Friday, February 10, 2012

Things kids say...and do.

I am entitling this post "The things kids say...and do" simply because today was a real winner.  I decided fairly early in the morning that I wanted to venture out of our cave and enjoy some human interaction (i.e. shopping).  Lets not get things twisted, I knew it would blow but I just could not stay put for another second.

To kick the day off my son went up to get dressed.  About four hours later he appears in front of me wearing what I presume to be his coming home from the hospital outfit.  I swear the kid was wearing a size 3 months...not actually but at least a 24 month and he is in a 4-5T.  This is what I like to call a "motherhood failure".  He is in these clothes because of my shitty mothering.  I F-ing hate to clean out their drawers and closets.  It is AWFUL.  First off,  you are throwing clothes that you bought two months ago into garbage bags and lastly because who wants to get rid of the cute little things they wore when they were cuddly babies?

So anyways once I have both the little lovelies dressed appropriately we venture off to Nashua so that I can get my Christmas Tree Shoppe fix.  I know the whole way there that I am going to spend the entire shopping trip in a anxiety ridden state, trying to keep both the children semi-quiet and behaved.  I knew I would not be let down in the embarrassment department.

Well Bella never ceases to amaze me with her rotten shopping cart behavior.  She WILL NOT SIT IN THE FRONT PART OF THE CARRIAGE.  Let me say that again...WILL NOT.  What usually occurs is some sort of WW III battle of wills.  I try to get her two writhing legs jammed into the damn leg holes while she screams as if I am tearing her limbs off...which technically at that point I kind of am.  Then it concludes with me sweating and exhausted throwing her into the large part of the carriage as she grunts her approval.  Oh and while this is going on Noah is dashing in and out of the electric doors and all the cashiers and patrons have on their ugly judgmental faces.  Whatever.  I just drove 45 minutes and I AM HERE BITCHES now get out of my way!

Bella and Noah fight over who will SLAM the items I want to purchase into the carriage and several times Bella breaks into hysterics because she is hot (even though we already took off her jacket) and because Noah has bashed her in the head with a giant dog bone.  Old ladies come over and try to make things better by asking my sobbing, cranky, irrational daughter how old she is.  Like that has ever worked.  All it does in Bella's case is piss her off even more and make her want to be held since "old lady" is scary and has lipstick all over her teeth.  Noah on the other hand thinks that they are instant best friends and wants to share intimate details about our life.  Yup, mad dash away from the Ye do gooder.

Now I have made it through CTS and want to head over to Babies R Us which is located directly next door.    I don't even bother getting another carriage (cause you remember how that goes) I just walk in with the CTS carriage with Bella still sitting in the front.  Now I HATE Babies R Us but I needed diapers.  I had not been in the store for 30 seconds when some employee comes up to me and asks if I could please put my daughter in the front of the carriage.  HAHAHAHAHAHA NO.  Nope I will not.  Thank you for your concern but I obviously value my sanity over my daughters well being.  Seriously I JUST WANTED SOME OVERPRICED Babies R Us diapers.  Not a lesson in how a child should ride in a carriage.  Do you think I don't realize how my two year old should be sitting in the carriage? Do you think I can't see the little step by step drawings on the seat?  Do you think I somehow don't realize that she could fall and bust her head?  Bitch I know ALL of that AND THEN SOME.  I just choose to forgo a afternoon migraine and the awkward stares I would receive while my daughter loses her shit for the entire shopping trip.  Not only that but when she sits in the front of the carriage she unbuckles herself and climbs out of the damn thing!! Which is about 1000 times more dangerous then having her sit in the big part.

People. Can't live with em, can't punch them in the mouth.

After that nice awkward exchange we are standing in the checkout line when Noah decides that he wants to have a staring contest with the woman standing behind us.  He carefully explains all the rules of a staring competition to this poor lady who just wants to buy her nipple ointment in peace, and then he starts the game.  Now I am so glad that he is standing still that I don't even bother to tell him that it is inappropriate to engage strangers in games of staring into each others souls.   And then Noah blinks.  The lady says, "I win!" and Noah goes ballistic.  Denying that he blinked, trying to convince her that she blinked first etc.  Boy was I glad to get the hell out of there.

There were a few more stops before we managed to get home.  Each had their own crappy moments but we eventually did get home.  In one piece.  Alive.  Therefore I call it a successful day!  When I notified Noah that I was NOT cooking tonight and that Dad was going to bring home pizza he looks at me and says, "Well Mom, Pizza has a lot of fat in it.  Sooooooo if you eat it your going to have to do A LOT of Zumba.  But make sure you do Zumba while I am at school okay?"  Kids, gotta love em.


Wednesday, February 1, 2012

The story of a man urinating out his window onto my grill while I watched.

A while back I had mentioned that while I was living in "dirty, dirty Marlborough" as Dad so fondly called it, a neighbors son had relieved himself from his bedroom window onto my grill.  I know this because I stood there and watched him do it.  Me.  The one who has no issue with confrontation, hand to hand combat, or telling somebody where to stick it.  Boy am I glad that I just smiled and watched him give it the triple shake at the end because here he is now...2 held without bail after Marlborough raid yields guns, drugs.

Now I hope you clicked that link because if you did there is a photo of the lovely young man.  The one with the braids was the urinator.  Just to think I shared a wall with him.  Rested my weary head after long days of work and listened to him BLAST his turn table until wee morning hours.  Never once did I call the police or even give a dirty look at the mailbox.  Boy am I glad now.  I could of ended up on the evening news.  Dead in my slummy apartment.  I always found the amount of noise from across the hall odd.  There was constant yelling and slamming things around.  Several times his mother was taken by ambulance.  At the time, naive me, thought she was just trying to get a night of sleep with out the sounds of his horrible homemade rap songs.  Or maybe she had  just gotten sick of him screaming for her to go F###k herself, which was also a nightly occurrence.  But obviously she had either overdosed on cocaine or been shot by her son.

To be honest the above mentioned apartment was not the only shit hole I lived in.  My very first one was a third floor, illegal, attic studio apartment with a VERY strange neighbor and consistently frozen pipes.  Extreme and constant use of space heaters to keep the water flowing was probably not the hottest idea (well I guess technically it would be the hottest idea) since I would have burned alive with no secondary exit to be had. Just a three story drop onto a 1985 Chrysler convertible (my neighbors pride and joy).

This little beauty was on Broad street in Marlborough.  About a stones throw from the wet shelter and the site of the biggest drug bust in Metrowest history.  My neighbor was a man in his mid 50's who chain smoked and liked to gloat about his "convertible".  The very first time I entertained my friend Amy at my new home my "strange" neighbor decided that he wanted to lock his girlfriend prostitute out of his apartment with no clothes on.  So here I am trying to look mature and awesome with a place of my own and there is a naked woman screaming and banging on the doors outside. WINNING.

I guess I should of known something was off when the day I moved in he knocked on the door to introduce himself with a X-large Dunkin Donuts cup full of a noxious alcohol concoction...eight hours later he knocked again to introduce himself with the same cup, full again.

What brought about this post is the fact that last month the apartment building next door to my old digs burned.  Yes, in the attic, from a space heater, in a illegal studio.  Just brought back memories. is can watch it here.

Not to say that I didn't love the times I had in both those rats nests.  They were some of the funnest days so far. :)
This is apartment #1 the day I moved in.  Notice the jug of wine...just trying to fit in to my new surroundings.

This was about 2/3's of the apartment.  Slightly cramped for 2 but hey couldn't beat the 360.00 rent.