Every time I pick up G from Preschool, her teacher has something positive to say about her. Usually, she is very general and says things like “she’s so sweet” or “she’s so funny.” But sometimes, she’ll tell me about songs she sang for her or stories she told about her brothers. You know, those things that parents love to hear about their kids from their teachers.
Today, she pulled me aside and said “I have to tell you a funny story about what she said today.”
The story goes like this:
G was telling the teacher about her “boyfriend” who just happens to be Woody (Yes, THAT Woody. From Toy Story.) J walked up to her and got all up in her face.
Boy: “You’re WEIRD, G.” He shouted.
She thought for a split second.
And then…
G: “Your FACE is weird.”
I teach my children to be kind and respectful to others and there are consequences when they’re not. So, I did have a conversation with her about what she said. I told her that she could have said something like “that’s not nice, J.” instead of answering his insult with another insult. But, honestly, Little Dude had it coming.
I guess this is one of the advantages of having Big Brubbers — she is not scared of boys nor the least bit worried about their opinions of her. And I LOVE that about her.
I can’t decide whether to call this one “how old are you again, fangirl?” Or “No one cares about basketball players but you, fangirl.”
The elevator doors opened and I couldn’t believe who I saw standing there among the people.
No one seemed phased by him whatsoever, so maybe he wasn’t who I thought he was. Maybe he just looked a lot like him? Or something?
And so I asked him.
“Are you Jason Kidd?”
To which he replied in his deep, sexy voice.
“Yes. Yes I am.”
“Hi!” I said, as I extended my hand to shake his hand. “I’m Yvonne and I’m a huge NBA fan. As are my boys. It’s so nice to meet you.”
“Thank you.” He said.
“My boys are going to be so excited when I tell them that I met you!” I said, all Fan-Girlie like.
I don’t think he said anything in response to that, but I can’t be sure because I kind of went deaf, dumb and blind with excitement. And I seriously could not believe that no one else seemed to care in the slightest bit that they were in an elevator with Jason Kidd.
After we stepped out of the elevator, I turned to Lindsay and said something like “I can’t believe I just met Jason Kidd!”
“Why don’t you ask him to take a picture with you?” She said. Which, trust me, I had thought about asking him, but was feeling a little “chicken shit” about it. However, once she suggested it, I walked over to him and said “Jason, would you mind taking a picture with me? I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really love a picture with you.”
He wasn’t the friendliest person on the planet, but was more than kind about stopping what he was doing so we could take a picture together.
As Lindsay was about to snap, she said “You know, she’s famous too. She’s a famous blogger!” Which made me laugh so hard because… HA HA. FAMOUS BLOGGERZ! haasdhasa. Only Lindsay would say something so absurd and hilarious to a world famous NBA basketball player.
That smile you see right there is a combination of “OHMYGOD AM STANDING NEXT TO JASON KIDD” and “HA HA AHAA LINDSAY JUST TOLD JASON KIDD I’M A FAMOUS BLOGGER!”
Look at me, with my conference pass around my neck.
Look at him. All hot and pro basketball player-y.
After we left, my mouth was watering in the way that it does when I get overly excited about things and I was telling every single person I know “Hey! I just met Jason Kidd in the elevator.”
And every single person I told was like “Who? Who is Jason Kidd? Is he a blogger?” Well, every single person except Sarah. Sarah knows what’s up. She was all “Shut the fuck up! You MET JASON KIDD?! NO WAY” or something like that. But everyone else… clueless.
Total Boner Killers, those Bloggers.
I called My Boys to tell them about it and they were both thrilled and also jealous that I had met a Real Life NBA player. Little did they know that I was about to have a little more fun in NBA Player Heaven, AKA The Elevator at The Four Seasons Hotel.
The next day as I was about rounding the corner to head to the elevator, a fine looking black man standing at the front desk caught my eye.
Was it who I thought it was? Could it really be the man who did THIS to Kobe Bryant during the NBA playoffs against the Suns?
It WAS him. And we were about to get in the same elevator.
I walked over to him just before the elevator doors opened and said “Raja Bell?” To which he answered “Yes?” The elevator doors opened and we stepped inside.
“Me and my family are huge NBA fans.”
“That’s great.” He said. He was much nicer than I expected someone who CLOTHELINES KOBE BRYANTS to be. “More specifically, we’re Laker Fans.”
He started to laugh.
“Uh Oh.” He said.
“Yeah” I said. Because I’m fucking AWESOME with the comebacks.
“Well, I’m not playing on the West Coast anymore, so we don’t have to fight.”
Now I started laughing.
“It’s all love.” I said.
It’s kind of crazy that I said something so nice to the man who talked so much shit about Kobe Bryant. And really, I should have said something like “I hope you break your ankle. OR MAYBE YOUR FACE.” But he was so kind (and HOT) and friendly (and HOT.) that I couldn’t help but be nice and maybe, possibly, fall a liiiiiiiittle bit in love with him.
