Hellboy in da hizzy

In another Bad Mommy move, I bought Oscar a Hellboy action figure at Five Below yesterday. It was what he wanted. Whatever, I thought, and tossed it into my basket. Three bucks.

later, I wondered about the appropriateness of buying my child a DEVIL doll.



He and Hellboy are having lots of fun. They are currently dancing on the top of the sofa.

Feel so good to be bad

Oscar likes the bad guys. That's my boy!

I mean, when we are watching Star Wars, he's all about Darth Vader. He was Darth Vader for Halloween. We just watched Episode VI (Return of the Jedi for you non-geeks), and he acted out Darth Vader's death scene, lying on our (spotted, filthy) living room carpet, red light saber in his hand, exhorting Luke Skywalker to remove his mask so he could look upon him with his OWN EYES GASP GASP GASP...

Anyway. He is lukewarm (PUN TOTALLY INTENDED) about the good guys. And this is a pattern.

Cars? He's all about Chick Hicks. He likes Lightning, but when he plays Cars he likes to be Chick Hicks and smash into everyone.

The Incredibles? He likes Syndrome. He can recite every line.

He likes the Joker and the Penguin, too. He adores Batman (particularly badass all-in-black Batman) but I think it's because he looks like a bad guy (Darth Vader in a different hat). And he loves the Hulk, because he's such a great bad guy masquerading as good. Big angry green mutant going around kicking the asses of those who piss him off! Now THAT's a hero, not some tights-wearing musical-theatre reject in a cape and a funny mask.

Now, I remember liking the bad guys too. They always had more fun, better gadgets, better lines and a dramatic ending.

So, should I be encouraging this behavior?

OH HELL YES. Bad guys rule, tights-wearers drool.

The beach is a bitch but the movie is worse

Oh, man, the HEAT.

I know, total first world problem, but we were on our family vacation at the beach last week and damn, it was hot and humid. Like, 100 degrees and 80 percent humidity.

Even the so-called beach breezes were nonexistent.

So, in order to get out of the heat, we went to the movies to see Toy Story 3.

First of all, this is a ramshackle old theatre at the shore. No big deal. But as I am standing in line to buy the tickets, I hear the ticket seller tell the woman in front of me that they had "sound problems" at the earlier showing. Apparently they felt the need to tell her this, but that they were "sure" the problems would be resolved and they were moving the movie to another screen.

They told me the same. Whatever, I bought tickets anyway. It was fucking HOT outside. Sound problems are better than 100 degrees and 80 percent humidity.

We waited inside with eleventybillion other frazzled, overheated, crabby parents while they "move" the movie. Then they announced that they didn't move it, but the sound should be a-ok! We were seated and started munching.

Meanwhile, there were loud construction sounds emanating from above. A woman in the audience started to loudly complain (louder than the construction) and claims that debris is falling on her. We ignored her while the theatre manager tried to calm her.

The movie began. It's got some wonky sound - louder here. softer there. occasional 10-second bursts of no sound at all. Oscar didn't care.

The theater rumbled with indignance as parents started to fear that Snotleigh and Bradlynn and Portland can't heeeeeaaaaaaar. Note: this grumbling obscures the sound much more than the actual sound issues do. Shaddap, I want to say to them. My kid can't hear over YOUR ass.

Finally, the (teenage, surly, frustrated) manager stepped up (the movie is still playing) and announced that if anyone wants their money back, to leave now and get a refund, but he won't give refunds after everyone watches the movie all the way through.

"I won't be coming back here!" threatened a dad from the dark depths of the back rows.

"Like I care," the manager muttered as he stomped up the aisle.

I am thinking, "you say that now, indignant dad, but wait till Saturday when they forecast rain all day, and your ass will be back to see Despicable Me faster than you can say 'sound problems'".

Most of us stayed. It was pretty good. Creepy-ass baby doll gave me the heebie jeebies, though. Sound cut out here and there but who cares? AIR CONDITIONED, BITCHES.

We stayed to watch the credits and so we were the last to leave. The manager handed us three free passes to see another movie.

"Sorry," he said, not looking us in the eye.

"It wasn't that bad, really," I said.

He looked relieved.

Moral of the story: Kids don't care if they lose sound for 10 seconds. Shut up, stupid helicoptering parent, and let mine enjoy the movie. Or leave.

