Mall Meltdown

So it’s been about 2 months since I’ve ventured out to the mall with my 2 year old. Having more energy than usual today, I decided to give it a whirl. I’ve been dying to get to Yankee Candle because I got an awesome buy 1 get 1 free coupon and because my house has recently been smelling of dirty diapers and smelly clothes.


I decided to go through my usual entrance: Macy’s Children. I’m truly surprised that a wanted sign with my picture is not already posted on their door, or that security isn’t standing there waiting to kick me out the moment I arrive due to my son’s previous acts of destruction at that mall. Every single time I leave that mall it is holding a screaming, kicking child with one hand, while trying to maneuver a stroller with the other. Mind you their doors are not automatic. 


But anyways, this time was no different. Consistency is definitely not a problem in this household… Just getting him into the stroller was a struggle after he had a meltdown over wanting to see the trolley. Once inside I did manage to get to Yankee Candle where he insisted on smelling every candle on the shelf. The sales lady looked like she was going to pass out when she saw him grab a candle off the shelf. I, too, was on the verge of a meltdown over the prospect of having to pay $22.99 for each broken candle that I couldn’t even use. I picked two random candles that looked like they would do the trick: Cider Donut and Vanilla Cupcake. After fleeing the mall I got home and looked at my choices (and smelled them for the first time!). One pictured four scrumptious looking donuts and the other a yummy looking vanilla cupcake with sprinkles. Funny how on the verge of a meltdown my instincts grabbed things that pictured junk food. So my unconscious mind associates trouble with junk food… I think I might be on to something :)

When Kids Learn Bad Words

The first few words that come out of our baby’s mouths are so sweet, so innocent. Never have I heard of a child’s first word being a profanity. But soon enough, after exhausting all the words in their board books, there comes a time when these little geniuses learn something more. As a first time parent, I still haven’t gotten totally used to changing my way of speaking, probably because I still underestimate what my son would understand.


A couple months back my son learned the word “sh*t.” At the store, he would be sitting in the cart (a miracle on its own) and would yell out “sh*t” for the whole store to hear. This was a highly embarrassing situation. The first time it happened, I quickly tried to think of a word that rhymes/sounds like sh*t. Finally realizing that I could fool people into thinking he meant to say “sit,” I loudly would ask him if he wanted to sit. Hey, close enough. Hopefully they just think he has a speech problem. Luckily this tactic worked and he no longer says it. 


The same thing happened with the words “shut up.” Because words like these almost always have to be uttered in public so as to embarrass the parents, I used my first technique and took advantage of the fact that his speech is still not as clear as understandable as an adult.


Son: Shut up!!!

Me: You want to go for your check up?

Son: Yes, check up.




Or maybe not…


A couple days ago we were in the car and my husband began humming the lyrics of a song. From the backseat our little one blurted out, “shut up, daddy.” Oh no, the words are back…

The Art of Advertising

It’s no wonder children become brand-loyal at such a young age. From the time my son was a year old he has had a keen eye for brand logos. It started out with Citibank. For whatever reason, the Citibank commercials caught his attention back when they had that detestable man chanting “very, very, very rewarding.” Now, every time he sees a bank or any financial paper with that logo on it, he repeats the signature mantra several times over. It has become so annoying, in fact, that I am diligent NOT to do any online banking when he is within 25 feet of me.


The Countrywide home loans commercial is another ad that stops him dead in his tracks. He could be playing with his toys in a room 50 feet away but would drop everything and coming running once he hears the man inquire, “Homeowners, do you need cash?” Why that particular phrase is so appealing to someone to small is beyond me. But something about Countrywide mesmerizes him so much that he does not budge throughout the entire commercial. I’ve often thought of recording it several times over and replaying it during those truly trying moments when I need a break.


You might be thinking at this point that my son has a real interest in financial institutions. It really does look like it’s shaping up that way. There is something truly comical though about an 18 month old finding amusement in home refinancing… I know I sure don’t!


Lately, AT&T has been his company of choice. Every cell phone, commercial, billboard, store, or bench ad that dons this logo catches his attention and he feels that it is his duty to let me or his father know about it. He gets so excited as he yells out, “Mama, AT&T!!!!”


All I can say is that advertisers are smart. If a two-year-old is already this excited about adult commercials then I can only imagine (not that I want to) when he starts catching on to all the children’s merchandise that airs during cartoons. I have a feeling it won’t be a cheap phase…

The Cat

Every night after I feed my cat, I often wonder what it must be like to be a feline living in a house with a two year old. Here’s my take on it:


Prior to my son’s birth, my cat, Sandy, ruled the house. She got treats every day, the best cat food in the market, and I often found myself buying her toys while grocery shopping. Sandy was privileged enough to have timely checkups and regular visits to the groomer to keep her in tip top Persian shape. Once September day, however, unbeknownst to her, two very faint lines on a pregnancy test changed her life forever.


From the moment my son was born he and Sandy have had a very tumultuous relationship. It all started when he learned to crawl. You would think that a 6 month old wouldn’t be capable of doing harm to a 5 lb. ball of fur, but when you have a stupid cat like I do, anything is possible. For reasons known only to her, Sandy instantly became his docile victim. She let him kick her, lift her up by her tail and swing her around, lay on her, and throw toys at her. When he learned to walk at 9 months, my son’s newest pastime became ripping chunks of fur off Sandy’s back and bringing them to me as if to say, “Look what I did, Mom!” This process continued for weeks on end despite my attempts to stop it. Oddly enough, Sandy seemed to enjoy herself. She would even purr while this torture took place. In fact, it got so bad that she actually had patches of missing fur which took months to grow back.


