Yeah I just referenced a semi-crap Charlie Sheen movie with my title...what of it?
Okay, so it has been really beautiful outside in Mid-Mo so we've been spending quite a bit of time at the playground, prompting my second edition. Here we go:
1. While smoking may make you look/feel cool at a bar or french cafe, it is inappropriate for a playground. Seriously? Do I have to point this out? Okay, so let me start by saying at one point in my more foolish life, I smoked. I know, I know, it's bad for you. That's why I don't do it anymore. That, and I cannot stand listening to my sister bitch at me for even one more second in this lifetime. Love you sis. Anyway, there was a woman sitting in the playground area smoking a cigarette that was wafting very rudely right over where my precious, pink-lunged baby was playing on the slide. Smoking is a choice that you are more than welcome to make on your own time, but don't do it around my kid, please. Also, don't bury your cigarette butt in the playground mulch, for the love of God.
2. The sandbox is for playing, not bragging. While Claire was very timidly trying to join in with some other children to "build a road," I had the pleasure of listening to two sets of parents brag back and forth about where they had gotten their child accepted for the coming term. I also learned that Vietnam is lovely this time of year as they were also bragging about their most recent vacation. Tickets to Vietnam are apparently $2,000 a piece. Wow, I'm so glad you're sharing this information while your child runs mine over with his dump truck. I also learned the pros and cons of using a Kindle as your travel guide and that iPads are far superior for this task. Thank God I had on my sunglasses so they couldn't see me roll my eyes.
3. When enjoying a cookie on the swings, it is not necessary to leave part of it behind for the next swinger. There is nothing I like more than finding soggy cookie stuck to my child's butt. It is even more delightful when said cookie was made soggy by someone elses' mouth. Ew. Wipe out the swings, please? I'll try to keep my kid's honey wheat pretzel rod off the playground equipment if you keep the animal cookies off the swings.
4. Pick up your trash. Okay, this applies to more than just the playground. I am always appalled by the amount of trash at the park. There are trash cans and recycling bins every few feet. Just pick one. Please, choose appropriately though. I noticed yesterday that the trashcan was filled to the brim with plastic bottles and soda cans while the recycle bin sat nearly empty. It's like people are trying to not care. Jerks.
5. Judge as you would be judged...or something like that. This one is a bit more complicated. I saw Green Glass Dad at the park today. He had Green Glass Mom with him, this time. I'd never seen her before, but she looked just as I had imagined in my mind: sort of hipster-esque with a side of hippy and probably in the single digits for body fat percentage. For whatever reason this guy had always rubbed me the wrong way. I don't know why. He's never been anything but pleasant to me at the park and at the library. I told myself while I was swinging the girls that it was because he has a judgey air about him. Yeah, that's it. He's all judgey and I don't like it. Look at him there with his reusable bag picnic. Yeah, I've got my plastic bag, what of it? Looking all smug with his metal water bottle and [probably] vegan lunch. Yeck. Then, it hit me: I'm the judgey one. Shit. I was standing there concerning myself with what this guy and his wife and child were doing and not soaking in every glorious moment of a perfectly sunny, breezy day at a park with two of my favorite people. I'm the asshole. I hate these moments. So I stopped myself in my own tracks and did an about-face, literally. I positioned myself on the other side of the swings so that I was facing the two most beautiful faces on earth with my back to the Green Glasses.
Who knew the park could reveal so much to me in such simple contexts? Not me.
On another note, we are moving at the end of the week, so each time I visit somewhere in Columbia, I contemplate whether it will be my last time there. I can't lie, I've teared up quite a few times. I'll miss this little town in the middle of Missouri, in the middle of the country. It's been my home for 8 years. I met my husband here, had my babies, and met some of the nicest, best people on the planet. So, I guess I should say thanks. Thanks, Columbia. You've sucked at times (eh-hem, 24 inches of snow?), but you've been a really nice place to live. As for the people, they know they're awesome and they know who they are.
Hey, so you know how to get your kid to stop watching TV? Turn on something they don't like. This works with husbands, too. It turns out Claire is not interested, even a bit, in HGTV. I see many House Hunters marathons in my future.