I poo in blue

"My diaper is full...full of chic. When it's number two. I look like number one."

Doesn't that Huggies Jeans commercial fucking rock the planet? I love the Europop soundtrack and the disdainful-looking miniature fashion model of a baby. He's all like, "Fuck yeah. I look cool. And you've got ELMO on your diapers, suckas."

This is my kind of advertising - shameless, ridiculous and hilarious.

Next thing you know they will come out with Huggies Leather, for the true badasses. Or maybe Huggies Speedo.

It's making me think of Huggies Thong, of course, which was one of my top fake commercials ever.

Non sequiturs

The worst thing about Pixar movies, in my opinion, is how they fuck with you out of context.

Oscar gets fixated on one movie at a time, and begins to recite lines and scenes. However, out of context, this can be confusing, particularly if you have not seen the film as often as the child has, and have no idea that a movie line is being quoted, and instead, hear these gems coming from your 3 year old like some sort of pint sized oracle.

Seriously, wouldn't it freak you out to hear your toddler say:

"I'm Picasso!"

or

"The prodigal son has returned!"

or

"I am your WIFE! I'm the greatest good you're EVER gonna get!"


You truly have not lived till you hear your three year old imitating Samuel L. Jackson.

I've gone all hippie and shit

Ok, in an effort to get my family to eat more vegetables, I have joined a CSA, and now have a farm box full of farm fresh produce every week.

Which means....





You just knew that was coming, didn't you?

Everybody's a critic

Ok, admit it, you've bought your kid a Kids Cuisine TV dinner, right, looking away from the nutritional information and mile-long ingredient list, tryng to decide if fish sticks/gummi worms/corn/mac and cheese is worse than spaghetti and "meat"balls, brownie and corn (starchfests, both of them!) Now the boxes are adorned with Shrek, which doesn't help.

I bought and served one tonight. He ate the gummi worms and two fish sticks. He's developed a taste for the organic (I KNOW) bug mac and cheese and doesn't like any other, won't eat corn, and said the fish sticks were not crunchy enough. DINNER FAIL. He did eat three pieces of cheese at the ubermarket so maybe that filled him up, but now he wants strawberry milk (I FREAKING HATE STRAWBERRY MILK).

Time for some ice cream? For Mommy, I mean...

Trashiest dinner in weeks!

After weeks of trying to cook real food, some of it even ethnic, I have returned to my comfort zone.

Dinner was dinosaur chicken nuggets with wing sauce and blue cheese dressing. Half-Assic Park!

Oscar had grilled cheese. Smart kid.

On Mothers' Day

Oscar has taught himself to burp at will.



I'm so proud!



Other than that, he's been a naughty imp all day, and just informed me that he doesn't love me anymore because he was told to stop jumping on the couch.



Happy Mother's Day to all, and here's wishing you clean floors, dinner dishes done by someone else, wine, and all the tabloid magazines you want.

The Daycare Strangler!

There is a little shit classmate in Oscar's daycare who has decided it's good fun to choke his friends. We'll call him Chokey Chokington. Oscar was the first victim, but there have been three attempted chokings by this deranged little weasel clearly ill-behaved little scamp. His parents are much trashier than I am as they seem not to give a shit about it. This is not typical boy-stuff or provoked - this is sneak-up-and-throttle. Which I don't dig.


So, I offer my top 10 defense products for toddlers against little shitheels in training random preschooler acts of violence.

1. Pepper Spray for Toddlers.

Can't you imagine the cunning little Diego or Dora pepper spray? Rescue Pack, turn into a mist of eye-burning pepper vapor so Diego can escape the evil Chokey! Chokey, no choking!

2. My First Bodyguard.

Surely there is a kindergarten thug who'd like to earn some Bakugans or candy. Recruit a large child from the after-care program to act as hired muscle.

3. Light Saber.

I know a toy light saber doesn't really work, but it makes a good weapon. Thwack!

4. Airhorn.

Judiciously applied, this could rattle the perp so much that it may actually make his choking hands go right for his own ears, to choke out the noise.

5. Electric Fence.

Give each child their own Electric Fence barrier and put the collar on Ol' Chokey. If he gets too close, zzzzzap!

6. Boxing Gloves.

Chokey may choose to whack his victims instead, but he won't be able to close his grip!

7. Red Berets.

Who wouldn't want this beat? NO, CHOKINGTON, DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!

