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.

The Wii Dick

Wyatt: "MOM! I need a dick NOW! Where's the dick? The Wii won't work without the dick! Hurry!"

Me (barely able to muster a response): "WHAT??!"

Wyatt: "The Wii screen is black! I'm reading it and it says we need the Toy Story dick! I need help!"

Me: "Wyatt, that says disc. DISC. DISC! You need the Toy Story DISC!"

Wyatt: "Oh... I know where that is. Thanks mom!"

Does he know where my xanax is? Because after my six year old ran around the house screaming the word dick I think I might need it. I'm happy he's learning to read; I think I'd be happier if he were better at it.

The Pedophile Song

I'm still working on finals, so though I have longer, funnier stories in the works (cough Dieffen-vacation cough) they have to wait until next week. But sometimes things happen that just deserve a blog post, even if it is a short one...

Last night we had to make a family Costco run, which is always an adventure with both kids. I usually end up being a stressed sample chauffeur and leave without my bulk laundry detergent and toilet paper. However, we were out of milk, so off to Costco we went. The boys weren't *too* terrible because we bribed them with pizza. However, at the check stand they were freaking out, screaming for pizza, and airing family dirty laundry (Levi: "My mom put a table on the sidewalk because she wants someone to steal it!"). I jokingly asked the checker if he wanted one of the kids for free, and he replied, "Sure!" So when we got home, I just had to talk about it...

Me (to Erich): "What young guy wants a kid? He didn't sound like he was kidding. All I kept thinking was that he was probably a pedophile."

Erich: "SERIOUSLY, Jen? *That's* what you were thinking?! I'm pretty sure that the Costco guy isn't a pedophile..."

Me: "You don't know that. I'm betting he's a pedophile... Everyone is a pedophile until proven otherwise."

Levi: "Haha! Pedophile! Pedophile!" (At this point I notice the kids are within earshot...)


Wyatt: "Ped-o-phile! Ped-o-phile!"

Erich: "Look! See what you did!"

Wyatt and Levi (singing): "Ped-o-phile, ped-o-phile, PED-O-PHILE...."

Erich: "The kids are singing a pedophile song. Great."

Me: "Well, awareness is a good thing, right?"

And the kids kept singing.... How was I supposed to know they'd pick *that* word to latch on to and sing?? Maybe we can add some words and market it as a stranger danger song...

Burgermeister Meisterburger

My family recently took a short vacation to Colorado to take the kids on the Polar Express. The events of this trip are most definitely a blog post, but it deserves more time than I can give it today. I need to make sure that my words can do justice to the hilarity that was our Durango vacation. They probably won't,  but I'm going to work on it anyways, include pictures, and it is coming soon. Stay tuned. (Part of me is waiting to see if anywhere in Durango publishes an article rejoicing that we did in fact leave Durango and that our Dieffen-reign of terror on the small town has ended, because that would be pretty sweet to include in the blog).

Until then, though, we're busy watching claymation Christmas movies over here, because what is Christmas without Heat Miser? The boys were having a conversation about "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" and I really have to share.

Levi: "Wyatt, was it Burgermesiter's problem? Outlawing toys? That's seriously not cool."

Wyatt: "Well Levi, his name is Burgermeister Meisterburger. I mean, think about it."

Wyatt has a point.

Caffeine

Caffeine makes me sell things on Craigslist and ebay, apparently (coffee + coke = pure motivation). I get all worked up and motivated to finally take pictures and list the giant piles of crap that I should sell rather than trash (which is what I was verging on doing). Coffee and two coke zeros later I'm uploading photos and returning emails.

However, three important things happened today that make me think maybe I should take a break from caffeine (and liquidating our junk). First, I sent this email to a prospective buyer:

Me: "So, you can buy this DVD player but you have to meet me at a Starbucks because it is like a public place and junk. Also, I need some coffee, so I can kill lots of birds with one DVD player. So I'll see you in a bit, and please don't be a serial killer/rapist/criminal of some sort. K?"`

Second, I left this voice mail for my husband:

 Me: "Hi, honey. I think I just sold your DVD player for 4 lbs of Starbucks Christmas blend. I love you, call me later."

(After selling said DVD player, I went in to Starbucks and they were having a 2 for 1 sale. Thus, I spent all of the earnings on Christmas blend. I think this was a totally reasonable thing to do).

Third, I totally wrapped a paintball gun up in trash bags and paper towels at the post office and then stuck it in a box. Because I'm not making money if I spend tons on packaging materials, right? And I can't have the paintball gun slamming around in the box because then the post office will think I'm shipping a fire arm. So now some kid in Missouri is going to open the box and be confused as to why his paintball gun is wrapped in trash bags and paper towels. Sorry, kid. It is because I had a lot of caffeine today. That's why. 

In conclusion, I should cut down in caffeine. But now I have 4 lbs of Christmas blend. It's a vicious cycle...

The Language Barrier

I am notorious for not remembering where I park. Fortunately, my oldest child is essentially a human GPS and remembers odd things like this. I try to bring him with me as often as I can to places such as Target and Costco to save myself that 10 minutes I usually spend wandering around, swearing, and contemplating reporting my car stolen.

But today he let me down.

Leaving Wal-Mart I asked my trusty Garmin child which aisle our car was down, and he led us astray. We spent a good 10 minutes wandering around aisles searching for our car. Finally we happened upon our car, and not a moment too soon.

Me: "What gives, Wyatt?"

Wyatt: "I pointed to the car, mom."

Me: "No, you didn't. You pointed to a random direction and led us on a wild SUV chase."

Wyatt: "No, I pointed at the car. You just didn't get it."

Me: "How could I misunderstand a point, Wyatt? Seriously?!"

Wyatt: "Well, probably because I pointed in Spanish. I bet you don't speak Spanish, do you mom?"

KidSongs

Today the husband and I cleaned out the playroom in anticipation of Christmas. It was a full day affair that ended with us (me) dumping 6 trash bags full of McDonald's toys into a dumpster at a local apartment complex. Husband was terrified, as he was sure it was illegal to put garbage in dumpsters that don't belong to us. But seriously, I could've thrown it all out onto the side of the freeway and sped away. I think throwing trash in a trash receptacle us totally on the up and up.

Anyways, I digress. The cleaning required many important decisions on keeping, selling, or trashing (in an illegal dumpster) toys. At one point we came across a bunch of KidSongs CDs that were pretty scuffed up and missing cases. I felt a little guilty about trashing them; who knows when I would need to listen to "Pop Goes the Weasel" on a whim? But then husband brought up a good point.

Husband: "But our kids don't even listen to this music. Our kids listen to Ke$ha."

Me: "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Husband: "Does that make us bad parents?"

Me: "I'm pretty sure it does, actually."

In the end we (husband) sped away from a dumpster that doesn't belong to us (thank you, local apartment complex that shall remain unnamed because Husband is still pretty sure we committed a felony) and left the KidSongs CDs behind. So not only are we felons, we might also be bad parents. Bad people/citizens/parents with a pretty clean playroom/office, however...