Needs & Wants

I was on my way out the door the other day to Toys R Us for a few birthday gifts. When Monkey Man heard me tell hubby of my destination, a 6 year-old’s paradise, he asked me, while batting his long, blonde eyelashes, “Will you buy me something?” Now, I am usually programmed to say, “NO” to these questions. I will not have a child that expects a toy or something every time I go shopping. I will not have a spoiled child. ESPECIALLY because I ONLY have one child. And we all know how every single only child in this world is spoiled rotten. Oh, and they don’t know how to play with other kids. And they can’t share. And my fingertips are not oozing any kind of sarcasm whatsoever.

I usually say no, but on this day, I was feeling good. Hubby got good news at work, so I felt like I could pick up a little something (and by a little something, I’m talking $2 or less, people). I answered his angelic plea for a toy with, “Maybe, we’ll see.” Because I took the “Advanced Mom Course for Children in the Age Bracket that Can Ask For Things.” And I learned that all important, noncommittal response.

Monkey Man looked at me, with shock and delight. I know he was thinking, “Did my mother just NOT say NO?” Then he said, “I know you’ll get me something. I get whatever I want.”

To which my reply was, “No, you do not.” Now, I will defend Monkey Man and add that he was joking a little. This was not said in a bratty way. He was trying to be funny. HOWEVER, due to the fact that those words even came out of that child’s un-spoiled, you-will-work-hard-and-appreciate-what-you-have, mouth, I had a lesson to teach.

I went to Toys R Us, bought the birthday presents, and some school supplies that were on sale (which, I must add, was the most depressing thing ever. Buying school supplies just one week after school ends is wrong. But they had a sale and I’m just starting to learn that if the store has it now, I must buy it now. Not wait until the week before school starts when they have nothing left). When I arrived home, Monkey Man greeted me with a, “What’d ya get me?” oh. Oh. OH. I will show you what I got you:

“Here you go. I got you a new pair of scissors,” I answered. His reply? A scowl. Geez, maybe he wasn’t joking.

“And a new box of crayons and markers,” I added with much enthusiasm, and maybe just a little sarcasm. Little bit.

“Oooo, and a supply box! Yes, and a new sharpener!” I was actually enjoying how totally annoyed my child was at me.

“Why did you get me this stuff?” Monkey Man asked, totally pissed at me, but I think mostly because I looked so damn happy about my retaliation.

Because you NEED it for First Grade. And I WANTED a good laugh for the day.

Where's the Beef?

We celebrated my niece's 6th birthday tonight at her grandparent's house. When we sat down to eat, I offered Monkey Man some steak. Although Hubby and I don't eat meat, we give Monkey Man the option, and as a chicken nugget lovin' All American boy, he clearly has not been on the path to vegetarian-ism. Hubby and I enjoyed veggie burgers in lieu of steak, with all of the other sides including salad and corn on the cob.

After I cut Monkey Man's tiny sliver of steak - he really is not a red meat eater, so he was just "trying" it - he asked me what steak is made from. I told him cow. He looked at me in horror as if he had just seen his pet cow Clarabelle sent off to slaughter. I said, "You don't have to try it, it's okay. Mommy and Daddy don't eat meat." Although we don't push him to not eat meat, we are hoping one day he makes the decision on his own. He replied, "It's okay, I'll try it."

He put a piece of medium-rare-ish looking steak into his mouth then looked at his plate. Before chewing, he asked me, "What's the red stuff? Is it blood?" I answered candidly, "Yes, it's blood." The child looked like he just found out the truth about Santa Claus. He picked up his napkin and promptly spit that little piece of Clarabelle into it.

Looks like he made his decision. Welcome to the world of veggie burgers and beans Monkey Man!

Summertime and the Living is Easy!

Hello loyal readers - I'm BACK! You see, what happened was, a little thing like a job got in the way of my blog, and although life has been happening around me at an alarming speed, I've been too busy to write it down. Fine, I'm a liar. I've been too tired and lazy to write it down.

But, it's summertime, and in teacher-ese that means sweet freedom! Days of still getting up at 6 a.m. because Monkey Man has not gotten the memo that I've taped to his clock a sign that states, "You must sleep until at least 7:30. Please. I beg of you. You are slowly killing the woman who gave you life. Thanks so much! xoxo Mommy." But after I bring my zombie-like body back to life (this happens sometimes around 8:30ish) we will be ready to hit the pool, the park, museums, the library, meet up with friends for playdates - the list goes on. It is 2 months of pretending like I am a stay-at-home mom. And I love every single second of it. Plus I get to go grocery shopping and do laundry any time during the day instead of during my precious evening and weekend hours like the other 10 months.

