Kids Are Literal

Ever seen the movie Grown Ups? Well, one of the women in the film still feeds her son breast milk, and he's 5 years old! Of course it's just a movie, but my son caught on that it wasn't necessarily a normal thing to do. The kid called it "mommy's milk!". My son asked me about "mommy's milk" and I told him that when he was just a little baby he drank mommy's milk too. So he looked at and then pointed to my breasts and asked if milk was still in there. How do I explain to a 6 year old about how breasts produce breast milk? He wouldn't understand hormones and pregnancy and sucking stimulation and all that jazz. So I told him that it only happens after a baby is born and milk is only made when the baby still drinks from it. I told him that he quit wanting it when he wasn't even a year old so it all went away. I could tell he was trying to wrap his little mind around this. So then he asks what is in my boobs since they don't have milk in them. Again, how do I answer this?! It's my job as a parent to answer his questions but to keep them PG-rated. So I say that inside them is fat, some blood, and tissue. He goes, "tissues??" and it dawned on me that he thought body "tissue" meant "kleenex" tissues! 

Wow. 

Kids are so very literal.

My Life Is A Circus

This past Saturday I take my son to the Ringling Brothers Circus. I think I was more excited to go than my son was. My good friend and her daughter came too. We did this last year, and this year I got us front row tickets. AWESOME!

Anyway, we take the metro to the Verizon Center and go to the wrong entrance. I even followed the signs posted to get there. Whatever. D.C. makes no sense. A nice cop directed me to the right area. I wait outside the right entrance for my friend and her daughter. Time passes. Then some more time passes. My son gets antsy and whiny and won't be quiet with the "where are theeeyyyyyy" repetition. Why do kids do that? Ask the same question over and over and over when you are standing right there with them and would know if the answer to the question was anything different from "I don't know". I call her over the phone and she was literally 10 feet from me, just inside the Dunkin Donuts while I was outside it. Ha! Funny. 

Now my son stopped whining about where they were, and started to whine about when we would get INSIDE the circus. That should have been an omen to me to just turn back onto the metro and go home. But noooooooo. In we went, where we got searched to make sure I wasn't carrying an, oh I don't know, a tranq dart gun to shoot at the elephants and laugh my ass off when they passed out on stage. Even if I did have a tranq dart gun, I wouldn't use it on the elephant, I'd use it on Mr. Whiny Pants. 

The pre-show was cool. Just a small taste of what was coming up, like some acrbatics with a bunch of straw hats and a few couples doing the amazing gymnastics moves. I kept trying to look for cellulite on these girls but could find none. Bitches.

After the pre-show, my son turns to me and goes, "is that it???!?!!". I laughed and said no way the show hasn't even started. We went to our (front row!) seats and got comfy. I asked my son if he had to pee, he said no. I asked him if he wanted anything to eat, he said no. 

Once the lights dimmed he could see those annoying toys that swirl around and light up - you know, the ones that cost a million dollars and then break the day after you get them home. He wanted a sword. "I want a swwooooorrrddddd. I want a swwooooorrrddddd. I want a swwooooorrrddddd." Mind you we are front row, meaning Row A. I needed to hoof it up to Row K or some shit to get out into the main area. Can we say winded? I get him his damn sword and I get me some cotton candy. Don't judge me. It's a circus and I'm having my cotton candy. I also got an icee cup for my friend's daughter. She said thank you while my son just gave me a dirty look. Yeah, you're welcome. 

I can't remember if it was before the intermission or after, but then he decided he wanted one of those stupid spin things. But he wanted to keep the sword. Again, "I want a lliiiggghhhhttttttt. I want a lliiiggghhhhttttttt. I want a lliiiggghhhhttttttt." Now, I knew that I should say no. I know that by giving him what he wants I'm only making things worse for myself. I know this. But I also know that my son having a screaming melt down at the circus might be hazardous to those trapeze artists' lives. I don't want to be responsible for their plunge to death because my kid made a huge scene. 

So I hoof it back up to the concourse and get him a stupid flashlight thingy with a motorcycle in a cage on top that twirls and lights up. I thought it was pretty darn cool. He felt differently when he saw it. He wanted one with a TIGER on top. "I want the one with the tiiiggeerrrrrrrrr. I want the one with the tiiiggeerrrrrrrrr. I want the one with the tiiiggeerrrrrrrrr. I want the one with the tiiiggeerrrrrrrrr." I could not believe this. I really couldn't. I was beside myself at how blatantly obnoxious he was being and more than a little embarrassed by how this was all going down. I was seriously considering tossing him into the tiger cage.

So I hoof it back up to the concourse....again.... and thank god in heaven that the vendor let me trade the motorcycle light thing for the tiger. Ok now get this: it was pink. The tiger flashy light thingy was for a GIRL. But, I got it anyway and went back down. 

