My Kid Wants Me Dead.

I swear it.

She tried to get me killed today.

Traumatic.

Here’s the situation.

Date: 18, April, 2013
Time: 1815 hours 
Location: Grocery store parking lot.
Incident: While putting children into vehicle in
preparation for our departure, 3 male subjects 
approached our vehicle. One subject turned his 
attention to Haley, who noted the attention and 
responded with a quick "What are you looking at?!", 
then turned to me and reiterated, 
"That guy was looking at me!". 
Male subject noted the reaction, shot me a dirty 
look, then continued to an unknown destination. 
Response: Terror, fear, pride, amusement, then 
relief after the fact. 
Lesson: My daughter is not only JUST LIKE ME, 
but also is trying to get me killed.

Shenanigans in Philadelphia.

Yesterday, it was Harper’s NICU follow up appointment at The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (which is about 2 hours from here) and Mike happened to have work. Why is that important? Well because I had to take both kids myself on a 2 hour drive for an important developmental/medical assessment for the baby. Whatev. 

The appointment was long, yet mostly uneventful. Harper is doing great on all levels, the fee for parking is still discounted if you have an appointment there, and the cafeteria food in unparallelled. Haley wow’ed the social worker and doctor with her ability to keep quiet (in public) and how well she drew and wrote her name. She IS kinda good at writing her name and drawing. At least she’s good in public. 

The drive, however, was hilarious. Here are some quick highlights, since I’m short on time:

  • Harper cried for the last 45 minutes of the drive to the hospital. After ripping my hair out I frantically asked Haley what her sister wanted. Her response: “to get punched”
  • Haley was explaining to me how she remembered when I had her sister in my tummy and it was huge, like Papou’s (my dad – sorry dad!)
  • Haley fell asleep on the ride home and woke up occasionally when I hit a bump in the road, sang Shakira for a second or two, then fell back asleep. 
  • Harper throwing all the toys she could reach at her sister. 
  • The girls having a screaming match in the back of the car – and enjoying it.
  • Haley voicing her extreme dislike of traffic. 

Things I learned: 

  • Change the CD after a while.
  • Calling an idiot an idiot while driving MIGHT come with some hefty consequences. 
  • Bottles work better when they aren’t upside-down in the car seat.
  • I STILL HATE parking garages. 

Anyway, that was our adventure. Though we had fun, it was definitely stressful taking both of them and I will be sure to give more notice next time so that Mike can either come or I can grab someone to watch Haley. 

If You Have Netflix, NEVER, EVER, EVER…..

Let your kid watch the “Bratz:babyz” movie. Never. Never effing ever. Unless, of course, you want to set the high goal of “stripper of the year” for them and you are looking to lay down some good groundwork.

To be half-fair, it’s my fault too for not watching the movie (yeah whatever, I put it on so I could get housework done. Tv IS a babysitter, get over it) BUT it’s their fault for putting it on the kids channel! That shit is NOT for little kids!

Here’s how I know:

Tonight while visiting my dad for our usual Sunday afternoon dinner, we decided to have a dance party (I have been trying to, ironically, cut down on the tv we were watching so we put Pandora on) and she starts dancing. Okay, cool. THEN she starts shaking her ass and SMACKING IT. Yeah, all this while she was BLOWING MY DAD KISSES. THEN she came up to me asking a million questions and I tell her “just…. go, Hal, go dance.” AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE SAID TO ME?! “But I need dollars to dance.” In front my my dad?! Really?! Kill me now.

So of course, I’m on the warpath. I’m ready to start using torture tactics to find out who taught her this shit. I call my husband when I get home to let her say goodnight since he was working and to tell him about this whole thing. After signing, then laughing, then letting me yell about the person whose life I’m going to have to take over this, he goes “Oh, I bet it was the Bratz movie. They were doing some kind of dance thing to win money for their dog or something.” 

Ok fine. So they weren’t stripping. Thank God. BUT. They run around being little bitches to each other wearing belly shirts and short shorts, dancing all slutty-like and blowing kisses.

NO.

Just no.

DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT let your kid watch that trash movie, again, unless you want them to be the best stripper they can be.

Am I pissed? HELL YES. Am I over-reacting? Maybe. But I made hubby make a secret-parent pact with me to never EVER let her watch that crap again. Ever.

/end rant.

Birthday (mis)Happenings.

There has been SO much going on lately that I’m not quite sure which way is up and which way is out the freakin’ door.

Harper’s first birthday just passed on Wednesday. Yay! She was sick with a fever for 103.8 and we spent it at the doctor’s. Boo. And there I am, freaking out thinking, “you WOULD spike a fever on the anniversary of the day you did the scariest thing ever to me. NO MORE BIRTHDAYS.” Back in the real world, it was only a fever. No symptoms. No helicopter ride to CHOP in Philly. No nothing. Just a fever. A fever that she happens to still have, day later, but a fever nonetheless. Her party was supposed to be tomorrow. Was. I had to cancel it today due to the fact that she is a limp pile of whiney with a temperature hovering around 103 still. So, happy first birthday, Harper. On the plus side, I definitely nailed the Cheerio cake is was setting out to make for her party (she might be sick, and she might have no party, but damnit the kid will still have her Cheerio cake!) Here’s the recipe if you’re interested. I didn’t have round cake pans, so (at my husband’s suggestion) I used a monkey bread (also known as a bundt pan with a higher price tag) and the Cheerio cake now is the shape of a Cheerio; BRILLIANT!

My take on the Cheerio First Birthday cake from Betty Crocker.

My take on the Cheerio First Birthday cake from Betty Crocker.

Cheerio cake shaped like a Cheerio; Cheerioception.

Cheerio cake shaped like a Cheerio; Cheerioception.

The Cheerio cake from an artsy point of view. Because I can.

The Cheerio cake from an artsy point of view. Because I can.

Also, it took almost an hour to place all those Cheerios.

In place of her party, my parents and brother are stopping by for some of this cake and some coffee in the morning and we’ll all just wish her a happy birthday and to feel better.

Am I rescheduling the party? Well. I don’t know. I kind of feel like a jerk for asking people to set aside time for me twice. Maybe I’ll do something small with some friends/family next weekend, if they are around. What would you do? Reschedule the party last-minute, or just say “F it” and plan for next year?