potty mouth

here's what just happened at our house....

aviator: "big c, did you use my bathroom last?"

big c: "no"

aviator: "so, you didn't forget to flush the toilet, while also forgetting to change the roll?"

big c: "no"

me: "was it kitty poo in there?"

aviator: "not unless somebody wiped the kitty."

little c: "was there a chicken in there?"

end of conversation.

good night.

- dimply stacy

balls and worms. and legs.

it was a hectic weekend.  an emotional weekend. a weekend that i wish we could erase from the books.  bad things, man.  bad things. 

and then there was this....

situation #1: 

little c was playing with his ginormous dinosaur in the living room. 

the result:

little c: "mooooooommmmm!  axel has my balls in his mouth."

you can imagine how that sounded from the kitchen.

um, ew.  please don't look at all the cat hair on that rug.  

situation #2:

driving in the car to pick up big c. 

little c: "daddy, do you want to see my worm?"

oh, come on.  what did you think he was talking about?  

then this....

little c got into trouble for yelling too loudly or jumping to high or something equally as not as big of a deal to me.  it was the aviator's situation.  he went to time out.  little c did.  his fit continued in time out.  the aviator asked him what he wanted to lose for his punishment.  typically it's dessert.  little c's choice: his leg.  

well played, little man.

you rocked the day.

thanks for forcing the smiles on our faces.  

- dimply stacy

the king of pop

we have this rule in our family right now:

       NO TAYLOR SWIFT SONGS, IMPRESSIONS, HUMMING, DANCING, DRESSING, ETC.


this rule applies to both kids.  little c sadly knows all of the words because he shares his life with big c.  as a result, the aviator also knows the words to her songs because he is forced to listen to the kidiots sing them at obnoxious volumes and tunes.

i like taylor swift.  i sing along in my head, and when the aviator is not with me, i sing at the top of my lungs.  it's not pretty. the ban is not a shot at her as a person.  nor is it a disregard for her talent.  she has talent.  good talent.  big c has talents too.  it's just that one of them does not happen to be singing anything like taylor swift.  not even in the ballpark.  like, really, not good.

this rule is enforced by the aviator.  especially in the car.  oh man, you had better not even start it in the car.  and if one of her songs comes on the radio, his hand will move so fast to change the station, you'd swear someone was taking his tots.  and he doesn't even love them the way one should love tots.  and he still moves quickly.  as if to sever my hand with the blade edge of his karate chopping hand for trying to defend the dial.

now, the taylor swift rule doesn't just apply to taylor swift songs.  that's just the biggie.  it pretty much goes for all pop music.  the aviator swears he doesn't know who katy perry is, but by golly, california girls can go to hell in our house.  and no flo-rida.  and no selena gomez.  and no britney spears.  and no lady ga ga.  and well, you get the idea.  he's so hardcore, that guy.

he has big c and little c hooked on avenged sevenfold.  edited versions, of course.  and system of a down.  and slipknot.  and other such "man" bands. death metal, he calls it.  but it's not really that heavy.  i like them too.  but i would never let on.  then he wouldn't EVER let me annoy him with pop.  or 80's music.  you see, the aviator doesn't like pop.  or boy bands.  or girl bands.  he frowned upon my jesse mccartney crush.  it was like he didn't even know me.  and just last night we talked about justin timberlake.  not his style, but he was "glad the dude made a career out of it".  or some crap like that.

the aviator has good intentions.  he wants the kids to grow up appreciating ALL types of music.  as long as those are types of music that he also enjoys.  but don't worry, i'm alone with the kidiots a lot.  they listen to teeny bop.  and pop.  and all that mess.  the aviator would NEVER be associated with such travesties.  such embarrassment.  such failed judgement.

hey aviator, who was your favorite new kid?

wait.  let me guess.  was it donnie?

and you were 9.  older than both of our kids.

and you WERE a boy.  i think.


go ahead, party like it's your birthday.

you deserve it.

