G Monkey « True Story

{January 7, 2012} Lazy good for nothing… Roll Tide!

True Story: I have been a bad, bad girl.

I have not been blogging like I should. But I have been writing. I’ve been working and editing a new script with Ex-Pump, selling real estate, and working on getting everything the distributor for Prairie Love needs. We are available on Video on Demand this month. Very exciting. Rent it!

Also, been doing lots O Mommy. The Monkey has been out of school for a year and a half (seems like). How come when I was a kid winter break was like a week. His Daddy went to the North Pole for Christmas, so it has just been me and the Monkey. Good thing it was nice and warm during the holidays. We went to the beach, park or indoor pool almost every afternoon.

There you have it: My excuses for not posting blogs lately. Otherwise know as bullsh*t. A writer writes Damn it. Excuse me for a minute while I go in the closet and whip myself ala’ priest in the Scarlet Letter style.

I also posted today to tell you I will not be blog posting over the next few days. This is planned laziness.

I will be in Nawlinz roaming the streets horse from yelling Roll Tide!

If you live under a rock, or just purposessly know nothing about Sports, you might not know that LSU and Alabama are meeting up Monday night in New Orleans for REMATCH, the SEQUEL, Part DEAUX.

Well, I am headed over there as we speak. My suitcase holds the following:

Saint’s jersey, layers of obnoxious Alabama parqaphanelia, and a tiny, over the shoulder purse to hold money, phone & ID.

My liver is rested, and I lost 3 lbs, so I can eat well… Oh who am I kidding, I’m going to be eating cart food. There is not a seat left in the house nor a room at the inn people… REMATCH ROLL TIDE!.

I have been an Alabama fan my whole life. My step dad took me to the games. I had heard of Auburn but all I knew of was Alabama football.

When I entered the University of Alabama as a student in 1994 they were still high on the 1992 chanpionship they had wom under Coach Gene Stallings. It was awesome.

Then, came the “probabtion years”. Not cool. I don’t know how that happened? College Football is as pure as the driven snow.

Old friends have said the last few years, I didn’t know you were such a strong Alabama fan?

Answer: Always have been. I remember getting in a fight in the lunchroom in school over who was better Alabama or Auburn. I didn’t really know what a football play was, who the players were, or even the Coach’s name, but I knew you were a dumbass if you weren’t for Alabama. You see people, this is how we raise ’em down here.

The probabtion years were tough, and I lived out of the south 8 years. But now that I am back, and we happen to have an awesome team, I’m a huge fan. Come on, it’s fun to win.

Here’s the real joke.

My son should be a Bama fan by birth. There is only 1 Auburn fan in my family, my brother in law. G Monkey doesn’t see him all that much so I don’t think it is his influence that is steering my son to the dark side.

True Story: His preschool had an IRON BOWL DAY.

They had a pep rally and put the kids in a section of the auditorium according to clothes they were wearing. Of course I dressed my son in an ALBAMA sweatshirt.

I was dumbfounded to find out that he had pitched a fit and the teachers had to take him out of class to find out what was wrong.

Apparently, “He pulls for AUBURN”. That’s what he told them. He was so upsaet he had to disrupt the entire program and be replaced under the AUBURN banner at school.

Clearly, someone in his family is doing me a dis-service. I’m not naming names, his father & grandmother, but someone is sending my kid down the wrong path, and it has to be stopped.

Exibit A, he was given an AUBURN shirt and hat for Christmas this year.

Excuse me! You people are from the North Dakota, why are you participating in our SEC battle?!?! It is hard not to take it personally.

True Story: G Monkey lives in Orange Beach, Auburn.

Leaving the library the other day I asked the Monkey where he lived. He said, “Orange Beach, Auburn”.

Me: Alright, that’s ENOUGH. No Sir, you do not. You live in Orange Beach, ALabama. Auburn is not a state. it is a stupid school and town. Get with the program kid.

True Story: I got Auburn Legacy too.

My 2nd cousin was the quarter back during AUBURN’S 1957 National Championship. Last year he got to carry the crystal football to the 50 yard line when Auburn (Cam) won.

If Alabama wins Monday night I get to tell G Monkey that the great state of Auburn has won the BCS Championship 3 years in a row.

{November 2, 2011} Monkey Lately

True Story: It’s like Chelsea Lately but PG 13.

My son didn’t say a word until well into 2 years of age. We were concerned for a while. Not anymore. He is a total social butterfly now, and will walk up to any kid or grown up and say whatever is on his mind.

He is still not one of those kids that is constantly chattering though. He will be quiet and thoughtful for hours at a time in a car ride. It’s quite lovely actually.

