I have always wanted to be smarter.
See even there, I am not sure if I should say "smarter" or "more smart". I'm guessing the latter sounds as dumb as anything, so I will choose A. I wanted to be more intelligent, not anal retentive.
I didn't have the best grades and I have never taken to anything naturally.
I am good at things, but that is because I had to work at it. That doesn't happen to everyone.
I remember growing up, my sister couldn't get a bad grade if she wanted... I, on the other hand, learned my mothers signature very early.
I was also not a very good kid... but, I was fun and I kept things interesting. Everyone said I was "different", I am cool with that now, not then. I really just wanted to be smart and get good grades, easily, and get attention without having to be bad.
I was the second child, to a mother who was twice divorced. She had to work because my "father" was a total deadbeat and that left little time for anything.
I think my childhood, if I can call it that, was fine. It was what it was, as "they" say.
I was thinking about all of this not because I am rehashing my youth with my shrink. I am never rehashing. I don't blame my faults on the past and I don't waste time pin pointing things that went on back then, that have left me totally fucked up now. Who has the time? I'm going forward people. You should join me.
I was thinking about grades and smarts and natural abilities because I have a son that seems to have a little somethin' somethin'. He has the thing, the thing I guess my sister had. He doesn't have to try to get it. He gets it. He does work really hard, he's 10, distraction if anything gets the best of him and that keeps him on his toes.
But like with so many people that have the brains, the natural ability to have things come more easily than most- how do I keep it that way? How do I nurture this child who has no real idea of how smart he is (the best ones don't)?
Other than keep him from starting a band, I mean, that is a given. He is growing up in this business, which is our bread and butter. We are part of this very small group that get to live off of music. It's radical. It's awesome. It is hard.
Not just the business end of everything (make money when you tour, make non when you don't. Lame! Although if you own your own music you do see $ from that. Do not sell your songs people and my advice? Write the song, it is the only way you will see cash when you are not touring)
Ok, so what was I saying? Oh right, when you are a touring band, musician whatever- sure there are many tiers. There are private planes, tour buses, econoline vans and your own car. I have never been a part of the private planes, that's fine, really, it always makes me think of La Bamba... honestly, I couldn't do it and they are bad for the planet.
I can't deny my child his passion. IF he grows up and has a band and that is what he is going to do, great, well, fine- not great. He will know a lot about it before hand, he has grown up on tour. He lost his first tooth on the road in a market, he learned how to walk backstage, potty trained in the urinal, went from a crib to a tour bus bunk. He knows what it is like to eat chips and salsa for dinner and have a meal at 2 a.m. in the back of the van. He learned how to read in his car seat in the "big red van". He has been in probably 1500 hotel rooms, he has traveled across Canada in Pearl Jams bus. He spent half of his kindergarten year in Europe because school was pissing me off.
I love the road, he loves the road but do I want him in a band? On the road? In one word... no.
I don't.
I want him in college. I want him to be something amazing that he is good at and wants to do and something where he can be himself and create something that makes him feel powerful.
I just described my husbands life.
I guess a band it is.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Sunday, October 2, 2011
What's cookin'
Yesterday I bought over $200 worth of food. The week before, we ate out for every single meal, spent over $500. It goes like that, sometimes I feel completely sick of my kitchen, tired, worked late or whatever and thinking of what to make is torture and then I realize how fun and simple it can be to cook at home.
I get busy, like everyone. We have those nights, around 5 p.m. when I have no idea what we are going to eat and that's when a call to Thai Ku comes in. It's hard because not only is it expensive to live like that but it's bad for you. Believe me, I worked in catering for years and if something needed something... it was usually butter. I can neither afford that in the bank or anywhere else.
I went to the store, actually two. Okay, 3. But only because they are close and I had a couple hours to myself. First the produce stand. I buy all the fruit and veggies that are IN season and looking good. Next up Safeway. This is where I get staples... last stop Trader Joe's. This is where I buy my meat and cheese, cereal and snack food. You know, fruit in a tube. It's nasty but try getting your kid to eat an entire apple in the 3 minutes they have for lunch... doesn't happen. It's either coming home (sliming the lunchbox) or it gets thrown out. Either way, money in the trash. I put 1 fruit and 2 veg in every lunch. It's my thing. I am the queen of lunchboxes. I pack a mean lunch.
