STINKY JOHN JONES

School Drop Off

This, what's coming up, is just another reason I keep this blog under wraps.  If everyone I know, knew about this, I wouldn't be open to making fun of them.

With that understood, I would like to take you to a little place I like to call........school drop off.  Not to be confused with Beauty School drop out....although by the looks of things, they very well could be. 

Anyway, getting off topic there, lets discuss what I observe in the morning. 

First off, there is a woman....a little girl's Mommy.....let's call her Smokey (like in the bandit for reasons you will see) who is always there bright and early.  No matter what I do, she is always there first.   Now, I am sure you think that is all well and good.  But, let me give you a little more insight.  Since it has been chilly in the mornings now, parents have been choosing to sit in their cars and wait for the school door to open.  Well, Smokey surely sits in her car, with a cup of coffee in one hand, the paper or a book in the other all while dangling a cigarette out of her mouth........WITH HER CHILD IN THE CAR!  Don't get me wrong, I am not against smoking for obvious reasons, but there is definitely a time and place and that is neither the time and for sure not with the kid in the car.  AND to top it all off, the kid is not in a car seat.  At age 4!  And the little girl is not big by any standards.  She is a wee little thing that hops around the back of the car bouncing from one side to another.  Maybe she is trying to escape cancer, who knows, but her Mother really needs to check herself in my book.

Moving on........after Smokey.......we have........Screamer.  Yup, Screamer.  And not in the I'm too sexy and would look good in your bed type Screamer.  But, I yell at my kids from the time I pull into the parking lot Screamer. 
I'm telling you, I can hear this woman coming from down the road.  She whips into the lot in her van, slams into a parking space, and then continues to yell as she pulls her child from the car and chases him into the door........all while dragging a poor toddler behind her.  And her face....I swear....it is permanently glued into this pout that would put Anna Nicole Smith to shame.  Oh, and don't get my started on what she thinks is appropriate when dressing her child.  If it's 40 degrees out lady, don't you think the shorts and t-shirts should be retired!

Then, there is the social class.  The Moms who take school drop off to the next level.  They can most often be seen pulled into a tiny circle (while still in their cars which is a feat in its own) gabbing away about who is hosting the next play date, or who got the best deal at Gymboree, and even what Rachel Ray cooked the day before and how delicious it was.  You can spot them from a mile away as they berate the working Moms who couldn't chaperone's the last school trip. 
"Oh, poor Johnny.  He seemed so sad that his Mommy couldn't be with him.  And I am so sure she makes almost nothing.  Doesn't seem worth while to me, does it Judy?" 

There are others too, but we will just refer to them as wall-flowers for now.   These are the people who just blend in.  Keep to themselves, seem perfectly normal, or as normal as you can get, but normal just the same. 

And finally, there is me.  I am the Mom who pulls as close to the door as I can get.  Usually for the sake of time, but mainly because we are the last ones to arrive and the other spots are taken.  Most days the door to the school is already opened and the other kids have already gone in.  You know, late...but not late enough where I would need to go into the school and sign her in. 
I am the Mom who opens the van door from the inside as I reach around and unbuckle her from her car seat.  "Here's your backpack, Chach!" as I hand it to her from the window.  Poor kid has even learned to step up on the running boards to give me a kiss goodbye.  Some days I am still brushing her hair or packing her lunch.  
The looks I get from Smokey and Screamer and the others.  I hear their tisks, but do I care?  Nope.  As Chachi walks into school, I can usually be seen smacking my gum to the beat of the music blaring out the windows.  Ba Bye.  I wave.   For I know that there is a glorious 8 hour day where I am not the main butt wiper.  

Bad to the Bone

The terrible two's.  There, I've said it.  It is now out in the open for everyone to know.  When you see us coming, please remember the terrible two's.  Don't look down upon us.  I am not a bad Mommy.  I don't enjoy watching my child hit, bite, scream, pull hair, throw himself down on the ground, not share, push others, and just about anything else you would deem unfit for public.  I have given in to the fact that at the moment, I cannot fix this.  It is something that will move away on its own, hopefully.  Because, I have to confess, I am at a loss at what to do......and no one likes to admit defeat.

Now, what about you?  Dealing with something similar?  Have an out of control two year old and no Maury show to look upon for answers?  Is a tiny elf-like boy dominating your home? 

We are currently being run by a two year old.  He is forever testing the boundaries.  He even gains enjoyment from being punished.  He laughs at us.  The boy will run behind his sister with this demonic look on his face just waiting to get close enough to pull her hair.  Then he runs the other way.  When she screams and comes to tell, he claims the dog did it.  Doesn't that require imposable thumbs I ask him?  Huh?  No.  Chili did it, he answers. 