Lately when he says something or discusses something it has been insanely amusing for myself and others close to him. He’s just been brilliant lately, if I do say so myself. I try to write them all down to share, as I assume we all love that “kid’s say the darndest things.” The following are just a few off the top of my head.

1) He picked out the best Pumpkin in the whole world the other day at the pumpkin patch. Well, that’s what he said. I didn’t think it was all that great, but I see nothing wrong with a beauty is in the eye of the beholder lesson.

He does not want to cut him open and he named him “Charles Jack-o-lantern Anna”. The pumpkin is male by the way. He gave him his personal first name of Charles. Not sure about the last name other than he goes to school with a lot of double-named, southern young ladies.

He held the pumpkin in his lap all the way home, and I over heard him say, “I love you Charles Jack-o-lantern Anna.”

2) Speaking of nicknames, G Monkey has begun nick-naming everything. It is to the point now that, when handed off between his father and grandparents and I, we need a glossary.

Chocolate milk = Sta

Water = Umbrella

Pop Tarts = R’s

Mommy = Moe

Famous = Enie

Daddy – Drode

Grilled Cheese = Grilled Abby Singer (that’s our dog, the Demanding Paw)

Ma’am Juli = Wubee

3) He saw a picture of Pink in a magazine with an exposed pregnant belly.

GM: Mommy, what is that?

Me: Pink.

GM: What’s wrong with her?

Me: She has a baby in her belly.

He grabs his stomach.

GM: I don’t want a baby in my belly.

Me: Oh, don’t worry baby, you’re not ever going to have one… You were in my belly though, before you were born.

He considers this.

GM: I’m too big now to fit through your mouth.

Me: Yes. This is true.

A couple of weeks later he said out of the blue, “Mommy, I don’t like Pink.”

True Story: Hello, my name is Ashley, and my son eats his boogers.

4) I have tried everything. Taking away privileges, explaining to him that it is gross and he will get sick. He just won’t stop.

The other night lying in bed we were reading his favorite book. He picked a booger. I closed the book.

Me: Son, I am not going to read with you if you don’t stop eating boogers.

G Monkey held his hand out to me, and looked so confused by my problem with his habit.

GM: But, Mommy, don’t you want just one bite?

I laughed very hard at his earnestness.

Today I caught him in the rearview mirror picking and eating. I said, “Son, please stop eating boogers. It is disgusting.”

GM: But I can’t Mommy. I have to do it. I will never stop.

After a moment…

GM: Can I have one teeny tiny bite please?

Well, at least it’s not drugs.

True Story: G Monkey has my back.

5) Last time GM and I were at my Mom’s house it was suppressingly hot out and I had mistakenly taking the monkey and my nephew to a park. We lasted about 4 minutes at the park and were about to die of heat stroke. I got them something to drink and headed back to my Mom’s house. Mom had recently moved to a new house and had it all sheened out for a party she was hosting.

After the park, the boys were leaning on the back door as I fumbled with the key. They were hot and exhausted. When the lock clicked open they fell into the door, which subsequently slammed into the wall of the new house and made a nice door knob size hole in the wall.

Me: Oh no.

GM: What Mommy? What is it?

Me: We’re in trouble. We made a hole in the wall.

Nephew: Who did it? Who is in trouble?

Me: Me.

GM: No Mommy. It’s fine. Look, I’ll just put my hand over it and cover it up. See, nobody is in trouble.

He stood there with his sweet little hand covering the hole.

Me: Don’t worry about it. It’s okay. You can go play.

An hour and half later my Mom walks in the door. Immediately, G Monkey stops what he’s doing and runs to the hole in the wall and stands there with his hand over it. It was so sweet and cute, I had to go ahead and rat myself out so he could go back to playing.

True Story: My nephew was planning on throwing me under the bus.

One final Monkey Moment.

Whenever we are out of any of G Monkey’s necessities (R’s, Sta, etc…) I will say, “we need to go to the store and get you some more.”

True Story: G Monkey calls any adult beverage beer.

He was throwing something in the garbage can the other day and saw an empty wine bottle.

GM: Mommy, you are out of your beer. We need to go to the store. You NEED it.

Me: It’s okay Son. I’ll get some next time.

GM: No Mommy, you NEED it.

True Story: How does he know?

{October 24, 2011} Disney World – The Final Word

True Story: I forgot the most important part.

Driving home I asked G Monkey what his FAVORITE part about Disney World was.

GM: Playing with leaves.

Me: Awesome. We got leaves at the house.

