I Need To Wrap a Gift--Do You Have a Squirrel?

I had to wrap a gift tonight and it became a very interesting situation. Normally I am a gift-bag kind of girl. First, it’s easier. Second, I think it is more environmentally conscious since it can be reused and recycled.

Since I’m a firm believer in gift bag re-use, I have no problem wrapping a wedding gift in a pink sparkly unicorn bag. What kind of person would not like a pink sparkly unicorn bag? And even if they didn’t like the pink sparkly unicorn bag, they would find it pretty expected coming from me. 

However, I think that a life-changing celebration like a wedding deserves tissue paper. I also reuse tissue paper—reuse and recycle baby! I put the pieces that are less crumply at the top. If they are all really crumply, then I make them look like they are SUPPOSED to be that way. It’s textured tissue paper.

Tonight’s problem…no tissue paper. I’ll just keep working through the problem tree. 

It’s a box. I can wrap it. I have oodles of wrapping paper. I can even use regular wrapping paper that doesn’t have seasonally inappropriate snowmen and santa’s on it. 

I don’t have any scotch tape. This shouldn’t really surprise me since I remember someone unwinding 90% of the roll for a “crap project.” 

Some people may have given up at this point, would have either waited until tomorrow to go to the store for appropriate gift wrapping supplies. I am over achiever creative thinker and I can make this work. Let’s see…

Return to the problem tree and reevaluate the options:

• Duct Tape
• Packaging Tape
• Stickers
• Chewing gum

 Stickers it is.

A wedding gift wrapped in jivin’ stripped paper held closed with squirrel stickers? You bet. After all it’s the gift inside that counts. Isn’t that how that saying goes? Thought that counts? Well what does squirrel stickers say about my thoughts? It says better things than chewing gum would have.

Really Ridiculous Level of Really Ridiculous Bargaining and Threatening

I find myself making ridiculous bargains and threats. I am talking a really ridiculous level of really ridiculous bargaining and threatening. 

These tend to most frequently occur around the bedtime hours (the plural on hours was intended).For example, I just had a conversation in the bathroom that I thought to myself, “Did I actually just say that outloud?” The reality is, I should have been more embarrassed that my second thought was, “Oh! I’ve got to remember that one and use it again!”

The situation: post bed-time potty. There are two things intensely complicating my life right now: potty training and bedtime. (There is laundry too, but that’s always there, it’s a constant and so I’ve just given up and accept it for what it is. A major suckage of my time.) G pretty much has me every night, 8:30 p.m., half an hour into “you should be in bed!” time and he has to go to the bathroom. Every. Single. Night.

Of course Kinsley follows in with that she has to go to the bathroom too. 

Now don’t go making some brilliant suggestion like, “Have him go before bedtime!” Do you really think I didn’t think of that one on my own? Or yet another brilliant suggestion, “Just tell him no.” Yeah, that will work out well for me. Remember the story about Greyson having to clean his own poopy pull up? Yeah that time I had to wash him, his clothes, the walls, the toilet, the floor, the tub. Awesome suggestion.

So there I am standing with the stern face in the bathroom to make sure there are no shenanigans going around. Hanging out for several minutes, I announce that I am going to count to 20 and then it is time to be done going potty. I count slowly, I’ve already given a great deal of thought to how to handle this situation and not traumatize my kids and make them think they won’t have enough time to do what they need to. 

…18, 19,20. You’re done.

“No I’m not.” I pretty clearly saw that one coming. Two toddlers saying no to a directive? That’s a given.

“If you don’t get down right now, you will not get to flush your poop.”

Yes, I did do a combine bribe/threat with FLUSHING. A very effective bribe/threat! 

I am so proud of my victory and wit that I snap into auto-mode and FLUSH. Damn. That kind of ruins the effective follow-through, if I do that then my next bribe/threat won’t be as effective. 

“Okay, sorry, I forgot. You can flush my poop next time.”

Stories of a Whack-a-Doodle?

I feel like before I jump right back in to telling you the fun, adventurous and humorous moments in my life I should explain. I spent all this time building up a relationship with you and then I just up and leave you.

I have all these reasons…I decided that it was high-time to get out of the house and get back to work. So I started investing an extra amount of time to searching, resuming and interviewing. It really was a short process that moved super fast, interviewing Tuesday, offered Wednesday, accepted Thursday and started working on Monday.

Turns out this super-speed was the perfect speed in that Bo lost HIS job on Thursday—yes that’s right, the day I accepted mine, four hours later Bo lost his. At the moment he is Mr. Mom. All in all, we’ve bit in a wee bit of transition at my house. Then again, when is my house NOT in transition from one major moment to another.

Now you would think that being the spectacular O.C.D. over-achiever that I am that it wouldn’t have taken me three weeks of being back at work to find my groove and return blogging. There was many times when I thought of you, when a terrific (aka crazy) moment happened and I thought…oh dear me, I must tell my bloggy friends about this. But there is an issue where my laptop has to be plugged in to work for more than 15 minutes (yes this DOES defeat the purpose of a laptop).