8. Someone dressed as Batman/Spiderman/Buzz Lightyear.

Apparently a man in a costume makes quite an impression on the younguns. "No toys for you if you aren't nice!"

9. Zombies and Vampires.

Being pursued by the undead will leave him little time to threaten others!

10. Last but not least... VEGETABLES

Don't allow him to get up from the lunch table until he has consumed his brussels sprouts, broccoli and lima beans. He'll be there till he's 16.


Why no, I'm not a licensed child psychologist! Why do you ask?

Proof that I use the microwave too much

So, you know I serve Oscar chicken nuggets a couple of times a week. I KNOW, but I do.

I make them in the microwave, because, EASY. He likes them, they are shaped like dinosaurs, whatever.

So, yesterday, Oscar finds me to give me some news. "Mommy! Da kitty is on your food maker!"

"What?"

"Da KITTY is on da FOOD MAKER!"

"Food maker? wtf?" I am imagining the cat in the crock pot, or something.

I go into the kitchen to investigate. The cat is perched atop the microwave.

"Honey, that's a microwave."

"NO, Mommy, it's a food maker. It makes the nuggets hot!"

I guess I can't argue with that. But he doesn't call the stove, or the oven, food makers.....

Sigh.

All Hail the Semi-Ho, or, My Foray Into Killer Kakes

Dear Diary, I want to be just like Sandra Lee, only not so drunk, and with less saggy breasts...

A couple of years ago, at one of the internet communities I belong to, we had a Semi Homemade Bake-off. And when I say Bake-Off, I mean doing a Sandra Lee - buying an angel food cake and fucking it all up. The only requirement was a store-bought angel food cake. The rest was up to us.

So, here was my entry - a Mexican Fiesta Cake, Sandra Lee-style.


Here is the unsuspecting plain store-bought angel food cake.





Here is the list of ingredients. Doesn't look too bad, does it? WELL, IT'S A CAKE, PEOPLE. Look carefully.



First, I got some Cool Whip and added some green food coloring to make it look more like guacamole.



Then I added some Tabasco.



Then I sliced the cake in half and frosted between the layers...



and then topped it with beans...



and ramen noodles (I know, it's not very mexican, but it was mexican-flavored ramen noodles!)



and the seasoning packet from the ramen noodles, which Sandra Lee would totally approve.



After placing the other half of the cake on top, I filled the hole with more beans.



Then I added some pre-made frozen guacamole. Don't worry, I didn't waste good guac. This was freezer-burned as all hell.



Then I continued frosting with the terrible Tabasco Cool Whip.



I topped it with some extra guacamole and beans, which looked like a shitpile in a swamp. Then some more crunchy ramen bits. Yummo!



Then some green sanding sugar...



And some Red Hots....



Fresh diced Roma tomatoes....



What the hell, some more Red Hots...



At this point, the cat was like "What the fuck, human? I'm gonna go lick myself in the other room."



I then pressed some ramen noodles into the sides of the cake for visual and textural interest. Who am I kidding? I had them, I used them.



A little more Tabasco...



Now, to go with it, a cocktail, in this festive glass from a set I was given for Christmas a few years ago and thought, when the fuck will I ever use these? In time-honored Sandra Lee tradition, I start with half a glass of vodka.



Add some Tabasco...



and some of the ramen seasoning packet...




Pardon me a moment while I retch. And add ice cubes.



Garnish with some Roma tomato...




and Red Hots...




and some wonk-ass peppers....



And, of course, a couple of kooky straws!



Since it would not be a Sandra Lee challenge without a tablescape, I grabbed a Mexican blanket for the table. I added some assorted gourds and peppers, and then garnished it all with Tums.



Here's a close-up.



I hope you enjoyed this wonderful cake. In all honesty I have to say that I was thisclose to taking it in to work and leaving it in the break room with a sign saying ENJOY! but I was on thin ice already and the cake would merely have speeded my eventual departure.



Anyway, please remember to keep it smart, keep it sweet, keep it stereotypical, and always keep it semi-homemade! Buh-bye!

Best. License. Plate. Ever.

The only way this could be better would be if the car was orange, or Britney Spears was driving it with a kid in her lap, ciggie in one hand and Starbucks in the other. GET OUT THE WAY Y'ALL!!!!!!!

The Boogieman, Part Deux

Oscar eats boogers.

I KNOW.

