Finally!
I know, I know, I know. I’ve been meaning to post about our weekend for a few days and even Auntie Renfro who’s on her way to Hawaii this very minute (go ahead and say ‘bitch’ in your head – I did!) beat me to it while on vacation!
We had a GREAT time! Remlinger Farms surpassed our expectations although I think Tater had more fun than Aidan. Of course, that could have had something to do with the fact that Tater was conscious for most of the day.
Tater loved the ponies – even though the handler was a total beeyotch! She wouldn’t even stop the horse for a moment so I could snap a picture. Must not work on commission that one. He also loved the bouncy house and petting the animals. I think jumping in the hay piles was his favorite…
…followed closely by the ghetto merry-go-round…which he rode THREE times! And don’t think for one second that Daddy didn’t take tons of pictures all.three.times.
The dinner at Benihana was well…disappointing. You know how when you build something up in your mind to be this spectacular experience (like a movie premiere according to Uncle Casey) and you’ve put it on such a pedestal that it could never live up even if it was awesome? Well – it wasnt awesome and it didn’t even come close to our expectations. There is a tiny, copycat restaurant located in a strip mall in Bellingham that has better food, nicer waitstaff, more talented chefs, and cheaper menus. Shoulda went to Claim Jumpers.
Sunday was even better with what will probably always be known as the best mani-pedi in history. Those ladies knew how to rock it! And we were the only two there so they met us at the door, ushered us in and pampered us for a full 90 minutes. Of course, we couldn’t understand a word they said but maybe that was for the better. I don’t even want to know how to say fungus in Vietnamese.
All in all, I think it was one of our best visits although I’m sure the hubbys would disagree since there was no football involved (bye weeks must’ve been invented by football wives). I miss them already but next time we get to go to their (formerly MY) neck of the woods for Christmas! Only 51 more sleepins!
Tit for tat
I know I won’t match her eloquence but I, too, am really looking forward to our little mini-vacay this weekend with the Goulds. Of course, I haven’t even told Dick about our plan to leave the hubbys with the children and do the girl thing – Hi-Yo Babers – this is the informative portion of the ‘blog!
In all my excitement to comment on Auntie’s post, I may have offended Uncle Casey. See, I referred to him and Dick as ‘intoxicated ‘tards’ when they return from a football game and from what I’ve heard already this morning – it didn’t go over well. Can you detect the sarcasm when I say I can’t wait for Dick’s response? I’m sorry – but it’s true. They, and men everywhere frankly, turn into ‘tards when it comes to football.
You should have heard Dick and Casey when they returned from the game that Sunday, squealing like little fangirls about how they got thisclose to Nate Burleson (who scored the winning touchdown no less!), got his autograph and actually SPOKE to the legend. Hell, they were so wound up they had convinced themselves that Jen and I were going to be “so excited” about the autographs. Seriously?!?
I’ll admit it – I kinda like football. It’s fast-paced, there’s often bloodshed, and there’s completely ripped, sometimes beautiful men in tight pants – these are aspects of the game that interest me. But the daddys are so into it like they have intimate knowledge of or relations with the players. I mean, the outcome of a game actually determines Dick’s mood every single Sunday.
I guess it could be worse – they could be this passionate about meth or heroine or picking up hookers on Royal Brougham. But I would really like for them both to take a moment to reflect on how much effort goes into putting up with them during football season and the fact that Auntie and I would bend over backwards to see the smiles on their faces as they fidget giddily on the way to the field.
This reflection ought to help them suck it up and deal with the fact that we are totally going to have a girls’ (ONLY GIRLS!) day and they will be mad pimpin’ in the mini-van with two adorable kids, no doubt heading to Royal Brougham.
Update
Papa is being released today. After getting better and then getting worse, he ended up having a cardiac catheterizing to check for blockages. Fortunately he’s all clear (in fact, the doc said his heart looks as good as can be expected for someone his age) and it turns out that this whole shebang originated with Papa not taking his medicine the way he’s supposed to! So, yeah. We wondered and worried and fretted and it was all because Papa didn’t think his Lasix were really doing any good. Evidently they were and I’ll put money on the fact that Papa doesn’t second guess too many more doctor’s orders.
