Bloody's Cat woke me up this morning with a startle.
Large Fry comes in..wailing. He is just wailing. He is incoherant. He is mumbling between tears that something has happened to what sounds like bloody cat. Or bloody's cat.
Me: Hrm. We don't HAVE a cat.
Large Fry: MAMAAAAAA Bloody's Cat! Bloody's cat! *insert words I can't even describe*
Me: Baby, what cat? What? What cat? What happened to the cat?
Large Fry: Bloody! It's bloody! Bloody!
Me: Oh god.
By now I am thinking that all the crap that we have watched on tv since he was a baby has left impressions in his mind that are surfacing. He is seeing things. Pictures in his brain, like Samara. He's going to start sending horses (or whatever animal is nearby) to start committing suicide in the lake. Fish are going to jump ashore. Boats run off corse.
Oh my god what have I done to my baby? What did I do?
I'm panicked. I'm flushed. Panick--flushed--panicked again. I'm cradling my baby swearing to all that is holy in every country that I am never EVER going to watch tv again. Ever. It's corrupting my child, his brain, and now he is seeing bloody cats in his sleep. Bloody fucking cats. His mind is damaged. I've done this. ME. I need to kick myself in my own ass.
This is when I look down. He's holding Woody. You know? Toy Story Woody? And Woody has no hat.
Fucking hell. Woody's hat. He's lost Woody's hat. It was under his pillow...
Fucking hat.
About Me
- Aly
- Very Small Town. No really. Don't even try to look., Alberta, Canada
- I am a stay at home mother of 2 boys. I try to keep total and complete command of this kingdom. I reign tall! But they are very are skilled little ninjas waiting to take me out at any available opportunity. You would think I would learn my lesson. I don't. Every day, I return. Everyday they kick ass.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Sometimes it is not my ass that gets kicked
It's Daddy's.
I know. I take far to much pleasure in that fact. The other day I was not available for parenting comment I was passed the-fuck-out due to a shot. So Daddy took the reins. He thought he was invincible. He thought he was in charge.
He soon finds out how weak he is against The Fries. This time it was Small Fry.
Small Fry -1. Daddy-0
See Small Fry is 10 months old and has recently discovered the ability of movement. He moves. A lot. All the time. Everywhere. Diaper changes are no exception. So when Daddy went in to chance Small Fry he discovered that our baby had been replaced by some weird flopping fish out of water. Diapers are impossible. He flops. He flips. Took Dad 20 minutes to put 1 diaper on. How do I know this? I was hiding in the hallway watching. And laughing.
That's right. Instead of offering to help. Instead of giving valuable information. I stood in the hallway with my hand over my mouth and giggled as Small Fry flopped back to front, front to back, kicked, clawed, flopped again, over and over until FINALLY Daddy has the diaper on. And the footed sleeper.
He thinks. This is a re-telling of events from him to me as I was aforementioned passed out. He had Small Fry in the living room and he was admiring how our darling boy had pulled himself to a standing position...and promptly peed in the floor. But how?! HOW he mentally screams. You have a diaper on! So he returns Small Fry to his chambers to discover the scrunched down around his ankle. So again, picture 1 flopping baby, 1 frazzled father, 1 diaper and 1 sleeper. I picture this and I start laughing hysterically.
Because it happens. Again. He doesn't get the diaper on properly due to the flopping baby. Again Small Fry pees through his not secure diaper and through his clothes. Laugh. You know you want too.
I wish I had seen this in person. It's not often it's someone else getting their ass kicked by my kids. Daddy promptly gets the diaper secured (really secured he says. I think he used duct tape(?!) and goes out to have a smoke. And Large Fry promptly points and says (VERY) loudly 'Daddy! I SAID smokes are BAD for you! You are going to get BLACK insides!"
Ahh yeah. My ass got a rest that day. Daddy's was the one that got kicked all over the place.
I know. I take far to much pleasure in that fact. The other day I was not available for parenting comment I was passed the-fuck-out due to a shot. So Daddy took the reins. He thought he was invincible. He thought he was in charge.
He soon finds out how weak he is against The Fries. This time it was Small Fry.
Small Fry -1. Daddy-0
See Small Fry is 10 months old and has recently discovered the ability of movement. He moves. A lot. All the time. Everywhere. Diaper changes are no exception. So when Daddy went in to chance Small Fry he discovered that our baby had been replaced by some weird flopping fish out of water. Diapers are impossible. He flops. He flips. Took Dad 20 minutes to put 1 diaper on. How do I know this? I was hiding in the hallway watching. And laughing.
That's right. Instead of offering to help. Instead of giving valuable information. I stood in the hallway with my hand over my mouth and giggled as Small Fry flopped back to front, front to back, kicked, clawed, flopped again, over and over until FINALLY Daddy has the diaper on. And the footed sleeper.
He thinks. This is a re-telling of events from him to me as I was aforementioned passed out. He had Small Fry in the living room and he was admiring how our darling boy had pulled himself to a standing position...and promptly peed in the floor. But how?! HOW he mentally screams. You have a diaper on! So he returns Small Fry to his chambers to discover the scrunched down around his ankle. So again, picture 1 flopping baby, 1 frazzled father, 1 diaper and 1 sleeper. I picture this and I start laughing hysterically.
Because it happens. Again. He doesn't get the diaper on properly due to the flopping baby. Again Small Fry pees through his not secure diaper and through his clothes. Laugh. You know you want too.
I wish I had seen this in person. It's not often it's someone else getting their ass kicked by my kids. Daddy promptly gets the diaper secured (really secured he says. I think he used duct tape(?!) and goes out to have a smoke. And Large Fry promptly points and says (VERY) loudly 'Daddy! I SAID smokes are BAD for you! You are going to get BLACK insides!"
Ahh yeah. My ass got a rest that day. Daddy's was the one that got kicked all over the place.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Mama your but IS big enough to fit in there!
Me and the Fries headed down to the downtown festivities to celebrate all that is Canadian at Canada Day. We get there and lo and behold they have an area set up for hoola hooping.
Does anyone remember these things? Making kids look UNCOOL since..forever. But Large Fry was having a blast. So I thought I would shake my groove thang in a hoola hoop. This is what was going through my mind:
Oh yes. That's me rocking that hoola hoop. The children are gazing adoringly while their mother sips a cocktail and hoola hoops in perfect time with her perfect hair and perfect makeup. It was a glorious image. I might have had on one of those 1950s dresses and heels. I was rocking that hoola hoop.
Until Large Fry talks. Remind me again why I taught him to talk? I was joking with another patron of the hoola hoop section.
Me: I hope my butt isn't too big for this hoola hoop!
Large Fry: Don't worry Mama! Your butt is VERY big enough for that hoola hoop! See Mama? See? It fits in the BIIG hoola hoop.
Behold. Large Fry's version:
Yes that is my digintiy buried beneath. No I don't think it's coming back.
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