We had an awesome time at the Rice season opener on Friday night. Thanks, Nana and Icky, for such a great evening! Parker, #81, is still talking about it. He has been working on his tackling technique…just ask Matt!
A couple of weeks ago, Parker was watching the Disney Channel as I was cooking dinner. He called me into the room and I could see that he was certainly concerned about something. He pointed to the TV and asked, “Mom, what is that face thing on that boy’s head?”
Oooooh, the humor level of these TV shows. This particular program revolved around some teenaged wizards, and apparently a certain young man had scored a hot date to the school dance only to find – gasp – that a large pimple had erupted onto his forehead on the big day! (is it a requirement for all tween sitcoms to have a pimple episode?) But here is the kicker – this particular pimple had been bewitched by the magical teens, transforming it into a smart-aleck talking face zit. Oh yes, complete with a mustache. You with me?
So poor Parker is beyond confused as the wise-cracking pimple face is ruining the teenaged wizard boy’s special date with the hot chick. Right. But the point is, I had to try and explain to Parker what a pimple is. I try to keep things short and sweet with this kid, because he has a tendency to turn existential on my ass if I give him too much information.
“Parker, sometimes big kids get pimples if they don’t wash their faces and they get too dirty. But pimples don’t normally talk. Or have mustaches.”
He seemed satisfied by this explanation, so I didn’t think much more about it.
Until today. Sigh. As Parker climbed into our bed this morning and began politely demanding bagels with peanut butter, he stopped mid-sentence and I could just see the wheels turning in his little blonde head. He was staring at me in great concentration when suddenly, his eyes went wide and he exclaimed, “Mommy, mommy! Your face is dirty! Mom, you didn’t wash your face!”
(did you see that one coming?)
All day, Parker has remained fascinated with his mother’s, ahem, blemish. He has proudly announced to Matt that I didn’t wash my face and that I have a pimple (“See? See it?”) but not the talking kind like on the wizard show. So thank you, Disney Channel, for introducing my 3-year-old son to facial impurities, more specifically, mine.
And for the record, I DO wash my face. Frequently.
Edited to add: I just did some Google-ing and discovered that the show is Wizards of Waverly Place and that the aforementioned episode was called (you ready for this?) Pop Me and We Both Go Down.
“Justin’s date with the hot new older girl is threatened by a zit that Alex compounds by making it come to life.”
Commence gagging, now.
Why on earth do I get “inspired” to start huge and tedious projects at the most random of times?? I’ve been wanting to paint our bedroom for months, and have had the paint and supplies to do so for several weeks. I do not know what on earth possessed me to bust them out Friday afternoon during that one precious and elusive hour when both of my children were asleep.
Guess how much of a bedroom one woman can paint by herself in one hour? Yeeeeah, not so much. By the time I had laid out a drop cloth, cracked open the paint, patted myself on the back for my amazing motivation, and plunged my roller into the lovely bath of Sherwin Williams Rainwater, Bailey’s “you have exactly 30 seconds to come and get me before I meltdown completely” call blared through the monitor.
Unfazed, I darted upstairs, grabbed the nearest baby carrier, strapped Bailey onto my back, and returned to the task at hand. This is what Supermoms do, right? Feeling even MORE proud of myself, I couldn’t help but swagger a bit as I rolled the fresh, new hue across our wall. Sure, I was having to contort my body a bit to keep baby hands from grabbing at the roller. True, the additional 20 pounds of child were making the “reload your brush” squats downright laborious. But hey, I was DOING this. Knocking it out. Making it happen.
And then Parker woke up. Bless his heart. 99% of the time, I adore having a little boy who loves to help. But I’m going to have to say that this situation decidedly fell into that other 1% of the time. I could see Parker’s fingers twitching as he eyed the beckoning full-to-the-brim gallon of paint. Meanwhile, the mere sight of her big brother sent Bailey into a squirming and kicking frenzy. Surveying the scene at hand, I decided that it was time to close up shop.
So Matt was thrilled that he was able to help me finish painting yesterday. (and by help, I mean that he was on kid-wrangling duty while I slapped the rest of the paint on the walls.) The room is still in complete limbo – furniture askew, former wall hangings piled like land mines – but we’re getting there. I LOVE the new color and am delighted that I finally just did it! Now, to tackle the office…
LOVE the new “cool” look of the room. You did a great job!
I miss Texas football. In California there seems to be a little lack of enthusiasm.
cute.
you look well rested.
adorable thumbs up.
pbo is always so stinkin’ adorable!!