Uncategorized | Confessions of a Serial Swooper

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Bird Dog

Posted in Uncategorized on May 24, 2010| 6 Comments »

Kids just down for naps. I settle in for some TiVo’d trash tv (maybe The Hills, maybe Real Housewives, maybe Gossip Girl…couldn’t tell you. My mind goes inexplicably numb from 2-4 pm) when suddenly…

*THUD* against the glass deck door.

WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF! (Lazy Labrador barking his big block head off. Skidding down the hall, nails-scraping hard wood as he races to the deck doors).

Me (rising from the couch): What the….

I walk through the kitchen to open the screen door. Dog races out ahead of me, nose in the air, ears up, tail at full staff.

WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWoo..

Well, hello tiny birdie.

Apparently, this little guy got a tad disoriented and, from what I gather, careened head first into the glass of our deck doors. (Which, I am aware, makes it seem like I am an awesome housekeeper. What with the sparkly glass doors and all. But…nah. Just a super dumb bird, I think.)

Clearly, he was stunned. His little heart was beating madly as his chest heaved with each birdie breath. He hopped away from the dog a bit but clearly wasn’t about to fly anywhere. At least not right away. Not that it mattered much. As I’ve mentioned before, my dog is the anti-Labrador in almost every sense of the breed. Sweet and gentle to our kids, yes. Swimmer? Retriever? BIRD DOG? Um, no. None of the above. Not even a little bitty birdie bit.

Go lie down, Bern.

So, he did. Ho hum. ‘Night, Bern.

Interestingly, it seemed, the little birdie had a friend. There was another bird flitting around from tree to tree above our deck. Watching the goings on. And he was screeching down at his friend. I’m pretty sure it could be loosely translated as:

Hahahaha! You big idiot! Smack! Hahahaha! Nice job, dummy! How’d that feel? Hahahaha! Wait’ll those cute finches at the park here about this! Hahahaha!

I knew not to touch the bird — not that I wanted to. (Birds are so gross.) But, I left him a ramekin of water, left him some bread crumbs and then, probably most importantly, left him alone.

And, sure enough, by the time the boys were up from naps, he was gone. Likely sporting a Grade A headache. Off to face the ridicule of his fellow feathered friends.

Bye, bye birdie.

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Hey, Guys…Would You Please Feed the Dog?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Bernie, Big Brother, chores, dog, food, Little Brother, siblings on May 22, 2010| 2 Comments »

Awesome. Thanks.

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Up At Oh-Dark-Hundred. Again.

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged food, Little Brother, little manipulators, mealtime, seasons, sleep, Target on May 21, 2010| 3 Comments »

I love this season. But, I also hate this season. Because, my children turn from gentle early-ish risers to ohmygodchilditsthecrackofdawnstopcallingmefromyourcribandgobacktosleepNOW risers.

It’s brutal.

Husband’s been a little extra busy at work lately and regularly leaves before sunrise. He dresses quietly by the light of our bathroom, kisses me goodbye and heads out. Then, I snuggle back into bed “knowing” I have at least an hour or so before the kids get up. At least, I had that last month. This month? Not-so-much.

Snuggle in, eyes closed.

Just. starting. to. drift. off.

Maaaaaaahhhhh-maaaaaaay! I want to get up.

No. Please, no.

Head into Little Brother’s room. He’s standing up in his crib, peering around at me, little brown eyes hopeful.

Hi, Mommy! I want to get up.

No, J. It’s much too early. You need to go back to sleep. Lie back down.

And, he does. I tuck him back in. Head back to my room. Climb into bed, close my eyes…

Well, that used to work. We could actually settle him back down and buy ourselves at least 1/2 hour more sleep, sometimes more. Unfortunately, Little Brother’s brain is developing (well, I mean of course that is actually fortunate that his brain is developing but you know what I mean), and he’s figured out how to manipulate the situation to get his way. So, now?

Climb back into bed, close my eyes and…

Mahhhhhhhmaaaaayyyyy!

I storm in. Open the door.

I’m serious, J! You need to go to sleep!

…and then he’ll drop a little hammer on my heart. He has a few hammers from which to choose. Depends on his mood.

1. But, I’m sooooo hungry! — For some ridiculous reason Little Brother has recently decided to only eat one meal a day. Of course, I still present him with three squares. He just ignores two of the three. Awesome. Luckily, Big Brother is growing like a weed and would eat 100 meals a day if I let him. He’s never met a leftover pb&j that he didn’t like. So, when Little Brother complains of hunger from his crib? Well, of course you’re hungry, little monster. You had two blueberries for dinner last night. But, I’m your mother and I can’t let you starve so, fine. Get up then, little hungry bird. Good morning.

2. I miss Daddy so much! — Which is such a farce. I mean, he loves his Dad terribly but this is a total ploy. His Dad is home at a very reasonable hour almost every night. We’re very lucky. But, Little Brother knows his Dad isn’t home in the mornings. He also knows his Mom is a total sucker when he plays the “I Want My Daddy” card. So, fine. Get up then, sweet boy. Good morning.

