Today is Tuesday, but it feels like a Friday. This time I’m not using the tried and true excuse that as a stay at home mom, I lose track of the days far too easily and far too quickly (although it would be a valid one.)
Today feels like it should be a Friday because Parker has been unusually up my ass. I want to say “up my ass all week”- but I can’t, because it’s only midway through the 2nd day of the workweek and therefore wouldn’t have the same impact as if it were Friday. Do you see my conflict here??? The kid has been so far up my butt that he literally touched my brain and forced me to feel like 3 more days have actually passed.
|We all know it’s you, Fez.|
For what feels like a week, he has been begging me to play with this Handy Manny play set. Every time I get within a foot of the kid, I hear “we play Hanny Manny?” and each time I tell him no, he freaks his shit out. You would think this stupid playset that he got over a year ago and has barely ever touched since is the most IMPORTANT thing in the world and if we don’t put it together right that second, he will implode. You’d think after the 11th no, he’d get the hint- but he keeps on asking, trying to wear me down until I’m just tired of the word altogether. He doesn’t realize I’d get creative and use a different word for the big N-O, but that’s beside the point.
If we’re being honest here- with my back and neck pain, I find sitting on the floor and playing with toys excruciating most of the time. It’s just not worth the added stress and added time I’ll have to sit on my ass with ice on my neck just to recover. If we’re being BRUTALLY honest- I fucking hate that thing and don’t wanna deal with it. There are too many pieces and none of them fit into the place the crap-ass instructions say they’re supposed to and it constantly falls apart and there’s just no real purpose to any of it and it just sucks. IT SUCKS, okay? I said it. It sucks and I hate it. It doesn’t even make any noise, so you know in order to hate a silent toy the annoyance level must be pretty high.
Finally, after a
week few days of successful deflection, he finally caught me as I was stretching my crappy back on the living room floor (aka trying to avoid finishing my work out) by pushing all of the stupid pieces toward me.
“Mommy, I like you. You my baby,” and there’s the bait, “We play Hanny Manny?” he asks me, with his giant sad brown eyes. I knew there was a pointy hook behind that bait! I curse the day he mastered the sad puppy eyes (something Holden has yet to do, knock on wood.) Coupled with the lovey-dovey mooshy-squishy sweetness, how can one say no? I might not be overly sentimental and my nicknames for those I love might sound more like insults- but NO ONE CAN SAY NO TO THE PUPPY EYES AND THE SNUGGLE-BUGGLES!
Yeah, I typed snuggle-buggles. The kid has skills, what can I say?
In the middle of my exercising, all sweaty and irritable and out of breath, I stopped what I was doing and put that frickin’ Handy Manny whatever-the-shit-it-is together. Parker finds himself frustrated because he is trying to jam one piece into a place it just doesn’t go, to which I inform him that there are pieces missing and he needs another one of these stick-doodads to make this dumb thing “work.” He perks up and indicates that he knows where this missing piece is and disappears to the other side of the room, out of sight from my sweaty spot on the floor, I assume to get it and bring it back so we can continue building this shit. You know, the shit he’s been begging to build for a “week” now.
|Who keeps their shit this organized?
A few minutes pass and he hasn’t yet returned. This isn’t abnormal, considering the toy bin where the pieces are held is a clusterfuck of hot mess proportions and some things could take a while to find… come to think of it, some things STILL have not been found after taking a dive into that thing.
Five minutes pass and STILL this child has not come back with the piece, and STILL I am sitting on the ground- only now I’m not huffing or puffing and my heart rate is back to normal so basically work out is ruined all for this f’ing Handy Manny bullshit. This little voice in the back of my head tells me this situation has become suspicious. Maybe the toy bin ate Parker in a fit of rage for never organizing it. Maybe he fell in and is stuck with his feet sticking out the top flailing wildly. WHO KNOWS!
Even though my damn thighs hurt like a mofo, I got up and walked over to the toy bin in search of the little child with the big brown eyes who had gone missing what felt like an hour ago over toy he’d been bugging me for A WEEK.
And there I found him; only he wasn’t desperately searching for the missing piece to Fez’s… I mean… Manny’s house- he was playing with a slinky. WITH A SLINKY. Standing there playing with a f’ing slinky, completely enthralled by its slinkage. All the while I sat there ruining a good old fashioned fat burn.
When I informed him that I’d been waiting for him, he was completely ambivalent. I’m beginning to think he never really wanted to play with that stupid playset after all. He just wanted to see how long it took him to annoy me until I gave him what he wanted just so he could ditch me while giggling in his evil toddler brain “ha ha bitch- jokes on YOU”
Kids- who do they think they are? Are we parents not human? If we are pricked, do we not bleed? If we are woken, do we not cry as well? Oh, but I’m sorry, you peed on yourself and need a change at 2 in the morning because you have baby legs and can’t walk to the bathroom. Oh no, don’t mind us- we only clothe and feed and bathe and nurture and love you every second of every day while you sit back and relax- but it’s no biggie. We don’t need sleep or a mental break or sustenance as long as YOU are taken care of.
Okay okay, I’m kidding. I’m sure most of you knew that…. but seriously- sneakiness and shenanigans are afoot.
Keep your eyes open, parents- or your limits and boundaries could be tested next, and really that’s only the first step toward baby world domination. That’s why they’re so stinkin’ cute- didn’t you know? It’s to get away with the constant brainwashing!
What??? That ‘Baby Genius’ movie was REAL! REAL, I TELL YA!
@wildblueME I just don't tell them what I'm making anymore
Winning Advice from an 8-year old goo.gl/fb/MmhfYU
Y'know what's awesome? I don't even have to waste time trying new recipes because my kids will tell me they hate it before I start cooking.
@Julieannefiu I still sing WRAPPED UP LIKE A DOUCHE. I think they're lying about the "real" lyrics
I sang SO many embarrassingly wrong song lyrics with such confidence. pic.twitter.com/Ww5TaAxY3r
@AndreaPerez0217 Not that I'm biased, but I highly recommend ;) Hope you enjoy!
Parenthood: you think it's gonna be all hugs & booboo kisses, but it's really cooking food everyone hates & scraping boogers off of walls.