- dimply stacy

spray him in the face

we moved across the country from los angeles to milton, florida, in june.  we made that drive with 2 cars, 2 kids, and 2 cats.  along the way we stopped at the hoover dam, vegas strip, and the grand canyon.  but those stories are for another time.

big c and little c had begged for months to get a dog.  big c was so full of promises.  "i'll take care of him", "i'll take him for walks every day", "i'll feed him", "I'LL CLEAN UP HIS POOP".  she's a liar.  with a capital F.

so we got the dog.  i handle the promises. like always.

we didn't get just any dog, either. no animal shelter mut for this high maintenance family.  oh no. and i wanted a weimeraner, for no other reason than it looked like a real dog.  a strong dog.  a big eater. a big mess. but not one of those sissy types.  not that there's anything wrong with those dogs. if you're into that sorta thing.

we got a texas lacy dog.  google it.

backing up a bit, the aviator has sleep issues.  one night in california, he flipped the television to animal planet.  there was a show on called "life after people".  there was that damned texas lacy dog.  outlivin' man. taking care of himself.  surviving.  being awesome.  in theory.

we didn't get THAT dog on tv.  we got a slightly tampered version.  we got axel.  (and axel is short for axelrod levinstien... because the aviator is a bit of a whack job). axel wouldn't outlive a butterfly.  axel is as much of a nuisance as the kidiots. only more so because he smells like dog, and i have to actually pick up his feces.  in the front yard.

oh, i know, he's cute.  that's the problem.

i try to give him the benefit of the doubt.  he is just a puppy, after all.  but as i'm typing this, he's surging through the house, from the living room to the dining room to the entry to the kitchen, in neurotic fashion, with his red food dish in his mouth.  like a damned demon racehorse. on crack.  wearing a tutu.

don't know why i added that last part.  it just seemed right.

i spray him in the face with a stream of vinegar laced water.

what?

i love my dog. and my sanity.  and becky the trainer told us to do that.  and it makes me feel like i have permission to slightly abuse a child.  don't judge.

yep, i spray that face.

at least a hundred times a day.

and we can't get rid of him because, well, let's face it... we've invested a lot of money.  and people frown upon that sort of thing.  go figure.

oh yeah, and the kids are sort of attached.  and he might love them back just a smidget, because he lets them do things like this and licks their faces.

so really, axel is just an annoying occupant of our psychotic household.

he's just like the rest of us.  i think we'll keep him.

for now.


- dimply stacy

circle contest

today we took the kidiots to the circus.

in mary esther, fl.

an hour away.

this was the aviator's idea. he's full of bright ones.

we decided to take a carload since we were driving the big car.

it made more sense economically.

or something like that.

and we don't like to be alone.  things get awkward.  and we need an audience for our antics.  it makes us feel important and, well... important.

big c brought her friend, ali along. ali plays on her soccer team. she kicks the ball really hard.  the aviator says "boom" every time she does so.  it makes him a tool.  but he's my tool, so back off.

ali also stands about a foot taller than little c.  maybe more. kids and growth spurts are weird.  and cool.

little c had his girl buddy, little j.  i had her mom, big j (she likes it when i call her that).

big j is 6 months pregnant and i still outweigh her by 40 pounds.  at least.

she's pretty.  i like her.  not because she's pretty, because that would be shallow. and creepy.  and i'm trying really hard not to be those things anymore.

big j is a good person.  a really good person.  better than most.  even me, maybe. MAYBE.

the aviator didn't have a friend.  we all pointed and laughed. and then let him in our group.


we didn't tell the kids we were going until last night.  that way we still had time to change our minds and think of something totally selfish to do that would make us happy.  then we decided as a team that we loved our children and we would take them to do something that would make them love us back.

it's all about material things with our kids.

big c and little c have never been to the circus.  that's mostly because we're bad parents.  and i'm okay with that.