Showing posts with label green glass dads. Show all posts
Showing posts with label green glass dads. Show all posts
Monday, March 26, 2012
Monday, November 7, 2011
Week 1 and an open apology...
Well, we've made it through one whole week without television. Sort of. It turns out that my husband is, in fact, a sucker. Claire knew this far before I did. I'll get back to that after a few rants and at least one tangent.
Last week we did the usual things: Claire went to Bear Care (daycare for those of you not familiar with raising a Claire Bear); Zora ate and slept; Rob worked and I cooked, cleaned, taught, advised, etc. Friday, Claire, Miss Z and I hit the local library's story hour. It's actually only a half hour, but that's not very catchy. It was great. Claire seemed to have fun. Zora fell asleep in the front carrier thingie. I was amused by the grown adults singing along with the children's songs, but of course I was singing, too.
When the stories and singing ceased we all headed out into the library's children's area. I guess libraries have changed because I remember them being places where children were supposed to quietly select a Clifford book and move along. In this library there is an entire area devoted to children being anything but quiet. While Claire was playing with the other children one of the moms actually complimented me on how well behaved she was. I nearly choked. My child? Another mother joined in with the complimenting. What is this? Why are you people lying to me?
Sidebar: I'm used to the park moms. They're a really special brand of bitch. Sorry for the language and label, but they are. They only hand out snarky, jabby "compliments." Things like, "Wow, isn't she cute when she goes all catatonic on you like that." "She must never get lost, yelling so loudly like that." These comments make me want to say things like, "She's probably tired because she's been curing cancer all morning...Doesn't your son do that? Well, I'm sure he will some day." "Yes, her opera instructor often compliments her on her vocal range and volume." These are competimoms as one blogger labeled them. They will ruin your day. Most of the time these moms won't even look our direction, which is fine by me. They stand around in their yoga pants (the mom uniform, I have mine on currently) clutching their Starbucks, completely ignoring their child who just threw sand at my child, and talk about vacations or some shit. I try to block them out. They are everything bad you remember about high school, but with several children and nicer stroller than you would ever spend money on.
Back to the library moms. These moms were really nice! They even encouraged us to come back next week. They were not only paying attention to their own child, but mine, too. I heart these moms. Then, up walks green glass dad. If you read my mid-week post from last week you're familiar with this guy. I don't know why it surprised me to see him there. Of course he's at story hour. He's like the perfect parent in his hipster glasses and camel blazer (the dad uniform...hipster dad uniform). So Green Glass and I got to talking. He was super nice, too. This library is a parallel universe or something where parents are supportive and friendly. I'm not used to this. His precious 27 month old daughter dances over with an alphabet book and identifies every.single.letter. Yep, there's those damn periods again. Instead of being all self-congratulating about the fact that his child is clearly quite intelligent, he offered a few tips for how she got that way. Most importantly, he never once said, "Oh, your child doesn't do that?"
This whole exchange got me thinking about what has soured me on the whole playdate business. I started to wonder if I had ever taken that competimom tone with any of my friends. So here's the open apology part. If at any point I have said the words, "Is he/she doing ______ yet?" or "Just wait until he/she does ____." I am sorry. These may be the most annoying phrases ever spoken by a parent. I heard the first one a lot when I was pregnant. It completely devalues whatever you're experiencing at the time and implies you basically don't know what you're talking about. So, if I have uttered these words to you or something similar, I sincerely apologize. What can I say? Parenting can make you an asshole, or a bigger asshole if you were already one. My sister told me this is what happens when you take ambitious women, remove their career and insert children. Who knows.
Oh yeah, so back to TV. That's what this blog is about. Saturday Claire not only got to stay up way past her bedtime, but she ate too much cake. This equation apparently equals inconsolable child at 2:00 a.m. in our family. Awesome. I love having snot smeared on me in the middle of the night by my screaming toddler while simultaneously feeding a ravenous baby. (She's like a freaking vampire people, or a super cute, cuddly tape worm. I don't know. I've never encountered either.) Since I can only play super mom for so long, eventually I handed Claire off to Daddy. What does he do? He flips on Sprout. What was on, you ask: Caillou. Of course it's Caillou, it's always Caillou. The good news is that Claire fell asleep shortly thereafter. I guess the bad news is that she watched TV? Seeing as how her brain didn't rot and fall out, I'm calling this one even. Yep, a sucker is born everyday, they say. Apparently toddlers have sucker-radar.