I did not get a picture with him, because that was like the ONE TIME that weekend that I didn’t have my camera with me. And that is sad, because I really need you to know that I am not lying when I say that he is HOT.
She is The Champion, My Friend.
A few weeks ago, my daughter woke up from her nap in One of Those Moods. She was upset that her Daddy had the FLIPPING NERVE to leave to go to the grocery store while she was sleeping.
“But why did he leave without me?” She asked, while tears formed in her eyes.
“Because you were sleeping, honey.”
“But Mommy, I love Daddy! I wanted to go with him! Why didn’t he wait…for…(*tears*) MEEEEEEEE.”
“No! No! Don’t cry, Sweetie! It’s okay. He’ll be right back!”
Nothing I did to comfort her helped.
But then, I had a Spontaneous Moment of Parenting Genius.
“Look at how fast I can blink my eyes!” I said. I began to blink my eyes as fast as I could. She looked up at me, not having it at first. But I pressed on and kept blinking.
“I bet you can’t blink your eyes this fast! Only Mommy can blink her eyes faster!”
Tears, stopped.
I had just challenged her to a blink off and because she inherited my competitive spirit, it was SO ON.
What happened next was amazing.
And hilarious.
And something that The Middle Child decided MUST BE RECORDED ON VIDEO. So, later that night he took out the Flipcam and let the magic happen. I hope you think it is as funny as my entire family does.
The Blinking Faster Game.
The Champion of Blinking from mamarosa on Vimeo.
Tonight!
(From Lindsay
09
Cheeseburgher 2.0!!!
In the beginning, there were cheeseburgers…
At BlogHer 07, a few friends bought a few bags of burgers and fries and had a party in their hotel room. Things quickly got out of control. The room filled with cheeseburger eaters. Security was called. And a CheeseburgHer Party Tradition was born.
At BlogHer 2008, Alpha Mom stepped in and sponsored the CheeseburgHer Party. Hundreds of burgers were purchased. Hundreds of people showed up to par-tay. Celebrities came. Security was called. The legend grew…
And that brings us to tonight.
Yes, peeps, there was one reason and one reason alone that Yvonne and I came to Mom 2.0 in Houston this weekend….
CHEESEBURGERS!!!!!!!
That’s right. Tonight, Isabel, Yvonne and I are throwing another majorly awesome CheeseburgHer Party, with the help of Burger King and Alpha Mom, who have generously agreed to sponsor the whole thing!
And if you’re in the Houston area tonight, you’re invited! It’s at Warehouse Live in the VIP room. Come early for the Mom2Summit Carnivale! party and the cost is $30, (tickets are available here, but hurry, there aren’t many left!) And if you come at eleven, the party is FREE. Yes, you heard me… FREE.
California just raised my taxes and I’m talking about pantyhose.
Quick question:
Are pantyhose acceptable to wear with skirts? It’s been years since I’ve worn a skirt and even more years since I’ve worn pantyhose with a skirt. And the last time that I did wear a skirt, which was a very long time ago, I was told that it was not at all okay to wear pantyhose with the skirt. I realize that even SAYING the word pantyhose makes me old, but let’s be honest, the only reason I am even considering wearing pantyhose is to smooth shit out and possibly help my sagging stomach not sag so much.
And also maybe, just maybe, try to hide the MASSIVE, GIANT varicose vein that popped out on my right calf.
so, in your opinion, how bad would it be if I made the trip to Target to buy a pair of pantyhose to wear with my new skirt?
If he would have bought me a card, it would have said something like “We’ll go out next week because it’s way too crowded on Valentines Day anyway. P.S. Drink lots of wine tonight, WINK WINK.”
I know.
You hate Valentines Day.
I understand. I don’t particularly love it myself.
We love each other every day and All That Cheese.
That said, I hope that YOU had a Happy Valentines Day and that the love of YOUR life at least bought you a card, or, I don’t know– a piece of chocolate?
Update– about 10 minutes after I published this, PigHunter handed me flowers, chocolate and a card. Now I sorta feel like an A-S-S-H-O-L-E.
Everything is Right With The World Again.
Home from 6th grade camp, safe and sound. I can exhale now.
The One About Sixth Grade Camp.
On Monday morning, we packed our 6th graders bags into our van and headed off in the pouring rain to school at 5 in the morning. It was the day he would leave for 6th grade camp.
When I was in 6th grade, I wasn’t allowed to go to 6th grade camp. (“You only want to go to chase the BOYS!”) I was one of 5 kids to stay behind. I hated every minute of that week. And I hated the following week even more. I had to listen to everyone talk about how much fun it was! The campfires! The songs! The plays! Ugh. I always said I would never deprive my children of such experiences. So when we moved to a new school district last year and found out there would be 6th grade camp at the new school, there was no question in my mind he would go. If he wanted to go. (Which, of course he did.)