So thank you all for your concern and comments and if you kinda want to slap Papa a little bit right now, well – take a number.
We had a mini-tragedy at home last night too. Dick clipped Tater’s fingernails and went WAY too short on one of his thumbs. Honestly, I think he did it a little bit on purpose because it’s that guy mentality of “screw it up so bad she won’t ask me to do it again”. Anyway, Tater whined and whined and whined last night and again this morning. I kept telling him I was sorry that his finger hurt and each time he would remind me: “You didn’t do it, Mommy. DADDY did!”
Smart little fellar, no?
Where do I start?
Auntie Renfro had a blogaversary! Congrats to my mentor – 8 more sleepins!
Dooce suffered the ultimate heartbreak. I’d say more but words are insufficient at a time like this.
Papa was rushed via ambulance to the ER last night. Congestive heart failure and pulminary edema. Better today but still not great.
More to come…
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday Grammy!
We love you and hope you have a great day! You are such a blessing in our lives and we are lucky to have you. Can’t wait for cake tonight – and don’t worry, Tater tested it and it’s GOOD!
Something wrong with the world
This morning the local news greeted me with a tragic story about a cop who shot a 13-year-old boy in the Seattle area. It seems two young teens were “acting suspiciously” when the officer encountered them (at night) and they ran. He caught up and ordered them to put their hands up. One did, one did not. The 13-year-old removed his coat, pulled up his shirt and reached in his pocket. The officer shot him twice in the leg.
As I listened to the story I initially felt horrified as I imagined this child being shot by a police officer. A child. Being shot. Twice. Turns out the child was only reaching for his cell phone.
The longer I thought about it the more saddened I became at the actual travesty of the situation (besides the trauma of being shot happening to a child of course). It dawned on me that had I been in the situation as a citizen or a police officer, I would have felt threatened too. Even by a 13-year-old. How sad is that? That it only took me mere minutes to understand where the officer, who shot a child, was coming from.
I’m withholding any further judgement on this particular situation until more facts come out because there are crooked cops and there are 13-year-olds who are thug punks. I have no doubt the parents will sue the city of Seattle for a hefty sum – and win. But what they won’t do is reflect on the fact that their child was wandering the streets of a major city at 3:00 a.m. “tagging” buildings. They won’t consider for a second that the way he reacted to an officer of the law giving him a command was foolish. They won’t even begin to think that there is something wrong with the way they are raising him if he thinks, at 13, he is above the law.
Let’s break it down a bit shall we? First off – 3:00 a.m.? Are you effing kidding me? I wouldn’t let my 17-year-old wander around at 3:00 a.m. – much less a 13-year-old. What is wrong with these parents? Secondly – they were tagging buildings no doubt with their gang signs. Third – they ran from the police when encountered. I bet my last dollar that their gang leader taught them that. And finally – the kid intentionally defied a command from a cop, reached into his pocket and removed a black cell phone in the middle of the night with a gun pointed at him. Once again I ask…what is wrong with these parents?
So I propose a solution – instead of glorifying the inevitable lawsuit that follows by rewarding this kid’s parents with what will most likely be millions of dollars, why don’t we blame them? Make them take parenting classes with Britney? Point out that their shoddy parenting set this entire thing in motion? Punish them for not showing up for their child, for not teaching him right from wrong? We won’t do that because society can’t admit that a 13-year-old may have deserved to be shot. Well, I’m not afraid to say it – he may have deserved it. If he’s old enough to be out on the streets at 3:00 a.m. spray-painting property that doesn’t belong to him – then he’s old enough to know better than to reach into his pocket when a cop is pointing a loaded gun at him shouting for him to put his hands up. Period.
Don’t get me wrong, I do feel sympathy for both the child and the parents. I also feel sorry for the kid’s sidekick who will no doubt be scarred by watching his friend get shot (and don’t think for one second that HIS parents won’t try to sue for undue mental anguish for their child). Seeing your child in pain is probably the worst feeling in the entire world and I don’t wish that on any parent – even the monumentally stupid ones.