Was my little exercise session over? Nope.

"I want pooooppppcccooorrrrnnnnn." I was really wanting that tranq gun right about now. I didn't even bother arguing. I launch myself out of my chair and hoof it back to the concourse. I pay SEVEN DOLLARS for a thing of popcorn and had the common sense to buy a FIVE DOLLAR cup of coke and take it back to King Pain in the Ass. 

The rest of the show played out nicely, until, "I have to go to the baaatthhhrrooooommm." 

I thought to myself, "I am never taking this kid anywhere fun ever again." I felt like this trip to the circus was my punishment for being a bad person in a past life or something. But - and this was the best part of the show, the motorcycle guys came and did their stunts in the cage and my son forgot all about having to pee. Then these guys that looked like they were extras on the set of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory came bouncing out in these totally ridiculous orange and pink ruffeley outfits and did all kinds of crazy stunts on trampolines involving hula hoops. My kid loved that part, and thank god, that was the last part of the show. They all came out and did their "end of the show" show and then I took Matt to the bathroom once the aisles cleared out of big fat slow people.

On our way out of the center, he saw the stand of gazillion dollar toys that break after a day and fell in love with a stuffed white tiger. I said, loudly, "OH HELL NO!" and then HE looked at ME like _I_ was crazy!! Really? Seriously??? For real? After the entire circus fiasco he put me through he must have seen murder in my eyes or something because he TRADED his sword for the stuffed white tiger. My friend's daughter traded the pink tiger spinny thingy for a little pink purse with a white tiger in it.

So basically, despite the stair master exercise session from front row to concourse, I ended up spending only about $25 on a toy for him. And hey, it's not like I can't use the exercise. Will I torture myself again next year? Probably. Because my life is, most definitely, a circus.

I Need All The Help I Can Get

I'm a good worker. I work hard. I really do. Everyone says I do a great job. When I'm present. I've been accumulating tons of leave without pay and advance leave because of several reasons, the biggest being me just not wanting to get up in the mornings. Depressed? Maybe a little. Overtired? Yeah, probably. Lazy? Yup. But here is the deal......I feel like a piece of horse poop when I don't go into work, and then I get into trouble for not coming to work like I should, which makes me feel like an even bigger heap of crap. How to break the cycle?


I think I've made some progress with that. First, I put the alarm clock across the room. It's been working great! I've also been going to bed at a reasonable hour instead of staying up half the night reading. But mostly, I don't want to feel like a piece of poop anymore. So I'm doing much better on that front. Just last Friday I was told by someone in a high position of authority that I'm doing a stellar job and it's like I'm a completely new person, and to keep up the good work. Yay! Feels good. 


Today I'm handed a little certificate of appreciation for a fundraiser I helped out with several months back. Cool! Not too big a deal though. Just a minute ago my boss's deputy came by to ask me something about where some files on the computer are stored, and I said "hey I got an award check it out". She looked it over and said that I should definitely tell my boss about it since it can help with my performance appraisal. I said to her, "cool! I need all the help I can get". Haahaaa. The sad part is it's true!

The another person in a position of authority came by to ask me about closing out some tasks left over from last week and when I told him that the main person is back and has that duty now, he was outwardly bummed that I wasn't going to be the one to handle the tasks for the day. He said that "everyone" likes me doing task duty because I'm nice, pleasant to work with, and always ahead of the game. I was sincerely flattered, and then said "tell my boss what you just said I need all the help I can get!!" He said he would. Yay!


I'm really a good worker. I work hard, never do anything half-assed (except come to work) and am the best at what I do when I decide to do it. I like when people tell me I'm doing a good job. I can beat the slump I've been in for the past few months. Right? Right.

Alarming Alarm Clock

So listen to this. I am not a morning person. Nope. Not in the least. Hitting snooze is my favorite weekday past time. Not good for the career at all. So I moved the alarm clock across the room yesterday. This way, I have to actually get up to turn it off. And actually getting up out of bed is like breaking the seal during a night of drinking; once you pee, it's all over. You're gonna be running to and from the bathroom all dang night. So for me, getting up out of bed is breaking the alcohol pee seal.

It worked! I was up and dressed and ready to leave the house by 6:45am. That's a significant improvement for me. 

Cue life.

 It is DARK outside at 6:45am! Like, really dark. By the time I've rolled out of bed, it's not dark anymore. It was really unnerving to be up when it is still dark outside.....

The sky barfs up a huge storm, complete with thunder and lightning and pouring rain.

SACC was out of milk. Had to go to the school cafeteria to buy one there and then go back to the SACC room to help Matt with his breakfast.

There was minor congestion on HOV lanes but thankfully nothing major.