Now, this child is a veritable booger factory, first of all. And he is at the tail end of a cold, so the boogers are ripe and ready for harvest. He is ready to go spelunking. And he gleefully digs in, and then the finger goes right to his mouth.

I KNOW.

So the booger-eating goes on. I told him NO. I ignored it. I made fun of it. Then I started telling him NO again. Then I tried reasoning with him.

"Why are you eating boogers? Boogers are yucky!" I exhorted him.

"Mommy," (he said in that patient yet condescending voice he inherited from his daddy) "I have to eat dem because I need to go to my booger class."

Oh, ok. As long as there's a good reason.

A Short Guilt Trip, or, BAD MOMMY

So, Oscar and I went to the dentist this morning for his first checkup.

When we were at Disney, he fell onto his face when he was playing with his cousins, and I mean SMACK! right onto his face. He was bleeding everywhere from his split lip, and he said his teeth hurt, but they didn't seem to bother him after a couple of days. However, he did start to eat on his side teeth. Anyway. We did nothing, knowing we'd soon be taking him to the dentist.

Fast forward 2 months, and I take him to the dentist today. When the dentist hears about the fall, she xrays his mouth. And discovers that a)the roots to his two incisors are FRACTURED and b) he has a cavity smack between those two teeth.

Now, Trash Man and I have bad teeth. I mean, I spend thousands of dollars a year just to maintain my dingy smile, and Trash Man has more plastic in his mouth than Heidi Montag has in her tits. I brush Oscar's teeth every day, but he has allergies like I do, and he breathes through his mouth, like I do. I have cavities between my two front teeth myself. But, he's three! It's so sad! Fillings! Novocain! I don't want my baby to have novocain! As for the roots, nothing can be done except to hope that he doesn't injure them again before his adult teeth come in.

Of course, my mother will say "It's because of all the sweets you give him!"

Now, just for the record: He does not eat only candy. He does not drink juice that hasn't been diluted (despite the dangers of DILUTING THE VITAMIN C, see Sprout rant at beginning of blog for more details). He does drink chocolate milk, at night, right before he brushes his teeth. He doesn't like raisins or fruit rollups.

The dentist did tell me that chocolate is a better snack if you're going to have candy as it doesn't stick like sugary sweets (LOVE THIS DENTIST).

But, argh! Dental work already! What if he ends up as a baby silvertooth? Why do I feel so guilty? I'd better eat some chocolate.

Angels with Dirty Faces, or Lazy-Ass Parenting 101

So, you know that kid in the day care with the chocolate goatee at 8 am?

Yeah, that would be my kid.

And his father and I are too clueless/self-absorbed/careless/ dumb to clean him up. I always notice how dirty his face is when I'm already in the day care.

But hey, he's eating breakfast at least! And since the ads tell you to give your kids Nutella on toast for breakfast, I have to comply. I ALWAYS DO WHAT THE TEEVEE TELLS ME.

We did have Chocolate Chex today, and damn, they were good.

So, chocolate mustache...and today, with a glazing of booger.

BAD MOMMY.

Have you ever noticed....

that most of the people who name their kids Mason, Cooper, Sawyer, Sailor, etc. would probably drop over dead before they'd allow their kid to grow up to be a mason, cooper, sawyer, or sailor (unless the sailing involved a yacht, of course)?

On the other hand, it beats Bronx Mowgli. Or Apple.

NO OFFENSE TO ANY OF MY FRIENDS WHOSE KIDS ARE NAMED ANY OF THE ABOVE BECUASE CLEARLY YOU ARE COOL AND THIS DOES NOT APPLY TO YOU. Unless it does.

Kennel cough

I am sick. again. My tenth or eleventh cold since October.

Since Oscar was born, I've had a cold pretty much continuously, except for a brief, annual, summer respite. I get over one. He catches a new one. He gives it to me. He's sick for a week. I'm sick for two. I get over it. He catches a new one. He gives it to me. Lather, rinse, repeat.

When I pick him up at day care, I can see other boogery kids. And since Oscar regards the entire world as his Kleenex, his sleeve, his cheek, and other things are generally befouled with boogers at the end of the day. His little face is chapped. And I look at the sick kids and think, kennel cough.

Is there a daycare equivalent for this? When I refer to it as "kennel cough" I get disapproving looks.

I KNOW MY KID IS NOT A DOG.