But what truly haunts me is the fact that I could actually relate to the policeman. I could actually fear for my life in the presence of a 13-year-old boy – a child - who should still be climbing trees not dodging bullets.
Punkin’ Patch
Today we visited the local pumpkin patch and searched for oh, about three minutes before finding two perfect pumpkins. Tater really didn’t care too much about the whole process and was much more interested in looking at bugs than at the pumpkins – except of course he really liked the rotten ones.
We loaded up our two pumpkins and proceeded to stand in a very long line. A little perspective – it was sunny and mid-sixties today after three solid weeks of rain, rain, rain. I guess I never really understood the allure of pumpkins. I’ve seen some pretty well carved ones but I’m not very fond of the pies. But there were some pumpkin-crazed folks out today. Luckily a lovely young girl let us skip to the front of the line if we were able to get the pumpkins out of the cart and carry them. While weighing in, there were people all around us ringing up their pumpkins at HUNDREDS of dollars. Seriously? Even with whip cream, people – the pies aren’t that good.
Then came the carving (or “starving” as Tater called it). He was a little apprehensive at first about sticking his hand in the nastiness that is pumpkin guts but eventually he dived in – particularly loving the seeds.
Daddy and I carved two pretty good ones – using pumpkin carving kits and stencils that is. We are a lot of things, Daddy and me, but creative? Not so much. However I think this picture illustrates how well we follow direction.
Happy Halloween!
Random rumblings
I have chosen not to glorify Dick’s crazy behavior by posting a picture of the glass display case he bought and mounted on my wall with the Seahawks hat he had autographed by Nate Burleson. He also enlarged a picture he took at the game, framed and mounted it above the display case. My house is turning into a Seahawks shrine.
Tater’s newest favorite thing to say is “Mom, I love you so much.” Which is great and all but he quickly learned how much I enjoy it and how weak it makes me and he uses it as a tool in this drunken-binge-inducing dance we call the Terrible Three’s.
Does Al Gore deserve to be President simply because he won the Nobel Peace Prize? The only thing I know about the presidency is that it certainly can’t get any worse – can it?
This game is a considerable waste of time – but I love it!
That’s all I got folks, ‘cept for a serious case of writer’s block. Can’t seem to shake it – sorry for all the boring-ness.
Demoted
I think last weekend marked the official end of Tater’s toddlerhood as he entered full pre-schooler-ville with the graduation from a five-point harness car seat to a high-back booster seat. Although my car seat technician friends were sure to correct me in that he has been demoted to a booster – not graduated. Apparently it’s not something to be celebrated in the safety-oriented world.
Frankly, I’m not celebrating either. My precious little baby is back-talking and riding in a booster seat – sometimes simultaneously. When did I sign up for this? One of his most favorite things to say of late is “I don’t need help!” or “I will do it!” and it sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard. The only thing he still lets me do is help him dress and I thank heaven each day that I don’t struggle with him on his clothes like some other parents. Self-expression be damned, I don’t think I could handle him going to daycare in orange pants, a striped green shirt, one black and one white sock, and one blue and one red shoe. Um, no. I’ll be picking out the clothes – thankyouverymuch.
Tater has never given one tiny rats ass about his clothes and I appreciate that – it gives me some feeling of control. I’m starting to understand what parenting is really about though…the slow, painful, torturous relinquishing of all control. And for a Type A like me, torture doesn’t even begin to describe it.
As much as I miss babyhood I am – for the first time since Tater was born, I think – in absolutely no hurry to have another one. A couple of weeks ago when we watched Baby Alicia and took both her and Tater shopping, it became evident that two parents managing two children might as well be single parents. And I know I didn’t sign on for THAT. It was just so.much.work. So, I’m totally content with just the one minion of satan for now and who knows about the future – I could totally win the Mega Millions and pop out another half dozen.
And hire nannies.
Things that make me go hmmm
Republicans who are Pro-Life and Pro-War. Isn’t that a tad oxymoronic?