3. But, I’m poopy! I swear the child has learned to crap on command. This is his last resort. Because he knows I’m a total freak about dirty diapers and there’s no way I’m leaving him in there smelling up his room and sitting in his feces. And, by the time I go in there, pull him out of his crib and change him, I know we are both far too awake to get back to sleep. So, fine. Get up then, stinky. Good morning.

Gotta run. Off to Target for room-darkening curtains.

And maybe some ear plugs.

Is it nap time yet?

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Where Do They Find These People?

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged consumerism, food, Market Basket, shopping on May 20, 2010| 1 Comment »

In the check-out line at my local Market Basket. My bagger today isn’t Jesus, but instead a woman. Let’s call her Sally.

Sally (eyeing my purchase of Diego Swimmy Diapers): How old’s your little one?

Me: He’s two.

Sally (who looks no older than 25): Ah. Mine are 6, 10 and 12.

Me: Hmm. Goes fast, I bet.

A few beats of silence.

Sally (eyes my Johnson’s Baby Bath Oil): You want to be really careful using this stuff with your two-year old, though.

Me (Alarmed. Was there a recall? Is it hazardous if swallowed?): Oh, really!? How come?

Sally: It’s just not very good protection for the little ones. They could get a really bad sunburn.

Good Lord, woman. I’m not using it as sunblock on my baby!

Me: Oh. K. Well, thanks.

Where’s Jesus when you need him?

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There Are Good Ideas, Bad Ideas…and Then There’s This.

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged current events, inventions, men, sporting events, women on May 19, 2010| 5 Comments »

Hey, ladies? Ever been at a sporting event or concert or some other large event, run out to quickly use the facilities and been stuck in a seemingly endless line of cross-legged women waiting for their turn in the stalls?

Finally you emerge, happily relieved, but return to your seat only to learn that, while you were waiting in line, your Husband not only breezed through the men’s room but also bought himself a Miller Lite, ate a hot dog, checked on the sitter and witnessed the greatest touchdown run in team history?

Yeah? Well, fear not, my female brethren. Apparently, some Einsteins out there believe they have a solution to excessive ladies room lines. Are you ready?

Introducing…the female urinal.

Having a little trouble picturing it? Well, let me help you out with that.

You’re welcome.

Ew. Just ew. On so many levels.

Ew.

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I Lost My Sense of Humor Today.

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Dunkin' Donuts, language, Little Brother, Marblehead, Red Sox, Yankees on May 18, 2010| 7 Comments »

My Husband grew up in Connecticut. In the “closer to NY” part of Connecticut, not the “Red Sox Nation” part of Connecticut. He’s a Yankees fan. A big Yankees fan. But, he’s a baseball fan in the larger sense as well, so while he knows and loves the Yankees more than other teams, he could probably give you the line up of many other teams in the league and certainly provide details on any other team in the Yankees division. But, usually, he’s reasonable about it. He can have an intelligent conversation with any good fan of another team in which he will happily discuss the merits and troubles of each other’s teams without animosity. Simply, as fellow sports fans.

When our sons were born, I know that Husband looked forward to teaching them his beloved game. Teaching them how to throw and hit and be good sports. And, raising them to love the Yankees. And, they do. They wear #2 t-shirts with pride. Big Brother knows all the ridiculous monikers shouted out after a home run by radio-guy John Sterling. An A-bomb! From A-rod!

But, it hasn’t been an easy path for Husband. We live just north of Boston in what is clearly Red Sox territory. When we lived here five years ago, before the Red Sox had won a World Series, Husband couldn’t wear his Yankees hat in public without having people make snide remarks as he walked by. He’d grit his teeth and smile as a bartender made a crack about not wanting to serve him. Our town Little League actually had to get rid of the “Yankees” name for one of the teams because 6 and 7-year-old kids were getting booed at the town parade. Pretty childish behavior by Sox fans, of course. But, maybe (maybe) a little understandable as the Sox had been thwarted by the Yankees countless times. And, it hurt.

When we moved back here about a year and a half ago, the Red Sox had won not just one but two championships. And, for the most part, it changed people around here. Sure, Husband will still get the occasional comment but it’s nothing like it used to be. The hat gets worn again, the boys wear their shirts and things are fine. Mostly, people keep opinions to themselves. I mean, it’s not like they’re wearing anti-Red Sox things, right?

And, it’s not like someone would verbally assault a child, with their anti-Yankees rage. Right?

Wrong.

I’ve written before about how Little Brother and I take a twice-weekly pilgrimage to Dunkin’ Donuts after Big Brother is dropped at school. Today, LB was wearing his Yankees sweatshirt.

He was also wearing light blue shorts and carrying a little plastic light-up cow on a key chain. He was wearing his tiny Crocs with Tigger and Pooh Jibbitz on the toes. He was clutching my hand because, although I would have carried him, he wanted to walk in on his own. “I do it, Mommy.”

We were trying to work our way through the double doors. Walking and weaving our way through bustling 8:45 am DD traffic. Trying to politely hold open the first set of doors for an older woman before we made our way through the second set of doors.

