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Where the hell do devil children come from?!



Ok so we were at Target this afternoon.  It was our last stop of a long day of shopping, dropping bikes off for tune ups and getting new bike helmets, and lots of miscellaneous shopping.  My kids were tired, Andrew and I were tired, but we dredged on through target, happy to be done and on our way home.  When in the next aisle…”EFF YOU MOM!” “NO!” we saw arms flailing, lots of tantrum pitching, utter ridiculousness from a 12ish year old boy who should know better.

Being the kind of person I am, I was 3 steps away from taking the kid by the ear and leading him to the toilet to give him a swirlee.  But I resisted.  And I bit my tongue.  kind of.  I didn’t know whether to feel bad for the mother, who honestly, was bringing some of it on herself by engaging this boy in his tantrum fit and giving into whatever said child is pitching a fit about.  But I also know what it’s like when your child gets out of hand and you are at your wits end and you’re in the checkout lane, everyone is staring and shaking their heads, your about to burst into tears and you just want to get the fuck out of dodge as quickly as possible.  But.  I resisted and instead I looked at my husband with raised eyebrows and said “awwwkward….”

Until…Brighton piped up and said “Mom, can I get a pack of gum?”  I said “no.”  Being an observant little man, he was taking notes of this kid in the other lane.  He tousled his hair, threw up his hands and said “BUT MOM! WE DON’T HAVE ANY AT H…..”


My eyes got about this big O_O (well, they got a lot bigger than that and my eyebrows jetted up in sharp points and I could swear I felt my eye teeth grow about 1/2 inch) and got a bit of a crazy look on my face and I said “Don’t you even think for a SECOND that will work on me.”  Brighton, looking defeated, sunk back into his little corner of the shopping cart and realized I wasn’t that kind of mom.  I turned to the young cashier checking us out, who was visibly uncomfortable with the exchange between mom and son behind her, and said “see how that works?”  To which she just smiled and shook her head.


So.  I am in no position to judge this mother.  We all have days.  Our kids are all snot bags at some point or another.   We all give in to get them to shut the hell up when we’re just too damn tired to argue.  That said, I can say this.  If this were my child, and if I was that mom, I would have A. not exchanged argument with this kid.  B. left my things there and left the building.  C. taken him to the bathroom and proceeded to wash his filthy little mouth out with soap. I have no problem with kids swearing necessarily.  I mean, I do it.  But if my son ever uttered the words FUCK YOU MOM…well, that won’t happen.  Because my children respect me.  At least Brighton does.  Now.  And I have worked too hard for too long to A. push their little ass out of something the size of a fucking quarter and B. spent countless nights awake when they were sick watching over them making sure they’re still breathing, crying because I love them so much, crying because I feel inadequate all-the-time, celebrating their milestones gleefully, spending more time doing things for them than for myself, etc etc etc.  You know.  Most parents do all these things.  I wonder what happened between the time that poor mother looked her beautiful baby boy in the face so lovingly and kissed his little knuckle dimpled hands and flailing arms and f-bombs at Target.   It honestly, breaks my heart.  For both of them.


My Review of Soft Toy Teether in Natural Rubber / Gnon – Yellow

Originally submitted at

Vulli Chan Pie Gnon Natural Rubber Teether Soft Toy / Gnon – Yellow

Vulli imagines a new enchanted world “Chan Pie Gnon” and launches a collection of teethers with Chan Pie Gnon’s picture on it.   Chan Pie Gnon comes from the French word champi…


By Simplysilly from Mechanicsville, Iowa on 5/31/2010


4out of 5

Pros: Durable, Lots of Fun, Entertaining, Portable, Great Features, Keeps child’s attention

Cons: Loud

Best Uses: Infants

Describe Yourself: Parent of Two or More Children

This has to be the most fun toy I’ve ever seen for an infant. My 4 month old loves it! I can shake it back and forth and she watches the head bob back and forth and squeak. She happily gnaws on it, can hold it, squeaks it, and she smiles every time I pull it out for her. I would not hesitate to buy this for some one who is having a baby. THe soft rubber makes me feel safer than hard plastic, and it doesn’t look like any other toy – we call it her mushroom. The only downfall is that it can be pretty loud so if a preschooler gets hold of it, watch out. And it kind of resembles/sounds like a dog toy, so it took a while to get the dogs to understand it wasn’t theirs. But that’s pretty minor. I love love love this toy.


A Gaggle of Grandmothers

Yesterday was a rough day for us.  Andrew left for Pennsylvania for a few days for work  and Brighton, Emme, and I had to adjust to a new routine.  Oh.  And I got some plugged milk ducts that hurt like a mother, I had a headache all day long from being exhausted and dehydrated and probably the ducts had something to contribute, I was exhausted – Emme is going through a growth spurt (3 week) so all she wanted to do was eat.  Every. 45. Minutes.  

However, I did get in a precious hour at Dittos for breakfast and some much needed coffee.  Now, you can always find ladies and gents there of a certain age – typically over 70.  They go there for their daily fill of coffee or homemade pie.  The minute I walked in with the carseat draped in pink in hand, I heard “Oh a BABY!”  “Oh…it must be a girl!”  (duh)  So I smiled and took my seat in the booth farthest from the cold doors.   Then…I uncovered her.  My shining jewel.  As soon as the bundle me was lifted, squeals of delight echoed from the table diagonally across from me.  Then…I removed her hat.  Oh my god you would have thought I had uncovered the Hope Diamond – but no, it was just my daughters full head of hair.  They squealed and cooed and one woman cradled her bosom as an infant and said “oh I just want to hold them all day long!”  Again, I smiled, sipped my coffee, smiled at my baby girl and removed her from her carseat.  Which prompted another series of “So small!  oh so TINY!”  and “How old is she?” and “Oh look at that hair!”

What is a girl to do?  I know my girl is beautiful, I think she’s the cutest thing on the face of the earth, as I’m supposed to, I’m her mother.  Me in my morning splendor of Brighton’s green, slightly too small skull ladened hat, hair not washed for three days, pajama wearing, lucky to have brushed my teeth that morning, really wasn’t in the mood to be social, but alas how was I supposed to react to a gaggle of grandmothers oohing and ahhing over my baby?  So I graciously answered their questions and turned her round so they could see her sweet face.  Eventually a few of them couldn’t take it any longer and lingered over to see her up close.  Again, squeals and strokes of her cheek.  They doted on her and cooed at her and let her grasp their weathered fingers.  And Emmeline politely obliged them by opening her pirate eye first, then eventually both.  Then the big yawn and a few grunts and squeals (no flatulence thank the gods…because she is a gas machine).  

As these Grandmothers stopped and visited my Emme, and I’m sure scoped me out as to what kind of a mother I was, I couldn’t help but be a little sad and a little curious as to how they felt when or if other people’s grandmothers did that to their children.  And do they miss it?  I can honestly say, having a baby and having kids is, thus far, my favorite time of my life.  My heart is swollen to three times it’s size, I’ve felt love like never before, and I always always, think of my mom, who must have felt the same joy and love for me when I was a baby.  I just wish she were around today so I could tell her how much I love her and that now I finally understand and I’m sorry for those godawful teenage years.  But I can’t.  So what I do is no matter how crappy I might feel, I indulge these lovely ladies who may or may not miss this stage of motherhood.

I love and miss you mom.

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