Out of the Mouths of Babes


What’s an unmistakable sign that perhaps you need to do some personal grooming?

When your 2.5 year old literally throws her hands in the air horror-movie-style while shrinking away from you screaming, “Mom! I do not like your vagina!” She said it looked like a monster. Thanks, kid.

We decided it was time to get Bean out in the world and socialize with some of her own kind. As it is, she thinks she’s a teenager. Her favorite thing to do is go next door, play with Grandma and Papa and then go into the girls’ rooms over there and sit with them like she’s 13. She sees people her size and whispers disgustedly, “Babies!”. She saw a midget while walking with Sweety the other day and thought he was a baby too. I’m just glad that Sweety got to be part of that awkwardness and not me.

So. Anyway. She’s joined a gym. She gets to go in for a tumbling kind of class once a week and can go each day for an hour of free play. She looooooves it. When she wakes up at night to potty now, she will say that she’s dreaming of her balance beams. It’s adorable.

This outfit that she wore to see the princesses a couple of months ago? On the front it says “I love TMNT” with photos of the Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Let's get moving!

It’s her favorite shirt. She loves the Ninja Turtles. She’s only seen about 5 minutes of one of their shows on Netflix (I won’t let her watch it because she mimics too much. I spend enough time keeping her off of the furniture without her trying to act like a Ninja Turtle) but has decided that they are her favorite and she wears the shit out of that shirt.

She wore it her first Saturday to gym class. Her second Saturday class Sweety took her alone and she wore it again. Some bitch with a stick up her ass commented on it. What the fuck? Seriously? Who the hell notices what a kid wears from one week to the next? Sweety just told her it was her favorite shirt and moved on. Third Saturday Sweety was taking her alone again and I asked if I should make her wear a different shirt. He said hell no, let her have the BEST DAY EVER by getting to wear her favorite shirt AND go to gym class. Sweety…there’s a reason I keep him around. Good guy. By the way, stick up her ass bitch didn’t mention her shirt.


Like There’s a Pinball in my Mind


Do you ever see someone living the same fucked up life that you lived in 20 years ago and want to shake the shit out of them until they realize they are short-changing themselves? Yes. Yes. I am there. And I know it won’t do a damn bit of good to say anything to her because I remember. I remember being that full of hope girl thinking, “I can fix him. Nobody else understands him.” blah, blah, blah. Lather, rinse, repeat. At some point you wake up and realize that it’s not your job to fix somebody or make them happy. That shit is on them. And if you don’t want them to suck the life out of you that you need to go. Related: I saw Sweety stalk out of the house today intent on beating the living shit out of someone and lucky for them that they weren’t in. Argh. Argh. Argh.

There’s a letter on the way to me from Lintball’s lawyer. If I pay him 20k then he will sign his 1/3 of Mom’s house to me. Nevermind that I know there’s no way 1/3 of that house is worth that much. There’s been no appraisal done. That’s just what he wants to go away. I’m going to find out if I own 2/3 of the house if I can rent it out (by rent it out I just mean let someone live there that I trust to keep the lawn mowed) to keep him from coming and going as he pleases and not pay him doodlysquat. The idea of taking out a mortgage on a house in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma sort of makes me feel pukey. I know it’s a completely emotional decision. The dickweed was saying that he was still living there but it turns out that he moved out last November. Bought a house with his fiance (now wife). I found this out in May. As of April, he was telling his lawyer that he still lived there. I hope he dies trapped in a fire. Really.

The Budman is no longer with us. I had to put him to sleep on May 5. Monday. Cinco de Mayo. If I’d have been heartless, I’d have made him wait a day just so it wouldn’t be on a day that would be easy to remember. Something weird? I’d just had him tuned-up for another year and got a new batch of crazy pills for him along with some other stuff. Even with that, he’d seemed more off than normal for a few days. On the Wednesday before, I had a talk with him. Told him it was okay to die. He’d been here long enough and that Mom would be excited to see him and he could put in a good word to let her know that I took excellent care of his grouchy ass. He didn’t eat again after that talk. For about the week prior, I’d been giving him human food as a treat and he wouldn’t even touch that. And he quit barking at all at night after that talk. I buttoned him into bed and he’d still be there when the sun came up. I’d take him out to potty, he’d drink some water like a camel, and I’d put him back in bed. He’d stumble out out of bed a time or two during the day and I’d take him out to potty in the shade because if there was sunlight he’d see his own shadow and it scared him. I wish that I’d have taken him to the vet earlier but he’d gone a couple of days without eating before so I thought he might snap out of it. After it was done on Monday, the vet told me it was the right thing. That no pills would have fixed him. Even though he peed all over the floor and was a cantankerous furball, I really miss him. And now I’m crying again. Yay.

At the end of May a friend came to visit and we went to Cinderella’s castle for lunch. We hauled the Bean along because she’s still young enough to be free. That kid lost her mind when the princesses came out and talked to her. Do you see the crazy shining in those eyes? She reminded me of the look I had on my face when I met Scott Sigler. I guess the crazyeyes are hereditary.

Can you tell she's excited to meet Jasmine?

The first princess to say hi, Aurora.

