the mamabird diaries
Yay! We love having 2 year old Cash at the table. He’s so cute and fun! He mimics everyone like a parrot.
Holy crap, he can reach everything.
He’s throwing plates and cups and silverware off the table.
Now the table has to be set like this…
That’s better! Sure, four of the kids are completely crowded on one end but at least everyone can eat in peace.
Uh oh. Cash thinks the table is a lazy susan. Now he just spins the table around to get what he wants. How is he so strong? Does he work out at the gym?
We are forced to immediately pull his chair away from the table to minimize the destruction.
But wait, what is he doing now? He is wiggling his body in such a way that it actually moves his seat back to the table all on his own. Honestly, this kid must work with a personal trainer. The core strength alone! Does he do pilates?
Okay, he is back at the table, once again spinning it around. I make a mental note to buy a heavier table. But in the meantime, Cash must be relocated.
He has now been moved to a seat at our bar.
And yes, he sits alone but he is happy.
And yes, he is still throwing his plate but now it sometimes makes it into the kitchen sink.
Order has temporarily been restored.
In the spirit of #FlashbackFriday (that’s a thing, right?), I’m posting something I shared a couple years ago.
Every night before I go to bed, I check on my kids. You know, just to make sure they aren’t still up working on their PhD dissertations.
I recently opened up the door to the room of my 3-year-old twins and here’s what I found…..
There was no Jack Daniels in the room. I checked.
So apparently on Tuesday, it was National Coffee Day. Although it’s always coffee day in my heart.
And last week, it was National Daughters’ Day. I know because my Facebook feed filled up with adorable shots of everyone and their daughters and I kept thinking, “Is this a real day? Am I a bad mom because I’m not celebrating it? Oh phew, my husband posted something. That covers me, right?”
And there is also a National Onion Rings Day. I guess because onion rings are insanely awesome. Stock up on your cards now!
There’s a Talk Like a Pirate Day because lord knows, we could all work on our Jack Sparrow impersonation. There’s a National Good Neighbor Day so if you ever have a good neighbor, that’s one to celebrate.
I don’t know who comes up with all these ridiculous days (onion ring makers? pirates? neighbors who used to be bad but now are very very good?).
Since it seems to be a total free for all, I’m adding these to the list….
National Facebook Hoax Day (Guys, it’s a hoax. You don’t have to post legal mumbo jumbo on your Facebook profile to protect the privacy of your photos.)
National I Survived Disney Day (For anyone who has ever spent more than 10 hours at Magic Kingdom without a flask.)
National I Look Better Than My Ex Day (Relief felt when you look up your ex on the internet and determine you are aging better.)
National I Cut My Kid’s Hair and It Doesn’t Look Awful Day (Well, not that awful.)
National My Kid Cut Their Own Hair Day
National My Toddler Just Threw His Plate on the Floor Again Day (And if he does it one more time I’m going to have a nervous breakdown.)
National “I Didn’t Yell At All Today!” Day (Oh wait, spoke too soon. Maybe tomorrow.)
National Let’s Just Be Texting Friends Rather Than Friends Who Talk on the Phone or in Person Day
National Please Don’t Make Me Go Into Another Reptile House Ever Again Day
National I Just Ate an Entire King Size Bag of Chips Day
National It Didn’t Happen Unless It’s on Facebook Day
National “No, You’re Not Getting a Dog” Day
National “Stop Begging. You Really Aren’t Getting a Dog” Day
National Meet Our New Puppy Day!
If you live in Florida, you can never utter a bad word about Disney. Because Mickey Mouse is a god here. He’s like a mob boss but more chipper. And the people who live in this state take Disney very very seriously.
These Disney lovers know how to book the tickets, where to eat, which rides to go on first, where to see the most popular characters, which rides to fast pass, which rides you don’t, where to park, the exact time to get to the Magic Kingdom, the exact time to leave, the time your child should sleep in the stroller so they don’t miss anything good, where to stand for the electrical parade, how to get the best deals on everything, where to use the bathroom and how to get Mickey Mouse to pay your mortgage bill and spoon you all night long.
I don’t know any of those things.
Neither does my mother apparently because she texted me the other day, “Is Magic Kingdom for kids?” She was not joking.
Of course, I really shouldn’t be criticizing anyone because I pronounced Epcot as “Ep-ee-cot” way past my childhood. Okay, until last year.
Disney experts will take pity on you and attempt to school you in the ways of Disney. But they will get frustrated and let out a deep sigh when they are sketching a detailed map of all the best spots to meet Elsa and Anna and you interrupt by asking, “Which park serves alcohol again? That’s the one I want to go to.”
If you want to further infuriate them, ask, “Is Space Mountain a ride for toddlers?”
These experts will realize you will never learn the ways of Disney and are destined to miss all the good stuff and wait in the longest lines possible.
And it’s true. I am the one who tries to make reservations for the character breakfast three months after it’s already booked. And then I’m disappointed. Which makes no sense because my kids don’t even care about the character breakfast.
It really doesn’t matter what we do at Disney because my children LOVE everything about the place. You can instantly make a child happy by saying, “We’re going to Disney!” And instantly make them sad by saying, “That’s it kids. We’ve been at this park for 18 hours. Your dad fell asleep in the stroller two hours ago. It’s time to wrap it up.”
We are going to Disney this weekend for a mini family reunion to celebrate my aunt’s birthday. I’m sure we will fast pass the wrong rides and park in the wrong place and wait in terrible lines.
But it will be awesome and my children will love it. Because Mickey Mouse is king.
My husband has been in Cuba covering the Pope’s visit for 40 days. Okay, it might be 5 or 6 days. The point is – I hope the Pope appreciates that I’m flying solo here. I can only assume it came up (even if briefly) during the Pope’s chat with Fidel Castro.
By the way, how ballsy is Castro that he wears his traditional tracksuit with Pope Francis…
I mean, I might have gone Nike. But Adidas is cool too.
As I’ve attempted to take care of my five children on my own (without the added comfort of a tracksuit), I’ve kept my expectations very low.
Which is good because at one point, I walked into the kitchen and my 2 year old son was guzzling maple syrup from the bottle. I mean, it was organic.
On Monday morning, I did manage to get them all out the door by 7:20 AM with no yelling. Yay for me but can you imagine if “no yelling” was a measure of success before you had children?!
I didn’t yell at my Economics professor all semester!
I took the subway home and never once yelled at all the people who were sitting down even though I had to stand!
I binge watched an entire season of The Good Wife and never yelled at the TV even thought one character got really out of line!
Of course, you wouldn’t say those things but no one goes around doing much yelling until a child says to you many times, “I know I ate my dessert but I didn’t like it so I need another one. Can I have another dessert? Can I have another dessert? Can I have another dessert? Why not? Why not? Why not?”
Also this week, I had no one to turn to and say, “Did you hear that Scott Walker dropped out of the Presidential race? Wait – who the heck is Scott Walker?”
I think he was on Happy Days. Or that might have been Scott Baio.
Now that I think about it (AKA googling) – maybe he’s the Governor of Wisconsin.
That means only 54 Republican candidates left in the race!
I did mention the big Scott Walker news to the woman who rang me up at the CVS pharmacy but I didn’t get the feeling she wanted to get into a big political discussion.
In conclusion…. tracksuits rule, I’m trying not to yell, and I now can name the Governor of Wisconsin.