the universe listened to the wrong lady

 

I needed a nice weekend to recover from a dumptruck of bad news.

Instead, Brandi from My Four Bubs bemoaned on Facebook how I wasn’t posting any crazy statuses (statusi?) lately.

 

And the universe listened to HER.

Universe, you buttshinksy traitor, you.

 

Of course, it was a blatant invitation for something remarkably stupid to happen to me.  And if you never hear it elsewhere, you know you can always get the truth here:

CLEANING CAN AND DOES CAUSE INJURY!

IT IS HARMFUL!

AND SOMETIMES REALLY, REALLY GROSS!

 

 

I was on my own for the day with Mr. Daddy helping someone move.  I plunked the kiddo into the bath where he played with approximately 119 small plastic toys and I examined the weird rust marks on the floor.

(requisite bath baby picture from ages past)

 

So I did what any good person at home on a Saturday does… I busted out the Clorox wipes and went to work on those dumb marks.

City Chick education here: this thingy is a toilet water supply line:

 

Do not touch them.

They are seriously ticked off beings.

 

GIFSoup

 

 

See, I bumped (literally BUMPED) it while scrubbing.

 

And suddenly my kid was screaming, I was screaming, and the Pacific Ocean dropped three feet and freaked Al Gore out.

 

Seriously, y’all.  You think what flows through that tiny little ticked off tube is this?

 

 

No dude. 

 

It’s this:

 

 

GIFSoup

 

 

It’s Old Faithful… right in your face.

 

That was me.  SCREAMING as the frigid blast of Niagara Falls pummeled my tonsils with the force of 2000 dental rinse sticks.

 

 

I shook my head desperately to breathe while my glasses were slammed against my eyeballs and making a dent in my brain matter. 

 

Through eyes that were swimming upstream the last Splash Mountain drop, I realized the geyser was coming from the FLOOR.

 

I grabbed that stupid angry tube and tried frantically to reconnect it.

 

Over

 

and

 

over

 

again.

 

 

Then I realized the metal had been sheared clean off.

 

(I’m talented like that).

 

I am soaked from my gray hairs to my socks with mascara escaping in huge rings under the deluge.  Itty Bit is cowering at the far side of the tub screaming.

 

And as much as I am totally wholly utterly completely disgusted that something even remotely touching the toilet is spraying in my face…

 

I.cannot.force.my.lungs.to.stop.screaming.

(Instinct, y’all, instinct.  As long as air is being forced OUT of my lungs, I can’t drown, right?)

 

 

As the water level on the floor begins to approach two inches (not.even.kidding), I finally do the only smart thing all morning: I find the shut-off valve through waterlogged eyeballs and desperately turn it.

.

.

.

.

 

 

This picture, as completely awful as it is… does not do it justice.  My hair was dripping, my pants were sloshing, my shirt was soaked through.  Every ounce of makeup pressure-washer blasted off my face.  I was actually surprised to see my glasses survive the dam break.

(Love that a friend commented how I am game to post the worst pictures of myself on social media… keeping it real folks, keeping it real.)

 

When the spray suddenly stopped, Itty Bit and I looked at each other silently.  Until both of us were able to stop breathing hard.

 

 

Key fact:  Itty Bit does not like water on his face.

Hate may not be a strong enough term.

 

He looked at me, with the most serious confused expression and said,

WHAT WAS THAT??

 

I exhaled and dripped another 14 gallons of water from my hair.

“I don’t know Boogie, I don’t know”.

 

He looked at me in shock, then in measured tones (because my apparent stupidity was so obvious)

“Why did you do THAT?”

 

Oh Boogie.  I don’t know, I just don’t know.

.

.

 

(but really, I do.  Because the universe wanted me to, honey.)

.

 

.

because someday I’ll need to prove I was a fun mom

 

 

I was determined.

 

With the constant stress that surrounds the “Thing We Can’t Talk About”… we were going to have ONE fun thing to look forward to.