Anyway, so that's the deal. It doesn't have to happen at 3 stores. I could probably skip one, but I actually enjoy them all. Last night I planned, roughly, what we were going to eat this week. I am a little spontaneous. I try to allow myself to be inspired by something, so I roughly plan for the meals, allowing myself freedom to change what we eat.
I roasted parsnips, carrots, red potatoes and beets, cooled them, chopped them and put them in the fridge. I used walnut oil and salt with some dried rosemary. The beets I made a little foil pouch, oil, salt and some thyme. 350-375 oven for about 30 minutes. You don't want to burn them but you want them to be completely cooked through, "fork tender".
I bought a rotisserie chicken (these rule, graphic but they rule) and took all the meat off. Well most of it. After awhile I just get grossed out, chickens have SO many bones, when I'm done. I'm done.
I put all the meat in a container and throw "Marcus the Carcass" in a big pot. Tossed in a carrot, giant sprigs of rosemary, salt, onion, garlic and boiled it, covered, for an hour. Drained it into a tall pitcher (too dangerous to put in a giant bowl in the fridge, it WILL spill) and officially through out the remains.
Then I was on such a roll, I brown some ground turkey with cumin and salt. I added garlic, basil and tomatoes. Poof! Red sauce. I have everything for chicken noodle soup. Today I boiled some egg noodles and kept them separate. I put some mushrooms in a hot pan, added two cloves of minced garlic, through in the root veg I had roasted, some fresh thyme and the chicken. Added my homemade stock, 2t of veg soup base (I love the Better than Bouillon brand) and viola! Lunch/dinner/linner, whatever.
Tonight I made a pork roast. I put rosemary, garlic, oil, salt in the food processor until it formed a paste and then added some vinegar (or wine would work), smother the roast and bake it for about 6 hours at 275. You can brown it, cook at 350 for a shorter time, but the slow version is great for Sundays.
If I have any time and my daughters nap lasts long enough I will assemble and not bake the lasagne. Remember the red sauce? Ricotta, two eggs and some boiled noodles (the no boil ones are WHACK!) fresh basil. You have yourself some kick booty, simple, and delicious lasagne.
Okay, so get to work. Don't try and do it all in one day. Don't try and start with three meals. But if you are tired of paying too much ordering out, try this. I will post next weekend of how it went, what I did with leftovers and how I plan on keeping this up. If you are smart and don't waste time/food, $200 at the market can last you at LEAST 2 weeks.
I get busy, like everyone. We have those nights, around 5 p.m. when I have no idea what we are going to eat and that's when a call to Thai Ku comes in. It's hard because not only is it expensive to live like that but it's bad for you. Believe me, I worked in catering for years and if something needed something... it was usually butter. I can neither afford that in the bank or anywhere else.
I went to the store, actually two. Okay, 3. But only because they are close and I had a couple hours to myself. First the produce stand. I buy all the fruit and veggies that are IN season and looking good. Next up Safeway. This is where I get staples... last stop Trader Joe's. This is where I buy my meat and cheese, cereal and snack food. You know, fruit in a tube. It's nasty but try getting your kid to eat an entire apple in the 3 minutes they have for lunch... doesn't happen. It's either coming home (sliming the lunchbox) or it gets thrown out. Either way, money in the trash. I put 1 fruit and 2 veg in every lunch. It's my thing. I am the queen of lunchboxes. I pack a mean lunch.
Anyway, so that's the deal. It doesn't have to happen at 3 stores. I could probably skip one, but I actually enjoy them all. Last night I planned, roughly, what we were going to eat this week. I am a little spontaneous. I try to allow myself to be inspired by something, so I roughly plan for the meals, allowing myself freedom to change what we eat.
I roasted parsnips, carrots, red potatoes and beets, cooled them, chopped them and put them in the fridge. I used walnut oil and salt with some dried rosemary. The beets I made a little foil pouch, oil, salt and some thyme. 350-375 oven for about 30 minutes. You don't want to burn them but you want them to be completely cooked through, "fork tender".
