Damn You, Tom Brady….

I stay home with Scout. I get up at 4 AM, so I can work before she wakes up. During her naps, I do more work. At 4 PM, Scout goes to the child care center in our gym, and I hop on an elliptical and watch Ellen.

For those of you mathematically challenged, that’s 12 hours until I get a break.

Today I was especially excited to watch Ellen because Johnny Depp was a guest (::swoon::).

After mere minutes, a special news report interrupted my program. (Does saying “my program” make me sound old?)

My first thought? NOOOOOOOO! JOHNNY!

My second thought? Damn terrorists.

But it wasn’t terrorists. It was Tom Brady. Damn Tom Brady…talking about how he picks out his footballs. Insert your own joke about a man and his balls here and in the comments.

Seriously?

And although Tom Brady is pretty cute, let’s face it: he’s no Johnny Depp.

I saw this:

Instead of this:

Now I know why people hate the Patriots. Those freakin’ program interrupters….


#2. Hacking Off All of My Hair

I’ve always worn my hair long…except for two times in my entire life.

The first time I was about 4.  My friend cut her hair short, so I had to do it, too. Then…I cried.

Exhibit A

85_06 02

The second time my hair ended up short unintentionally. I wanted curly hair in 5th grade. And that meant a perm…except my hair ended up crimpy, stinky, and not even shoulder length. I cried…again.

Exhibit B

Removed so I don’t die of embarrassment.

So when I decided to donate my hair, I had to wait until it was long enough that I wouldn’t end up in tears after cutting off 8 inches.

Exhibit C

pantene

I heard that Pantene donates a higher percentage of hair, so I donated my hair to them instead of Locks of Love.

Just in time, too, because my hair is turning gray fast.

Checked off another item on the 35 Before 35 list!


Never Teach Your Child to Blow a Raspberry

I can’t remember exactly how it started, but I think when Scout was a couple months old, we started blowing raspberries to her while she was having her diaper changed. It distracted her and kept her from fussing.

Then one day she blew one back at me. So I blew one at her again. And she blew one back at me. And this went on for 5 minutes or so.

Thoughtsy: It’s like she’s trying to communicate!

It was funny.

Until one day, it wasn’t.

Complete Stranger in Line Behind Us at Target: Awwww…your baby is so cute!

Scout: ::pbbbbbbbbt::

 Awesome. Just awesome. What a rude little baby. At least she’s cute.

20141227_152952

 


When You’re Not Allowed to Ask for Help….

Kiefer recently returned from a 2-week trip. That means it was just me, Scout, and Ozzy ALL the time. Plus Boo and Radley for a couple nights.

Whenever Kiefer leaves—as in within minutes of him getting on the plane and turning off his cell phone—Boo and Radley’s mom calls.

Their Mom: Can you keep the boys tonight/tomorrow night/whenever?

Thoughtsy: Yes….

Forget that I already have plans or have nothing they’ll eat for dinner or was really just looking forward to sitting around pantsless.

This happens for each of Kiefer’s trips…multiple times a trip. To the point that I felt like she knew I wouldn’t say no, so she was taking advantage of the situation.

Two weeks is a long time to not see Boo and Radley, so it’s nice to see them while Kiefer’s away.

But it’s not so nice when I have to pick Radley up from school, take Scout for a drive to nap because she’s transitioning from 3 naps to 2, have to pick up Boo from basketball practice, and make dinner. And the last three things happen in the same 45-minute period.

I need time to mentally prepare myself for that kind of craziness. Not an hour’s notice.

To avoid me having a breakdown while Kiefer was away, he sent his ex an email with the days the boys would stay at our house.

Cue nastiness. She got angry. Said the boys didn’t have to stay there at all and that she could just keep them the whole time.

When the first day rolled around that Boo and Radley were supposed to stay with me, I wasn’t sure if they were coming or not. They came. It was a jam-packed night, but we made it through.

Dear Kiefer’s Ex,

Remember what it was like with your first baby? Remember that you had no idea what you were doing? Remember when you would take the baby for a drive because it-just-won’t-nap-and-you-just-want-to-take-a-shower-dang-it?

Now throw in two other children—who are yours, but not yours. You’re a stepmom, and you really don’t want to lose your patience or temper (SHHHHH! The baby is SLEEPING!) with your stepchildren lest they start dubbing you the “evil stepmother.”

I’m a new mom. I’m a new stepmom. And I’m new to single-parenting…even if it’s only for 2 weeks. All I’m saying is…I need some help, some notice, some understanding.

Thanks, 

Thoughtsy

PS: Kiefer’s next trip is next month, so please reread this letter in January.


Move Over Mel Gibson! Scout Is Braveheart

Before it got chilly, Scout and I played outside. Her favorite game is called Baby Tries to Eat the Grass While Mommy Yells, “Get It Outta Your Mouth.”

It’s fun. No, really.

Then we discovered the soccer ball.

soccer

My initial reaction was Scout’s baby gibberish loosely translated to “You may take our lives/soccer ball, but you can never take our freedom!”

But maybe that was too hasty. Maybe she was really saying…

  • Are you blind, ref?!?! That ball was out!
  • Put me in coach! I’m ready to play…today!
  • What the heck, Mommy! I can’t fit this soccer ball in my mouth!

What do you think Scout is saying? Or what do you think Ozzy Pups is thinking?


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