Last week we did the usual things: Claire went to Bear Care (daycare for those of you not familiar with raising a Claire Bear); Zora ate and slept; Rob worked and I cooked, cleaned, taught, advised, etc. Friday, Claire, Miss Z and I hit the local library's story hour. It's actually only a half hour, but that's not very catchy. It was great. Claire seemed to have fun. Zora fell asleep in the front carrier thingie. I was amused by the grown adults singing along with the children's songs, but of course I was singing, too.
When the stories and singing ceased we all headed out into the library's children's area. I guess libraries have changed because I remember them being places where children were supposed to quietly select a Clifford book and move along. In this library there is an entire area devoted to children being anything but quiet. While Claire was playing with the other children one of the moms actually complimented me on how well behaved she was. I nearly choked. My child? Another mother joined in with the complimenting. What is this? Why are you people lying to me?
Sidebar: I'm used to the park moms. They're a really special brand of bitch. Sorry for the language and label, but they are. They only hand out snarky, jabby "compliments." Things like, "Wow, isn't she cute when she goes all catatonic on you like that." "She must never get lost, yelling so loudly like that." These comments make me want to say things like, "She's probably tired because she's been curing cancer all morning...Doesn't your son do that? Well, I'm sure he will some day." "Yes, her opera instructor often compliments her on her vocal range and volume." These are competimoms as one blogger labeled them. They will ruin your day. Most of the time these moms won't even look our direction, which is fine by me. They stand around in their yoga pants (the mom uniform, I have mine on currently) clutching their Starbucks, completely ignoring their child who just threw sand at my child, and talk about vacations or some shit. I try to block them out. They are everything bad you remember about high school, but with several children and nicer stroller than you would ever spend money on.
Back to the library moms. These moms were really nice! They even encouraged us to come back next week. They were not only paying attention to their own child, but mine, too. I heart these moms. Then, up walks green glass dad. If you read my mid-week post from last week you're familiar with this guy. I don't know why it surprised me to see him there. Of course he's at story hour. He's like the perfect parent in his hipster glasses and camel blazer (the dad uniform...hipster dad uniform). So Green Glass and I got to talking. He was super nice, too. This library is a parallel universe or something where parents are supportive and friendly. I'm not used to this. His precious 27 month old daughter dances over with an alphabet book and identifies every.single.letter. Yep, there's those damn periods again. Instead of being all self-congratulating about the fact that his child is clearly quite intelligent, he offered a few tips for how she got that way. Most importantly, he never once said, "Oh, your child doesn't do that?"
This whole exchange got me thinking about what has soured me on the whole playdate business. I started to wonder if I had ever taken that competimom tone with any of my friends. So here's the open apology part. If at any point I have said the words, "Is he/she doing ______ yet?" or "Just wait until he/she does ____." I am sorry. These may be the most annoying phrases ever spoken by a parent. I heard the first one a lot when I was pregnant. It completely devalues whatever you're experiencing at the time and implies you basically don't know what you're talking about. So, if I have uttered these words to you or something similar, I sincerely apologize. What can I say? Parenting can make you an asshole, or a bigger asshole if you were already one. My sister told me this is what happens when you take ambitious women, remove their career and insert children. Who knows.
Oh yeah, so back to TV. That's what this blog is about. Saturday Claire not only got to stay up way past her bedtime, but she ate too much cake. This equation apparently equals inconsolable child at 2:00 a.m. in our family. Awesome. I love having snot smeared on me in the middle of the night by my screaming toddler while simultaneously feeding a ravenous baby. (She's like a freaking vampire people, or a super cute, cuddly tape worm. I don't know. I've never encountered either.) Since I can only play super mom for so long, eventually I handed Claire off to Daddy. What does he do? He flips on Sprout. What was on, you ask: Caillou. Of course it's Caillou, it's always Caillou. The good news is that Claire fell asleep shortly thereafter. I guess the bad news is that she watched TV? Seeing as how her brain didn't rot and fall out, I'm calling this one even. Yep, a sucker is born everyday, they say. Apparently toddlers have sucker-radar.
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