So my goal was to be on the 7:25am bus. Instead I was on the 7:55am bus. Like usual.

ROFL - Things My Son Says and Does That Crack Me Up

* I will continue to update this post as the funnies keep coming *

 

1. I stop at McDonald's to get him something to eat. He rattles off the usual order.......hamburger, chicken nuggets, fries, and "the thing with the black pieces and the whip cream with the thing on top with the red antenna."  Translation - Oreo McFlurry with whipped cream and a cherry on top.

2. Karate class. Kids are warming up with sit-ups, crunches, etc. The instructor lines the kids up to jog around the room in a follow-the-leader formation. My son saw this as a competition, not a warm up, so he goes rip roaring from the back of the line to bypass everyone, looking back over his shoulder with a huge "I'm WINNING!!" grin on his face.

3. I come downstairs fresh out of the shower and my entire living room is covered in toys. Is it a mess? Nope. It's an elaborate design for the lego men to navigate through and my son was not happy that I "stepped on his airplane". Oops.

4. After learning that babies can drink milk from their mother's breasts, my son asked if I had milk in mine. I said that I don't, it all went away when he stopped wanting it a long time ago. So then he asked what is in my breasts right now. I said blood, fat, tissue. He went "TISSUES???" and then it dawned on me that when I said tissue as in bodily tissue, he thought I stuffed Kleenex tissues in there instead!

Where is the Art Show???????

OK, so earlier this week I discovered one of my sons pieces of art was selected to be in the 6th Annual South County Pyramid Art Show. Awesome! I ask him, what piece of art got selected to be in the show? The response I get is, "I don't know." So I asked, "Was it something you drew or something you made?" again, "I don't know". OK no problem, I'll see it when I go there. The flier (see attachment) was in his backpack which is how I discovered it anyway. He didn't even tell me himself! 

Yesterday after I picked up my son from after-school care, we went straight to the high school where the art show was being held. I was excited to see his artwork and he was excited to show it to me.

OK now here is my first problem. High school is called a Secondary school here in the state of Virginia. Where I am from, Florida, Secondary schools are a bad thing. Like, barbed wire around the fences surrounding the school kind of bad. So I'm wondering why in the heck an art show featuring elementary students and their artwork would be in a high school for juvenile delinquents? Odd. But I get there and it turns out to be just a regular high school. Whew.

I arrive, and head into the school. My son desperately needs to pee so we go on the hunt for a bathroom. The inside of this school is massive, with corridors going off in all sorts of different directions. I don't remember high school being that difficult to navigate. There are signs above each corridor telling what is located down it, and as I pass several of these, I see nothing about a bathroom. For the love! FINALLY I find one and my son does the pee pee dance allllll the way into it. He comes out happy which is all that matters. So we make our trek back to where we entered the school to hunt down the Silver Box Theatre. 

What comes to mind when you hear the word "theatre"? Big room with a stage and places for an audience to sit? Or maybe even a small room with a smaller stage area. No. The "Silver Box Theatre" is a CLASSROOM. That's it! A freakin classroom! Want to know what is worse? The "Silver Box Theatre" was labeled the "Black Box Theatre" on the plate outside the room. Yeah. There was a classroom named "Black Box Theatre" and "Blue Box Theatre" but NO "Silver Box Theatre" whatsoever. I'm wondering where "Jack in the Box Theatre" is at this point. I had to enlist the help of a student driver, a janitor, a teacher grading papers, and two little high school girls just to find the dang room. They all seemed to know it as the "Silver Box Theatre" even though it was called the "Black Box Theatre" on the plate outside the room.

Good lord.

This is the best part: The room was empty. Lights off, doors locked, no one there. My son and I are peeking inside, we see the art displays, but there is no art show. Again, I consult the all-knowing flier, and it's telling me that it SHOULD be open, but it's not. My son was incredibly disappointed.

Now flash forward to today. First thing I did when I sat down at my desk was to call the secondary (high) school and ask them what the hell happened. I was told that some teacher needed the CLASSROOM (not so "silver box theatre" afterall HA) so the art show was closed yesterday and taken down today. O-M-G. Seriously? Really? Should I fax them their own flier to tell them that this was not supposed to happen?

Normally I don't get all anal about things. I really don't. I'm chill, relaxed, easy going, etc. But this was IMPORTANT. 

Now let's sum up the lessons learned from this little 2-day excursion.

1. Secondary schools are NOT juvenile delinquent schools

2. In the Virginia public school system, a classroom can also be called a "theatre" 

3. The "theatre" may be labeled as one certain color designation, but the true color designation is on a need-to-know basis only

4. Just because the flier says it's open Monday - Friday from 6:30pm - 8pm, doesn't mean it is

5. Chuck E Cheese can solve any disappointed child's feelings