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Monthly Archives: May 2012

I love you, Stinkerfartknockerface

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My kids say poop. And pee. And butt, fart, boogerface, fartknocker, stinkerfartknockerbutt and everything in-between. And it’s funny to us. In this house we ALL have the juvenile humor disorder. Yes, it’s considered “potty talk”, but in OUR house potty talk is as welcome as an other term of endearment such as sweetheart, love, honey pie, chimichanga face. Okay, that might just be my name, but you catch my drift.

So WHY can’t I own that OUTSIDE of the house? Why am I so quick to get red in the face when my son says in front of a few other moms, “It is so hot outside I think I might sweat out of my butt!” Inside I’m DYING laughing, but on the outside I tell him, “Roman! You can’t talk like that!”, totally pretending it’s not allowed. “Mom, that beetle is a stinkymockydoodydookybuttface!” You better believe I’ll let my kids take the blame on that one. “Where did you learn that word, Roman?” His response, “Well, it is.”  The other moms say nothing, but I assume that their kids would NEVER say that and due to the silence I’m probably right.

But am I, really? I know with my personality if the tables were reversed I would tell the other mom, “Don’t worry, my kids talk like that, too!” But are all moms willing to own that? I doubt it.

The rules are so different in every home. Some might not say butt, poop or fart, but they say stupid, shut up, hate, idiot, etc. Those words are BIG no-nos in our home and have been since I was a child.

A lot parents refer to the butt as a “booty”, which to me sounds like a bidonkdidonk butt from the rap videos. Or tushy, behind, bottom…blah, blah, blah. IT’S A BUTT! Why scootch around that word? It’s not a bad word people! Again, I understand that we all have our things. Like one mom who refers to going poop to her child as a BM. “Do you need to have a BM, so and so?” I almost laughed out loud, but I kept it in knowing that would be rude. A bowel movement? Seriously? They need to poop! And when my son is older he will probably refer to it as “dropping a deuce” which will make me laugh. Now my daughter?  We’ll see. Maybe just announcing it is where I draw the line with her. What do the “BM” people say for pee? “Honey, do you need to go urinate or have a bowel movement?” When I ask my kids it’s simple. “Poop or pee? I just need to know how long this will take.”

Alright, the word fart is a gross word in itself.  But what’s the alternative? I’ve heard them ALL! “Bubbles.” “Tooties.” “Blurp.” “Pass gas.” “Squeaks.” “Fizz.” We say, “P-U!! Who smells like a rotten egg?” And then we all laugh while someone rolls down the window. Still trying to find a word I feel comfortable for all of us to use.

So I’m trying to work on teaching the kids, “This is how we talk IN the home, but OUTSIDE of the home you can’t say those things.” Of course they ask, “Why?” “Because not everyone talks like that and might be hurt if you call them a ‘stinkydookynuggetbutt’. So just don’t say it.”

But really, are these words harming anyone? I’d take being called a ‘fartface’ over “I hate you you stupid idiot,” any day of the week!

So I’m asking, who’s kids can MY kids NOT offend while playing with? Let’s hang some time! 🙂

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Gettin’ the Boot

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“Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes.” Oscar Wilde

After a Mops meeting I had a few weeks ago I have kept thinking about one of the questions from our “ice breakers” game. “How have you changed since you were 18?” Tough one, right? My immediate answer was the most obvious to me, “I was a slob and now I’m a glorified maid.” Yes. An honest to goodness didn’t care about my bed being made, my apartment being picked up, the dishes being washed S-L-O-B. I didn’t give a rats arse (yes, saying it the British way makes it sound so much better) about any of that junk. But I think back and realize that everyone, minus my neat freak friend (you know who you are) was the same way. Cleaning just wasn’t something a lot of us busy college student/full time employees/social bar hoppers took seriously or cared to waste our time on.

At 19, I lived in my own studio apartment scraping up nickels to buy food because every cent I made at the daycare and babysitting went towards my rent and utilities. No joke. On Tuesdays was McD’s $.29 hamburgers so I was able to eat once a week off of just my coins in the seats of my car and the bottom of my backpack. And on days that I worked at the university daycare I planned my classes around their meal times. I made sure I was working during breakfast, lunch and snack every day with my classes in-between. The lead teacher was a softy and if I didn’t make it on time for whatever reason, he would save me a plate. That man saved me from starvation. Thanks Dan! xoxo

When I started working at Bennigan’s we were provided a $2 menu (I even found that price tag a tad high at the time compared to McD’s) and would eat before my shift (I could have hooked myself up to a feeding tube of their baked potato soup) and then used two of my forty dollars in tips to order a “To Go” meal before I clocked out. That’s how many of us independent college kids survived. My arteries AND my liver definitely took it’s toll back then. 😉

I was a broke student surviving like so many of us had to.

