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.

Monday, March 28, 2011

There's definitely something wrong with Levi

Sometimes I think to myself, "Self (yes, this is totally what I call myself in my head), there is no possible way Levi could ever shock you again at this point." Levi has desensitized me to nearly everything. But just when I think that Levi could NEVER top the *last* bad thing he did, he pulls something out from his sleeve (or from his pants, as it were).

Today, Wyatt comes into my room to tattle on his brother (nothing about this is out of the ordinary, mind you).

Wyatt: "Mom, Levi is doing something terrible. Again."

Me: "I'm sure he is. What is it this time? Is he outside naked?"

Wyatt: "No, he's inside. He keeps pulling his pee pee out and chasing me with it."

(Note: nothing about this is out of the ordinary, either)

Me (walking into the other room): "Levi! Seriously?! How many times do I have to tell you to keep it in your pants! No one wants to see your junk! It's gross! Stop exposing yourself, or you'll be in time out for the WHOLE day."

(Note: Still completely routine)

Levi: "But mom!"

Me: "No excuses, Levi!"

And here it is, people. Here is where Levi managed to leave me speechless.

Levi: "But mom! Listen! My pee pee is a break dancer! He likes to just dance all around all the time, and I just can't control it! See?"

Needless to say, Levi and his break dancing junk are in time out. I sort of feel bad that in 14 years I'll be releasing him out into the world...

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Parenting Tips

On the way to school my kids and I listen to the radio. The regular radio... not the Disney station or some annoying version of kids singing pop songs. That's right, my kids go to school singing Katy Perry, and I'm totally one with it. This usually works out fine; mommy stays sane, and sometimes there are some amusing lyrics and dance moves in the back seat. Today could have been a parenting DISASTER (probably) but my mad parenting skills turned it into a teachable moment (this is what I'm telling myself, anyways).

The song "Sex on Fire" by Kings of Leon came on the radio. I really like this song, and didn't really think much about it. I mean, there aren't really swears in it. I was smacking the steering wheel, totally into the song. I mean, if his sex is on fire, more power to him, right?

Wyatt: "Mom, why is this guys number six on fire?"

Alright, so maybe it wasn't solely my awesome parenting that avoided the disaster, but rather Wyatt's inability to hear vowel sounds properly.

Me: "Because he was playing with matches. Even after his mom told him not to. And now he's in jail and has time to write this song."

Wyatt: "Really?"

Me: "Seriously."

Teachable moments, people. Not only did I avoid the sex talk, I threw in a little fire prevention. I think I deserve a chocolate croissant.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Snoop Dogg

Wyatt was going through his massive bag of Valentines making sure that he had eaten every last conversation heart and lollipop. Suddenly Wyatt came running into the room yelling about a card... Which was odd, considering he doesn't even care about the cards, but more so the taped on candy pieces.

Wyatt: "Mom! Someone gave me a Snoop Dogg card!"

Me: "WHAT?"

My mind began racing. Does Snoop Dogg make Valentine cards? What would they even say? I was picturing pot leaves, bikinis, maybe even a bong? Or maybe it says something like, "Drop it like it's hot on Valentine's Day!" Seriously, do they check the cards before the let the kids pass them out? My only hope was that it was at least 'radio edited' Snoop Dogg. I'm alright explaining what Compton or the LBC is, but I'm really not ready to explain pimpin'.

Wyatt: "See? Look! Snoop Dogg!"

Me: "Wyatt, that's SNOOPY. SNOOPY! Not Snoop Dogg."

Wyatt: "Oh. What's the difference?"

Me: "Well... I don't even know where to begin really. Just, it's Snoopy. Trust me."

How do you begin to explain the difference between "Murder Was The Case That They Gave Me" and "No Dogs Allowed"? I'm not sure. Crisis semi-averted... for now.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Happy Valentine's Day

My wonderful husband helped the boys make me Valentine's cards. Erich made sure to type EXACTLY what they wanted to tell me on Valentine's day. The messages inside are really priceless:

Levi's: Dear Mom, I love you for getting me that candy. And the next Valentine's make sure you get that candy again for me. Love, Levi

Wyatt's: Happy Valentine's day. I hope you have a fun day, and I love you. And roses are red, violets are blue, candy is sweet, and I love you. Period.