I bought a rotisserie chicken (these rule, graphic but they rule) and took all the meat off. Well most of it. After awhile I just get grossed out, chickens have SO many bones, when I'm done. I'm done.
I put all the meat in a container and throw "Marcus the Carcass" in a big pot. Tossed in a carrot, giant sprigs of rosemary, salt, onion, garlic and boiled it, covered, for an hour. Drained it into a tall pitcher (too dangerous to put in a giant bowl in the fridge, it WILL spill) and officially through out the remains.
Then I was on such a roll, I brown some ground turkey with cumin and salt. I added garlic, basil and tomatoes. Poof! Red sauce. I have everything for chicken noodle soup. Today I boiled some egg noodles and kept them separate. I put some mushrooms in a hot pan, added two cloves of minced garlic, through in the root veg I had roasted, some fresh thyme and the chicken. Added my homemade stock, 2t of veg soup base (I love the Better than Bouillon brand) and viola! Lunch/dinner/linner, whatever.
Tonight I made a pork roast. I put rosemary, garlic, oil, salt in the food processor until it formed a paste and then added some vinegar (or wine would work), smother the roast and bake it for about 6 hours at 275. You can brown it, cook at 350 for a shorter time, but the slow version is great for Sundays.
If I have any time and my daughters nap lasts long enough I will assemble and not bake the lasagne. Remember the red sauce? Ricotta, two eggs and some boiled noodles (the no boil ones are WHACK!) fresh basil. You have yourself some kick booty, simple, and delicious lasagne.
Okay, so get to work. Don't try and do it all in one day. Don't try and start with three meals. But if you are tired of paying too much ordering out, try this. I will post next weekend of how it went, what I did with leftovers and how I plan on keeping this up. If you are smart and don't waste time/food, $200 at the market can last you at LEAST 2 weeks.
Rock n roll.
Seriously. There was some of that last night. A lot of that actually.
Supersuckers played El Crapizon, here in our beautiful city.
The guys were rusty, punchy and backstage, very silly.
I would like to say that most of the people that work at that place are and have always been assholes.
About a year ago I got dragged out (I was standing side stage) and the whole time the guy was pulling me by my arm in a really stupid, rude way. He wasn't talking to me, just dragging me along. I thought about "accidently" falling on the ground, to see if he would still drag my lifeless body... I should have, oh well, there's always next time. The guy said I brought beer in from outside and for the life of me I could not understand how/when/why that would be possible. I said "I'm with the band, I got this backstage" and he said "ya, every girl is with the band- but you can't bring in beer from the outside, you are OUT OF HERE!" he screamed . I was near tears, OF LAUGHTER! The guy was wild eyed crazy. I told him that the Pils I was drinking was the choice of my husband and someone must have brought it in for him.... it's called a "rider". He left me in the doorway to run up and look. He came back down with a plastic cup and grabbed my beer, splashed it in the cup and walked away... there was a time when I would have ran after him, jumped on his back and tackled his ass but I had already missed 20 minutes of the show, so screw that.
Last night I was walking with Scotts girlfriend, out from the backstage and another "security" guy came unglued because we had beer, he practically pushed us out into the crowd, which is not where we were going.
In Seattle there is a "law" that you can't have alcohol on the stage or in the backstage. This is the "law" but as many of you know it is a law that is not only ridiculous but totally unnecessary. It's a backstage, there's beer in it, put in there by the club. There, rule 1 broken by them. Then rule 2, no drinking on the stage, they supply cups for the guys to put their beer into, so everyone thinks they are drinking... lemonade. Fucking stupid. And those meatheads that are following that shit like it is coming in from the devil himself, you all need to get a life. There are plenty of things to do as a security and there are plenty of ways to go about those things. My girl J is the best security guard ever. Nothing going down on her watch and she would never act like a crazy animal while doing her job. These Crapizon people need a lesson. Don't even get me started on the bartender chick... but now I will be back at the, what once was the Off Ranp end of December and you know, I think I am going to go limp if shit goes down, I think I want to see how far they'll drag me. Duff, you better have your camera ready.
