Intervention Time

Last Friday morning started off like most weekday mornings.  I dropped the kids off at their respective schools (on time, whew!).  I decided to hit the gym.  Power yoga was on my mind.  My travel mug of tea was the perfect temperature for red light sipping.  The sun was shining.  I was singing along with songs from the currently playing CD.  And, then, the horrible realization- I was singing along with one of the Yo Gabba Gabba albums.  Did I mention that the girls had been out of the car for about 15 minutes by this point?

I quickly switched to the heaviest metal station Sirrius has to offer, but it was too late.  The damage was done.  I began to think about all the ways "kid" stuff has infiltrated my "adult" life.  I was surprised by the sheer number of items that erupted in my mind as I created this mental list:

I am ecstatic when I see a birthday invitation from Bounce U.  This joy does not come from the fact my kids love the place.  Rather, it is due to the fact that they allow adults into the bounce houses.

I have been known to go into the playroom to shut the television off only to become mesmerized by an episode of the Disney show "Good Luck Charlie".

I encourage my children to do crafts because I enjoy them.  Paint?  Glitter?  Decoupage?  Bring it on!

I relish tea parties.  I will even break out my semi good teapots and cups for a tea party every so often.  I will also make little dainty snacks for them.

I have been known for building forts out of cushions and old tablecloths.  When John complains about the dishevelment of the house, I blame the children.

I love cartoons.  In addition to my comprehensive knowledge of the literature cannon, I know all the episodes and songs to the Backyardigans' various seasons.  I know the motifs which play in each Phineas and Ferb episode.  I could probably build an argument for the sexual frustration of the Yo Gabba Gabba creator.  Admit it, you too have thought that the red monster looks like a giant dildo/penis.

Bubbles fill me with glee.  I enjoy blowing them, popping them and watch them float.

Rocket balloons rock.  Alice and I will often shoot some off in the backyard.

Although I have not reached the mastery of husband, I do enjoy Play-Doh and creating fun things from it.

I have been known to break out crayons and coloring book during a long phone conversation.  In this vein, a new box of crayons makes me giddy...the smell, the pointy goodness....yikes, I sound like a drug addict.

I still see a pile of potential from a mountain of blocks.

There is nothing so wonderful as a long empty smooth driveway and a bucket of sidewalk chalk.

I have a hard time saying no to butterfly hunting expeditions.

I too love finding a little hidey hole and looking at books or magazines.

I do not immediately bring cardboard boxes to the recycling center.

There's more...lots more, but I think you get the idea.  In a way, it is comforting.  It is nice to know that you are never too old to continue to have a happy childhood.

Middle Names

Angela is very curious about every one's name; and, I mean every one.  Thank goodness I do not have a social anxiety disorder because a simple trip to the grocery store would require a heavy dosing of medication.  Sometimes, when she is in a particularly silly and playful mood, Angela will ask the family members what their names are.  She realizes it is a game and giggles as she asks, "What your name?" for the millionth time.  I guess one day I was feeling particularly silly and playful.  I decided to stump her by introducing the concept of middle names.

We were in the car.  I heard giggles from the backseat before a little voice piped up, "Mama, what your name?"

"Angela, you know my name," I teasingly reminded her.  "Do you know your name?"

"An ga ga," came the quick response.

"Do you know your middle name?" I countered.

Silence.

"Your full name is Angela Margaret Barile.  You were named after your great grandmothers and so was Alice.  Do you know what Alice's middle name is?"

Without missing a beat, my little peanut answered, "In Wonderland."

Although it has a nice ring to it, I had to regretfully inform her that "In Reality" it is Louise.

A Shitty Post

There are many times when I think God is laughing at me.  There are times, however, when he does show some pity for me.  This mix of amusement and compassion was definitely present on Thursday afternoon while I was in the women's restroom at Kohl's.  As you read, the humor will be very apparent.  God's mercy evidenced itself in the fact that no other women were present to hear it.

It is wonderful having two children who are potty trained.  Still, I find I spend a great deal of time while running errands in the bathroom.  While looking in the toy section of the store, both Alice and Angela announced they needed to use the bathroom urgently.

Since Angela is still relatively new to the whole bathroom situation, I went into the stall with her and let Alice do her thing in the stall next to us.  While I waited for Angela, I heard very loud grunting next door.  It looked like yet another time to teach yet another topic that I never thought I would need to teach- bathroom etiquette.

"Alice, keep the grunting to yourself," I admonished.

"But, Mommy," Alice replied, "It's stuck."

I was tempted to tell her to "use manners" a la Beavis and Butthead, but I did manage to restrain myself.  I just sighed deeply in response.  Finally, I heard a plop from Angela.  Next, a plop emanated from Alice's stall.  "Thank goodness," I thought to myself as I helped Angela wipe and flush.

"Hey, Mommy.  It looks like a dog."

"Oh, Lord, help me."