Why does parenting make us such push overs?

Growing up, I had my husband, his career, our house, our cars, our children’s names and everything! picked out. I knew exactly what my children were going to look like (me of course!) I knew I would have a live-in nanny and I would work full time (so, partially right). All while sleeping around behind my husband’s back with Ken (yes, Barbie’s Ken) because he worked such grueling hours trying to maintain my wickedly awesome lifestyle. Apparently cheating is a way of life. Who knew?

I would lay down The Law and I would be Boss. I would be listened to, back talk and lying would not be tolerated and I would be feared. Ha! If the children became unbearable, well… I would simply pass them to the nanny and tell her that I had to get out of the house and go have a drink with my friends.

[So instead I ditch the husband with an unruly toddler and head to my friend's to bitch and moan compare notes gush about how grateful we are for such understanding husbands. ]

So far, everything seems to be heading uncontrollably downhill and that kid is propped up on my back using my hair as the reigns.

Thirteen Things I Never Thought I’d Let My Child Do

1. Watch TV - Okay so, only partially true. I never thought I’d let him watch as much TV as he does.

2. I never thought I’d let him have more shows saved on the DVR then I have. That’s happened as well. He’s got nearly 45% of the damn thing.

3. Eat chips. Now he doesn’t eat them that often, but yes.. he has chips.

4. Have McDonald’s until he was at least five. Nope. Done that too.

5. Eat cereal for dinner. But he does. It’s high in fiber though, so it’s okay, right?

6. Watch TV in the car. That was before I realized how hard it actually is to concentrate on the road with a whining/crying toddler in the back.

7. Hug random strangers in WalMart. But apparently he really fancies the East Indian lady we happen to run into often in the baby section. Weird.

8. Stay up late. But sometimes you just have to weigh the positives and negatives. I mean, Grandma put up with the cranky evening and we can sleep in? Bonus!

9. Try pop or coffee until he was much older, and well… he’s done both - not by my choice though. His father doesn’t seem to think it’s as big a deal as I do.

10. Go to bed without brushing. Meh. He’s got another set of teeth comin’ in. We can try better with those, right?

11. Sleep in my bed. Ya, that’s right. I love sleep too much to share my space with anyone. But I have. Numerous times. Too many times. *sigh*

12. Wear clothes with Dinsey characters, Dora, Diego or Pooh Bear. Done, done and done. *gag*

13. Use a bottle and a pacifier until he was two. But we’re coming up on two nice and quickly and I don’t see him relinquishing them any. time. soon.

And! Remember how I went on about Carter calling Mike Mommy or Mike? Ya, he still does. But it’s normally just Mike. No matter how many times we correct him, Mike is still Mike. I was able to finally get him on video. A little. He gets performance anxiety when he’s on camera (not really, he likes to watch the LCD on the back of the camera instead).

We spent Sunday at the zoo with my dear friend MarthafreakinStewart and her family. Preparing for the worst, I armed myself with plenty of snacks and items of distraction, expecting melt downs and stroller fights to earmark Carter’s first ever trip to the zoo. With my camera in hand, I was hoping to catch some of his finer childhood moments (read: biggest and best meltdowns to share on my blog).

One thing about my husband you should know: should we head out of town for a long weekend somewhere, he will pack minimally. He will neglect to even think of some important items - like, say, DIAPERS! - and brush it off like it was my fault. But! when we go for a day trip somewhere? That man will have everything packed, re-packed, and bring just about everything we friggin’ own! That stroller was weighed down with extra clothes, swimming gear, cameras (which I forgot to charge the battery in my Sony and didn’t hear the end of the entire day. But! Luckily had brought along the other camera.), he also carried a backpack full of food!

With everything but the kitchen sink, we arrived right at opening in hopes of missing the huge crowd of people, because really, who in their right minds gets up at 6:30am on a Sunday morning to get to the zoo before the crowd except us)?

Well, apparently half of Toronto had the same plan; okay, over exaggeration.. but there were a lot of people with the same idea. By the time we had the entire stroller packed up and headed into the park, there was all ready a considerably large crowd ahead of us. And the worst part, for me, about the zoo is the shuffling in packs to each exhibit and fighting for space to get a glimpse of the sleeping/hiding animals. Luckily, strollers gave us the ability to squeeze the boys up to the glass and with their adorable chatter about the animals, the evil glares quickly changed to *awwww, so cute* looks.

They started off great with lots of interest in the animals. Carter would chatter at every exhibit, calling just about everything with hair and a tail “Himonkey!” and anything that was large and hairless was a “Ahippo!” and MarthafreakinStewart’s little guy was just unsure about anything that moved quickly and wasn’t behind glass (rightfully so if you ask me) but their enthusiasm quickly diminished as the exhibits got further and further apart and the animals moved less and less.
By 11:00 (2 hours into the day) we had our first meltdown. At the giraffe exhibit, the lack of stimulation was getting to Carter; he’d been to about 4 exhibits where nothing was moving or even visible to most (especially a toddler who can’t see an alligator that’s right in front of his nose unless it’s moving) and he lost it (to give him a little credit, I don’t think the suntan lotion he rubbed in his eyes helped the situation).

After stopping for lunch (which was food from the park, NOT the 400 sandwiches that Mike insisted on making) and re-grouping we tried for round two, and at this point I think both boys were wondering: Are they fuckin’ mad? We’re still going to try and see these boring sleeping animals?  until we got the meerkats who were the life of the entire zoo; I swear, these little buggers had those boys captivated for what could have been the remainder of the day should we let them (and maybe should have).