I'd like to give a shout out to Lisa and her Husband Earle. Met these lovely people backstage last night. Earl was actually talking to Eddie and I heard him say "my wife loves your wifes blog". That's where I chimed in. I mean, how cool is that? It is nearly impossible for me to wrap my brain around the fact that people read my shitty blog. Keep reading!! And pass it on. Link it, post it.
Supersuckers played El Crapizon, here in our beautiful city.
The guys were rusty, punchy and backstage, very silly.
I would like to say that most of the people that work at that place are and have always been assholes.
About a year ago I got dragged out (I was standing side stage) and the whole time the guy was pulling me by my arm in a really stupid, rude way. He wasn't talking to me, just dragging me along. I thought about "accidently" falling on the ground, to see if he would still drag my lifeless body... I should have, oh well, there's always next time. The guy said I brought beer in from outside and for the life of me I could not understand how/when/why that would be possible. I said "I'm with the band, I got this backstage" and he said "ya, every girl is with the band- but you can't bring in beer from the outside, you are OUT OF HERE!" he screamed . I was near tears, OF LAUGHTER! The guy was wild eyed crazy. I told him that the Pils I was drinking was the choice of my husband and someone must have brought it in for him.... it's called a "rider". He left me in the doorway to run up and look. He came back down with a plastic cup and grabbed my beer, splashed it in the cup and walked away... there was a time when I would have ran after him, jumped on his back and tackled his ass but I had already missed 20 minutes of the show, so screw that.
Last night I was walking with Scotts girlfriend, out from the backstage and another "security" guy came unglued because we had beer, he practically pushed us out into the crowd, which is not where we were going.
In Seattle there is a "law" that you can't have alcohol on the stage or in the backstage. This is the "law" but as many of you know it is a law that is not only ridiculous but totally unnecessary. It's a backstage, there's beer in it, put in there by the club. There, rule 1 broken by them. Then rule 2, no drinking on the stage, they supply cups for the guys to put their beer into, so everyone thinks they are drinking... lemonade. Fucking stupid. And those meatheads that are following that shit like it is coming in from the devil himself, you all need to get a life. There are plenty of things to do as a security and there are plenty of ways to go about those things. My girl J is the best security guard ever. Nothing going down on her watch and she would never act like a crazy animal while doing her job. These Crapizon people need a lesson. Don't even get me started on the bartender chick... but now I will be back at the, what once was the Off Ranp end of December and you know, I think I am going to go limp if shit goes down, I think I want to see how far they'll drag me. Duff, you better have your camera ready.
I'd like to give a shout out to Lisa and her Husband Earle. Met these lovely people backstage last night. Earl was actually talking to Eddie and I heard him say "my wife loves your wifes blog". That's where I chimed in. I mean, how cool is that? It is nearly impossible for me to wrap my brain around the fact that people read my shitty blog. Keep reading!! And pass it on. Link it, post it.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
And just like that, he's gone.
It has not gotten easier. People often assume it does.
We have been doing this dance so long, it's easy to think it comes naturally.
But it doesn't.
To go to bed one night together and wake up with the bags packed, sitting at the door.
The phone rings, the van pulls up and just like that- he's back out there.
I wouldn't change it though.
I get to be the lone star and in a way he does too and we both absolutely need that to be who we are.
I am here holding down the fort, taking care of our family and he is out there doing what he loves. Just like me.
I love being on tour but maybe more so, I love being at home. Sometimes anyway.
Touring is not for everyone. As romantic as it sounds, I know very few people that can take it.
He can take it. And I have to take, the being apart, part- with a smile.
Having kids makes things more interesting. Long gone are the days of Eddie climbing in the van or on the plane and me climbing into bed. I remember once getting into bed after he left and I didn't get out for three days. I didn't eat or answer the door. I didn't make any calls. This was before Eddie had a cell phone, I would have to wait for him to find a pay phone and when they were in Europe, we'd go days without talking. I never knew when he would call. I would sit by the phone, LITERALLY, just sit and wait and wait and then it would ring and we'd talk until the phone card ran out. Click. Just like that, he'd be gone again.