Funny thing is, I’m not ashamed of any of that. What I’m ashamed about was my reckless stupidity. Once the sun set, all I cared about was partying and getting free drinks at some place one of my friends or I were hooking up with a bartender. I had no business even being at a bar at that age. And seriously? There’s NO WAY those bouncers didn’t see right through that caked on make-up to a 19 year old who looked 16. Looking back at what a careless teen I was scares the crap out of me to now know that sometimes the “what ifs” turn in to a reality for so many and that I’m on the road with my kids with idiots like “her”. I want to take my young self, slap her across the face and say, “WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING, DUMMY!?!?” Who did I think I was? Invincible, I guess.

And after the discussion, a couple of us chatted about whether we were going to make our kids move out of the house at 18 or not. My answer was a quick “HECK NO!” because it was so difficult and I was irresponsible. HOWEVER, now that I’ve had a chance to think about it I would say absolutely, but help them out financially. Looking back I see an 18 year old making some bad but mostly good decisions, learning from them, staying off drugs, restraining myself from using my credit card unless it was to pay for ANOTHER car problem (which allowed me to learn about fuel pumps, batteries and carburetors) graduating and living to tell the tale. I also made life long friends and memories during those times that happened ONLY because I didn’t live at home. And boy can I stretch a buck!

So yes, my kids are gettin’ the boot at 18 as long as they aren’t moronic numbskulls. They need to have those same experiences that I did in order to grow in to responsible adults. The only difference will be the monthly drug tests I’ll administer in their dorm rooms to not only my own kids, but their roommate and 5 closest friends. No exceptions.

What about you? Are your kids gettin’ the boot?

Raising Las Vegas

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The glitz, the glamour, the amazing architecture, money and beautiful people. That was how I used to see this city I live in. NOW, as a mom, I describe it this way: Sex, drugs, gambling, sin, vices, sex, greed, keeping up with the Joneses and did I mention SEX? Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely LOVE the suburban areas that surround the Strip. The people I associate with are fantastic and have the same morals that I enjoy having my family around. It’s become our home.

But the problem lies within the 2 mile radius that ripples out from the Strip; the images you pray your child misses while you drive by it. However, my son doesn’t miss them…EVER.  With his 4 year old self asking, “Mom, why did that girl not have any clothes on?” (TAO billboard also saying ‘Always a happy ending’ but that’s also the way fairy tales end so thankfully I won’t have to explain what that is.) My answer, “I think it was a billboard for a shower company. I think she was just getting in the shower.” “Oh. Why would they show her butt?” “Well, you have to get undressed to take a shower, right?” “Ya. It’s weird to put that on a big sign like that, huh mom?” “Yes, yes you’re right about that.” Now it is EVERY time we drive past it he has to throw out a comment about her taking a shower. Let it go, Roman. Let. It. Go.

On the actual billboard, she’s got buttcrack showing.

As much as I’m worried about him and the vices that men get involved with, I’m more so concerned with how my daughter will internalize all that she sees in this town because of it’s focus on beauty and sex.

The sexy advertisements don’t just stop at the nightclubs. It’s also the strip clubs, pool clubs, day clubs, restaurants, clothing company and now the wonderful plastic surgery billboards advertising “Buy 1 implant, get 1 FREE!” As funny as that is to ME, not so funny when my children are in the car. “Tummy tuck, breast augmentation or butt implants? Pick your poison and look beautiful!”  And the older she gets, the more she is able to read something and NOT ask me the WHYs like she used to, which allowed me to explain the things she would see. I want the questions still. That way I can lie through my teeth and tell her that the girls on the side of the truck that are 3/4 of the way naked and say “Hot Babes Direct To You!” is simply a traveling maid service and they’re dressed that way because sometimes they get hot while working so hard. What am I supposed to say? That they are damaged souls that sell themselves for money and do things that show they don’t respect their bodies. At what age is it appropriate to tell her THAT truth?

Notice the background…that’s the exact reason why we sat the kids back to the street.

As much as I’m not quite ready to delve in to the sex topic, I’m pretty honest when it comes to smoking, gambling, drugs and drinking since you can’t go to the newest kid flick without walking past slot machines occupied by cardholders attached to the machines and a cigarette dangling out of their mouths with a beer in their free hand. My kids now know that gambling is an adult game where a lot of them use the money they just earned at their jobs to pay for the big casino. That concept is still confusing to me as well.

So because of this, Tom and I bounced around the idea of moving AGAIN, but due to several circumstances we are staying put. That leaves me with now trying to figure out some creative ways to keep their eyes occupied within that 2 mile radius of Las Vegas Boulevard or when we pull up behind a cab with a Crazy Girls advertisement on it showcasing 10 women’s backsides in g-strings and nothing else. Or as we approach a plastic surgery billboard, “CARISSA, HURRY! LOOK OUT ROMAN’S WINDOW!” “What is it?” “Oh, nevermind. I thought I saw a green elephant.” Whatever works, right?

       **New invention: Children’s Blinders! Genius!**