Thinking that you might have sex
but you don’t get to.
That night, I dreamed that I choked on a chicken mcnugget. I choked on chicken. Coincidence? Or maybe I just really need to get some.
(And yeah, I wrote “laid” in the title. Hehe.)
Every night at bedtime, Julia hears a story or twelve. Usually, I read them to her from a book. Now and then, I’ll tell an original story that I make up on the spot. Julia is crazy about these stories. I enjoy the opportunity to plant my motherly ideals in her tender young mind under the guise of entertainment. It’s very effective. Julia is still talking about the story of Lija, the girl who refused to listen to her mom and fell into a hole and landed in No-Listen Land where the children were filthy because they never took baths and the toys were all broken because no one ever picked them up, and you get the idea. Lija did chores for five years straight in the No-Listen Land castle in order to get back home. Luckily, when Lija returned from No-Listen Land, no time had actually passed and she got the chance to listen to her mother this time, which she did. She grew up to be a pharmacist.
A few nights ago, I was so exhausted by the time we got to the story part of the bedtime routine that I just turned out the light and hoped Julia would forget it. She didn’t. I was too tired to turn the light back on and find a book, and the idea department in my brain was closed for the day, so I told her the story of The Karate Kid. Also, The Goonies.
On Sunday, Julia was hanging out with her grandma who was in the living room working on sock monkeys and watching television, and The Goonies happened to be on. Julia watched. About the time the Goonies found the Fratelli’s hideout, she realized it was the bedtime story I’d told her a night or two before. Though I tried to explain that I’d learned the story from watching the movie, she now believes that I’m responsible for the cinematic distribution of The Goonies adventure. She’s pretty much convinced that I know them personally and keeps telling me how much she’d like it if Sloth could come and visit us sometime.
I think tomorrow night I’ll start telling stories about Wonder Woman. Perhaps I’ll happen to leave a lasso laying around and utter the occasional, “Where is that Secret Belt of Strength?” Maybe then she’ll actually listen when I ask her to pick up her toys.
because of the county fair
still in pajamas
My mom and I loaded up the girls and hit some yard sales on Saturday, because you know I love me some yard sales. Finding quality items at rock bottom prices – Hello Baby Gap overalls for $1.00! – I can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday.
It seems that Julia has inherited the yard sale gene. She took along a plastic glitter Easter egg filled with coins she’d stolen from my purse so she could shop. And color me an asshole, but somehow we ended up coming home with a bunch of junk for Julia and her Easter egg was none the lighter.
Her treasures included a cute little flower play-doh extruder, a free (I’m rolling my eyes here) Boobah toy (because we don’t do Boobah) and a stinkin’ Easy Bake Oven. Actually, it wasn’t even an Easy Bake Oven; it was a knock-off – a TastyBake Oven.
I tried not to get it. I used everything in my arsenal: reasoning, distraction, bribery. None of it worked. The kid dragged that box around after me through the whole sale and when I finally went to pay for my freaking awesome brand new pasta pot strainer still sealed in the box for 75% off the regular purchase price, she shouted, “Don’t forget to pay for my oven, Mommy. I’m going to bake you cupcakes!”
“We can do that with the regular oven,” I said.
“It’s only a dollar,” the yard sale lady offered.
And so, Julia procured an old ass Easy Bake Oven wannabe with a dust coating so thick, it looked like it’d been in storage since 1978.
The moment we pulled into our driveway, she began asking to use it and continued asking every thirty seconds as I nursed Lucy and went to the bathroom. Just as my eye was starting to twitch, we opened the box. It contained one stupid TastyBake oven. The utensils and the oh-so-crucial tiny pan were missing. I recommended that we forgo the TastyBake and simply make something in the real oven, but that just wouldn’t do. So, I cleaned the TastyBake oven while Julia recited its benefits, the most important being the ability to do it all by herself.
I fashioned a tiny pan from foil cupcake cups. We plugged the oven in for the 20 minute preheat. It smelled bad. Julia prepared a brownie mix and spooned a few tablespoons into her makeshift tiny pan and waited anxiously. I poured the rest into a muffin pan to make brownie bites in my real oven. Julia waited some more, then put her tiny pan in the fully preheated TastyBake oven and pressed the fake buttons. Moments later, my brownie bites were finished. We ate them.
Thirty minutes later, her TastyBake brownie was ready. Sort of. One half was baked to perfection, while the other half was still gooey and batter-like. Then, she refused to eat it because I pulled it out, which meant she didn’t get to do it all by herself.
Mother flippin’ TastyBake Oven. I hate you.
Last week our playgroup took its annual trip to a pumpkin patch. This year, we visited the patch at Maize Valley Market and Winery, which was great fun.
Here’s Julia on a GIANT hay bale pyramid.
Everyone was kind of freaking out that she was up there at the tippy-top, bouncing around all wild and carefree, including me, but I figured I might as well snap a shot for posterity. Or evidence, depending on how her descent turned out.
While uploading the pictures, I couldn’t help but compare them to last year. Take a look. (This year’s pictures are on the left, last year’s on the right.)
Sure, we did the same things this year that we did last year – that’s what makes it a tradition. It also makes it easy to see how Julia and our family has grown.
My favorite thing about this picture is that Dave actually believed he was hidden behind the baby. He kept asking me, “Can you see me? Am I hidden?”
“Like a camoflauge truck babe.”
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