So I did that for a while. I was sad and pathetic and I didn't have any friends to snap me out of it. I was new to this town and to this crazy life and I had to learn everything the hard, slow way. But I am glad. If someone had walked me through it, who knows, I might hijack everything years later and go through it all again, my way. I'm like that. Humans are like that. It's like a mini- midlife crisis. When you want to redo, go back, start over. I prefer to do things the hard way, first and then be done with it. It's not really by choice, I think it was how I was born... I have never taken the easy way- for better or worse.
After awhile I realized I couldn't sit around and wait for him anymore. I mean, I was "waiting" for him emotionally but physically, I couldn't do it. I had to get a life and then figure out how to have them meet, harmoniously, when he came home. It was weird and complicated and messy at times. I tried working, I tried traveling. I got some friends but it dawned on us one night, on the phone (him probably freezing in a urine smelling pay phone) what we really needed to do. Where the natural course of our relationship was headed.
So we had kids.
Kids make things better, or at least they did for us. They made things make sense and they (he) gave me a purpose. I had no idea, before I had Quattro, that I was suppose to be someone's Mother. And I guess not just anyones, I mean, I am completely convinced that I was suppose to have him.
In a very freaky way, he has taught me so much about myself, that I had no idea. Not just how to be a Mother and how to carry on in life living like I am NOT the most important thing but he taught me weird stuff. How to care about the world. How to help things get better. How to stop complaining and start doing. What a fucking concept...
There are parts to having kids that I don't like. When they are too young to understand what is going on. They are just sad in their own way. When sad doesn't really have a name for them, but you can see it on their face when he leaves. When he calls and when you talk about him. That part sucks.
When they get older and understand he is leaving- that sucks too. They get that he is going to leave AND come back, but they also know a little bit about time and that is hard for everyone.
Now that I have one of each, the one who "gets it" and the one who gets none of it, I'm oddly getting it myself. The whole thing.
I have been typing this thing over the course of an entire day. I have shopped the market, given baths, made 3 meals, tended to my sick son and kept a toddler busy. I have walked dogs, fed them and their two cat friends. I am tired and I guess I am telling you this, whomever you are, because over the next nearly 4 months- I will be tired. Many of my posts will not make sense and they will jump all around and there will be many, many errors. I will not proof read before I hit "publish post".
I will just post. And when my husband comes home all will be right with the world and our son and daughter will be really, really happy.
We have been doing this dance so long, it's easy to think it comes naturally.
But it doesn't.
To go to bed one night together and wake up with the bags packed, sitting at the door.
The phone rings, the van pulls up and just like that- he's back out there.
I wouldn't change it though.
I get to be the lone star and in a way he does too and we both absolutely need that to be who we are.
I am here holding down the fort, taking care of our family and he is out there doing what he loves. Just like me.
I love being on tour but maybe more so, I love being at home. Sometimes anyway.
Touring is not for everyone. As romantic as it sounds, I know very few people that can take it.
He can take it. And I have to take, the being apart, part- with a smile.
Having kids makes things more interesting. Long gone are the days of Eddie climbing in the van or on the plane and me climbing into bed. I remember once getting into bed after he left and I didn't get out for three days. I didn't eat or answer the door. I didn't make any calls. This was before Eddie had a cell phone, I would have to wait for him to find a pay phone and when they were in Europe, we'd go days without talking. I never knew when he would call. I would sit by the phone, LITERALLY, just sit and wait and wait and then it would ring and we'd talk until the phone card ran out. Click. Just like that, he'd be gone again.
So I did that for a while. I was sad and pathetic and I didn't have any friends to snap me out of it. I was new to this town and to this crazy life and I had to learn everything the hard, slow way. But I am glad. If someone had walked me through it, who knows, I might hijack everything years later and go through it all again, my way. I'm like that. Humans are like that. It's like a mini- midlife crisis. When you want to redo, go back, start over. I prefer to do things the hard way, first and then be done with it. It's not really by choice, I think it was how I was born... I have never taken the easy way- for better or worse.
