Archive for the ‘Embarrassing’ Category

Losing My Mind And My Credit Cards

In the past two weeks, I’ve lost two credit cards.

Prior to this, I’d never lost a credit card.  Ever.  I had one stolen once, but I’m not going to count that because… well… just because.

I know exactly what happened in both cases.  Kind of.  I paid for items and then, in an effort to move along as quickly as possible for the sake of the people behind me, and because I was dealing with two fidgety, whiny kids begging to go home, I jammed the card into my coat pocket and forgot about it.

What happened to the cards after that is a mystery.  My best guess as to the first one I lost is that it fell out of my pocket when I pulled my keys out of my pocket.  I’m dead convinced that the second one is somewhere in my house and will eventually make an appearance.

Either way, I’m a lucky woman that no fraudulent charges were made so I don’t have to deal with that mess. 

I’d also like to point out that missing two credit cards at this time of year is a colossal PITA.

And I will add that it blows my mind that I’ve reached a point where I’m so completely distracted that I forget about my credit cards and get careless like this.  I think this is the type of behavior I would have mocked prior to having kids of my own.

No, I’m sure it is.

Moving on…

My Kid Crapped On The Carpet

I considered giving this post a subtler title but really, what’s the point?

Tonight my kids were doing their usual pre-bath routine of running around naked while I was running the water to get it warm.  Ginger gets in the bath and I call for Fred.  He toddles toward me, pointing at a toy on the ground of the master bedroom, which is visible from the bathroom, and is clearly upset.  I tell him to get in the tub, at which point he says, “Poop!”

“Did you poop?”

“Yes.”

“On the carpet, over there?”  I point toward the “toy.”

“Yes.”

I run over to take a look and sure enough, there are three “toys” strewn across the carpet in the master bedroom.  Wow.

I then run back to the tub to find Fred climbing in, and Ginger screaming that he has poop on his rear end.  I tell him to turn around so I can inspect but he proceeds to sit down and I watch helplessly as a glob of poop floats off his butt and across the tub.

“Ginger, get out of the tub now!”

I drain the tub, clean out the poop, and then go retrieve the deposit on the floor.  It was surprisingly easy to clean up and this is where I made my biggest mistake of the evening (because letting Fred run around diaper-less and then sit his poopy butt in the bath wasn’t bad enough).  I failed to mark where the three poop deposits were and there was no visible mark left on the carpet, at least that I could see.  As a result, I had no clue which portions of the carpet to clean. 

This has got to be a joke.

So I bathe the kids and then get a flashlight and start crawling along the carpet, looking for poop stains.  It’s dark out and the lights in our room aren’t that bright, so I can’t see anything.  But then I realize my foot is in something wet – oh yes, Fred also managed to pee all over the carpet.  Fabulous.

So I did the best I could cleaning up the pee, but never did manage to find any poop stains.  Maybe tomorrow morning they will be more obvious.  In the meantime, I’m not saying a word to GrumpyDaddy, who has a fear of poop that exceeds his fear of death, about the essence of poop that sits on our carpet.  If he knew that our kid crapped on the carpet, you could probably find Fred listed for sale on eBay.

Nakedness Is Fun

About 6 years ago, before we were married, GrumpyDaddy and I traveled to Ireland to visit some of his family.  One of his cousins came over from England with her children to meet up with us during our visit.  One of her sons was about 3 and tended to rip his clothing off at all times and run around naked.  GrumpyDaddy and I had several discussions about this, all of which started out along the lones of, “Can you believe that Johnny runs around naked all the time?” and invariably ended with, “We will NEVER let our kids behave like that!”

Fast forward to 2009.  We have two children and every night before bathtime, they love to rip off their clothes and run around the house.  Indeed, despite the freezing cold weather that has settled in here, they throw a fit if I don’t let them run around naked for a while.

And let me tell you, nothing is funnier than watching little kids run around naked.  Well, maybe little kids cursing, but I will NEVER let my kids behave like that.

Anyway, I think it’s hilarious.  GrumpyDaddy is appalled (he gets points for consistency).  My kids love it.  Life is weird.

Losing My Mind, One Cell At A Time

I’m fond of telling people that having children caused me brain damage.  And when I say “fond,” I mean that I’m forced to confess this to people after humiliating moments of raging stupidity brought about by having birthed said children.

