Thursday, February 24, 2011

One bad mother...continued...

More confessions of a bad mother:

• My kid generally goes to school with tangles in her hair. Yes, I encourage her to brush it, yes, I try to brush it myself and yes, we have plenty of spray detangler. However, I choose to not start my day with “OW! OW! OW! MOMMY THAT HURTS SO BAD!!!! STTOOOPPP! YOU’RE HURTING ME! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, WHY MUST YOU CONTINUE THE CHILD ABUSE!?!!” Okay, so that was a slight dramatization, but only a slight one.

• I forgot to put money under the kid’s pillow from the tooth fairy the other night when she lost a tooth. (Sidebar: seriously, get off me. She’s dropping those things left and right! I swear she’s lost 25 teeth in the past month...) So, the tooth fairy got smart and left her shit on the bar in the kitchen with a note explaining how she wasn’t going to be sneaking into her room at night anymore because she’s scared of the dog (who sleeps with the kid every night). Genius!

• Tee ball has started and I could not be more excited about the kid having an activity to do after school that involves her dad. Because I love the idea of her growing up with positive memories of her dad and evenings spent practicing throwing and perfecting her swing? Sure, let’s go with that….because it has nothing to do with the fact that I get an hour and a half of alone time to read, drink wine or soak in the tub. Really…..nothing.

• I may or may not have fudged a little on the kid’s reading log for school because she absolutely, positively had to have the doctor book that she could earn by reading 20 minutes every night for a month. So, a four-page book with each page a variation of “The dog is brown”, took 20 minutes to read. Seriously. It did. Check the log.

• We got a Wii for Christmas. We have now taken to having weekend Wii showdowns that typically involve golf, bowling or bird hunting (redneck, much?). Generally, the little one gets totally pissed off and frustrated because she is losing. And I let her. Partly because losing is a fact of life and she needs to start learning how to deal with it, but mostly because I’M FREAKIN’ WINNING! YEAH, BABY!! WOOHOOO!!!!

• We have now graduated from the little cups of ice cream everyday to a big honkin’ bowl….and now she likes chocolate ice cream better than vanilla. But, hey, whatever… she’s too young for beer, so it’s like her own little “ice cream happy hour” in the afternoons. Besides, it’s a dairy product.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

GTL, baby!

This year for her birthday, the kid decided she needed a “prince” doll. (And no, she did not mean the guy who has changed his name to a symbol and sings Raspberry Beret…because I’m pretty sure she has no clue who that guy is). She meant a boy doll, who would be the prince to Barbie’s princess. I mean, when you’re 6, every princess meets a prince and they live happily ever after, right?

Plus, she needed a boy doll that could get pretend married to Barbie and live in their pretend house and all that good stuff. I tried to tell her that Ken would just leave dirty clothes all over the place and then dirty up all the pretend dishes and then refuse to load them in the pretend dishwasher until after his hunting show is over….but she still believes in fairytales. And who am I to quash her dreams of the perfect man?

So, I put the grandmas on the Ken doll hunt for her birthday. And, of course, because they’re grandmas and have like superpowers when it comes to their grandkids, they totally came through.

Ken had arrived!

Barbie was positively breathless with anticipation!

The perfect hair, the chiseled features, the blue eyes and 6-pack abs (not to mention, bendable legs! (Sidebar: Is it just me or is that a totally random selling point??))! The All-American boy, worthy of apple pie and baseball!

Except what she got was this:


Since when did Ken go from “All American” to “Jersey Shore”?

Great…now I have to work on convincing Barbie to not marry Ken because he’ll probably spend all their money on Ed Hardy and spray tans. Plus, he looks like a total douche because, really? Who wears popped collars?? That like totally went out with the 80s.  Not to mention, her dad will freak out when she brings home a punk-ass looking kid with more Axe body spray than brains.


Parenting girls these days is tough.