Notice the knot on her head? Two days before we were at the post office and she was in the middle of her very first full-on tantrum in public. It was just glorious. I was hustling her out of there and holding her hand with one of mine and using my other hand to open the car door. Just as I swung the door open, she broke free and rushed towards the car. Door met head with a solid thud. I think the princesses saw this little dirt urchin with the broke ponytail, lumped up noggin, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles tee shirt and deduced that she had a sad life so they needed to be extra nice.

After lunch with the princesses, we made a pitstop in the bathroom. I asked Bean if she had fun and she said yes. Then she said, “Going back to see the princesses!” No, Bean, we aren’t. “Yes. I’m going to uyu with princesses! I love them!” Uyu is what we call nursing. It’s the Korean word for milk. No, Bean. You uyu with Mama, not the princess. Cue tears as the Bean starts wailing that the loves the princesses and wants to uyu with them. Thanks, kid. When I came out and told Sweety what she said he replied that he wanted to uyu with the princesses too.

We’re on Day Six of weaning the Bean. I was going to do the whole baby-led-weaning thing where she weaned herself whenever she was ready but the kid was starting to do some damage with her teeth. She eats an incredible amount of food and takes man-sized shits. (Have I mentioned how happy I am that she’s potty trained? I give thanks every time I flush the toilet instead of strapping a diaper onto her.) She was starting to be a little meanass sometimes when she nursed. It was like she knew it was a way to hold me hostage so she’d be mean while she was nursing. Even if she was being nice her bottom teeth were wrecking me. It was time to stop the madness. Sometimes she begs for uyu. “Please, Mom! Can I uyu?! Just because I want to? Please! Just for one minute!” “I’m mad. I’m angry. I need uyu.” So we go through all of the ways that she’s a big girl who doesn’t need uyu and that we can snuggle in other ways. I think it would have been easier to wean her when she was smaller and couldn’t voice her displeasure so clearly. It’s gotten to where I can usually distract her with a backscratch and a bedtime story and singing her nighttime song until my throat is dry.


In the Sunshine State


Sweet tiny baby Jesus with no fat rolls on his perfect legs…guess what I got today? Chub rub on my thighs. We went to Disney and I wore a dress with comfy flips on my feet. As we were walking in and I was enjoying feeling breezy, I said to Sweety, “Guess what I’m glad of? No pants, bitches! I’m getting some air up here!” Four hours later I was trying to not obviously walk like a cowboy to keep my blistered thighs from touching. Dumbass: I has it.

This morning while we were getting ready for the day, Bean’s Grandma-from-next-door came over to visit a bit. Bean was so happy to see her that all she could do was hug her legs and scream with glee. It tickled me so. Sweety talks all the time about moving from here but I say no. I love it that the Bean has her grandparents right next door. When I was a kid, my grandparents always lived nearby and I loved it. I am so glad that Bean gets that. The damned neighborhood could fall down around us but as long as they live next door we aren’t going anywhere.

You can file this under Creepy Ass Shit: The other night Sweety is in the bathroom supervising the Bean taking a trucker poo. He hollers for me to come in there and his voice sounds weird. Like he’s scared. I go in and ask what’s up. The Bean looks at me with furrowed eyebrows and in a deep voice says, “I’m not Sunny. I’m Chelsey!” I tell her no, she’s Sunny. “I’M NOT SUNNY! I’M CHESLEY! AND I’M GONNA CHASE YOU! I’M GONNA GET YOOOOOU!” While pointing her finger at me. What the actual hell, folks? Know what I did? Shrieked. Ran. Ran right the fuck out of there and locked Sweety in the room with her. That’s the shit you see right before the killing starts in movies and I want zero of that. She’s said a few more times that she’s Chelsey but not as dramatically. No idea where that came from. I will lock a possessed toadler in the closet if need be.

Last weekend we went to California and had a spectacular weekend with Amy‘s family. The Bean had such a great time and was friendly with everyone from the moment we got there. And? Sweety and I got to go on a date with Amy and Mike while their daughter watched Bean! It is highly likely that we drank and ate too much. Mike is a damned grilling wizard. Whenever we leave, I’m always sad because I feel like I didn’t eat enough. I’ve committed myself to eating his amazing beans until I pop next visit. And I’ll set an alarm to wake myself in the night to eat whatever sort of snacky thing and dessert that Amy made that’s leftover. No shame. There will be no shame involved. I”m gonna eat a metric ton but I’ll do it like a lady.


it’s Not My First Rodeo


When the boys were young (and still now, sometimes), I had a rule of never telling them before we were going somewhere fun just in case I changed my mind. As in, they did something to act like little fools so I’d decide to not do whatever and they didn’t know about it so they couldn’t whine about it.

I made the mistake of not following this rule with Bean. We are going to visit friends in a couple of days and we’ve been looking at their photos for days and talking about what she will do while we’re there. I thought that would make her feel more comfortable once we got there. What I got what a shrieking at the top of her lungs Bean today. We had just gotten into the truck and she asked where we were going. She did not like my answer and the wailing commenced. “No Walgreen’s! Caaaaaaliforrrrnia! Drive me to California in the truck! Now! Drive in the truck California!” What the fuck, kid? Seriously? People, this shit went on for too long. Nothing I said calmed her down. She finally gave up on life and slumped into a silent sweaty snotty heap.

Sometimes I think about welding her carseat into the bed of the truck.

Lesson learned. Don’t tell her shit in advance.