We were all excited about the trip– it was the topic of dinner conversations pretty much every night. And then over the weekend, we went shopping to get everything he needed for the trip. Flashlights, rain ponchos, disposable cameras, water bottles and so on and so forth.
“Are you excited?” I’d ask him. Every 5 minutes.
“I’m so excited, Mom!” He say. Every time.
And as it got closer, he’d add “but I’m also nervous.”
“Why?” I’d ask. “You’re going to have so much fun! No need to be nervous.”
“But I’m going to miss home.” He’d say.
And I’d fight back the tears and try to be strong and say something supportive like “We’re going to miss you too, but you know what? The time is going to fly and you’re going to have so much fun, you won’t miss us once you’re there.”
Then, I’d hug him.
On Sunday night, after we packed everything and double checked the bag at least 20 times, I kissed him good night, shut his door and went straight to my room to write him a letter.
You see, every time my children leave to go on any kind of a trip without me I write them a letter and tuck it away in their bag where they’ll find it when they unpack. It started as a way for me to deal with the emotion of sending my boys on a trip without me, and ended up being a tradition that they love and look forward to.
As I was writing his letter, I began to get nervous. This was the first trip he’d go on where he wasn’t with a family member. This was the first trip in which I WOULD NOT HAVE CONTACT WITH HIM FOR THREE ENTIRE DAYS. It was the first time I felt apprehension about letting him go. Up until that point, it was like “it will be a great experience! He’ll have wonderful memories to carry with him for the rest of his life!” I think it’s natural to be nervous and feel over protective when your children are going to be out of your care. The trick is to know when that fear is warranted and when to take a deep breath and let them experience and enjoy life.
After I finished the letter and tucked it away in his bag and headed off to bed. Four hours later, I was kneeling by his bed, whispering in his ear.
“Wake up, dude. It’s time to leave for camp!”
He opened one eye. “Already?”
“Yep. Why don’t you go eat breakfast. We have to leave in 20 minutes.”
The morning went by smoothly, because for the first time in maybe EVER, I had everything ready to go. There was no frantic running around the house saying “BUT WHERE IS THIS? AND WHERE IS THAT? AND OH MY GOD I CAN’T FIND THAT ONE THING I REALLY NEED.” I think I need to try the whole “Being Organized” thing more often.
We arrived at the school at 5:20. It was freezing cold and it was pouring rain. I could tell The Boy was excited, but also nervous. I did my best to assure him he was going to have the Most! Fun! Ever!
“I know I will.” He said. “I’m just going to miss home.”
(My heart! It hurt!)
Once we entered the multipurpose room, there were what seemed like hundreds of kids in there. He found his friends and they all gave each other fist bumps and secret handshakes while they laughed and talked about the trip. I knew in that instant he was going to be just fine.
When it was time for the kids to get on the bus, I hugged him, kissed him and said all of the motherly things to him “have fun! Be careful! Stay with your group at all times! I LOVE YOU!”
“Love you too, Mom. Love you Dad.” He said and then he disappeared into the big yellow bus.
The entire drive home, we talked about how much we were going to miss him, but how thrilled we were that he was going to have this awesome experience. But after I got home and the hours passed by, I begin to dwell on the fact that I won’t be able to have any contact with him or be able to see him for 3 ENTIRE DAYS.
I finally cried.
All last night, I kept turning to Tony and saying things like “do you think he’ll be warm enough tonight?” “Did we pack him enough socks?” “What if he hates the food and is hungry?”
And today, I’m missing him something FIERCE. Maybe I’m a freak of a mother, but I’m not liking this whole “not being able to talk to my kid at least once a day to make sure he’s okay” business. Deep down, I know he’s fine and that he IS having the experience of his short little life time, so I take comfort in that.
Luckily, it’s only a three day trip, so he’ll be home tomorrow. I don’t think my heart could stand an entire week of this.
.
This is What Happens After 18 Years of Being Married With Children.
Him: I need to go potty reaaaally bad.
Me: Okay, but hurry up! I need you to help me with the laundry.
Him: Hey! When you tell me you have to go potty, do I tell you to hurry up?
Me: Sometimes you do!
Him: No, I never do. I let you go potty in peace. Can you show me the same respect?
(Yes. He used the word “respect” in the same sentence that he used the word “potty” in referring to himself and NOT a 4 year old. And, he said it in a Very Serious Tone. Because, apparently, being asked to rush The Potty IS Seriously Offensive)
“What is it with you and cars?”
I was on my way to the gym for my first Aerobic Dance class in almost 2 years. I was sitting at a red light, waiting for it to turn green. The second it turned green…
BOOM!
Rear. Ended.
I instantly felt pain in my back and neck. And in my heart because ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? We just got this car last year after PigHunter’s accident!
I wasn’t quite sure what had happened, but once I got out of the car, I saw that someone had rear ended the car behind me with such force that his car plowed into me.
I just got back from urgent care with a prescription of Soma (which is kicking in as I type this.)
More tomorrow. Or when I stop hurting.