That said, kennel cough is fucking killing me. My throat! My nose! I'm snoring! I'm sniffling! My lips are chapped! I cough constantly! I've gone through six bottles of Nostrilla! I even bought a neti pot! Yes, it's come to that.

HELP.

The Mystery of the Floating Eyebrows: An Anthropological Study

Okay, this has been driving me batshit crazy for some time.

So let's put on our scientist hats and see if we can solve the mystery.

I first noticed this phenomenon in Dora the Explorer, and have recently observed the same in Handy Manny. There are some characters with eyebrows, on whom the eyebrows reside in a normal fashion. That is to say, on the head of the character. Here's an example:



Now, on some other characters, the eyebrows seem to exist independently, hovering in space above the head of the character in a menacing and impossible fashion:





Now, here is my question. Is it only Latino characters for whom the floating eyebrow exists? Is this a vestige of some South American mysticism, or enchantment, or just plain old santeria?

But why do Diego and Manny have attached brows when their inanimate castmates don't? Is being human the x factor here?

Why are eyebrows even necessary on a cartoon wrench?

Why do some characters completely lack eyebrows?

I tell you, there's a thesis in here.

And don't even get me started on why every.single.female character has to have long eyelashes and lipstick. There was one episode of Dora where a mommy crab was given a pearl necklace by her child (NOT THAT KIND YOU SICKO) and put it on her nonexistent neck and batted her long eyelashes and pursed her lipsticked mouth. WTF? Plus the perspective was so far off it was bordering on Escher. I couldn't find a photo of the mama crab but here is her floaty-eyebrowed babe clutching said pearl necklace.



I'm just sayin'. We need someone to investigate this. I think I'm onto to something really huge here.

We've been Disneyfied

We're back from Disney. A week at the Happiest Place on Earth.

Well, more like the Happiest Place on Earth, Dammit...And You'd Better Enjoy It Or Else!

You need to know that there were record cold temperatures in Florida during our visit. So much for a nice warm winter vacation. No pool. Made walkng around as much fun as it is at home right now. As in, NOT FUN AT ALL.

So we were in our room most evenings, and watching The Disney Channel. See, as much as Disney wants to create their own little world, they are a bit like China. They don't want any outside influences making you think evil thoughts such as "Lets go to Universal or Nick Studios for a tour." So, in order to make sure you don't get any ideas, they only have Disney/ABC channels, except for local CBS and NBC. So, if your kid wants to watch Dora, too bad, unless you are a defiant scofflaw like me and get Dora on your laptop or ipod (Thanks, Netflix!). The Disney Police are probably still looking for me but I'm a rebel. What they have accomplished is basically an ethnic cleasning of other kids programs. They want you to watch ALL DISNEY ALL THE TIME. Which isn't so bad if the Cheetah Girls movie is on (SHUT UP) but if I have to ever, ever, see another episode of the Suite Life On Deck, I will not be held responsible for my actions.


Also, Oscar subsisted on mostly a diet of chicken nuggets and fries. Alarmingly, they were the same everywhere we went. I was thrilled to see that the Japanese restaurant in Epcot did not offer them.

Oscar did like the rides, but he was just as happy playing with his Lightning McQueen cars in the room. Even MEETING Lightning McQueen was not as fun. He was cold, you see. And young. He liked the Jedi training academy (of course) and didn't like Stitch.

Speaking of rides, we were getting on It's a Small World and Occar was fussy. Some woman snarked, "Does he WANT to be on this ride?" I'm all like, BITCH, PLEASE. You are in DISNEYWORLD. Did you think it was Gay Week? There are shitloads of CHILDREN here. They may fuss now and again. In fact you can bet on it. I wanted to move closer to her to fuck up her day but we were already on our way into a ride that features LOTS OF LOUD CHILDREN SINGING. Whatever, bitch.

Oh Mickey you're so fine

We finally caved. We're going to Disney.

I KNOW.

Let me point out that we are not Crazy Disney People, those creatures who collect and visit umpty times every year and know the park in and out and thought about naming their children Donald and Daisy.

But, we are going. And in an effort to get all Disneyed up, we've been watching the Disney channel. A lot. And between Handy Manny (meh), Special Agent Oso (zzzzz), and Mickey Mouse Club House (bizarro), I am perplexed. They each annoy in their own special way.

But hey, next week, ask me how I feel! And pray for lots of Pixar.