little c called it the "circle contest" all day.  he also called st. patty's day the leper contest.  dissect that one, and let me know what you come up with.  but don't tell me if you have some deep underlying meaning for why he turns things into contests.  especially a contest involving lepers.

after what seemed like a lifetime in the car, we finally made it to the mall parking lot where this spectacle of a circus was being held.  i had been so worried about a sell-out that i prepaid for tickets on the phone. and convenience charges. and 30 other fees.  i'm a thinker.

it was the opposite of sold out. (see all those empty seats? this was in the middle of the show).  it was NOT barnum and bailey's. and it was NOT air conditioned.

and it's still hot in florida.  really stinkin' hot.  those smiles are phony.

we promised the kids in the car that they would get to smell elephant poop.  i like to keep my promises.

so, before we went inside, the kids rode this elephant.

it cost $8 each.

and it pooped AND peed while they were on it. we didn't pay extra for that.

but the aviator made me come over to this angle to get a shot of the poop.

see?

i'm sorry.

that's completely inappropriate.

and gross.

and not as big as you'd think.

then they got their faces painted.  the aviator just loves face paint.  always has.

big c was a dog.  a big dog. a big bad dog.

that wasn't funny, i know.  but it's late. so it seemed funnier when i wrote it.  and i'm not gonna delete it because i don't feel like it.

ali was a leopard.

and little c was.....

spiderman, of course.

my kids....

my kids are cute.

and they both managed to get into trouble before the day was done.

before we even got home, actually.

but this is before that happened.

so they're cute.

that's all.

after 18 seconds in a sardine packed bleacher section at the back end of an inflatable tent with little visibility (called "general admission"), the aviator made his way to the ticket booth to pay whatever amount was necessary for an upgrade to the "VIP" section.  it had seats.  yes, i know i've already shown you this picture.  i'm rad.

we stayed long enough to see the tigers

the trapeze

and the clowns.

and little c's face melt like a spidermonkey crayon.

then the animals came through for an encore parade and we were so happy it was over.

and the ringmaster said it was intermission and we plugged the kids' ears and escorted them out of the tent.

and to the car.

and away from the mall parking lot where said circus was performing.

and they were so happy to have spent the day and all of our money at a circle contest.

because we're good parents.

probably the best i know.

the end.


- dimply stacy

twice the ice

it's a story funny enough to share again.

big c, my precious, caring, snaggle toothed first born, is a bit of a.... well.... hard ass.

i don't know where she gets this.

i have no need to be a hard ass, because i've simply never been wrong.  about anything. ever.

well, maybe once.

shut up, dad.

we moved to milton in july. they didn't deliver any of our household goods for two weeks.  we ate out.  a lot. and we slept on air mattresses.  it was awesome.

since there's not much in the way of restaurants and stores in milton, as i've told you, we ventured into pace, the neighboring town with a wal-mart AND a target.

driving into pace a couple times a day for several weeks, we passed a stand in a liquor store parking lot called "twice the ice".

big c: "can we go there sometime? i just realllllly want a snow cone."

me (or the aviator): "that's not a snow cone stand, it's an ice machine."

big c: "no it's not. it's a snow cone stand. i went to one in texas. plllllleeeeaaase."

us: "i promise it's an ice machine. see, there's nobody working there. there's never any cars, or kids, or snow cones.  because it's not a snow cone stand."

big c: "yeah huh. i promise, mommy.  it really really is snow cones.  can we go?"


this went on for weeks. seriously.

then one day she took a stand and told us we were WRONG.  she had that sass in her voice that cuts you to the core.  makes your skin crawl. on the verge of defiant, but only because she felt so strongly that she was right.

i mean, who does that?

the aviator asked big c if  she was willing to risk her dessert on a "twice the ice".

she gladly agreed.  with a smug look on her face.  ready to show us how stupid we had been all along.

she brought her own money.  and enough to buy one for little c because she was so happy to FINALLY be going.

as we pulled into the parking lot on that hot hot summer day, it started to come together.

where were all the kids?  the grown-ups?  the workers?  the flavors?

how can this be happening?

she still got out to read the "menu".  the choices were water or ice.

