my mother's curse

these are my kidiots.  and i love them.

today is little c's last soccer game.  it seems like he just started yesterday.

remember this?  his first game.  my numberless, clueless, friendless baby.

the one who smiled the whole game.  and didn't pay attention to the ball.  and never had any desire or potential to score a goal.  but it didn't matter because he was so stinkin' cute.

the one who knocked down players on his own team.  and smiled behind their backs.

the one who sometimes cried the entire second half.  for no reason.

and high fived his coach

for 5 minutes.

or longer.

well, that kid, my baby, little c has grown up so much.

he averages 1-2 goals per game.  for our team.

and he goes the right way almost 75% of the game.

he's a big boy now.

so big it makes me sad.  and sometimes i forget that he's not a baby anymore.

he's 4.

he belongs out here with these kids.  he fits in.

the slight age gap doesn't seem to matter on the field.

little c can hold his own.

and then he plays against this kid.  in the same age group.

and he's my baby again.

but then there's big c.

she started off like a champ.  sort of.

and then as the season progressed....

so did her ability to manage the bunch ball.  and break free of it.

and her ability to take a gut punch with the cleat end of heidi's nike boot.

she's all man, big c.

and now she's decided to dedicate herself to soccer.

and be competitive.

and play on an academy team.  in addition to her regular team.

and practice 4 nights a week.  with games on saturday.  and sometimes sunday.

even though the soccer fields are at least 30 minutes away, and it takes 2-3 hours out of the night to go.

and we can't have family dinners anymore.

or movie nights.

or sleepovers (even though we still do and she suffers the consequences of sleep deprivation because she's 8. and 8 year old should have sleepovers).

or a life.  for all of us.

so, it seems to me that big c is selfish.

soccer, soccer, soccer.

with an occasional "can i play softball in the spring too?"

she's a nightmare.

and my mother wished this upon me.

"it's payback for all the times i didn't have a life" she says.

big c has done what i always hoped she'd do.  and what i always feared she'd do.

she's become me.

poor poor child.

hug your kids a little tighter tonight.

this could happen to you one day.

and you might not be prepared.

- dimply stacy

crate training your child 101

when i'm home with the kids, we color.  play with playdough.  play with cars.  build with blocks.  read.  watch movies.  normal things.

this is what the aviator does when he has the kids alone.

this is a picture of little c.  in a cage.  with axel.

i found this picture when i was uploading my pictures from the weekend.

i didn't take it.

i know.  this is not the first picture of little c in the dog crate.  it's not even the first picture of little c in the dog crate on this blog.

but it is the first picture (or should i say "pictures") of one of our children in the crate WITH the dog.

and the latches locked.

and mommy not around to regulate the torture of said children.

because this child, my baby, looks miserable.

"get my baby out of there before the dog bites him and starts a wrestling match in the cage."

i have to be around to supervise because the aviator can't always be trusted to make smart decisions when it comes to the physical abuse of our children.  oh sure, he calls it playing.  and yes, they seem to enjoy it.

but that doesn't make it right.  to me. and it takes years off of the aviator's mom's life.

and it makes the kids scream that high pitch scream.  the one that makes my skin crawl.  and my ears bleed.  and makes me yell over the screaming to make the screaming stop.

but it never works.

and then i cry.  and i make a drink to take the edge off.  but i don't drink it because i have to make dinner.  or fold the laundry.  or clean up kitty yack.  or something equally as enjoyable.

and seriously, why are there so many pictures?

i didn't even post them all.

and why was this fun?

and why is there an 8 minute video, in addition to the pictures of our child locked in this crate?

i didn't post it.  you'd have to use viewer discretion.  and you may or may not have that. i thought i'd use it as blackmail against the aviator.  in case he ever tries to leave me with the kids.

i'll just say i did this.

-dimply stacy

they're better than footie pajamas. they're aviators.

api class circa 1975.  the creepy porn star mustaches give it away.

i mean, everyone knows that it's completely uncool, un-hip, un-mannish to wear a mustache these days.  ESPECIALLY if you're in the military.

but in the 70's, it was legit. encouraged.  accepted.

one might expect such antics from a naval officer.  the navy doesn't know any better.

but the coast guard.... they were taught.  briefed.  learned.

yet, i think my husband, the aviator, was absent that day.

bummer.

i know my last post was about the mustache.  but step off.  i'm still unhappy about it.

let's focus on more important issues.

for example: this is the face of an aviator.  a person in charge of an aircraft.  an expensive aircraft.  protecting our country.

scary, huh?

okay, okay.  so the more important thing is that the aviator just finished the academic portion of API.