To wit, recently I was at the park with the kids, talking to another mom.  I can’t recall precisely what we were discussing because, as I mentioned, I have brain damage, and I was trying to describe the part of the jungle gym that Ginger was going down… you know… the thing that angles down to the ground.

The other mom stared at me blankly.

“You know, that silver thing that kids sit on and then scoot down… from the top of the jungle gym to the ground… that thing.”

“Oh,” said the other mom.  “You mean the slide?”

“Yes, that’s it!” I said, at which point I promptly dropped to the ground and pretended to suffer from a sudden, severe ankle injury to distract her from my swiss cheese mind.

It’s amazing: I can remember random details from 30+ years ago but can’t recall what happened yesterday.  For example, thanks to a temporary childhood infatuation, to this day, I can still describe the technical differences in all the various figure skating jumps despite never having been a figure skater myself, but I couldn’t tell you who won the Super Bowl last year.  Given that I spent many years being a huge – HUGE – football fan, that makes this all the weirder (not to mention that my father, who took so much pride in my love of football, is so ashamed).

Another regularly occurring example: I can walk upstairs to do something and by the time I get there, forget what I’ve gone to do.  I can’t begin to count the number of times this has happened.  I used to think it was because I was sleep-deprived, but little Fred has been sleeping through the night for 15 months now so that’s no excuse.  Then I thought it was because I was malnourished, since every parent knows that having a newborn means you can barely find time to use the bathroom, let alone feed yourself.  But I have no problem finding time to feed myself these days.

Then I thought it might be because I let my brain go after leaving my job, and reveled in parenting magazines, learning the proper way to sanitize baby bottles, puree sweet potatoes, treat eczema, and soothe a screaming infant.  But I’ve since abandoned that mindset and now read about current events pretty fanatically (although I can still get through entire news articles without being certain of what I have just read.  This tends to happen when a small child wearing underwear on her head is banging on your arm and shouting your name while you are trying to read).

So perhaps you can see why I’ve concluded that I suffer from permanent brain damage.  I just hope that I never forget where my underwear should go.

You Know You’re A Parent When…

This morning I was drinking a large glass of water.  Ginger decided she wanted some and started taking sips in between shoving handfuls of Cheerios into her mouth.

When I attempted to reclaim my glass of water, I noticed a fair amount of Cheerios crumbles in the bottom of the cup.  Ginger’s backwash.

I drank the water anyway.

My Refrigerator Is A Threat To Public Health

As I’ve posted on here many times before, I am completely inept in the kitchen. A couple examples here and here.

One of my many kitchen malfunctions is to buy food and forget that I have it. GrumpyDaddy occasionally audits the refrigerator, tossing out old food and wagging his finger at me for being wasteful and having the memory of a 98-year-old man who is convinced he walked uphill both ways to get to school.

So the other day at lunchtime, Ginger was standing in front of the fridge, trying to figure out what she wanted. She saw the container of cottage cheese and asked for some. Yay, I thought, a healthy choice! I’ve trained my child well!

So I opened it to discover that it was pretty rotten. As in stinky and bad. So much for a healthy choice. So that got chucked.

Ginger then saw a container of ricotta cheese and asked for some. I know this doesn’t taste good on its own, but I am a pretty big believer in learning experiences and I want to do anything I can to encourage my picky eaters to try new foods. So I pulled it out, opened it up, and… discovered that it was green. Not that familiar fuzzy, moldly green, but a strange, mint green color that I’d really never seen on food before. It was all quite alien and I’m actually bit surprised that the ricotta cheese didn’t talk to me. So that got chucked as well.

Poor Ginger was a bit confused at this point but I spotted some applesauce and offered that. Golf claps all around as now both kids were quite excited about lunch. I pulled the jar out of the fridge, opened it, and you know how this story ends.

The good news is that my children got fed. The bad news is that I am left to wonder what else in my refrigerator is older than my children.

A Thursday Confession

My confession for the day: occasionally… OK, oftentimes, when I’m cleaning up my kids’ snacks off the floor, I just eat them. And sometimes, they aren’t, shall we say, *freshly* dropped snacks. In fact, I end up eating some darn stale Cheerios and Goldfish crackers at times.

But the truth of the matter is that when I’m crawling around the playroom, trying to clean up the toys, and come across a stray cracker, I just can’t be bothered to pick it up, stand up, walk into the kitchen, dispose of it properly, and then go back to picking up toys.

Put this in the category of things I never thought I’d do before becoming a parent. Yuck.