Shortly after the meerkats, it was evident we had sapped out every last drop of their interest because dammit! we didn’t drive all this way for nothing! so we headed to the splash pad for a break and to cool down.

As we hiked up a huge hill, trying to find our way back to the front of the park, where the splash pad was located, we got lost. Actually, scratch that. The boys got us lost because they refused to listen to girls bitching insisting  suggesting that we follow the sign directing us to the exit. I can’t think of anything better (worse) then sitting in the hot sun with upset toddlers, debating with two men that we’ve gone the wrong direction, while they retrace our steps on the picture map provided by the park.  Good times.

Rejuvenated, refreshed and ready to go after splashing around in freezing cold water, we tried one more exhibit - the Dinosaurs Alive!  - which if you ask me, totally sucked. Rubber dinosaurs that move by the push of a button, whooo-fuckin’-hoo. Boooor-ing.

After all the hype in line about how the life like dinosaurs may scare the shit out of the younger guests, I was hoping for a least a significant meltdown, some screaming and freakin’ out. Some action! But no. Nothing.

The most action all day ended up being Carter getting bit by an overzealous and anxious Canadian goose trying to take Carter’s cookie right out of his hand. The bugger came right up to him in his stroller and ripped it out of his hand! I was in shock, I didn’t even know what to do. Since they’re protected animals I couldn’t haul off and kick it (with people around); Mike decided that spraying water at it might deter it from coming closer again. I don’t think he took into account the fact that, um… it’s a GOOSE and they live in the water. *shakes head*  So yelling and stomping his feet while chasing it only proved to the rest of the park what I’ve known all along, he’s fucked in the head.

So, to recap.

Todders + hot sun + sleeping (boring!) animals + hills / stubborn males + strollers stuffed to the gills +  biting geese = Fabulous! trip to the zoo!

In conclusion, we survived, the kids are in one piece,  we know that anything with hair and a tail is a “Himonkey!” and anything without is a “Hihippo!”, and I can safely say.

Zoos are so fuckin’ overrated.

*Pictures to come once my lazy ass downloads them. Promise!

So, I worked on this new design. Though, I’m not sure if it’s grabbing me the right way and I really need to be grabbed the right way to be pleased. What do you think? Honestly. Too busy in the sidebar? Got any suggestions for me?

Off topic, but I’ve been spammed up the wazoo this weekend. WTF is going on!?  

And! Those Sweds are funny people… I had over 150 visits from Sweden on Thursday, just for this post.

:::

Your suggestions for my dilemma have been more then entertaining! I’m lovin’ it people, so if you got more, let me know!

So far, I’ve ignored it. I think I’m leaning to the just pretend that I never use it. I dunno.

[Unless he's already made his way here somehow... or he's been here all along and I just didn't know it. *looks around* I'd hate to think that my dad's been perusing my archives, reading about my toothbrush or that I've thought about getting some new friends, or even some mishaps in the shower.]

And didn’t I just link to some of the interesting stuff? *sigh* So, if he were here, I just laid out the red carpet.

[blank stare]

*waves* Hi Daddy!

:::

Against our better judgment (and advice), we’ve decided to take Carter to the zoo tomorrow with some friends and their son. Summer heat, one hour drive, four adults, two unruly toddlers, with strollers. No leashes (Which I want. For serious.).

Should make for good times.

And even better blog fodder.

Should we all return. Alive.

I’ve had the weekend from hell. No exaggerating.

My air conditioning stopped working again this weekend. The fan works, but nothing cold comes out. Mike checked out the unit outside (for gawd knows what since he knows absolutely nothing about air conditioners) and mentioned something like “Blah, blah, blah, blah, fuckin’ solenoid blah, blah, blah.”

[I had to ask Dr. Google what a solenoid was - thank you Dr. Google! Found out that it's a blah, blah, blah, blah.]

Result? No air conditioning all weekend.

Doing laundry and cleaning while sweating your ass off really defeats the purpose. I mean, getting dirty to clean?

*pffffft* Cleaning’s for the birds.

So I did the minimal amount required and parked my ass in front of the fan, which happened to be near the TV (Go figure.) and caught up on Big Brother. (Go Dick!)

I turn into a total bitch when I am hot and sweaty.

[More then usual.]

Every time Mike would come near, or touch me I would freak out, go all Medusa-like on him and hiss; “Fix the fuckn’ air conditioner first!”

[Poor bastard.]

Saturday night I had just about enough. Carter had a day of meltdowns (which continued well into Sunday), and I was so hot, uncomfortable and irritated that we all piled in the (air conditioned!) car and went for a drive, but not before stopping for ice cream! Hell ya!

We cruised around the city with the air conditioning cranked, turned on Elmo to shut the damn toddler up in the back seat until I was nice and cold (read: nipple could cut glass).

Toddler meltdowns are fabulous. C’mon. You know you love it. Crying all the time? Flinging ones body haphazardly onto any surface you can find and flailing around while screaming, convulsing as ones head spins in circles? Fuckin’ awesome.

Damn kid’s stealing my thunder.

Is this what they mean by terrible twos? It’s more like horrendous, debilitating, excruciating, or hellish. I don’t think terrible is very adequate.

The throwing-your-body-around-like-a-rag-doll I can handle, since all I do is laugh. But the screeching? the crying? the whining? Gah!
I am seriously surprised that the weekend didn’t end with me bald, rocking back and forth in the corner and my child duct taped to the wall with a ball gag in his mouth.

I’ve never been so glad to be at work on a Monday morning.