Thanks for hanging in there and I promise you lots of summer posts filled with Monkey Man antics and other observations of life and its craziness. Happy Summer!

Funny Bone

Monkey Man was in the bathroom earlier while I was in the kitchen pouring freshly cooked sauce (Yes, I make my own sauce now! After 11 years of living out of a jar, I finally started using my mom's recipe!) into containers. I enjoyed a quiet moment, because Monkey Man DOES NOT STOP talking, and then the silence was abruptly interrupted:

"Mommmm! There is a bone in my penis!"

Well, I nearly dropped the entire pot of sauce on my freshly cleaned floors. I simply answered "Okay," and hoped (prayed, pleaded with the Good Lord) that the conversation would end there. It would be another 3 hours until Hubby got home and I just didn't want to field these questions.

"Mommmm, what is INSIDE my penis?" he asked.

And I answered, "Veins." And by some miracle, he stopped talking.

Memo From Mom: Rick Springfield Special Edition

TO: Rick Springfield

RE: Go to Your ROOM!

Date: May 5, 2011

Oh, Rick. Rick, Rick, Rick. I heard the disappointing news the other night of your legal troubles. Now, Rick, I used the word "disppointing" which should trigger major feelings of mommy/child guilt. Which is what you should feel. Now, I'm not your mother, but apparently you need one of your fans to speak to you as such.

You have tens of thousands of adoring female fans that would give up their blue eyeliner and pearly pink Wet n' Wild lipstick for one night with you. And then you go and pull a stunt like you did the other night. Driving under the influence, Rick? Really? What did you think that would accomplish? You are just lucky you did not kill someone, or yourself (GASP!), Young Man!

Maybe you are not as wealthy as Oprah, but I think it's safe to say that I alone have spent enough money on your tickets in the last few years for you to hail a freakin' cab. Even if you spent all your money on booze that night, you could have asked ANY woman to drive you home. Just to have your ass sitting in her car would have been enough. Even if you were all drunk and drooly and incoherent.

I did use this unfortunate event as a teachable moment for Monkey Man, however. He overhead me talking to Hubby about your stupid decision and he asked us what we were talking about. We explained that it is against the law and very dangerous for someone to drink alcohol and drive. We gave him a brief 5-minute speech about alcohol and its effects on the brain as well as legal age. It was all very enlightening and then he threw out a karate move and proclaimed he was a Power Ranger.

And what did Monkey Man take away from our drinking and driving lecture? He told his teacher yesterday that you were arrested for drinking too much oil.


I'm actually whispering in his ear, "If you do that one more time Richard Springthorpe, I'm taking away all your Star Wars figures."

The Single Most Worst Thing To Do on a Saturday Afternoon Part II

After about 6 hours, we became the owners of a brandy-new, shiny black, CD playing, Blue Tooth equipped (HOW did I EVER live without this???) Hyndai Elantra. I have become a man. I am in love with my car.

And I have several things to report, but you might want to refer to Part I of this post so as to not become confused by my cross-references:

1) We cannot agree on the kind of car we want.

I humored Hubby and looked at the Honda Fit. Of course, after I sat in it, chatted with the salesperson about it, and genuinely looked like I gave a crap about this car, I gave a "Hell to the NO!" So I scored points for trying. Thankfully, after going to Hyundai and sitting in the pretty black Elantra, Hubby was as sold as I was. So we totally agreed on the car! People, seriously, this is a huge triumph in our marriage. We often have very different opinions and are quite stubborn. I wish our therapist could have been there to see this.

2) We both CANNOT STAND the process of car shopping and I give the car salespeople a really hard time - I don't trust them, and I let them know it. Hubby wants to crawl in a corner when we go car shopping.

I am happy to report that Hubby DID NOT need to go fetal on this day! When we arrived at Hyundai, Hubby told the receptionist that we would like to speak to a salesperson that would not pressure us. I know, that sounds so ridiculously funny and oxymoronish that even I broke out in an Arnold Drummond, "Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" Now, we don't know if the lovely receptionist spoke with our salesperson or if this guy was just naturally chill and low pressure, but he was a DEE-LIGHT.