 

I thought I had totally nailed it when an email came through about a monster truck show.

 

Who cares if I’d never been to one or even considered it.

 

I had two redneck boys and this had to be right up their alley, right?

 

 

Let’s just say that one of those redneck boys is a good traveler, and the other one can’t play on a Kindle and drive at the same time.

 

So after two months of waiting (and keeping it a secret from Itty Bit), we finally arrived to a very wet show day.

An even bigger secret was the fact that we were picking up cousin Bubba on the way and we were going to RIDE in a monster truck!

 

Y’all remember Bubba, right?

 

The dude is FEARLESS.

 

Itty Bit?  Uncharacteristically began a mantra of “I am NOT going on that.  I am NEVER IN MY WHOLE LIFE going on that.”

 

Guess which mean momma made him go on it?

 

 

The fist-pumping one who whooped through every wet pavement donut.

 

And guess which kid climbed down off it saying, “AWESOME!  I am DEFINITELY going on that again!”

(Introducing “Tissy” above.  AKA: favorite relative of all kids).

 

 

When our party of 13 finally took our awesome seats, the kids were ready to rock and roll.

 

This is what happens when Bubba is being sweet and compliant, Itty Bit is refusing to look at the camera, Cutie Left is waaay too smart for his own good (and held up a FOUR after I yelled a count of 1-2-3 for the pic), and Cindy Lou Hoo is loving on her popcorn.

 

Quick disclaimer:  I spent more time watching the show (and generally making an idiot out of my excited self) than messing with camera settings.  The show was at night and I refused to annoy everyone with flash.  So please forgive for the less than stellar photos.

 

After Danny Bonaduce did the introductions (yes, really… it was a slightly surreal moment)… the kids looked SO SERIOUS when the show began.

 

 

 

 

But do not fear… as serious as she looks. Cindy Lou Hoo absolutely had the best time.

She was in awe – jumping and cheering for each driver.

 

It was pretty impressive watching some crazy skills!

 

 

 

 

I have no idea how he salvaged this… but he did.

 

 

Proof that the Grumpy Traveler had a good time.

 

And that his wife is apparently exceptionally pale.

And that the kid behind us isn’t half bad at photobombing.

 

 

 

There were many trucks that night… but I know y’all know what a monster truck show looks like.  Here are just a few memorable moments:

 

 

 

 

And then?  He got stuck.

Eliciting many cheers from the crowd… and…

 

 

…basically creating every redneck 6-year-old’s dream… a monster truck being towed by a crane truck.   BOOYAH.

 

 

The screaming continued.

 

 

Umm y’all?  The truck is ON FIRE.

ON FIRE.

 

 

 

 

Yeah, pretty much the best thing ever.

 

 

 

See Cindy Lou Hoo getting her cheer on?

The 16-year old driver of one of the trucks came up to give her a high-five!  Pretty sure it rocked her world to see that a girl could do this!

 

 

 

After the winner was crowned, we had one last surprise for the kids.

 

 

 

I think Cutie Left pretty much summed up the whole day.

 

 

I had to laugh the next morning when Itty Bit instructed me to write something and then take his picture.  Because the kid actually referred to himself as, “Itty Bit”. 

Blogging family much?

 

 

 

That something…?  Was TEN DOLLARS worth of “don’t wave that in his face, don’t flap it at her, quit snapping it around, put it down, I can’t see when you do that”.

 

It’s also proof that I was a fun mom.

 

Minus the gritted teeth as I said for the eleventieth time, “quit waving that in my face”.

 

What was your weekend like?  Any Danny Bonaduce moments?

 

 

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Shopping with children: first-grader style

 

Somehow… I thought this shopping with offspring thing would get EASIER once we made it out of the toddler years.

 

You know… the one where my leashed kiddo wiped out an entire Baby Gap mannequin display.  Or where he broke a cheapo candle holder at Target.  And the resulting me almost dying of blood loss in the dollar section, and an employee nearly passing out.