If it isn't the dog, it's me.  Mommy did it.  Daddy did it.  Gigi did it.  Just about anyone who pops into his head did it.  But never him.  Not Stink.  He is perfect as he sits and grins. 

Just last week, I commented on the fact that come Kindergarten, he will be in boot camp.  No need to worry about counting or the alphabet.  He will surely get a good education once he is in the system, right? 

My only hope is Karate.  Chachi went to a birthday party last weekend at a Karate school.  The instructor went over what Karate does for children.  Teaches discipline, respect he yelled.  I turned to his assistant and asked if they take 2 year olds.  She said no.  I begged.  But he really really needs this now I said.  I'm sorry.  They have to be three she answered.  Well, I am just warning you now, come May I will have him waiting on your doorstep.  He will have his first class on his birthday, so be prepared I told her.  The woman clearly thought I was either kidding or crazy....couldn't really tell at that point.  BUT, I did get a card in the mail for a free month.  So someone must have believed me. Or one of the neighbors put in a request.  There is only so many times they can watch a tiny boy bare assed naked running down the walkway trying to throw a ball into the street as he rolls around in the grass hysterically laughing.

I'm telling you. I think I have completely lost my mind.  Well, not lost, but stolen by a 2 year old.  He has stolen my mind I tell you and I need it back, quickly. 

Hide all the markers!

Edited to add: It seems as if it was the day for children to show their artistic expression on the outside......check out my good bloggy friend at Crazy for Trying!

Goblins and Ghouls and Tiny People!

Unfortunately, before we even left our porch, another tiny person in a scary mask absolutely terrorized poor Stink.  Not intentionally, but by just possessing the mask was enough to send him over the edge.  So, as you will see.....Stink spent the rest of the trick or treating evening in the stroller, and refused to get out.  Lucky for him, Chachi supplied him with fresh chocolate from time to time. 

Chachi at her Halloween parade at school

Stinky eating the loot.
One of our neighbors has this awesome haunted house blowup every year.....Chachi is slightly scared!

Eyes to the Soul

Here you go, Nancy........my good bloggy and fellow chi friend.  Your request!

The eyes to the soul.  The precious face.  My little man, Chili.  But please.....ignore the dirty parts of his face.  He is really in need of a bath!

PHINALLY!

THEY DID IT, THEY DID IT  *as I do my happy dance and sing around the house*! 

THE PHILLIES WON THE WORLD SERIES! 

Last night, as Brad Lidge threw that last pitch I was on the edge of my seat.  Praying, hoping....let it be I said.  And when it happened, I almost couldn't believe my eyes. 

"Dave?  Did they just win?"  I asked.

And then, my answer appeared.  Fireworks and car alarms, people banging pots and pans.  Screaming in the streets.  Pure mayhem.  The kind of mayhem that only happens in Philly when something completely awesome happens. 

Poor Stink comes running into our room, crying.  "Fireworks." he whimpered.  I picked him up and swung him around.  "They did it Stink!  The Phillies won!" 

"Go Phillies." he said in that voice that signifies pure exhaustion. 

"I'm heading to Dick's Sporting Goods!" Dave yelled as he threw his shoes on and ran out the door. 
"Get me something good!" I called to him. 

As I climbed into bed, with Stink in tow I watched as the fans on television poured into the city streets.  People were swinging from light poles, fires were starting in the middle of Broad Street.  The screen was split between the stadium and the fans. 
Stinky laid his head on my shoulder and we watched.  Even as our eyes were closing, we watched.  Glued to the television.  In awe. 

Ring Ring. 

"Hello?" I said into the phone.
"You should see the line!  It's crazy here.  Police are directing traffic into the store.  Listen to this!" as Dave held his cell in the air.
"LET US IN!  LET US IN!" I heard the people chanting. 
"I'm staying!"  he said. 
"Okay.  Don't forget something cute for me!" I yelled into the phone. 

I guess it was around 1am when he finally fell into bed.  And when I woke this morning, my Phillies World Series shirt was waiting for me.  What a great reminder for this wonderful milestone our city has entered.  Let the curse of Ben Franklin be gone!
Just some Mayhem Memories!

W8Loss Wednesday.......Slightly Wacky

Today starts a new beginning.  One in which I try to gain control of a little weight that has been hanging around for far too long. 

Once upon a time,  a thin and exceptionally athletic body stood before me.  This body could keep up with the best of them, often times others that were much larger and more powerful.  But the squirt kept going.  An Energizer bunny people would exclaim. 

But sadly, as we with children know far to much about, things got out of control.  Finishing this one's leftovers or snacking with the kids.  Eating on the run.  Until one day, you look down and no longer recognize the body one is living in.  You are a couch potato dreaming of the next bon-bon dropped your way.