Yes, Wyatt insisted his dad spell out the word 'period'. Also, Levi's love is contingent on candy. I think I have a couple future greeting card writers on my hand. I don't think Hallmark could've done it better... Period.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Don't Tread on Wyatt... Or Anywhere Near Levi

When I go to the gym I leave the boys in the supervised kids area. In all honesty, sometimes that's the only thing that gets me to the gym: knowing that I'm going to have a kid-free hour, even if it involves sweat. While the boys give me grief every day at home, they usually (sometimes. maybe.) are good at the gym. I think they enjoy the mom-free hour as much as I enjoy the kid-free hour, actually. It's a win-win. Unless you're one of the teenagers that have to watch the kids. Then... well... sorry.

Every time I pick them up I always halfheartedly ask about their behavior. Usually I get a, "Oh, they were fine." Or sometimes even an, "Awesome!" Probably because they got my kids confused with other people's kids. But I take it, and leave quickly. Today? Not so much.

I knew something was off when I walked into the chaos they call the kids club and heard Wyatt yelling the word "government." I shouldn't have even asked; but I did...

Me: "So.... how were they?"

Poor teenage girl watching a jamillion kids: "Oh. Well, Wyatt has been yelling about how he hates the government."

Me: ::blank stare:: (Seriously? What do you say to that?)

Teenage girl: "And he's been lecturing people on taxes. Pretty much, like, the whole, like time. And then he spelled the word government."

Wyatt: "The government is studis! We should fire them."

Me: "Well. Um. Government is a spelling word this week. Also, his dad did taxes this week. You know how tax season goes..."

Wyatt: "Yeah, we have to give money to the government! We should move to Bikini Bottom. I like their government better."

Me: (giving Wyatt the be-quiet-or-suffer mom look) "Well, he doesn't even know what the government is. Or taxes. Sorry about his soap box moment. Alright guys, let's go."

Teenage girl: "Right. And Levi like found like something on the ground and ate it. We aren't sure what it was... but he seems to be okay."

Levi: "It was a tookie! A floor tookie! Delicious!"

Me: "Right, well don't worry. He does that all the time."

I grabbed the boys and rushed out of there, with Wyatt still grumbling about the government and Levi trying to explain all the various things he eats off of the ground on any given day.

Me: "Get in the car! What is wrong with you! Seriously, Wyatt? The government? Do you even know what the government is??"

Wyatt: "Well, maybe I don't.  But I do know that Levi is peeing on that bush behind you."

Some nights the kids are good, others they lecture people about taxes and pee in planters. I blame tax season. And also my mom, for giving them massive amounts of sugar. I really just hope that there are different girls working there Wednesday night... And until then, I think it is definitely wine o'clock tonight.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Just a Phase

Your kids often times do bad, odd, sometimes unbearable things. People try to make you feel better by using the phrase, "Don't worry. It's just a phase... it will pass." I've heard the 'phase phrase' no less than one billion times (probably). I'm sure I've even said it before (it sounds nicer than, "your kid is just awesomely bad"). But seriously? The cold hard truth is that even though it might be a phase, and maybe you kid will stop eating boogers someday (but maybe not), there's always another phase in the works.  Just when your kid stops sticking everything in his mouth he starts biting people. Biting eventually stops and then they move on to bigger and better 'phases' like hiding poop, refusing to use the toilet, refusing to bathe, back talking, smacking other children, grabbing his/her junk compulsively in public, etc. Just when you think you've conquered a phase, your kid comes home with a penchant for hiding granola bar trash in his underwear or singing Gwen Stefani songs loudly in the middle of class (apparently Wyatt is NOT a hollaback girl, in case you were wondering).

So my point here is the next time you see my kid randomly trying to pull down his pants in the middle of Costco don't try to console me by telling me your little Jason went through the pants-pulling-down-in-Costco phase and now he doesn't do that anymore and life is daisies and sunshine and snickers bars. Because really? Jason has moved on to wearing underwear over his clothing. And next I'm sure he'll be snorting glitter glue like it's going out of style. While it all might be a 'phase' I don't find any solace in the fact that it will someday end, because there will always be something else they do that I don't like. I do, however, find solace in bedtime. And wine.