blame lisa

Adventures in Bad Parenting: Alternate Reality

What we told Connor;

There was a goldfish named SpongeBob who lived at Wal-Mart. Spongebob was an old fish. He was living in a big tank full of other, younger, cuter fish. He had no one to care about him and he had to fight all the other goldfish for food. Every day SpongeBob saw the other, younger, cuter fish get bought and everyday Spongebob thought to himself 'No one will ever buy me, I'm not young and I'm not very cute'. All he wanted was to make somebody happy, he knew he could if someone would just give him a chance. He was very lonely.

One day a little boy named Connor came to Wal-Mart with his parents and brother wanting to buy goldfish for his birthday. SpongeBob was thrilled when the little boy picked him to take home! He was so happy, he didn't know what to do. Not only did SpongeBob get to go home with Connor, his friend Patrick came too. SpongeBob had gotten exactly what he'd wished for.

At home, Connor put his two goldfish in a sparkly, new tank with pretty plants to play in and colorful gravel along the bottom. Every day, Connor's mom fed Patrick & SpongeBob and talked in a happy voice to them. They played on and around the plants in the tank and searched the gravel for treasure. They were the happiest fish in the world.

One day, SpongeBob didn't feel much like swimming around. He thought he'd just stay on the bottom, in the gravel, where it was comfortable and where he felt safe. SpongeBob knew he was coming to the end of his time in the tank. He wasn't sad. He had spent the happiest days of his life in his tank with his friend Patrick, all thanks to his boy Connor. SpongeBob only hoped Connor wouldn't be too sad when it when it was time to leave the tank. The morning came when it was time for SpongeBob to go. He said goodbye to Patrick and Connor, who was still sleeping, and lay down in the corner of the tank to wait.

Later that morning Connor's dad took SpongeBob to the river, where all good goldfish go, and set him free. Spongebob had fulfilled his lifelong dream of making somebody happy and it was all thanks to the little boy who took a chance on an old, not cute, goldfish.

Translation: We got a bum goldfish from WalMart. He only lived a week. We flushed him.

Night & Day

My oldest son, Wesley, is the smart one. He is quiet, laid back and extremely curious. He'll seize on an idea and have to know EVERYthing about it, to the point where everyone around him is rolling their eyes and wanting him to shut UP already.

Connor is the sporty one. He's brave, imaginative and extremely competitive. He throws himself into things and doesn't spare a thought for consequences.

Today we got a call telling us Wesley was accepted into the International Baccalaureate middle years program. It's a prestigous magent program for kids with high IQ's who have demonstrated advanced critical thinking skills. Connor, on the other hand, got in trouble for starting (and winning) a burping contest in the cafeteria.

I can safely say, with only trace elements of sarcasm, that I am very proud of them both. The world can never have too many smart, thoughtful people and a well timed burp? Well, shit, that's priceless.

The Dr. Phil Thing... or, How's That Working For Ya?

Connor has periods of mild to moderate screaming crazy. Times where he absolutely will. not. listen- to mom, to dad, or to reason. For those special times we have an ace in the hole, a trump card or some other card playing analogy for when you just want it over already. That would be Dr. Phil.

Years ago, Connor & I were at home watching Dr. Phil. The topic that day was Out Of Control Kids, complete with video of a small boy howling, banshee style. Connor was transfixed, he looked at me & without the slightest bit of self realization said "That kid is BAD". Seizing the teachable moment I told him he acted the same way sometimes and how would he like me to invite the Dr. Phil show to come vidoetape him during one of his freak outs. This was not acceptable to Connor. I'm not sure whether or not it was thinking of people watching him & judging him or just deep resentment of being exploited for ratings, he never really said. Maybe Dr. Phil just scares the cheesy old shit out of him.

From then on whenever he starts to get out of control, when the center becomes wobbly, we will ask him "Do you want me to call Dr. Phil?" "Do you?". The result is always the same "Noooooo!" and a run to the couch or other place of safety and immediate adoption of Good Boy Posture.

Full disclosure; during one pre bedtime negotiation/freakout, Chris MAY have pretended to call Dr. Phil from his cell phone and then ALLEGEDLY gone to the front door, knocked on it & yelled "WHERE IS THAT BOY?". Allegedly.

Don't you judge me.

Merry Christmas to some and to some..suck it.

Merry Christmas to my amazing husband and my beautiful children. They are my safe harbor, my champions, my reason for living.

Merry Christmas to my sisters, my brother in law and my precious neice, Ellie. We're all champions at playing the cards we were dealt.

Merry Christmas to my grandmother, the person without whom I would've fallen off the face of the earth. She inspires me every day.

Merry Christmas to my amazing friends at the Mythbusters Fan Club- the smartest, most diverse, caring and creative people you'll find anywhere.

Everybody else can bite the big weenie.

Ye Olde Timey Christmas

So the kids are out for Christmas break. We've been making crafts, gathering pine cones, baking up a mess o' cookies and decorating them ourselves using natural, organic ingredients. We've sung carols for the unfortunate and donated all our Christmas presents to the needy...


Nah, we're sitting around in our jammies watching Maury & cheesy Christmas movies.



Merry Christmas! Shitters are full!

Adventures in (Bad) Parenting- Wiki entry

6 seconds: The time it takes to go from a deep sleep to processing the words "Mommy, I threw up*" and how that relates to you.

*"Mommy, I threw up" does NOT mean 'Mommy I woke up feeling very nauseous and I have vomited into the toilet and now I need comforting and maybe some Emetrol'. It means 'Mommy there is a debris field of chunks extending from my bed to the door and I didn't even LEAN TOWARD the bathroom and it smells like mint french fries'.

30 seconds: The amount of time spent contemplating throttling your child when you ask him 'Honey, did you eat anything weird today?' and he answers 'You mean yesterday. It's after midnight'.

1 minute 30 seconds: The amount of time it takes to get downstairs, throw the offending laundry in the machine, grab the Carpet Fresh & the room spray & get back upstairs

7 minutes: Total duration of post-midnight puke trauma

1 hour, 23 minutes: The time spent trying to get back to sleep and convincing your stomach to NOT. EVEN. START

0 seconds: The amount of time it takes the puker to get back to sleep in the mint french fry/Carpet Fresh/room spray funk