So we take a stand!  Against fat!  To drop that snack and just say no !

Here, as I stand before you, I am taking back the fat!  I declare the weight-loss challenge of a lifetime.  To lose just about 1/3 of total body mass.  To gain muscle back.  To get the body that was once there.
I declare war!

Let's start off with a little before picture......and please, take into consideration how embarrassing this is as I turn my back to hide the tears.....

And this, my friends is my daily allowance..........

after having free access to this...............

And now I have to wear this.............

 

in pink, none the less......so the sweat will stay out of my eyes as I work out with this............

APPARENTLY.........I am supposed to roll around on this like some doggy yoga on crack! 

Oh, where has my dignity gone! 

Please, I am begging you.....someone call animal control.  A life of squaller has got to be better than this. 

Stay tuned next week!  Our first weigh-in!  Yippee!

The Creepy Crawlies Come Out At Night

I would like to share a story with you.  A story that will give you a glimpse into what I have to deal with on a day to day basis.  By the end of this story, you should be well aware of what freaks me out the most, or at least one of my top 10 freak outs. 

I shall give you the moral of the story first..............I HATE BUGS. 

There, I said it.  Anything that has legs and crawls close to the ground.....I hate you!

(Sorry chi-chi, I didn't mean you. You are close to the ground, but not THAT close.)

Now, this little fact was fairly evident one evening as I tried to enter the house. I say tried, because I was accosted at the door.  My very own door.  One that I pay for, with some help, every day as I bust my ass at work.  

As I opened the door I felt something fall on me.  It fell right on the nape of my neck and continued to slide down into my shirt.  I screamed.  I just about ripped the hinges off the door as I fell into the house and began to shed my clothing.  Zippers and buttons and bra and under ware........all strewn on the kitchen floor as I rolled around naked, brushing off whatever had attached to me with the carpet.

"Um?  What are you doing?" Dave asked as he stood over me closely watching my antics. 
"OH MY GOD!  Do you see it?  Can you see a bug on me?" I scream, now hysterical, as I continue to roll around.
"Um.  No."  he answered as he walked away. 

Humph.  As I stand up and begin to collect my clothes.  Must have been a false alarm. 

BUT, I am definitely ready for next time.  That is totally for sure.  Nice dry run Val I say as I pat myself on the butt, er back.  Oh whatever.  Just get your clothes back on and maybe he will forget this ever happened. 

Who is...........

..........Joe the Plumber? 

Can someone answer me this?  I hear Joe the Plumber this and Joe the Plumber that and I have no idea who the hell Joe the Plumber is! 

Is this some skit on SNL?  Mad TV?  WHO IS JOE THE PLUMBER!?!?!?!?!

Ugh! Ugh! And DOUBLE UGH!

That's how I feel.  I can't help it.  It has been a whirl-wind these last couple days and at the end I just feel defeated.

If you have two kids.....or more for that matter....you can back me up when I say what I am about to say. 
One kid is easy.  Piece of cake.  You have two eyes, two arms, two legs and only one child to watch out for.  To cut off at the first sign of misbehaving. 
Now add another kid.  You are up against four eyes, four hands, four feet and triple the amount of trouble.  I know, you are thinking it should only be double the trouble.  But believe me, it's triple....or quadruple really.  It's that 'two heads are better than one' syndrome.  It takes two heads to think up the things my kids get themselves into for sure.  And as much as I would like to take those two heads and bang them together.....well, you get the idea. 

SO, back to my UGH UGH and DOUBLE UGH!  This weekend, the kids seemed to have taken their extra naughty pills and driven me right over the edge.  I have to say that by Sunday night I was done.  As in stick a fork in me and call me dinner DONE! 
I admitted defeat.  I threw up the white flag and waved it for all to see.  I parked my butt on the couch and refused to move. 

Childish, I know.  But I was clear out of ideas, and after 50 timeouts, I knew the point was mute. 

Onto this evening....................

I was thoroughly looking forward to a leisurely drive home.  One half an hour to myself with the music blaring and no one to yell at but the moron in front of me driving way too slow. 
THEN, it happened.  My van died.  I pull out onto the highway and as I pressed the gas nothing happened.   Transmission I yell into the phone as Dave answers.  Got a ride, pick up the kids, call a tow truck, see you at home.  That was how our conversation went.  More or less anyway as I just may have left some unladylike words out. 

And there you have it.  For some reason SHE knew that I needed a break.  The woman looking down upon me just knew.  BUT she must have left a note for her husband to take care of it which put me out on the side of the road for over an hour.  Some break I yell up.  I hope SHE has your balls on a platter for this! 

update:  The van is at the shop currently awaiting her mechanic.  And I am left at home anxious to hear how hard it's going to hit my pocketbook.