, in the past I've had trouble bouncing back after a hormonally charged and emotionally loaded entry. It's my cycle - amazing life altering messages, lame post, lame post, my kids are freaking crazy, lame post, life altering message.
Now all I want is to steal my husband away for an evening of staring at each other over a bottle of not-cold-enough-and-way-too-expensive beer. Wait no. I shouldn't say things like that. Last time I commented about taking Boy Wonder out alone I was met with pure toddler rage as Josie screamed at me:
"I don't want you to steal my daddy!"
I promise you, Bean, I would bring him back. A woman can only handle so much alone-time with that man and his engineer nerd talk before I break down and pace like a caged wild animal.
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