API stands for "single mother".  it lasts for 4 weeks.  4 very long weeks.  4 very lonely weeks.  4 very stressful and short fused weeks.

i have never been so happy to get through 4 weeks in my life.  and i was just a bystander.  a pissy little bystander.

the aviator studied.  a lot.  and he almost failed twice.  with an 88 and a 92.  or something like that.

but it's over.  and he made it through.  and i'm so proud of him.

see?  this is me being proud of him.

and i went with him to his class party to celebrate with him.

it was a big day.  mostly because the officer's club on base had shiner bock on tap.  and that never happens out here.  also, because he finished his final exam.  and he passed it.  and he got his first pair of big boy pants: his flight suit.  a onesie.

they all got 'em.  here they are, people.  our military.  grown-ups wearing onesies.  looking suave.  drinking beers. sporting mustaches.

api class.  circa friday.  2010.

the aviator is in the middle (in case you couldn't spot him because of the... well, you know).

the rest of these guys are navy.  and like i said, they aren't supposed to know better.

only they do know better because these guys study a lot harder and make better grades than everyone else.  but that's probably because there isn't much of a social life for folks with their facial fashion sense.

and sadly, i would hang out with any of them.  because they're good dudes.  and they're funny.  and sometimes that's hard to find.

here are the token coasties.  they're few and far between.  that's why they stick together.

through thick and thin.

and when one of them doesn't know what to do with his hands....

the other one is there to hug it out.

because they're men.

seriously guys.  get a room.

since this shindig was on a friday afternoon, and this was a big deal, and the blue angels were flying that day, we took little c with us.

and truth be told, the only real reason we brought him was because we don't have a sitter for him. but that's just because we're crazy good parents and we don't trust many people to keep our children.  i don't know where big c was.  i hope she got a ride home from school.

and speaking of good parenting....

it totally looks like little c is sitting at the bar.  having already sucked down his drink, he's chasing it with what appears to be a coke.

with cherries.  because he's the man.

"hey bartender.  hit me again.  and keep 'em coming."















and naturally, they kept 'em coming.  he'd wink at the bartender (male or female), and poof.... another glass.

of course they were just glasses full of cherries.  it's every kid's dream.  he ate the cherries for lunch and washed them down with the coke.  

we believe in high sugar intake.

and "free" meals.

yep.

we're on our way to becoming those cool parents that every teenager dreams of having.

minus all the money. and expensive things.  and stuff.  and cool names like "katarina" and "sergio".

someone who does have a cool name though, is this girl.  she's in the aviator's class.

if i were a dude, and i'm totally not anymore, i'd take her name if we got married.

and so would all of these guys.  right now they're fighting over her.  trying to win her affection.  one. mustache. at. a. time.

i think the cat on the left is going in for the kill.  or the shocker.  either way, it's pretty hot.  and only slightly weird.

and while i've brought to your attention the awesomeness of the mustache crew, again, let's take a closer look at a couple of them.

this is turnbull.

turnbull grew this mustache for the entire 4 weeks.  he's a pretty big deal around here.  and that's a pretty  impressive growth.  it gives him mad luck with the ladies.

and at 25, he says he feels old.  no, wait. i think he said that 25 IS old.

i'm 33.

and i'm sure that old feeling is probably just from the gray hair on the side of his head.  caused by api.  and mustaches.  and not knowing how old old is.

and this is behne.  behne worked so hard to win the affection of little c.  i think he's grabbing him right here. or maybe he's tickling him.  only i don't think little c is laughing.  nope.  he's definitely not having fun.  that's fear on his face.

no worries.  he broke free.  and he went on to entertain and amuse all of the aviators with his childlike antics on the steps.  just before they raised their shots.

and i spotted behne alone on the stair rail.  trying to be cute.  trying to make everyone pay attention to him instead of little c.

but it was just sorta creepy.

and then there's cho.

and this guy is really lucky to be married to me.  or married at all.  or in a relationship with a person.  a real living person.

but i love him.

because he's a good husband.

and a wonderful father.  because sometimes you don't have to pay attention to your kids to show them you love them.  and he knows that.

and he's a pelican.  notice how he's holding the drink in his mouth.

still.

all joking aside, it was truly a great day.  with good people.  and i was glad to be a part of it.  and proud to leave with MY aviator.  my pelican.  my porn star.

bow chicka bow wow.

