Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
HAWTness
I let each of the kids pick out their Halloween costumes this year. After much bickering, each of them settled on a costume unique to their personality and Halloween wishes.
The hellion (a.k.a. Gunny) decided he wanted to be a pirate and immediately demanded I run to Safeway and buy him a parrot for his shoulder. After we discussed the lifespan of a bird, it was decided that a plastic sword would be much more practical. I did not negotiate with him over his request to give up an eye so it would like "weally cool unda da eyepatch."
My quiet monster, Caid, settled on a Star Wars character. I could tell he wasn't too keen on how tight the costume fit him by the look of surprise on his face. He streaked through the house with his Jane Fonda leotard on, embarrassed that he didn't quite look the part of a rough and tough Star Wars character. It was decided he'd still wear it as long as he got to wear the mask that disguised his identity.
When it came to Mattea's turn, she skimmed thru tons of websites until she found the right costume; a gothic Little Red Riding Hood. The costume was super cute and the addition of the red Morticia wig totally gave me the impression she was going to listen to Nirvana and start wearing black eyeliner. It was settled and all the costumes were purchased.
About a week ago, my BFF texted me and asked if Mattea was really going to be a "hot Red Riding Hood." I laughed and texted back, that no, she was a "goth" Red Riding Hood and she must have said it wrong. Surely Miss Mattea wasn't interested in the "hawtness" factor at this age.
When she got home from school, I quizzed her about her costume description. She immediately had a grin on her face she tried to hide.
"Well Mom, I am gonna be a HAWT Red Riding Hood. I'm wearing fishnets, remember?"
Wow, how could I forget such a fact on the hawtness scale. The fishnet factor immediately doubled up the sex-ay-ness points I had so carelessly forgotten.
Needless to say, she will be wearing tights underneath her fishnets. I'm not ready for fifth grade hawtness nor am I ready for her to realize that this hawtness would even matter.
I really feel bad for her first boyfriend.
The hellion (a.k.a. Gunny) decided he wanted to be a pirate and immediately demanded I run to Safeway and buy him a parrot for his shoulder. After we discussed the lifespan of a bird, it was decided that a plastic sword would be much more practical. I did not negotiate with him over his request to give up an eye so it would like "weally cool unda da eyepatch."
My quiet monster, Caid, settled on a Star Wars character. I could tell he wasn't too keen on how tight the costume fit him by the look of surprise on his face. He streaked through the house with his Jane Fonda leotard on, embarrassed that he didn't quite look the part of a rough and tough Star Wars character. It was decided he'd still wear it as long as he got to wear the mask that disguised his identity.
When it came to Mattea's turn, she skimmed thru tons of websites until she found the right costume; a gothic Little Red Riding Hood. The costume was super cute and the addition of the red Morticia wig totally gave me the impression she was going to listen to Nirvana and start wearing black eyeliner. It was settled and all the costumes were purchased.
About a week ago, my BFF texted me and asked if Mattea was really going to be a "hot Red Riding Hood." I laughed and texted back, that no, she was a "goth" Red Riding Hood and she must have said it wrong. Surely Miss Mattea wasn't interested in the "hawtness" factor at this age.
When she got home from school, I quizzed her about her costume description. She immediately had a grin on her face she tried to hide.
"Well Mom, I am gonna be a HAWT Red Riding Hood. I'm wearing fishnets, remember?"
Wow, how could I forget such a fact on the hawtness scale. The fishnet factor immediately doubled up the sex-ay-ness points I had so carelessly forgotten.
Needless to say, she will be wearing tights underneath her fishnets. I'm not ready for fifth grade hawtness nor am I ready for her to realize that this hawtness would even matter.
I really feel bad for her first boyfriend.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Dirty Nipples
Sorry for the delay in posting...I've become a blog slacker and I'm hellbent on fixing my neglectful ways. Before I jump back on the wagon with long, drawn out embarrassing stories of both myself and family, I'd like to tell you what happened to me in Target today. I can't take my children anywhere without some sort of event, comment, or otherwise comical episode occuring and today was no different.
I was tasked with the responsibility of buying a baby gift. This person had registered at Target and included in her list were breast pads. Knowing the importance of these little suckers, I decided to buy her a box along with the other goodies we had chosen for her.
As the kids and I perused the baby section, we slowly walked into the aisle containing the breastfeeding supplies and I looked for the brand she had registered for. I began to hear whines of "oh my gawd!" and "this is so disgustin'!" from my little heathens, as the older two quickly began to read the box labels and realize what we were looking at.
I'm a huge proponent of breastfeeding and nursed each of my kids to the point of feeling like I was part Holstein. I'm proud of the fact I nursed and treasure the moments I had with each of my kidlets. I reminded them of this fact as they professed their disgust and continued to hide their eyes and feign anxiety attacks in Aisle 17.
Mattea, particularly disgusted, replied, "Well, I certainly didn't look."
Hmmm. She had her eyes shut every nursing session. It's good to know she was able to be embarrassed and have modesty at such a young age. Whatever.
As I picked up a box of the pads, I heard a gasp emit from Mattea's lips and I looked over to see her staring at the baby bottle brushes.
"What? Those are for scrubbing out baby bottles. What's the deal?" I asked as I watched her with a horrific look spreading across her face.
"Mom, it says NIPPLE brushes. They're for NIPPLES."
Again, I corrected my little overthinker as Caiden cracked up and Gunny remained oblivious.
God forbid I ever have another baby...
I was tasked with the responsibility of buying a baby gift. This person had registered at Target and included in her list were breast pads. Knowing the importance of these little suckers, I decided to buy her a box along with the other goodies we had chosen for her.
As the kids and I perused the baby section, we slowly walked into the aisle containing the breastfeeding supplies and I looked for the brand she had registered for. I began to hear whines of "oh my gawd!" and "this is so disgustin'!" from my little heathens, as the older two quickly began to read the box labels and realize what we were looking at.
I'm a huge proponent of breastfeeding and nursed each of my kids to the point of feeling like I was part Holstein. I'm proud of the fact I nursed and treasure the moments I had with each of my kidlets. I reminded them of this fact as they professed their disgust and continued to hide their eyes and feign anxiety attacks in Aisle 17.
Mattea, particularly disgusted, replied, "Well, I certainly didn't look."
Hmmm. She had her eyes shut every nursing session. It's good to know she was able to be embarrassed and have modesty at such a young age. Whatever.
As I picked up a box of the pads, I heard a gasp emit from Mattea's lips and I looked over to see her staring at the baby bottle brushes.
"What? Those are for scrubbing out baby bottles. What's the deal?" I asked as I watched her with a horrific look spreading across her face.
"Mom, it says NIPPLE brushes. They're for NIPPLES."
Again, I corrected my little overthinker as Caiden cracked up and Gunny remained oblivious.
God forbid I ever have another baby...
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