After taking the Elantra for a test drive, falling in love, and proposing marriage to the Blue Tooth, we sat down to talk numbers with Ryan - not his real name, but he looked a little like Ryan Seacrest. If you've ever purchased or leased a car, this is when your salesperson will mysteriously disappear into a room a few times going back and forth with The Manager. Numbers get jotted down, many times with arrows and quick scribbles. It's all trickery, and I always expect a rabbit to pop out of the guy's ass.

But I have good news to report! After Ryan gave us the first round of numbers, I took a deep breath and prepared myself for some hardball. This is usually when my sweet demeanor gets cast aside and I become a force to be reckoned with. We told Ryan that we couldn't do his price, but we gave him our price. "Ryan, give it to us for this amount, and you made a sale," I said, calmly. I liked Ryan. He seemed honest (again with the honest salesperson oxymoron) and had a little bit of that, "I'm good with whatever you want." Ryan did in fact disappear, but he returned ALONE. NEVER during any time that I have leased or bought a car (I've done this about 7 other times) have I experienced the salesperson coming out sans The Manager or The Finance Guy. Ryan said, "We can do it." Well, Ryan, enjoy that commission, buddy!

3) I want the car TODAY. Hubby thinks we're just looking today. Yep, sure to be good times.

We totally bought the car on the day we looked. Score 1 for me. Yay!

4) It is pouring rain and I plan on wearing my Mickey Mouse poncho from Disney World.

Lucky for Hubby, by the time we were actually looking in the lot, the rain had stopped. But the poncho was in the car ready for action.

I must give a Not-So-Honorable Mention to the Nissan salesperson - When we stopped by, he informed us, "We ain't (Yes, he said ain't) got a lot because of the tsunamis," (Yes, he used the plural form of tsunami. To my knowledge, there was just one, no?) My guess is that this Nissan dealer ain't giving out grammar books to the staff for holiday bonuses. Lucky for Ryan he used proper English.

Memo From Mom Monday

TO: My 1998 Nissan Sentra
FROM: Your Mom
RE: So Long, Sentra!


This memo is in reference to your soon-to-be departure from our lives. Sentra, you joined us in June 1999, just 3 months before our matrimony. Hubby needed a new car while I drove a brand-new Honda Civic lease. With the option of getting a brand-new car every 3 years, which I took part in about 5 times. It was a beautiful time.

You drove us many places, Sentra. My fondest memory was our ride to and from Acadia National Park in Maine. We didn’t want to go over our mileage on the lease, so we took you, our totally paid for car and headed out into the wilderness. Well, I WAS on that trip so we headed to a hotel then hiked in the wilderness.

About 3 years ago, our lives changed drastically when I found myself commuting a whole 1 mile and Hubby had to go about 70 miles round trip. Since you were the older car with more miles, I had the great fortune of inheriting you as “my” car. You chugged along, never really giving us many problems, but just looking rather worn and past your prime. Sure, for the past few years I haven’t been able to adjust the volume on the radio off “LOUD” for fear of completely losing the radio, and yes, the heat and A/C only blast on “HIGH” therefore forcing me to continually turn the heat or A/C off and on to get the car somewhat comfortable. Add in some chipped paint on the front bumper and an overall worn-paint look, and you were the car I prayed I’d never drive. But, alas, life is funny. But you were mine, so I kept you clean and neat and looking as pretty on the inside as I could.

And now the time has come, as you push 169,000 miles and my commute is going up to about 55 miles round trip, that I must bid you a fond adieu. As much as I really hated driving you, I know you were a good little car with a lot of spunk and life in you. You saw us get married, buy houses, get a dog, and have a baby. You drove that baby around for 6 years. So I am a little sad to see you go.

Thank you for being so good to us. I can only hope that your next owner totally pimps you out and you get the makeover of your dreams. Meanwhile, I will enjoy my brand-spanking new Elantra while I talk ON THE PHONE THROUGH THE SPEAKERS! I will adjust the volume like a girl with Radio Volume Tourettes, and I will enjoy this summer in a cool, comfortable 70 degree car. Sure, I might think of you from time to time and mention your name, “Aww, remember that Sentra with the TAPE player? It used to make the cutest noise on the right rear side that no mechanic could figure out. Wasn’t that adorable?” But I think I’m going to get over it pretty damn quickly.


Good-bye, Dear Sentra. You will make some 17 or 77 year-old quite happy.