That’s when we saw her. She was behind that second set of doors. She looked like she was about to charge out, which could have resulted in Little Brother getting clobbered by the swinging door before him. I quickly pulled him back. But, she stopped, looked at us and waited on the other side of the door. I smiled gratefully through the glass.

Then she said, as we opened and began to walk through the door…

“I wouldn’t have hit him. At least, I wouldn’t have hit him until I saw that Yankees sweatshirt.”

Um.

What?! Did you seriously just say that? You reconsidered hitting him? He’s TWO, you ignorant moron.

I wish I’d said it. Said something at least.

Because it’s one thing to act like a brainless, bitter idiot when you’re dealing with my Husband.

But, my kids?! So. not. funny.

I’m still seething.

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A Big Day for Big Brother

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Big Brother, Marblehead, money, rites of passage on May 17, 2010| 9 Comments »

I know this might make us sound like kind of bad parents but we’ve learned that Big Brother is highly motivated by money. He loves it. Offer him a penny and he’ll fetch you a cold beverage. Offer him a nickel and he’ll sing a song…loudly, in public. Offer him a quarter and, as witnessed this weekend, he’ll wade out in bone-chillingly cold ocean water to retrieve Little Brother’s beloved rubber ball. And, if said quarter is a commemorative state quarter? Holy cow. Oh, I shudder to think of what he’d do.

Big Brother also has a list of daily chores for which he receives stickers. At the end of the week, his allowance is based on how many stickers he’s accumulated. And all this has been going on for quite a long time. He does his chores (or some random challenge) collects his booty, and then hustles to his room to squirrel it away in his piggy bank.

Piggy’s gotten too fat a few times over the years forcing us to cash in some coins for bills to make more room. We knew Big Brother had a decent collection going but had no idea, really, what the cumulative totals were. All we knew was that Big Brother loved Piggy. And all that Piggy represented. For example, when I’m asked for the nine millionth time to take them out to lunch (or buy the new Bakugan or go to the car wash even though it’s raining outside), and I respond by saying, “No. We aren’t made of money, you know?”, Big Brother remembers Piggy. He contemplates, pausing for a moment, and then says “It’s ok, Mommy. I’ll pay.”

*sigh*

So, you can imagine my surprise when he came to us and asked if he could open his own bank account. We had no idea that our weekly trip to the bank was anything more to Big Brother than an opportunity to score lollipops. He told us he wanted to save his money somewhere “super safe” and that he was really hopeful they might give him his very own “secret code” to get his money when he needed it.

Husband and I thought it was a great idea but weren’t so sure how to execute it with the gigantic corporate beast where we do our banking. So, the next morning I called our local branch to make an appointment. Unsure of the reaction I’d get (certainly, a five-year old and his piggy bank isn’t top on their list of clients), I was delighted when they walked me through how it would all work and made us an appointment.

Big Brother was thrilled. And, quickly got to work shaking out the piggy.

So, I gathered up the money for him, we grabbed his social security card and off we went. To do some banking.

Ready or not. Here we come.

We sat right down with our representative who welcomed Big Brother, had him tell her his birthday and spell his name. She asked him to provide his address and his signature. He took it all very seriously.

You won’t get anymore shots of Big Brother from inside the bank, though. See, turns out they have some crazy rules against taking pictures and had no qualms telling me to PUT THAT THING AWAY RIGHT NOW.

Sheesh. How paranoid can you be. Haha.

But, despite his crazy, camera-happy mother, they patiently got Big Brother all set up ($101!), gave him a little bank book with their sincere congratulations and sent a very proud little boy on his way.

So, thank you, to the staff of Giant Corporate Bank in Marblehead. Thank you for acting like a small, local bank even though I know you are, in fact, a humongous financial monster. Thank you for making last Friday a very special day for Big Brother. He checks his account balance daily and feels like a very big kid.

Oh, and thank you, in advance, for not sending the police to my door because I posted a photo taken from inside your bank on my blog. I photo-shopped the heck out of it to remove any possible issues. Swear.

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My Generous Solution to the Gulf Oil Crisis

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Bernie, current events on May 15, 2010| 5 Comments »

Are you ready?

I’m the one with the solution to the Gulf Oil Crisis. Not BP. Not Kevin Costner. Right here. Me.

Did you know they’ve put out an all points bulletin for pet hair? Because pet hair is crazy absorbent when it comes to oils.

Well, Petco can just settle right the heck down. Because I’m sending this guy.

Well. Once he wakes up, I mean.

Because Bernie, aka Lazy Labrador, aka the Under-Retriever, is top dog when it comes to shedding. He’s the BEST.

I promise you, BP, this is all you need. One giant dog brush (I suggest the FURminator), a leash of some sort and downwind water access. He could go all day. And twice on Sunday.

Oh, but one little thing. Don’t set him up too close to the shoreline because…well…he’s afraid of water. Yup. That’s our lab.

We’ll miss you, Bern.

Now, go save the world.