 

Or when even my husband got in on the action and kicked a soccer ball into my face?  Then totally ninja-photo’d me?

 

Or the proud parenting moment when the poor kiddo puked into his hands at Macy’s.  Well, that one kind of wasn’t his fault…

 

Or when he mooned me?  In the store?  Help me.

 

Or the one that started it all?  The infamous “craft paint lids are not childproof” (otherwise known as “Carnage at Michael’s”).

 

Or hey… remember this one more recently when durnitall, there was a woman in there?

 

(Sorry for the link overload… even just reading those has me all traumatized again).

 

 

Let’s just say that now that the kid can read, and now that he realizes that not everyone is (ahem) normal… Walmart has been “interesting”.

 

It was tough enough getting him to stop staring at the employee who was going for a slightly windblown look:

 

I hope I never outgrow the guts to try to look like Vanilla Ice after my hair goes gray.  The mullet was just bonus.

 

And by the way, a word to my fellow photo ninjas:

 

you WILL get caught.

 

This guy totally busted me taking his picture.  Just pretend you’re texting.  Smile and wave boys, smile and wave (50,000 OnceUponAmiracle points for which movie that’s from).

 

Then came the dude who wore this glorious coral ensemble without shame.  It was pure awesomesauce.

 

I had to turn Itty Bit away from these creeptastic blind chocolate bunnies.  Who does that?

 

And my favorite, spending 20 minutes in line because Walmart abides by that jacked up policy of only two checkouts open at any time, regardless of a holiday crowd.

 

But extra time in line leaves more time to enjoy these little beauties:

Somehow, I can’t imagine this is better than bacon off the griddle?

 

Oh, and this assortment of chapsticks…

impressive that every single box was empty.  Walmart shoppers must have exceptionally kissable lips.

 

But where Itty Bit made his entrance into this shopping story was at the mini-Subway inside Walmart.  Where he excitedly told me he wanted to join the Subway Club.

 

And then got mad at me when I laughed and laughed.

 

(he thought it “cost” 310 calories to join the CLUB).

 

~

 

As further proof that shopping with kids does NOT get easier…

 

…at an antique swapmeet full of AWESOME stuff, the kiddo begged (and ultimately sweet-talked Grandma) for a classic eggbeater.

 

(Cute, except he HAS two of them at home already.  HOARDER)

 

It was fine that everyone oohed and ahhed over him at the swapmeet.

 

But Daddy wasn’t keen about being followed around Home Depot with the constant whirring behind him and the attention it attracted.

 

 

 

Holla pained picturetaking expression!

 

 

Holla Double Eyebrows!

 

 

And Holla!  Helpful Home Depot lady who thinks you’re adorable!

 

Tell me… are his shoes on the wrong feet?  I can’t tell?

 

~

 

Weird expressions in stores are trending…

 

What are you doing, Boogie?

 

 

Seriously?  What are you doing?

 

Ohhh.

 

(for the record, he BEGGED to buy that sign.  THAT was a fun public fit).

 

~

 

For those who might accuse me of being a helicopter parent… not having eyeballs on this kid is cause for panic.  A deaf mom has nothing to rely on except instinct if she loses sight of a mischievous boy!

 

 

~

 

I didn’t get a picture of his sheer terror after seeing this freaky thing at TJ Maxx.  Even creepier?  They had several different versions of headless robed guys.  These things were like 4 feet tall, guys!

 

 

MIND BLEACH.

 

~

 

And for where Itty Bit gets his public antics?

Look.no.further.

 

 

 

~

 

I’d ask when they outgrow it, but I think I answered my own question.

 

What are your shopping-with-kids adventures?

 

(and no worries about all those links to the individual stories… you can find them all here in the Shopping With Kids series.  Traumatic enough to earn its own tag… you’ll feel so normal!)

 

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