If I’m being 100% honest with y’all, I’d have to say that I reluctantly went to BloggyCon ’14 at Cedar Point this past weekend. Veeeeeeery reluctantly. So much so that I was tempted to call the event organizer and just lay out for her all of the reasons I didn’t want to go:
[Well, that’s a negative attitude. Why couldn’t Katy enjoy herself at one of the happiest places on earth?]
I don’t often have great ideas when it comes to parenting/housekeeping/life in general, but when I do, I have to publish them here for the rest of you to behold. So, if you’re keeping track, this is “Super-Duper Parenting Idea” number . . . sorry, there are so many I can’t keep track. This is probably number . . . let me think. Number . . .
Let’s just start with 1 to keep it simple for everyone.
Basically, in 19 months as a mommy blogger, I have had ONE good, original idea.
In case you’ve never made the mistake of telling a toddler that Christmas is coming soon, I’ll give you a quick lesson in cognitive development.
Toddlers have NO concept of time. None.
In fact, toddlers have no sense of any type of measurement. We made the mistake of telling JJ a few weeks ago that he has grown so much recently and that he’ll soon be taller than daddy.
“Soon,” we said . . . like a bunch of stinking amateurs.
For as long as she has had the ability to speak, Averi has referred to yogurt as “dodoke” (pronounced dough-doke). And since I’m a lousy mom with little concern for my child’s cognitive or social development, I don’t bother to correct her.
“Sure, sweetheart, I’ll get you some sugar-and-chemical-filled dodoke. Just let mommy finish her mid-morning nap first. Oh, and can you hand me that lit candle and the lighter fluid while you’re at it?”
The kids and I were over at my friend Staci’s house last week for a play date. Staci’s daughter, Ellie, is 8 years old, and Averi is absolutely taken with her. My little girl loves to play dolls with “Ehwie” (as Averi calls her).
And Ellie even lets “A-zilla” (as I call her) play with her rather expensive American Girl doll accessories.
Bad move, Ehwie.
In all the excitement of my in-laws’ visit, I didn’t have time to share with you what happened the day before they arrived.
Two Thursdays ago, around 6:30 p.m., I sat down at a favorite, local restaurant all by my lonesome. All by my glorious lonesome. Brian and I try to set aside time each week for me to run away from home so I can write, and I generally prefer restaurants over our local Starbucks—mainly because there is a “regular” at this Starbucks who insists on wearing headphones and singing Italian opera at the top of her tone-deaf lungs.
[Tone-deaf lungs? That makes no sense.]
If lungs could be tone-deaf, this woman should donate hers to science.
I’m not gonna lie; it was difficult for me to leave PetSmart on Sunday without a bearded dragon (last time it was a fancy rat). I’ve got the itch again, y’all. The itch for another living thing that requires constant care and nurturing. Brian thinks I should quit entertaining this reptilian fantasy and just have another baby already. I don’t know. Bearded dragons sound so much less terrifying than toddlers. And they’re way better at peekaboo.
It occurred to me recently that our kids have been pretty isolated this winter—what with all the infectious diseases, hazardous road conditions, bone-chilling temperatures, and 50-mile-an-hour winds.
You know, all the typical signs of the apocalypse.
Did you know that Al Gore freezing over is the 5th sign? Let’s just hope he wasn’t in Atlanta this past week or Kirk Cameron will have to make a movie about it. (In case you’re keeping track, that’s a religious, a political, a geographical, and a pop culture joke all rolled into one.)
[Please tell me she doesn’t think Kirk Cameron is representative of current pop culture.]
I just went so far off track I don’t even remember where I was going with this… Oh! Stir-crazy. That’s where I was.