bubbles!

I've been away for so long I really didn't know what to write. So much is going on and yet it's all pretty much a variation of the same too -- chasing a toddler, balancing motherhood, reminding myself to eat, reminding myself to just sit my butt down and stop moving every second, writing, drinking coffee and more coffee, and forcing myself to write more.

I'm actually pretty proud, thankful and humbled that I've been able to write a lot of scripted material lately. I don't know where I've found the time or inspiration (other than God), but the work seems to be flowing, which feels great. I attribute much of my blog absence to that.

So back to me and Cub...

Bubbles. I cannot say the word. At least not around him. I must ignore the word when it comes up. I must ban the word from my home. Bubbles. Who would've thought? My son is currently obsessed with bubbles. He can even read the word "bubbles" at 15 months. And when he does, he gets a twinkle in his eye and seems to whisper the word like it's some mystical artifact that he's just discovered from a faraway Tibetan temple. Bubbles.

It all started with Your Baby Can Read. He loves the videos and guess what? He can actually read! No joke! Cub can read at least 25 words or more. It's pretty amazing. And his vocabulary and speaking for 15 months is extremely advanced I must say. So on one of the videos they show the word "bubbles" and a kid blowing a bubble. No biggie, right? At first it was harmless. He didn't pay much attention to it at all. Then out of no where. He started READING the word bubbles and occasionally seeing bubble containers around the house and it became a fixation. He would then see the container AND read it and shout, "BUBBLES!" Ever so proudly.

Once he started whispering "bubbles" in the middle of a church service. Out of the blue. His little face all rosy and sweet, staring at the pastor preaching and then his mouth started forming the word softly, "bubbles". As if he were seeing bubbles ascending from the preacher's head. But there were no bubbles around. He was simply in his own pleasant bubble-filled day-dream.

This bubble obsession was cute in the beginning. But before long, I would bring out the bubbles and we'd have a great time blowing them together, then, they'd have to be put away. And therein lies the problem. Putting the bubbles away. See, Cub loves the bubbles. And he thinks they should be available, with me blowing them for him, 24-7. Even if he decides to walk away and do something else, he expects me to keep blowing the bubbles for whenever he decides to return. If I do put them away, I must brace myself for a mega-fat-ugly-toddler-tantrum.

The other day we were at the grocery store. I decided, foolishly, to reward him with a new set of bubbles for being patient during the shopping. So I show him the bubbles for him to hold. At which point he starts whispering, "bubbles, bubbles" into a high-pitched animated crescendo of "BUBBLES!!". Then wanted to OPEN the bubbles right there in the grocery store. I took them out of the plastic case for him to "hold" until we get outside. But NOOOOOOOO!! Must do bubbles right there in aisle 7 -- now!!! Then I heard the rumble, saw the fire in his eyes, and had to just brace myself -- the tantrum came like a tornado. And boy did it. SCREAMING, dropping to the ground, flailing, crying (the suck the air shaking cry) with the little quiet tormented whisper, "bubbles!" When I say everybody was staring, I mean EVERYBODY.

My mind raced, how do I handle a tantrum? Do I ignore it? Do I leave the store WITHOUT the bubbles (that we already opened) or what? And everybody else waited to see what I'd do too. So I decided to quietly but firmly tell him to stop crying and that we'd do the bubbles once we got outside. It didn't work. But it was worth a try. Long story short, we did do the bubbles. On the curb outside like two homeless kids. And then of course another tantrum ensued when I had to put them away to go home. So now, we don't bubble. At least for a while. And don't you dare say the word if you come over, unless you either plan on blowing bubbles for the next 48 hours, or wanna see mama throw her own tantrum.

Introducing Guest Mama "Dawn"!!

Hey, Mamas, it affords me great pleasure to introduce our first guest mama, DAWN, to the Baby Knack!

Dawn is a mother of 3 (God bless her soul!) -- 9 months, 3 and 6. Her stories really belong on a reality series. These beautiful children are a -- Dawn, dare I say, a hot mess?? In a hilarious way, of course!! Lol.

Dawn's stories always have my stomach hurting from laughter. Her girls, the 3 and 6 year old, are brilliant, sassy and pickled with a sense of humor. They definitely keep Ms. Dawn on her toes!

Here are some of her stories... (apparently her kids are fixated on the derriere!)

BABY PHAT

Today, I was out shopping for new jeans to celebrate losing more baby weight. While pushing the basket, my 6 year old daughter came up behind me, put BOTH hands on my butt and made my booty shake! All I could say was, "Why?" In which she replied, " I like to see it jiggle". Of course after that I wasn't in a celebratory mood and tried to get out of the store as fast as I could just in case anyone heard her.