It was time for us to reunite and rekindle this relationship, even if this means typing as fast I can for the 15 minutes that my laptop has power. Now for a very important question…should I remain “Stories of a Stay-At-Home Mom” since I am no longer a SAHM? It’s kind of a lie now. But what would I call myself? Stories of a Crazy Mom? Stories of an Overly Caffeinated Mom?

I  feel as though I need a new more appropriate, more witty title. Please advise accordingly while accepting my sincerest apologies for abandoning you.  

Nice Boots Officer!

We had a very exciting visitor! As I was cleaning up lunch, about the time that my house at the highest level of chaos with toys strewn about the whole living room and every child showing evidence that nap time is coming near, animal control pulls in my driveway.

I’m thinking that it is not the gold fish who have caused an issue. That leaves Libbey Dog and Parker Dog. I give them the “what did you do?” look skulk in their beds until the doorbell rings, signaling both dog and child to begin running around in circles at operating at volume level “Very Loud.”

“Hello Officer. Please come in. What can I do for you?”

“Your neighbor…”

Out comes Greyson, fully naked, jumping up and down and screaming with glee, “HiMr.PoliceManIPoopedCanISeeYourBadge? Please!?” Awww he said please. I am pretty used to having to remind kids, “It is not appropriate to have a naked butt anywhere but the bathroom. Please go find your pants.”

As a matter of fact, as I am typing I just had to take a time-out to issue a threatening reminder. “If you want to play with the flashlight you need to find pants. I don’t care if you are looking for dinosaurs. Dinosaur hunters wear pants. NOW.”

Not being very fazed by the little naked butt who is asking about guns, badges, and flashing lights, I reroute G back to the bathroom to wipe, wash and dress.

“Now Officer, what were you saying about my neighbor?”

“Yes, your neighbor called us and complained…”

Enter flirt-face Kinsley dressed in the usual triple patterned outfit combining polka dots, and two flower patterns. Oh look, she got dressed up for the officer and now has a headband…going across her forehead like she is that guy from X-Men with the laser beam eyeballs.

Batting her eyelashes and tipping her head to the side, she pats his foot and coo’s “I yike you sinnney boots.”

“Yes, Kinsley, those are very nice boots the police officer has on. Now, what about my neighbor?”

Please note that during this entire chaotic conversation, I have blocks, cars, baby dolls, and silverware strewn about my living room. I’ve long since apologized that my house is a mess and have adopted the rule that any object that is a primary color is NOT a mess but is a learning tool. Also during this time, the dogs have decided that this could have nothing whatsoever to do with them and must be a messenger sent to offer them smell-goods that they are ferociously taking in by sniffing every square inch of this man.

Finally we get to the offense. It would seem my dog decided to go to the elderly neighbors house and poop in her yard so she calls the police. SHE CALLED THE POLICE BECAUSE MY DOG POOPED! Now I in no way think that it is polite to let your animal poop on someone else’s property and had I known I would have cleaned it up. HAD I KNOWN I WOULD HAVE CLEANED IT UP.

In other words, my neighbor who I have never met in person since we moved in last fall, could have TOLD ME instead of sending a man with a bullet proof vest to my house to be interrogated by a half naked poop crack kid and a two year old flirty flirt diva while being nose molested by my dogs.

Wash It Down With Some Pepper Water

Let’s play “Make Believe.” We are going to make believe a mom is out to lunch with a friend of hers and has a significant number of her own children with her. In this make believe land the mother is half-heartedly paying attention to her children because she is very interested in the collaborative pondering of what her soon-to-be royal highness, Kate Middelton, will be wearing at her upcoming royal wedding.

In this land of make believe, mom notices that a child is playing with the salt & pepper shakers and vigorously shaking them into their water glass. 

“Stop shaking that. Do you think she will have a mermaid or something ruffly? I SAID stop shaking that.” The mother carries on in her dual-conversation that would make the untrained ear believe she has a personality disorder. 

Contemplation of serious matters, like veil length, carry on until one of the shaker-shaking child begins to carry on himself and bursts in to wails. A moment of alarm crosses the mother followed by several moments of embarrassment as other diners begin to stare. Then there is the time of confusion...what's the issue little dude? Mother then takes note: not only do they have salt, pepper and garlic seasoning at the table but they also have cayenne pepper. CAYENNE PEPPER!

I don't know that I have ever had cayenne pepper, but I would have to imagine that it is not something that be wonderful to sprinkle on my tongue.

In make believe, mother and friend are laughing to the point that they have their own tears as the child frantically attempts to wipe the burn off his tongue, drool begins to puddle on his chin. Now people are REALLY starring! 

Mother offers the child a sip of water. Unfortunately, in make believe land the child has already seasoned the water with pepper. Now he suffers from cayenne pepper and water pepper tongue. 

Let’s just say for the sake of conversation that this WAS me. Do you think this is why I didn’t get an invitation to Kate & Will’s big day?