After awhile I realized I couldn't sit around and wait for him anymore. I mean, I was "waiting" for him emotionally but physically, I couldn't do it. I had to get a life and then figure out how to have them meet, harmoniously, when he came home. It was weird and complicated and messy at times. I tried working, I tried traveling. I got some friends but it dawned on us one night, on the phone (him probably freezing in a urine smelling pay phone) what we really needed to do. Where the natural course of our relationship was headed.
So we had kids.
Kids make things better, or at least they did for us. They made things make sense and they (he) gave me a purpose. I had no idea, before I had Quattro, that I was suppose to be someone's Mother. And I guess not just anyones, I mean, I am completely convinced that I was suppose to have him.
In a very freaky way, he has taught me so much about myself, that I had no idea. Not just how to be a Mother and how to carry on in life living like I am NOT the most important thing but he taught me weird stuff. How to care about the world. How to help things get better. How to stop complaining and start doing. What a fucking concept...
There are parts to having kids that I don't like. When they are too young to understand what is going on. They are just sad in their own way. When sad doesn't really have a name for them, but you can see it on their face when he leaves. When he calls and when you talk about him. That part sucks.
When they get older and understand he is leaving- that sucks too. They get that he is going to leave AND come back, but they also know a little bit about time and that is hard for everyone.
Now that I have one of each, the one who "gets it" and the one who gets none of it, I'm oddly getting it myself. The whole thing.
I have been typing this thing over the course of an entire day. I have shopped the market, given baths, made 3 meals, tended to my sick son and kept a toddler busy. I have walked dogs, fed them and their two cat friends. I am tired and I guess I am telling you this, whomever you are, because over the next nearly 4 months- I will be tired. Many of my posts will not make sense and they will jump all around and there will be many, many errors. I will not proof read before I hit "publish post".
I will just post. And when my husband comes home all will be right with the world and our son and daughter will be really, really happy.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
PTA took my baby away.
Tonight was the first PTA meeting of the year. Some of you might be surprised at this acknowledgment. I am neither surprised nor ashamed. I actually enjoy it. The idea of "it" anyway- the meeting is nose hair plucking painful, but it is sprinkled with thoughts on learning, our children and the process of how we must vote to get things done. That I dig. A lot.
I find it personally lame that more parents don't show up. I get it though, they have read into all the anti-hype, they believe all the things that are being said about PTA meetings. I get it. I GET THAT. But let me ask you what political meeting do your feel completely enamored by? Which congressional hearing do you watch without taking a nap? Me? None. They are all boring. It so boring I am bored while I type, so I could possibly be typing in my sleep.
What I'm getting at is that things are boring. Especially when they are in a system, there is a protocol, blah blah blah... but I want to challenge that.
My Mother always said she would have been more involved in my school if she wasn't a single mom with 2 kids and more jobs. So this is for her, I guess. This angry, spicy rage I feel for all of those people who think they are too cool for the PTA. Too cool to help out at school, at home. To sign up to volunteer to do something that, sure you wouldn't want to do 15 years ago but welcome. Welcome to Fall 2011. Get involved. These kids are our future. They are the future of our social security and so much more. They are the ones that will be making sure we are set up when we can't do it for ourselves. Shouldn't we teach them how?
Gosh.
I find it personally lame that more parents don't show up. I get it though, they have read into all the anti-hype, they believe all the things that are being said about PTA meetings. I get it. I GET THAT. But let me ask you what political meeting do your feel completely enamored by? Which congressional hearing do you watch without taking a nap? Me? None. They are all boring. It so boring I am bored while I type, so I could possibly be typing in my sleep.
What I'm getting at is that things are boring. Especially when they are in a system, there is a protocol, blah blah blah... but I want to challenge that.
My Mother always said she would have been more involved in my school if she wasn't a single mom with 2 kids and more jobs. So this is for her, I guess. This angry, spicy rage I feel for all of those people who think they are too cool for the PTA. Too cool to help out at school, at home. To sign up to volunteer to do something that, sure you wouldn't want to do 15 years ago but welcome. Welcome to Fall 2011. Get involved. These kids are our future. They are the future of our social security and so much more. They are the ones that will be making sure we are set up when we can't do it for ourselves. Shouldn't we teach them how?
