Why Kindergartners LOVE Getting Sick

Posted: November 17, 2011 in Uncategorized
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Today was a pretty cool day. I got to leave my kindergarten class with my favorite teacher’s aide and walk to the nurse’s office. Sure, I had a stomach ache and a phlegmy cough  but it was awesome to be out of the classroom hanging with the adults because, unlike my classmates, grown-ups never try to fling boogers on you.

Turns out I had a temperature, which means my mom had to leave her job and come get me.

Man, you would’ve thought she was the one who was sick…when she showed up at my school she was a frazzled mess.  I don’t know what’s the big flippin’ deal with having to “leave in the middle of an important meeting” to get me. Hell, I meet people all the time…what’s so goddamn important about it? You make some lame small talk and then you’re outta there.

Anyway, now I’m home, in my jammies kicking back watching TV. Sickness, you can’t beat it!

It always happens this  way. The second I get a high enough temperature I’m suddenly transported into a world of cozy blankets, food on demand, and the chance to eat a popsicle on the couch enjoying all-you-can-watch TV.

So different from the usual drill! Usually when I get home from school my mom works my fingers to the bone. Either I have to help empty the dishwasher (which means hurling all the spoons in with the knives and all the forks in with the spoons), clean my room (It’s AMAZING how much crap you can cram under one bed!) or do my homework.  All  so I can maybe watch one measly episode of my favorite show. My mom, ladies and gentleman, the world’s greatest rip-off artist.

But now, thanks to a sore throat and a funky stomach — and a cough which I play up like crazy –  I’ve just finished my 600th episode of iCarly and my mom has transformed into a middle-aged lady in waiting. Peel me a grape, mommy.

Oh, sorry…  I better wrap this up…my mom just showed up with yet another perk of illness: my favorite cherry-flavored medicine. Heck, if you’re ever in my ‘hood and you’re not feeling well come on over and we can throw back some Children’s Tylenol shots together!

What’s your favorite part of being sick?

5 Ways To Eff Up Your Kid’s Halloween Night

Posted: October 24, 2011 in Uncategorized
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Moments before my mom effed-up my pumpkin.

My mom ruined my first Halloween. Yeah, I was only 7-months-old but I have proof.

It’s all in a blog she posted where she claimed, “dressing babies in Halloween costumes is cruel and unusual punishment“. The readers didn’t share her views — and this time I’m definitely on the side of the mommies. Based on the article it’s clear my first Halloween was spent in a onesie decorated only by dried spit-up. Thanks for nothing mom.

For chrissakes. I’m only young once and that woman has already managed to cheat me out of my first Halloween — a juicy item I’m adding to my list of things to blame her for in the future.

And it continues. Each year she manages to eff up my Trick or Treat experience. Here are just a few ways…

1) My Costume
It’s a kindergartner’s prerogative to change her mind and that goes for Halloween costumes. So what if one day I want to be a dalmatian, the next day a ballerina and the next a minor character from Pixie Hollow? It’s your job to figure it out, not mine. Just make it happen.

2) Mom’s “Costume”
There’s nothing worse than wearing a freaking awesome witch costume and then be led up to your neighbor’s doorstep by someone  in  ’mom jeans.’ Unless you can convice people you’re wearing a ”Middle-Aged Woman Who’s Best Years are Behind Her,” costume, at least  try to kick it up a notch.

3) The Candy
Don’t try that “Switch Witch” bullshit on me. I’m not buying it. I happen to know that the “Switch Witch” is really my mom. By November 1st she’s scarfed down all my candy while trying to appease me with some crappy toy in exchange. Pathetic.

4) The Trick or Treat Bag
No thank you, I don’t want to use a pillowcase for my Halloween candy bag. Just because that’s what you had when you were a kid. My mom obviously watched one too many showings of It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown at ye olde nickelodeon. The candy receptacle I want is the (not BPA free) plastic jack-o-lantern like ever other kid has, the one available at Target. Period. No replacements no substitutions.

5) The Pumpkin Carving
Don’t get all artistic when it comes to carving my pumpkin. I want triangle eyes, triangle nose and a happy or scary face. For some reason my parents are hot to fashion a “goofy” tooth or expressive eyebrows. You want to practice your carving skills? Enroll yourself in a sculpture class.

