Saturday, July 30, 2011

Parenting Tips, Part 2

Once in a while my husband has such an awesome parenting moment, I think the only logical thing to do is to share it with the world. This one? Is truly a gem.

Wyatt: "Dad! Levi is touching me!"

Erich: "Wyatt, just go to your room."

Wyatt: "My ear hurts! Levi is touching me! Daaaaaaaaad!!!!!"

Erich: "Step off, Wyatt! Step off! You don't want none of this!"

Wyatt: "....."

This has been a lesson in effective parenting, brought to you by my husband (aka Daddy of the year).

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Pineapple Wife

Erich decided to cut up a pineapple. However, in *our* house, even the smallest of tasks can turn into giant scenes. Hilarious (for me), but scenes nonetheless.

Levi: "Dad, that's my FUTURE WIFE! Why are you cutting up my FUTURE WIFE!"

Erich: "Levi, this is a damn pineapple, NOT your future wife. You CAN NOT marry a pineapple. Just... go to your room."

Levi: "I *can* marry a pineapple... in the FUTURE! And that's my FUTURE wife!" (It is kinda hard to argue with this logic. Who are we to say he WON'T be able to marry a pineapple in the future? The kid might have a point. I mean, he's insane.... but he has a point.)

Erich: "Room. Now. YOU CAN'T MARRY FRUIT." (Really, you should have hear his tone. Erich was so exasperated, I had to leave the room to laugh.)

Levi (from his room a few minutes later): "Dad, can I have some pineapple?"

The conversation resumed for a good 15 minutes. Levi was torn, one moment insisting he was going to marry the pineapple, and the next asking to eat some pineapple.

I'm sure there are a lot of underlying psychological things one could infer about Levi wanting to marry fruit, or wanting to eat the fruit that was also possibly his future wife; I really don't feel like thinking about it. Two things I do know for sure: Levi's future wife is in for it (pineapple or not), and it is officially Wine O'clock.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Toad Pilot

Levi: "When I grow up, I'm going to be a hobo. And a toad pilot."

Me: "Did you just say TOAD pilot?"

Levi: "Yes, just like Daddy. And a hobo."

Me: "Dad is not a *toad* pilot, Levi. I'm not sure what you're talking about..."

Levi: "My Dad IS a TOAD PILOT! I KNOW IT!"

It really took me a long time to figure out he meant *co-pilot*....

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Children's Book. Probably.

Some days I really feel like I earned my glass of wine. Like today, for example. My kids were so awful (I'm totally just calling it like it is. No sugar-coating: AWFUL), that pretty much the only thing that got me through the day was knowing that at some point they would fall asleep and I would drink wine and try and forget any of it ever happened. At the very end of the day, when I was too tired to even yell any more, they tried to delay bed time by asking for a story. At that point, I decided I should just WRITE them a damn story. I'm totally going to be a children's author. I can feel it...

Mommy Drinks Because of You
By Jen Dieffenbacher

Mommy drinks, want to know why?
Mommy drinks because you cry.
Mommy drinks because you fight,
And because you won't f*&#&$g sleep at night.
Because the bathroom always smells like piss,
And I know you're lying when you say you missed.
Because you're loud, obnoxious, and rude,
And you run outside in the nude.
Because you embarass me in front of family and friends,
And the whining never, ever ends.
Because you just won't eat what I make,
And instead cry for ice cream or cake.
Because your hands are always in your pants,
And you beg me to just give boogers a chance.
Because of the looks I get in stores,
And the mud on my newly cleaned floors,
Mommy keeps wine always in stock,
And waits daily for wine o' clock.

It's a start. It probably needs illustrations. But I've probably had too much wine to worry about it too much.

Sunday, May 15, 2011


We're moving right during my finals week AND the last week of baseball, which basically means there has been NO in between the coffee and the wine as of late. So, hang in there. Someday I'll be a regular blogger. But this morning? Was too funny to pass up.

I was packing (read: drinking coffee and reading TMZ) and Wyatt came running into the room like he was on fire.

Wyatt: "Mom! Come here now! Hurry!"

Me: "What? Is it a spider? Get Levi, I can NOT handle a spider right now."

Wyatt: "No, grab your credit card and hurry!"

At this point, knowing Wyatt, I'm pretty sure he's watching an infomercial again. He does this A LOT. He totally had a man-crush on Billy Mays, watching him talk about mighty putty, the samurai shark, and oxy clean for a really long time as a child. Some kids watched shows, Wyatt loves infomercials. Anyways...

Me: "Wyatt, I told you, I am not buying that giant cupcake mold or that brownie thing."

Wyatt: "MOM THIS IS SERIOUS! Someone is trying to steal our identities *right now*. We need LifeLock! Hurry! Identity theft is real, and it is happening every day! We can try LifeLock risk free, and after that it is really cheap."