(man, i wish we would've had the camera with us because these phone pics don't do the situation justice. )

oh, the horror.

the agony of knowing you were wrong and tonight's dessert is going to suck... all coming together in one perfect second.

captured with a click of the phone.  and embedded in our memories forever.

at this point, because we're horrible parents that have no compassion for our humiliated child,we made her stick her $1.75 in the machine and take home her 16 pound bag of i told you so.

little c was tickled pink at the idea of so much dessert.  he couldn't understand why big c was so upset.

pretty much - don't mess with mama.

she's never been wrong.

the end.

- dimply stacy

one more bite and the button goes "POP"

here in milton, florida, there isn't much. there's the air station.  that's where the magic happens.  or so i'm told. then there's the texas roadhouse. it's completely out of place. this town is po-dunk, and they slapped a chain restaurant smack in the middle of it.  i wonder what the locals thought when that place opened its doors.

so, the texas roadhouse is next to ace's, the homestyle diner with license plate-themed everything.  and overpriced biscuits.  

for our shopping needs, we have the dollar general and family dollar.

the bealls AND the bealls outlet. 

bealls outlet: because bealls isn't cheap and weird enough on its own.  it's like having a mervyn's outlet. remember when those stores started closing down and it was like a ghost town inside? that's what bealls is like. what could possibly make it to the clearance store? all the latest trends? jewelry? lingerie? my mind is racing with possibilities.  now i kind of want to know what's inside. 

for a treat, i take the kids to big lots.  i love big lots. i even walk through the big lots furniture section and imagine what life would be like if we had one of those comfy pleather sofas that they make look so sweet on the "showroom floor". but seriously. big lots is greatness. 

what we do have here in booming milton is a tastee freez.  for those of you who have not had the pleasure of experiencing such bliss, you probably still fit into your clothes you wore last week. or the week before that.

i do not.

tastee freez is a run down looking, hole in the wall, provider of excellence. i first went there when my mom came to town a few weeks ago. since then, i've been there 9 times. okay 11.

i'm pretty sure it makes me a heffer just writing an entire posting on a fast food restaurant. 

but only if the aviator reads this.  and right now he's wrapped up in himself and thinking it's a big whoopie that he soloed today and blah blah blah. (and it totally is a big deal that he soloed, but if he reads this, maybe that last part will piss him off and he'll stop there so full of anger that the only thing on his mind is getting even with me. doing whatever it takes. filling his every thought. and i'll be skinny. at least in my mind.)

and besides, what he doesn't know, doesn't make me fat.  

where was i?  oh yea, at the TF. 

it's always a last minute decision for me when we walk through the door: chicken tenders or a cheeseburger? 

i just go with whatever comes out of my mouth.  most recently it was a burger. and fried pickles. 

   that's right. come to mama. little c ain't got nothin' on you.

i can actually see 459 grams of fat in this picture. it's worth it.  scales are way overrated, people.  trust me.

big c ate them all. turd. definitely not my favorite child that day. 

how did this even happen? i don't like to share. ever.  

i hope she loses another tooth in a pickle and everyone on the bus points and laughs. 

not really. 

and what's with this cornball?  he took 4 pictures just like this. 

and one like this.  these kids won't date for a long long time. 

thank god.

now everyone knows that you can't leave tastee freez without ice cream. hence the name. even though you're so full after your meal that you think a purge is on the brink, you find a way to force it down.  push through the pain. compete.

stop being a wuss.

i had a nutter butter freezee with chocolate ice cream. but i don't like to share. so i won't share a picture. so there.

i didn't take a picture.  i'm sorry.

big c and little c ordered ice cream cones. 

big c 86ed the cone because she's a weirdo who doesn't appreciate a good thing. 

and little c scooped his ice cream with his cone because he's a tool.

and speaking of the ice cream, check out the menu.

notice the bottom choices.

i can't think of anything worse than an onion or pickle shake or sundae. except maybe cat litter. or throw up. or gilbert godfrey's voice. or running more than 3 miles. 

but seriously. that's nasty.

if you're ever in milton, look me up. i'll treat you to a second topping of onion.  

i'm a real sweetheart.