Another Halloween DIY Costume Fail…Thanks Mom!

Posted: October 17, 2011 in Uncategorized
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Halloween is almost here!! I can’t wait to get my hands on that October 31st candy cache — that is whatever passes Little Miss Muffin Top’s “safety check.” Should she really be inspecting each piece of candy by shoving them in to her mouth?!

Anywho, in a couple weeks I’ll be at my very first kindergarten Halloween parade.  Last year, at preschool, I wore a Target off-the-shelf Super Girl costume. This year I plan to be a pre-fab witch. Sure it would be cool if my mom could actually MAKE my Halloween costume. Truth be told I’d be pissed if she tried. D.I.Y. and my M.O.M. do not mix.

Check out my mom's "sewing kit." AKA FAIL.

Adding to the list of domestic skills my mom suck at, she also couldn’t sew her way out of a paper bag. Last month I asked her to sew a plastic eyeball back on Sasha my stuffed pony. Easy-peasy, right? Wrong. It never happened. (Poor thing still has no depth perception.) No doubt my mom probably thinks I forgot. I didn’t. It just bolsters my argument that she’s severely lacking in any fundamental homemaking skills. Where the hell was she during her high school Home Economics class…smoking ciggies in the boy’s room?!

If you need proof of her inability to wield a needle look no further than her sewing kit. It’s simply a tangled mass of thread. Looks like a freaking bird’s making a nest in there. Obviously, any costume she’d try to make me would have me looking like a mental patient. Mom news flash: The One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest costume was not on my list.

Getting to School on Time: 3 Tips to Get Your Moronic Parents Out the Door

Posted: October 10, 2011 in Uncategorized
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I hear a lot of parents complaining that they can’t manage to get out of the house on time to get their kids to school. And by “a lot of parents” I mean mine.  Of course all the bitching is usually aimed at the kid, when in fact it’s the moms and dads that can’t get their shit together.

If your morning routine becomes a daily F.U.B.A.R. take my advice…

1) Make mom lay out her work clothes the night before
Listening to someone whining they have ”nothing to wear” is beyond irritating.  Here’s a tip: Who gives a shit what you wear?!  Nobody at your job is checking your ass out…that’s what the 20-year-old receptionist is for. And if you’re trying to ‘dress to impress’ you can give that a rest too…you’re a mom now, chances of you getting a promotion is pretty much nil.

2) Make sure they have their cellphone before leaving the house
You’d think they shoved it out of their own whoo-hoo…that’s how attached moms (and dads) are to their cellphone. No matter how close you get to your school if that dummy forgot their “smart phone” you’ll  be heading back home to look for it. Then you get to sit on the couch and watch while they tear apart the house and desperately “call” it from their land line AKA that other phone they never, ever use.

3) DON’T let them turn on their computer
Parents CANNOT keep track of time if they have their laptop open. Period.  If you have any hope of leaving the house unplug their power source, type randomly on their keyboard or threaten to light yourself on fire. If  they still won’t look up, make use of your down time and smear your mom’s favorite Body Shop lotion all over your baby dolls.

Have any tips to get your parents out the door. Tell me!

Mommy, Put Down the Goddamn iPhone

Posted: October 7, 2011 in Uncategorized
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My mom as we enjoy some "quality time" together.

(UPDATE: I heard my mom tell my dad that a guy named Steve Jobs died. I don’t know who he is… but I get the idea that he has something to do with her favorite companion…and I don’t mean me. )

One thing I’ve noticed about my mom, (and most moms), is they’re always yammering on about how they don’t get enough “quality time” with their kids. They suffer from “mom guilt” a made up aliment where women claim to be burdened with the crushing feeling they’re failing their children.

I call bullshit.

Let’s take just yesterday for example. Mom thought it would be fun for us to hang out at a cafe together. A little mother-daughter bonding. Usually, so she can down her umpteenth cuppa, I can score myself a cookie, or two. Junkies will do anything to get their fix.

