Which Child? The Hairy One.

The thing about the title of this blog post is that it could be misunderstood to mean that I am referring to one of the children I gave birth too. What's worse is that if there was a distinction that could made between my two boys, one could very well be described as "the hairy one". Unfortunately, he most likely gets that from me. Well, not me in particular, our heritage. Although, I would like to refer to myself as a mutt, since I have a wide ethnic variety in my heritage, it is tough for me to deny that I am Portuguese. It's not that I would deny it, it's just that well...I couldn't. It's likely that when you see someone with porcelain skin, red hair, and freckles you might think they were Irish. Portuguese probably wouldn't enter your mind at all. I may be going out on a limb here, but when people see me I have a feeling they don't think I'm Irish. I know this for a fact actually because I once almost got into a fist fight with a girl on St. Patrick's Day who insisted that I could not possibly be Irish. I am Irish too, but it wasn't worth the fight since, in her defense, I look more like a Cinco De Mayo kind of girl.

I fit right in where I grew up. I looked like I belonged, with my black hair, dark brown eyes...and my hair. I could technically still have been viewed as a minority in my city in that I didn't speak Portuguese fluently. When I would visit out of state as a child I wondered if I was actually hairier than other girls, or if it was that my hair was so dark that it was more noticeable. I decided on the later...especially because it wasn't even an issue in the summer, since apparently the Portuguese tan well and you could barely see the hair.

When I moved to the city I live in now, I definitely felt like a minority. I had known a few blonds growing up, but there seemed to be an abundance of them in this particular area. I felt a little different...and well...hairy. I was able to get over it when I watched the fair skinned beauties getting torched on the beach in the summer while using baby oil to try to get "darker". I tried to let some of them know that purple did not equal tan, it meant third degree burn in their case. I on the other hand was getting less hairy by the minute as I tanned right up through SPF 15. Take that!

I've lived here for over ten years now and my friends still like to bust me up for being "different". It was funny at first because it was as if none of them had ever seen one of "my kind" before. Last year I even had a friend ask if she could dress up as me for Halloween. I'll admit, I wasn't sure if I should be insulted at first. I secretly prayed that she didn't come dressed like a gorilla and confirm my fear that I was noticeably hairier than "her kind". Then she showed up dressed like this:

I can live with that. She makes me look pretty cute, and thankfully she is unaware of my fear of being referred to as "the hairy one" and spared me a penciled in uni brow, which would certainly drive home the point that I have an abundance of hair. It's also possible that she feared my retaliation. That also works for me since I would have hated replacing her sunblock with baby oil and ruining her summer.

From what I know of Portuguese traits they are considered dominant. I never would have believed you if you told me I would have a light haired, blue eyed, boy. Turns out the mutt in me came forward in the making of my first child. He takes after his Dad. The second child, that takes after me, displays the dominate traits, and when he was born he looked like a baby gorilla. He was so hairy and dark. Even now, I try to scrub what I think is dirt off the back of his neck, only to realize he is tan. His brother needs SPF 50 applied every 2 hours or he may blister.

The actual child I am referring to in this post is not one of the ones I gave birth to. There are a lot of people who refer to their pets as their children and I've come to realize that I am one of them. I don't usually refer to my dog as my child, but I certainly treat him as if he were one of my children at times. I think I may have noticed the parent/child type relationship when I would ask things of other people that at I once I asked about my children. "Did he poop today? Was it diarrhea?" Naturally, if he did have diarrhea I would have to keep him home from daycare. Yes you read that right...I take him to daycare to "socialize" him while we are away from home. Whatever. I haven't gotten to the point of throwing him a birthday party or anything. I do love to entertain though...OK, I did consider it briefly and I can't rule it out in the future quite frankly. At the present time my dog/child is weighing 95lbs, at age one. I know about the dog years crap, but I can't refer to him as being seven. He has been alive for one year, and he is the size of a small adult human. This combination doesn't always work the well, especially now that I am his "owner" and I should be able to control whatever he does. 

When we first got him he was out of control. He would run and knock down small children...and small adults. The first thing we did was have him neutered to help control all the humping, however he was still full of energy and obsessed with other dogs. I would try to walk him to get some of the energy out, but it turns out that the lady he peed on in the pet store was right; a harness promotes pulling. We got him in November and there was snow and ice on the ground all winter. I seriously considered wearing a helmet to walk him because he would run toward anyone he saw. I decided my course of action to "control" this would be to take him to obedience training. When I told my mother I would be bringing the kids to these classes also, she misunderstood and thought I would bring the children so they could learn to be obedient. We laughed for a while...then brainstormed about how profitable an actual obedience school for children could be.

