Backseat Driver

My kids are officially the last ones to be picked up from school almost every day. I have maxed out on carpool drama. Folks need to learn how to wait in line. Then teach their kids how to do it. Just sayin’.

Today as we were speeding out the door I yelled at Sadie, “Get some clothes on! We’ve got to hurry!”

Sadie, who prefers as do all of my children, to wander around the house nekkid, grabbed a sundress and pulled it over her head. We jumped in the car and before buckling herself in her seat (which, PRAISE THE LORD, she can now do herself) she took OFF the sundress– that she had been wearing approximately 37 seconds. Sadie proceeded to buckle herself into her carseat, in nothing but her panties.

Picture me– not caring.

We zipped through the deserted line and picked Aubrey up. We were heading home when I yielded at a green light before turning left.

Sadie: GOOOOOOO MOMMA!!!! GOOOOO!

Me: Hush you don’t know what you are talking about.

Sadie: GOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

Me:  I DO NOT TAKE DRIVING ADVICE FROM NEKKID PEOPLE IN FIVE-POINT HARNESSES! Zip it. I’ve got this.

 

 

 

I think that’s called, “Exercise…”

 

My daughter and my nephew mesmerized by treadmills today. If I knew how to make little cartoon bubbles on pictures this is what it would say:

Sadie: What are those people doing?

Tucker: I think that’s called, ‘Exercise…’ My mom does it.

Sadie: Ohhhh! Yeah. I’ve heard of that…

Escandalo a la Restaurante Mexicana

I wish you could hear me say that out loud. I could video myself and youtube it, but damn ya’ll– I said Yes to VBS this week so I’m saying No to everything else.

Yesterday was our first day of VBS– where I worked UNMEDICATED (slightly medicated but not tranquilized) for four hours. Emma and Sadie lost their minds every time they saw me and I basically carried around 80 pounds of somebody else’s weight all day. It could have been a total suckfest for me. But then one of my favorite people on the planet who I haven’t seen since she had her third child*snickers*, then moved out of town, surprised our whole church by showing up with her kids for the day. When her daughter walked into her VBS classroom where Aubrey and all her friends were– you would have thought Elvis had walked in the room. The girls screamed, jumped up and hugged all over their sweet friend.

After VBS we (all my WPC God Squad Ladies) took our kids to eat lunch then swimming. You should know that I have been hermit like for the last 6 months and being gone from my house ALL day long isn’t something my kids are used to. As bad as Sadie needed a nap, I wasn’t going to sacrifice spending an afternoon with my friend. So we hung in there and swam until almost 5 when an executive decision was made about dinner and we ran home to change clothes.

The scene:

Foreboding black clouds roll in and hang over La Pinata as 7, SEVEN couples with roughly 16 kids came strolling in the door. Everyone sat down to order drinks. Except for me and Sadie… we headed to the bathroom.

New place+new potty= Gotta Go Gotta Go Gotta Go Right Now!!

So, we go to the bathroom and I wait for what feels like 35 minutes and say, “Sadie do you need help?”

Sadie: NO MOMMA!! Don’t see me! Don’t see me!

(Translation: I don’t want you to help me but awwww SNAP something just happened and I need help.)

I wiggled the door and opened it to find Sadie sitting with her dress around her ankles. I started giggling and went for my camera and she COVERED UP HER BEWBIES, y’all.

THIS IS NOT A RHETORICAL QUESTION:

WHY MUST THEY GET NEKKID TO GO?

WHY?

And WHY would to take a dress off by pushing it to your ankles?

Sadie Said: Are You Getting Married?

A few nights ago as I was tucking Sadie into bed she began fiddling with my wedding rings.
Sadie: What’s dat Momma?
Me: Those are my wedding rings.
Sadie: Whats dat one?
Me: This one is my wedding ring and this is my engagement ring. (neither of which I had when we got married cuz we was po.)
Sadie gasped and her eyes lit up, “ARE YOU GONNA GET MARRIED?!”
I snorted with laughter.
Me: I AM married. To your daddy.
Sadie: YOU GONNA GET MARRIED AND BE PWEGNANT?!
Me: Do you even know what that means?
Sadie: you gonna get married and get a baby in your tummy!!
Me: No I’m not!! No more babies!
Sadie: Yes you ah!! You gonna get married and hab a baby in your tummy!