Then what happens? She asks me a few questions about what went on at preschool. I start to tell her that Emma punched Jacob in the throat during nap time and out of nowhere she pulls out her phone and proceeds to check her email!! So rude. She LOVES that frickin’ phone of hers. I hear her tell people it’s changed her life. Well, it’s certainly changed my life. Since she got an iPhone, catching her focus is almost impossible. I’d have more luck forcing Emmett, a kid in my class with ADHD, to sit through Eat, Pray, Love.

I swear she looks at the thing about a gazillion times a day. And for what? Does a women in her 40′s really need to see who responded to her Facebook status? Who really gives a shit? Facebook was designed for college students not middle-aged women who waited way too long to have children.

Want to know what’s WAY more important than incessantly checking email or downloading another ‘time-saving” app? The interesting dynamic between Emma and Jacob. Those two can’t keep their hands off of each other.

The Most Delicious Inedible Soup Recipe EVER

Posted: September 30, 2011 in Uncategorized
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Soup

The soup is ON!

Fall is here! Time for Halloween, Thanksgiving and for my mom to relentlessly harp on me to put on a sweater.

What better time for some nice soup? Here’s a delicious batch I made the other day. Of course, even though my recipe contains no transfat, partially hydrogenated oils or even food for that matter, my mom still refused to take a bite. Whatever. More for me.

Here’s my recipe:

Ingredients:
-6 or 12 containers of water
-2 handfuls of mud
-287 crayons, broken
-8 pipe cleaners
-One tube of glitter glue
-5 pieces sidewalk chalk
-7 rocks
-2 clumps of rose petals (pulled right of the stem)
Optional: rusty nails, paperclips, or a cigarette butt found on the sidewalk in front of your house.

Directions: Pour bathroom water into a bowl you’re not supposed to use. (be sure to drip water throughout the house before you pour it) Take all ingredients and hurl them into the bowl. Stir vigorously until all ingredients splash out onto the dry cleaning your mom just brought home.

Prep Time: Until your mom stops you.

Serves: 2 dolls, 3 stuffed animals and a multitude of ants.

Clean Up Time: Hell if I know. My mom cleaned up. I think it took her a couple hours

The After School Torture Chamber

Posted: September 27, 2011 in Uncategorized
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Signing out from a hard day of kindergarten. Headed for a hard night of interrogation.

I’ve been in kindergarten for three weeks now so I pretty much get the drill. School is freaking awesome. And it smells good. Unlike preschool, everybody in my class is potty trained so there’s not that lingering scent of poo wafting through the air. Yep, I’ve hit the big time.

What’s starting to reek is my mom’s daily after-school interrogations.

When I went to preschool she was pretty chill. She’d pick me up. I’d show her the 500 pieces of art I did that day and we were all good. Since kindergarten she bombards me with a zillion questions:

Do you have homework?  Did you eat all your lunch? Did you play with [fill in the blank with any random girl she met for 2 seconds during drop off] she seems like a nice girl. Do you like your teacher? What did you learn today? Do I look fat in these jeans?  Did you remember to bring home your sweater? What musical instrument do you think you’d like to play? Was your sweater warm enough? Who’s your best friend in class? Who did you eat your snack with? Who did you eat your lunch with? Who did you play with at recess?

AHHHH! MAKE IT STOP!! MY EARS ARE BLEEDING!!!!!!!!!!!!

Look mom,  I don’t have time to be mentally waterboarded with your relentless B.S. I have a Turtle Race activity homework worksheet I have to bust through. Seriously it’s not like I ask her everyday how her dead end job is going. (I know the answer, anyway. It SUUUCKS.)

Her main concern, it seems, is that I’ve made friends at my new school. Which of course I have. You spend the day with 25  people exactly your same age and you’re bound to hang with someone. I’m beginning to think  my mom’s the one who doesn’t have any friends.

 Take my birthday party schedule for example. Each month I’m invited to roughly 1,200 birthday parties. Every time I show up to one of my pal’s soirees she tags along. What the hell?!  She’s already there– because she drove,  so I use her for a lift home too — but holy sh*t doesn’t she have any friends her own age?! The worst is, at the end of the party, when I catch her rooting though one of my goodie bags for extra candy. Man, that woman can put it away. Hey, mom, I’ve got a question for you, “Should I start saving my pennies for your inevitable lap band surgery?

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