In the past my photo albums were overflowing with pictures of Sandy. Sandy eating. Sandy drinking. Sandy playing with a dead fly. Sandy taking a bath. Sandy sleeping. Sandy using the litter box (okay, well not really, but you get my point). Now, it’s been exactly 27 months since I have taken a picture of the poor little creature. Her only chance of being in a picture is if she just happens to be in the background while I’m taking a picture of my son.


So today I plan to do the unthinkable: take a picture of the cat. This poor kitty has been ignored long enough. And while I probably won’t ever be able to shower her with all the affection she received before the birth of my son, I will definitely try.


Here is Sandy before all the torture started and when I actually had the time and energy to keep up with her grooming needs.


Here is Sandy before all the torture started and when I actually had the time and energy to keep up with her grooming needs.


This is Sandy after 2 years of putting up with my son… I think she suffers from PTSD.


This is Sandy after 2 years of putting up with my son... I think she suffers from PTSD...

Lunch Adventures

Perhaps the best tried and true mommy wisdom is this: if it’s too quiet, you know something is wrong. Well, that’s exactly what happened today. Today, my son’s lunch consisted of his favorite turkey and cheese sandwich with crackers and an apple juice box. I sat him down at the table and proceeded to go about my tasks while watching him (his back was towards me). Ten minutes went by and I could still hear the rhythmic sounds of his chewing. Wow, I thought, he is actually sitting and eating all his lunch. Not even a couple of minutes later, I heard an uncharacteristic sloshing sound coming from the table. Much to my horror, my son’s lunch now consisted of something entirely different: soup. And this is not your characteristic chicken noodle. No, its morsels of 5 grain bread with oven roasted turkey breast and Swiss cheese floating in a sea of 100% apple juice. As if that wasn’t enough, he proceeded to pick the pieces out of the juice and eat them. Yummmmmm :-)

Mommy’s Eye Booboo

And so the legacy continues. Just as my brother-in-law, husband, and son before me, I now am blessed to have contracted the eye virus. And this is not just a little redness I am talking about. No, this is far more attractive and ladylike, complete with eye crust, puffiness, blurriness, and a lovely shade of crimson contrasting against my green irises.


Something had to be done. After distracting my 2 year old with chocolate cookies and his favorite Elmo DVD, I set out to overcome this beauty disaster. Here’s how I did it:


Step 1: Rinse eye thoroughly.

Step 2: Drop 6 drops (recommended is 1-2) of Clear Eye solution in my eye and wait until the extreme burning subsided.

Step 3: Rummage through the fridge to find something that might reduce swelling. It is important to point out that I am not what you would call “good” at cooking, nor do I enjoy it, and therefore have very few raw items in my fridge. While a cucumber would have been ideal, I was left with several other choice products to work with. Cheese, turkey, pickles, yogurt, a leftover Chick-fil-A sandwich, a gallon of milk, and my vast condiment collection all seemed like unfit choices. So what did I ultimately use? That one measly plum that I found nestled behind the milk. After all, when sliced, it was still cold and moist like a cucumber!

Step 4: Wipe the remnants of plum juice off my face.

Step 5: Dig through my makeup bad while racking my brain to try to remember all those “I look like I’ve slept 8 hours when I only slept 15 minutes” tricks that I’ve seen on TV.

Step 6: Apply generous amounts of concealer, eye shadow, and mascara.

Step 7: Repeat.


After I managed to open my eye to a sliver very much like that of a lizard, I now faced a new dilemma: should I a) stay home and feel sorry for my unsightly condition, or b) subject the public to a sight that is likely to traumatize them for days.


Choosing the latter, I ventured out. After dropping my son off at daycare for a couple hours, I set off to the store. After sitting in the parking lot for 5 minutes debating whether I should wear my sunglasses inside I decided that the chances of people paying attention to a soccer mom dressed in sweats was highly unlikely. After all, if I keep my head down, who’s going to notice?


Aside from the many jaw dropping stares, involuntary second glances, and looks for extreme pity that were shot my way, my shopping was a success! As I approached checkout, I could not help but feel relief that this outing was coming to an end and that I would soon find solace in my beloved sunglasses waiting for me in the car.


Needless to say, I am anxiously waiting to see what tomorrow will bring.

My son… the prankster

Remember when you were a kid and playing pranks on people was the highlight of your week? Growing up, I was the mastermind behind all the pranks. You name it, my friends and I did it. Throwing eggs, knocking on doors and running away, toilet papering bushes, late night prank calls, and many other nameless acts which I will not mention for fear they might incriminate me. Well, it would appear that my two year old son has followed in his mothers footsteps.


Today alone he proceeded to open random car doors in the parking lot (luckily not setting off any alarms) and decided that the bikes parked downstairs would look so much better tipped over. Once we got to our floor he knocked on our neighbor’s door and ran away leaving me, his mother, to explain his actions. To make matters worse, he decided that the same neighbors Swiffer that was parked outside the door would make for a fun toy to drag through the hallway. On a more positive note, at least he steered clear of her plants this time.  


Somehow there is nothing funny or amusing about my son’s attempts to leave the neighborhood in shambles. Reverse 10 years and this might have been the most amusing sight ever. I guess it’s like they say, what goes around really does come around.


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