DISCLAIMER: Before you leave a crazy comment about how terrible I am...thinking that children should be obedient and blah, blah, blah. I'm joking. We didn't actually consider starting an obedience school for children. That said, if someone does happen to become profitable at doing such a thing, let the record show...you heard it here first. Also, I am in a Judge Free Zone here. Advice is welcome, I have a suggestion box that can be used for highly opinionated views about what I am doing incorrectly as a parent. I call it my 'Bitch Please' bin. I am also trying to go green with it so I recycle the craziest advice to other mothers so they will not ask for any more help from me.

The first obedience class I brought him to, the children did not attend. The way that class went I may have had a nervous breakdown if I had brought them. My puppy was one of the youngest, yet one of the biggest, and apparently the one in desperate need of obedience. He barked constantly and pulled me around so much when we got there that the owner of the place put us in a little office by ourselves, almost like a time out. While we were in there I tried to get him to look at me and just asked "Why? Why are you doing this and making a spectacle of yourself and....well...me?" It reminded me of the times I was out with my two year old children and they would flip out in a full blown tantrum in the middle of the supermarket. In a familiar way I was looking at the people around me and apologizing as if I somehow had actual control of this scene.

The children joined me for the second class. I debated all day on whether or not to go. I was going to have to try and control this puppy while also trying to keep my kids focused on what they needed to do. At the suggestion of the trainer I brought lots of treats for the puppy. It definitely worked because he did not take his eyes off me the whole class, doing whatever I asked to get a treat. I then realized how much he was like me. Responding to food...and hairy. I then took notes on how I could get this dog to do whatever I desired by offering him food and put it in my business plan for the child obedience school...What?

Turns out we ended up dropping out of obedience classes. I don't need him to be obedient. He just needs for me to be fun, and active, and enjoy having him with us and he responds. He's like a child that way. He loves to be walked and almost seems to ask when he stands at the garage door and looks through it at his leash. When I don't really feel like it, I still try to force myself to go, because I know he needs the exercise, and it sure as hell isn't going to kill me to get some. He makes me walk in the rain, he gets me to run. He gets me to take a few minutes to clear my head . He brings me to places like this;

My kids do this too, when they bring me a book and sit, snuggled up against me, while I read. Sometimes when I have a million things running through my head in the car, they will yell for me to turn up the radio...and I do...and we sing at the top of our lungs without a care for a few minutes. My family reminds me to live every once in a while. This family now includes an additional, giant, hairy child.




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You Just Got Served

People in the service industry are probably on the fast track to sainthood. Especially waiters and waitresses. These people put up with unbelievable amounts of crap and ignorance from the general public without the ability to tell them off. It should be mandatory that people who frequent restaurants have to wait on a table at least once, just to see how not to treat their servers. Since the birth of the phrase "the customer is always right" people with jerk-like tendencies have had the ability to bloom into full blown assholes.

We don't go out to eat much. When we do it's to places that have crayons for the elaborate mazes and puzzles on the place mats, and that include ice cream with the kid's meals so I can bribe them reward them for eating. If I do go out with just my husband, I find myself fighting the urge to order for him, cut his steak into tiny pieces, and applauding when he finishes all his food. Whenever we are out I always hear people being so rude to their waiter or waitress. I heard one woman tell her waitress "Every time we come here the food is terrible". Really? I wanted her to reply with something like "Oh, so you didn't feel like cooking tonight and decided to come to a place that has food you don't like? Don't let the door hit you on your lazy ass on the way out". Instead she had to apologize to this miserable bitch for no reason. Then there are those people who don't like the way the food is cooked and flip out on their servers for it. They don't cook the food jerk off, they just bring it to you.

I think it should be a requirement that these people watch the movie "Waiting". I guarantee that they will change their tune when they see why one line in that movie is good to take note of; "Don't fuck with the people that handle your food". Maybe the visual of their steak being repeatedly dropped on the floor, or someone having inappropriate relations with their garlic bread, will aide them in not being a total tool to their server.