BUTT CHEEKS

The other day my 3 year old was undressing with her back toward me. She had on a dress with lots of buttons down the back. Her dad helped with the buttons. When she was able to slide the dress down, she pulled down her undies, exposing her little 3 year old booty and grabbed two handfuls, squeezed, and then looked over her shoulder and said "butt cheeks"! Then started laughing hysterically. All I could do was shake my head. I could see her doing that in front of company!

Apparently Dawn's already preparing to be a grandmother in this story...

DA' KIDZ

So, last night during dinner out of nowhere, my 6 year old daughter asks, Mom what days are you going to be open to watch my kids? I'm thinking Friday will be good for me 'cause I'm going to need to do things like, get my nails done and like my hair. Soooo, how does that sound to you? Are you, like, going to be available or should I bring them another day? She then turns to her dad and says, Dad, if Mom is not available can you watch them for me?

Of course, I was sitting there speechless. I think I told her that I wasn't going to be around because I had my own hair and nail appointment. So my husband replies to her, You can drop the kids off anytime.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks, Dawn!!

All you other fun mamas out there, please feel free to send me a funny story or two if you have one at HindsWriteProds@gmail.com. I can't post every one, but I'll do my best!!

Love.

Pathetic

By the way, for those of you that just read the That Lady post, I actually got up from my computer after blogging and checked the fridge again, expecting to find something new. But of course it's still empty so I opened up Cub's cabinet and seriously considered eating one of his jarred foods! How pathetic is that?! You'd think I was a third-world mother. I promise to go grocery shopping tomorrow -- for the 5th time this week!

That Lady

I was that lady today. After writing about that kid yesterday, I guess I deserved a little humbling...

It all started with hamburger patties. I was asked to pick up about 50 burgers for a church event. My husband suggested I go to Smart and Final. I'm not a S&F or Costco frequenter. I'm one of those people that ends up at the grocery store 5 times a week because I don't plan ahead and buy in bulk. Then I usually complain about how many times I have to make runs to the grocery store or how we don't have any food in the fridge. Like right now, I'm starving. But the good 'ole ice box is near empty. Thank God my kid is drinking formula and breastmilk. Pray for my husband!

So I go into Smart and Final and of course I'm totally overwhelmed and giddy. I want to buy everything. I'm a sucker for the sensationalized great deals. Those flashy red stickers screaming buy buy buy! Buy NOW! I have the baby with me and it's almost nap time. Which means I have a very short window. But I can't stay focused because all the red stickers are screaming at me to buy buy buy! So after pulling myself away from the avocado section where I'm stalling for like ten minutes deciding whether or not I want to start Cub on avocado yet, I park in front of the meat section. And there they are, fresh fat hamburger patties packaged in 10's. Easy enough, I buy 5. But dang, they're expensive! Is S&F really that great of a deal? I don't think so. But we need the patties and it's for charity, right? Gulp. Fine. I'll chalk it up as a donation.

After cruising through the check-out, I manage to lug these heavy fresh patties to my car, baby and all, and the random items and avocados I've managed to bring along because they were a "good deal".

Flash-forward to this morning. I'm told we needed to get the FROZEN burger patties not the fresh ones. The tube-like kind in the plastic bags. You know, the inexpensive, thin ones? Nice. Here we have these big, beautiful, plump, fresh and very expensive charity patties, and I got the wrong ones. I was not looking forward to convincing the store manager to accept these fresh patties back after they've been home with me for 24-hours. But so be it.

Long story short, I drove back to S&F this morning with my big, beautiful, plump, fresh and very expensive patties. I explain to the manager and he's surprisingly cool and accepts them. I then hurry over to the frozen inexpensive aisle and I'm good to go.

Here's where I became that lady -- the "Return Lady":

With the thin, inexpensive patties in cart, I'm able to slide to the shortest line. A few people follow me, hoping to move through the line quickly. Then it's my turn. I have to explain to the checkout clerk about the return and the manager, yada yada. She then has to punch in all these codes, re-scan my receipt, and all this other stuff I won't bore you with. But the point is, now everyone in the line is giving me the evil eye, bouncing on one hip, sighing and what not. Then Cub starts crying and to make matters worse my signature won't take on the little electronic pad.

Then it happened as if in slow motion...

I look behind me at all these irritated, grumbling faces and I realize it -- I'm her. I'm that lady. Everybody hates the Return Lady. In high school and college working retail I couldn't stand the Return Lady. She slowed down the lines, hogged the registers, blocked the potential commissions and always had some annoying, long and drawn out story about why the items didn't work for her. And today, that was me. I was her.

Does this mean the next time I'm behind that lady, I have to be more patient and forgiving?!!