Um… Negative.

20120518-105845.jpg

That Booger Tastes JUST Right

Last week my mother (Shuggie to her grandbabies) was tucking my three-year-old into the bed. As they settled in the sheets, Sadie asked, “Want me to tewl yew da stowy of da beahs or da pigs?”

“Tell me about the bears!” Shuggie said.

Sadie began telling her version of The Three Bears. I’m sure there were lots of gasps and raised eyebrows as Sadie spun her tale. Then she got to the good part, “And den she ate dat baby beahs powidge and it was so good it was jest wight…”

Sadie pinched her thumb and forefinger together as if she was holding a spoon and gestured towards Shuggie’s mouth with it. Shuggie leaned forward and smacked her lips together, “Mmmm-MM! That is some GOOD porridge, Sadie!”

Sadie looked at my mother as if she lost her mind. “Dat’s not powidge Shuggie. Dat’s a boogah.”

This is the point in my mother’s story where I had to leap up and run to the bathroom to keep from peeing on myself. When I came back I said, “Did you actually EAT one of Sadie’s boogers?”

She raised her eyebrows, “No I was just pretending but I won’t even do that again!”

What warm and fuzzy memories did y’all make over Thanksgiving?

photo credit

 

Sadie Said: Because I’m The Mom


Yes. She. Did.

My two-year-old who fancies herself “Mom” to hordes (droves? flocks? herds?) of baby dolls, just threw the Mom Card in. My Face.

It all started after she gave her doll a “bath” then wanted to put lotion on her. I spent twenty minutes trying to explain to her why she couldn’t put baby lotion on a doll.

Sadie: Huh NEEDS it.
Me: No HUH doesn’t. Her skin can’t absorb it. She doesn’t EVEN HAVE skin, Sadie.
Sadie: YES HUH DOES.

Me: Here put some lotion on SADIE. (Refrains from saying, “She puts the lotion on her skin.” That would be weird.)
Sadie: Okay, Momma. Inna put it up.
Me: (Yay.) Good girl.

She took the lotion back to her bedroom and came back with diaper rash ointment.

No. No. Noooo.

Sadie: Momma, my baby meeds dis for huh booty.
Me: No she doesn’t.
Sadie: HUH DOES. Huh booty is all yucky Momma!
Me: No. She. Doesn’t. Sadie, it’s going to make a huge mess on your doll and she will be so dirty. (It’s a cloth doll so this is no wipe off the grease and go sitch. Her doll was going to be stained and goopy and probably never the same IF it survived the washing machine.)
Sadie: I’m gone do it cuz I’M DA MOMMA!!

Touché.

I simply cannot argue with that kind of logic.

What have your kids said lately that left you speechless?

Honey Baby

 

I was sitting on the bed checking my email on my iPhone when Sadie, my two-year-old, grabbed the comforter with both hands and pulled herself up beside me.

“MOH-MA, you be da baby.” She ordered.

Sadie likes to make me be “her baby.” She makes me Pretend Food, kisses Pretend Boo-Boos and makes me go Pretend Potty.

She says things like, “OH! Honey BABEE! Whassa matter? Oh shhh-shhh-shhh! Eeet’s okay!” (Which makes me feel great about my parenting skills.) Then she says things like, “IF YOU DON’T EAT DIS DINNUR WIGHT NOW YOU IS IN BIG TWOUBLE!” (Which makes me think maybe I could do better.)

I like to blow her mind by yelling at her in my Baby Voice when she makes me go to Pretend Sleep.

“Cwose you wittle eyes, honey baby,” she croons.

I close my eyes for two seconds, pop them open then yell, “WAHHHH! I meed to poo-poo! I’m thirsty! I want a song!”

She starts to sing and I interrupt her, “NOT THAT SONG! SING ANOTHER ONE!!” I wail in my baby voice. She grins and giggles and knows she’s being teased. It’s a game we play well.

“MOH-MA!! BE DA BABY, I SAID!” She insisted again. I dropped my phone on the bed, curled up in the fetal position and threw myself into my character. (I make an awesome baby.)

“Wahhh!” I begin our routine.

“Oh, honey baby! You can’t sweep wif Mommy’s phone!” She said, simultaneously snatching up my iPhone and sliding off the end of the bed and out of my room.

Well played, Honey Baby, well played.