I actually caused a waiter to inadvertently suffer the whining and moaning of a patron due to the behavior of my four year old son. I brought him out for lunch, and the hostess sat us right near an elderly couple. He was actually pretty well behaved. Sure, he was a little antsy while we were waiting for our food. He bounced around in his seat a little. He talked rather loudly. He went under the table a couple of times (once he emerged chewing gum; guess where he got it and insert dry heave here). Occasionally he would peek behind him over at the couple in the next both. Apparently this was completely inappropriate for an establishment that has menus that resemble PlayStation controllers. I'm not ageist or anything but this old bird was clearly of the grumpier variety. The woman started snickering and staring at me. She was saying things like "People don't know how to control their kids" and "Our kids never acted that way". Yeah, maybe because you were allowed to beat them with belts and wooden paddles. She's lucky I respect my elders because I was seconds away from getting up...hand and head waving yelling "You got somethin to say to me?"
When her waiter came she started demanding that he move them, and their food, to another table. She didn't want to say why, and the manager got involved thinking it had to do with their server. Luckily for me, they didn't move very far...and... my son has no filter. He must have sensed that I was having some ill feeling toward the couple because almost as if on cue he said (well practically yelled) "Wow mom, that lady is REALLY FAT!", while pointing at the woman. It took everything I had not to laugh. I usually reprimand him for such an act, but instead I whipped out the ice cream menu and let him have his pick; he deserved it.

I need a place to dine that caters to families, but it isn't just about the kids. It would be a cross between Chuck E Cheese and Hooters (minus only hot female severs; the mommies like a little eye candy too). The menu would cover everything from shrimp, and filet to a hot dog shaped like an octopus. Each table would have a waiter and a waitress; the waitresses will "cater" to the daddies, acting as if, had they been single, they would have a chance; and the waiters would come to collect the dishes and say things like "let me take those for you...I love to wash dishes. I also enjoy doing the laundry and vacuuming". A girl can dream, right? If he asked me if I needed anything else I would say "Yeah, why don't you come home with us, get the kids ready for bed, and read them a book. Oh, and don't let them near our room...I'm going to play a game with their daddy" What?...That's not out of line...the customer is always right!

The MOTHER of Invention

"Necessity is the mother of invention". I hear that all the time. But I can't help but think that the word "mother" in this is no coincidence.  As a mom I find many inventions to be definite necessities. If they hadn't been invented I'm sure I would have thought of them myself, and would now be a millionaire (Well, I would have thought of them, and then watched someone else with the mental capacity make them). I have no doubt that a mom invented many of the things I take for granted today. Had they not been around, I would have numerous contributions to the website Shit My Kids Ruined.com. The Facebook group has 16,000 members, all of which have most likely had submissions. When the kids are quiet, they are probably doing something you would rather have them not doing. It really sucks because it's nice to have some quiet time. The down side is your "break" doesn't last long before you are snapping out of it like you were having a dream that you're falling and immediately start shouting "Freeze! Whatever you are doing... stop right now!" as you run to find the disaster.

I received a phone call from my husband once that went a little like this:

Hubby: "Guess what your son did?" (quick note: I also refer to them as your sons when they misbehave)
Me: "Oh, no...."
Hubby: "He found a permanent marker"
Me: "Oh, no...."
Hubby: "He drew a line around the whole perimeter of his brother's room"
Me: "Oh, no...."
Hubby: "AND he drew on his crib, and the hardwood floor"
Me: "OH, NO!...."
Hubby: "and on his brother"
Me: "Son of a bitch!"

(Imagine how the conversation sounded to my co-workers that only heard my side of this conversation)

I headed to the store on my home from work. I'm not sure what I was looking for to clean "permanent" marker, but I was sure that a mom out there had this happen, and created something that would do the job. Perhaps it was called "Cleaner For Shit Your Kid Ruined". While looking, I found something called the "Magic Eraser". Why not? I'll try this little magical gadget. Let me add; whoever came up with this, I would love to find them, and kiss them. I'm aware that I think it's another mother, but...go ahead guys, have a visual.

When I got home I gave my new find to my husband and told him to get to work. Besides, it happened on his watch. To our surprise it worked! I wondered how I had gotten along to this point without owning stock in this thing. I'll admit I briefly entertained the idea of using it to clean the son that had been "decorated" with the marker. I was a little leery so I "googled it" (I figured a mom out there had tried it, and wrote about). Turns out, it's a bad idea. It will take off the marker, but it also takes a layer of skin with it. A bath did the trick. As I scrubbed him in the tub and washed his hair using "tear free" shampoo (also undoubtedly invented by a mother) I thought Thank goodness for the internet! I wonder if a mom invented that too...

I found myself in awe of all the "mothers" of invention. They must have come up with so many of the concepts for things I needed everyday...stain resistant carpet, non-toxic crayons, dishwashers, coffee, alcohol (wine, in particular)...I could go on and on.

Cloning may have been the idea of a mom, I mean who wouldn't want a replica of themselves? I was thinking the other day that if you add the amount of weight I gained while pregnant and subtract the weight I am now, I've lost a whole person while dieting (Dieting was NOT invented by a mom). That's really unfortunate in a way because I could really use that bitch around here from time to time to help me keep an eye on these kids!