Gosh.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Strike the match
Today I took my kids to an annual festival called the "Wurstfest, mine and Eddie's old stompin grounds. When we moved in together (about a month and a half after we met) we lived in Middlefingerton, right smack in the middle of Wallingford.
Anyway, so we are walking around and buying cookies at the bake sale, where I saw my friend slangin' cookies. The event raises money for their school, which seems amazing all on it's own. The kids jump in the jumpy things, we ate bratwurst and watched Casper Baby Pants. We did our thing. Q rode the Cliff Hanger twice and waited for too long for something else, that he later bailed on... time was ticking. Time is always ticking, we have a toddler in the house.
Elvis jumped in her first jumpy house. I had to talk her into getting in because she was just not having it. Standing on the outside, she wanted to be in there, but walking up to the puffy slide thing you climb in on, not so much. We waited until there were just little kids and she finally took the bait. And I just sort of tossed her in. I knew she would love it and that way everyone wins and we can go home. I have been gone all summer. All I want to do is hang out at my house.
After about 5 minutes (I think the lady let them jump longer since it took 25 minutes for her to get in there, which was nice) it was time for everyone to get out. I hadn't given that part too much thought. I just forgot I guess. Not now. Now I remember how unreasonable babies can be. And that's when the fun started. I told her it was time to get out, I shook my hands to sign "all done". Nope. Nothing. I had to actually get in the jumpy house. I had to climb in and roll around and the only thing I could grab her by (because OF COURSE she thought it was hilarious that I was coming in after her) were her little tiny feet. I pulled her ankles and dragged her out like a fish at Pike Place Market. It was not my proudest moment. She was whaling and I just smirked at the line of freaked out mothers who were judging me. I'm certain as a jertain in a curtain.
I see a lot of that shit go down and mothers who talk loudly to their kid (as if they will then hear them over the fire truck volume scream) and they are reasoning with them, 'It's okay honey, you had your turn, it is time for some of the other kids to have their turn then it can be your turn again."
Horse shit. I was not bringing her back. We were out of there as soon as I climbed out of the door flaps and slid down the inflatable slide.
Anyway, so we are walking around and buying cookies at the bake sale, where I saw my friend slangin' cookies. The event raises money for their school, which seems amazing all on it's own. The kids jump in the jumpy things, we ate bratwurst and watched Casper Baby Pants. We did our thing. Q rode the Cliff Hanger twice and waited for too long for something else, that he later bailed on... time was ticking. Time is always ticking, we have a toddler in the house.
Elvis jumped in her first jumpy house. I had to talk her into getting in because she was just not having it. Standing on the outside, she wanted to be in there, but walking up to the puffy slide thing you climb in on, not so much. We waited until there were just little kids and she finally took the bait. And I just sort of tossed her in. I knew she would love it and that way everyone wins and we can go home. I have been gone all summer. All I want to do is hang out at my house.
After about 5 minutes (I think the lady let them jump longer since it took 25 minutes for her to get in there, which was nice) it was time for everyone to get out. I hadn't given that part too much thought. I just forgot I guess. Not now. Now I remember how unreasonable babies can be. And that's when the fun started. I told her it was time to get out, I shook my hands to sign "all done". Nope. Nothing. I had to actually get in the jumpy house. I had to climb in and roll around and the only thing I could grab her by (because OF COURSE she thought it was hilarious that I was coming in after her) were her little tiny feet. I pulled her ankles and dragged her out like a fish at Pike Place Market. It was not my proudest moment. She was whaling and I just smirked at the line of freaked out mothers who were judging me. I'm certain as a jertain in a curtain.
I see a lot of that shit go down and mothers who talk loudly to their kid (as if they will then hear them over the fire truck volume scream) and they are reasoning with them, 'It's okay honey, you had your turn, it is time for some of the other kids to have their turn then it can be your turn again."
Horse shit. I was not bringing her back. We were out of there as soon as I climbed out of the door flaps and slid down the inflatable slide.
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