- dimply stacy

mexican moon

last night little c played his second soccer game.

he dribbled.

he passed.

he scored for the other team. twice.

and then he cried. the whole second half.

he cried

and cried

and cried

you can imagine my enthusiasm being the mom of "that" kid who won't stop crying.

i contemplated giving him something to cry about, but then i remembered he was my baby. and i love him. and people were watching. and that makes it really hard to hide the evidence.

and then he had a super-hero popsicle and all was right in the world again.

big c brought her friend rachael with her to the game. they're besties. or so she says.

they met on the bus. they're both in 3rd grade. and she lives a quarter of a mile away.

all the fixins of a best friend relationship.

after the game we took the kids to chilis for dinner. rachael explained that she had NEVER been to chilis.

now, i confess that chilis is not one of my favorites. the service is usually slow.  the drinks contain little to no alcohol (and let's face it... after a cry baby session at a soccer game with 3 kids, one would probably require a numbing, make the screaming go away, put on a happy face and pretend you like these kids, type of drink). but that's just me.  and i've eaten there so many times that everything starts to taste a little bit like diarrhea. especially the queso.

not that i would know what that tastes like.

so, we put our names on the list and waited. "5 minutes". 15 minutes.

i had the pleasure of watching a woman smoke a cigarette outside while she and her baby daddy waited for a table. she was at least 7 months pregnant.  it was hot. and healthy.

don't get me started on how i felt entitled to go ballistic on this chick.  grab her by her overprocessed ponytail and give her a piece of me. (just like my dad says). that whole "mind your own business" and "it doesn't affect you" went right out the poop shoot.  she made her condition everyone's business when she lit up, while sporting a form fitting tank, outside a public eatery.

but i didn't want to alarm the kids.

and the aviator would've flipped.

and i was hungry.

fast forward 15 minutes and we've placed our order - 3 kids' meals and a salad. (and a bloody mary. or 2).

the kids worked on their activity menu while we waited.

then they showed us these:

it's a picture of a sick kid from st. jude's hospital.

have they no class?

it looks like we're all going to hell.

in their defense, they had no idea who the little girl was.

at least little c didn't. kid can't even read.

fast forward another 50 minutes. we finally got our food. 3 kids' meals and a salad. seriously?

i'm sure that after the second time the waitress promised us that "your food is coming out right now" i gave her what was originally termed "the look" by my first club soccer coach when i was in the 7th grade.

it's not a pretty look. i think i've given it to the aviator once. it was just now when he walked through the kitchen and accused me of giving it to him when he popped open a jar of pepperocinis. as a meal. after i offered to make him something. oh, he might say it's been more. but he lies.  a lot. with a straight face.

look girls.  see "the look". fear "the look". girls?

little c. you're afraid of mommy, aren't you?

after that, the waitress kept hovering at our table and giving us that pathetic "is everything okay?". and she was squatting and crossing her arms on the table and resting her head on her arms. like a puppy would do if it were 5'6" with curly blonde hair.

that's right. i'm mean. and scary. and i can cut people to the core with my "look". ask around.

and then i tipped her 25% and we left.

and we drove home. and this happened...

big c: "did you know today is a mexican moon holiday?"

the aviator: "what does that mean?"

big c: "well, see all of those clouds around the moon? those are just there because it's a mexican holiday."

the aviator: "does that mean that they're mexican clouds?"

big c: "whuuuuuht?"

silence.

what clouds? and it was september 17th.

goodbye.

- dimply stacy