Me: "Please go watch Nickelodeon like a normal child. Not the weather channel, not the news, and not infomercials. Nickelodeon."

Wyatt: "Mom, this is serious! We need to buy LifeLock now!"

Me: "I am not buying LifeLock. Go away."

Wyatt: "Fine, I'll go watch Power Rangers while someone this very moment is stealing my identity. I hope you're happy."

Me: "Do you even know what your identity is??"

Wyatt: "No, but it doesn't matter now. I'll probably never know it because it has already been STOLEN. THANKS, MOM."

Someday Wyatt is going to grow up, and when I go to visit him I'll have to dodge those topsy turvy tomato things, step over perfect brownie molds, move wonder hangers to sit down, and try to visit with my son as he tells me about the newest thing 'as seen on TV'.

Monday, April 18, 2011

We Probably Can't Go Back To The Old Navy

Wyatt is secretly drinking Miracle Gro at night (maybe) and is growing out of ALL his pants. One day the pants fit; the next day they don't. The other day was a 'don't' day, and we had to head over to the mall to try to find the kid some pants that might fit for longer than a month (is that too much to ask?). In the mall, I decide to head over to the Old Navy. I love the Old Navy, personally. While you may feel fat in *some* stores (I'm looking at you, Forever 21), you feel just right in the Old Navy. To set the scene, Old Navy always has a lot of mannequins. You've seen the commercials, right? (If you haven't, you aren't missing much).

The Old Navy Mannequins

Anyways, Erich, Wyatt, Levi, and I are pants shopping in the Old Navy. I took Wyatt to the pants section, and Erich took on the task of trying to manage Levi. Basically, Erich was running damage control. Levi loves to hide in clothes, knock things over, offend shoppers, and just basically make sure we never take him shopping again.

Out of no where I hear, "I looooove dirls! I LOVE dirls! Dirls...."

I know this is Levi; I also know he's probably doing something bad. I walk towards the front; Levi is standing near a mannequin, and Erich's face tells me Levi did something *really* bad.

Erich: "We need to go. Now."

Suddenly I notice shoppers, employees, and passersby staring at us.

Me: "What? What happened?"

Erich: "Do you see the mannequin Levi is standing next to? Right in front of the window? Because he just felt it up. Big time. While yelling that he loves girls."

Me: "When you say felt up, you mean...?

Erich: "He felt it up, Jen. We need to go."

We hurry over to the register, desperate to get our lecherous baby out of the Old Navy. We suffered a lot of stares and some giggling before we could get out. Mind you, Levi violated the mannequin in front of the WINDOW, so even leaving the mall itself wasn't without incident.

Me: "LEVI! What is the matter with you? You know you aren't allowed to touch boobs!"

Levi: "Mom, they were fake boobs!"

Basically, Levi violated that poor mannequin in front of God and everyone. Punishments and lectures aside, I'm really not sure what we're going to do with Levi. What I am sure about is that we probably can't go back to the Old Navy.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Diary of a Chubby Runner

I call myself a runner (but I'm totally using that term loosely). Some runners make this look easy. Like, they wake up sculpted and head out and qualify for the Boston marathon. *I* am NOT this runner. I'm the runner that looks sweaty, angry, confused, as she waddles around aimlessly outside. Kinda like this:

I've taken two weeks off from running due to homework and a sinus infection. I decided to try and pull a 5K out of my ass today, and of course the universe (and my body) punished me for taking the time off.

5 minutes in: A bug flew into my mouth. I really should've just gone back home.

10 minutes in: I accidentally stepped on a dead raccoon. Or opossum. Or steroidal rat. I really should've just gone back home.

20 minutes in: Calf cramp. This resulted in me hopping around in a residential area swearing (sorry to the kids out playing basketball). I really should've just gone back home.

30 minutes in: Stomach cramps. I ended up throwing up in some ground cover. I was bent over, hot, and getting sick right when a loud Lil' Jon song came on my iPod. I couldn't really reach my volume button (or use my hands at all) and I'm standing there puking and Lil' Jon is yelling, "Shots, shots, shots!" really loud into my ear. So I did what anyone would do: I yelled, "Shut UP, Lil' Jon! Damn it!" as I was bent over. Of course a group of moms with strollers walked by at that moment. I looked pretty psycho, I'm sure, throwing up and yelling at a rapper that wasn't even there. Lovely. I decided to go home. But by this time it was closer to just keep going instead of turning around. Great.

40 minutes in: Someone passes me, running really fast (downhill, mind you). In my sweaty, sick daze I think I yelled something like, "Yeah, it's easy when you're going *that* way." I really am an angry runner. Good thing I was almost home.

45 minutes in: I'm home. Not a moment too soon.

The good news? I think if you throw up, those calories don't count. The bad news? 45 minutes to run 3.1 miles really doesn't make you speedracer. And now I need to clean my shoes. And brush my teeth.