-dimply stacy

slash the stache

today i have to talk about something important.  the mustache.

take no offense if you are over 50 and sporting one.  you've earned it.

that's you, drin.

my dad rocked the mustache throughout my childhood.  it was his thing.  it was the era of the stache.  it was the 80's.  fashion sucked.  anything went.  i mean, i wore units and twister beads.  and i thought i was a princess when i put them on.  turns out, i was just a turd.

then one day he shaved it off.  and he looked weird.  and naked.  and i cried like the aviator cries when he watches "the bridge to tarabithia".   every. single. time.

i know you're thinking that this blog stinks.  and maybe  it does.  it stinks like a hairy upper lip.  on your mom.

but allow me to go on, please.

the mustache dates back a long time.  probably a million years.  i'm just throwing out numbers.

there's even a website for fans:  http://www.americanmustacheinstitute.org/.  check it out.  it'll blow your mind with "interesting" facts and details and such.

and over the years, there have been many famous mustaches.

tom selleck is the first person i think of when i think of the mustache.  (and i think about them all the time.  trust me.)

second on the list is alex trebec.

mario pulls it off better than anyone.  he's italian.  it's in his blood.

i can't remember mike ditka not having one.  and i can't imagine him without it.  it suits him.  like a hot apple cider with captain morgan suits me.  until forever.

burt reynolds.  and even norm macdonald playing burt reynolds on SNL.  because he owned the stache.

and brad pitt.  mr. and mrs. smith style.  it really isn't possible for this guy to look bad.  he looked hot in 12 monkeys for crying out loud.

all of these people wore their mustaches with pride.  confidence.  there were no criticisms thrown their way for their choices, because they made the right choice.  at the time.

not everyone has been so fortunate.

really, geraldo?  you were once a smart man.  then you had a lame talk show.  and you grew a facial fart.

hulk hogan.  enough said.

"You're only lonely if you're not there for you."   
Dr. Phil McGraw

charlie chaplin.  i realize it was his trademark look.  but maybe we should focus more on the insane amount of black eyeliner that he is also flashing.

matt damon.  looks like a child molester.  pretty sure he isn't.  because he's matt damon.  and he has a really pretty wife and 4 daughters.  and a full time job.  and he's a good guy.  because he's friends with ben affleck.  and everyone likes that guy.

but not everyone likes this guy.  which means they also don't like his face.  or anything happening in that general vicinity.

but the thing that all of these mustaches have in common is the fact that their wearers were able to pull them off.  because they make a lot of money. or know a lot of people.  or are involved in very important things.

but sometimes there is a person who should never try to sneak one on his face.

sometimes a person has a perfectly handsome delicious face without any add-ons.

because sometimes the add-ons aren't upgrades.  especially when they're red and brown and wirey.

sometimes having said add-ons makes picture taking not fun.  and gives said person the ability to look extra tool-y in said pictures.

and makes me look like a tool for being in said pictures with said mustache wearing tool.

and sometimes there isn't another word for tool.

or maybe i look like a dork without any help.  but you'll never know that because all you can focus on is the ridiculous mustache to my left.  or your left.  my right.  the point is, he's the big prince standing next to me.  and i'm the short one.

since the new addition, our marriage has hit a rough patch.  right in the face.  on the upper lip.

when the aviator speaks, i can't listen.  i can't focus on his words.  i can't stop looking.  staring.  shaking my head in disbelief.

and i certainly can't take him seriously.

i mean, seriously.

come on.

but sometimes we are blessed with good friends, even if we just met them, who will take one for the team and sport the stache with you.

even if SHE is the mother of 3.  and was supposed to be my friend.

thanks, lindsey.

hey aviator, i was thinking.  you know how you love me in sweats?  i know, you think i look sexy in my grays.  i'm going to wear them every day until your face is pretty again.  i love you.

just. say. no.

-dimply stacy