True Story: Santa’s gathering a pile of leaves for Christmas.

{October 21, 2011} Disney World

True Story: G Monkey took his first trip to Disney World.

In no particular order:

1) I broke 2 toes.

Now as the mother of a 40 pound 4-year-old boy I walk around daily with separated ribs, a broken nose, and many other injuries.

The toes were attacked by furniture.

There was an oddly placed chair in the living room of our condo that wanted a piece of me. I broke 2 toes on it very soon after arriving. Then bumped the other foot, my knee and my hip. Dad moved it after that.

2) It took the Monkey until his last day in his last 30 minutes in one of the parks to walk up to a character by himself and ask for an autograph. That would be miss Minnie Mouse.

The first character we tried, Goofy, who is one of his favorites, he had a small melt down. When we finally made it to the top of the autograph line he had chocolate all over him from a power bar and I had to let several people go in front of us while I cleaned him up.

Then, once clean, it is our turn again. Now he has the last half of the power bar in his mouth and refuses to swallow. He just won’t budge and won’t swallow. I just about lost my mind. I had been waiting in this line for at least 30 minutes, sweating, and now he has chocolate soup seeping out of his mouth. Not only is this gross but it makes it difficult to understand what he wants when he just stomps and points.

Then, he finally swallows the food, but sits on the ground and points for me to go get the autograph, which I do.

THEN, after getting out of line, he decides he could maybe hug Goofy if I was holding him.

I thought they were going to call security on us.

So, you can imagine by the last day it was the sweetest thing to hear him say, “Excuse me Minnie Mouse, could I have your autograph please”. I was going to kick her ass if she was mean to him.

No need. Minnie’s a sweetheart.

One thing that led up to the more assertiveness with the characters on G Monkey’s part, was a breakfast that he and I had with Mickey, Pluto, Lilo and Stich.

2 observations here:

a) I realize they probably have about 50 “cast members” that play each character. They would have to to have them in so many locations and give them all pee and smoke breaks. But I would think they would have someone with a little more giddy-up playing Pluto. He’s a dog for God’s sake. He may even be a puppy. This “Pluto” that came to our table was dragging a leg. He might have been as old as Walt Disney himself.

b) Stitch kissed Mommy on the head and squeezed my shoulders just a few hundred times too many for this Momma.

3) At the end of one very long day as we road back to the parking lot on the ferry boat the Monkey began to whine. We were all very tired and our dogs were barking and the last thing we wanted to hear was, “I don’t waaaaant to go home. I don’t waaaaant to do that. Whaaa. Whaaa. Whaaaa.”

So Dad and the Ma’am and I started whining too.

“I waaaant a cocktail.”

“Whaaaa, I want my money back.”

“I want to kick my shoes off and never sweat again. Whaaa. Whaaa. Whaaa.”

If you can’t beat em’, join em’.

4) We stayed off Disney property in a nice timeshare condo that my brother very generously donated. It was 1 mile from Disney World. I repeat 1 mile.

We got lost every single day coming and going. It’s a trap down there.

5) On the 7 hour car trip home G Monkey and I sat in the back of the school bus. This is what we call my Dad’s Tahoe. We were in bucket seats, as you are in a school bus, so it was very hard for me to “hold you” when G Monkey wanted to be held.

The following are excerpts from the conversations that went on between G Monkey and I while I tried to read.

GM: Aaaaaahhhhhhh!!! Sorry, I just screaming.

Me: Please don’t scream in the car.

GM: Aaaahhhhhhh!!! Sorry, I just kidding.

Me: Practice whistling.

GM: Mommy, What does ”A” plus ”T” equal?

Me: Oh, well that’s easy. It’s “Q”. Everybody knows that.

(This game goes on for at least 2 hours. Him asking me similar algebra questions. He may have dipped into some trig as well.)

Well, he is definitely asking the wrong person as I can not do 3rd grade word problems. I do not know what happens when the train leaves the station.

GM: Mommy.

Me: Yes.

GM: I want to call you Momma.

Me: Okay. Whatever you want.

True Story: He has not called me Momma one time yet. I am still waiting.

{August 31, 2011} North Alabama Vacation

True Story: I live in LA.

That would be lower Alabama. But, I was raised in North Alabama, therefore I can make fun of it later on.

G Monkey was out of school for 3 weeks and I needed to be in North AL 3 weekends in a row, so we decided to take a little 10 day North AL walkabout.

Things that happened:

1) Dog Boy

The Monkey and I, along with some family, camped for about a week on Lookout Mountain, in the northeast corner of the state. Not tent camping, but relaxing in the woods in cabins camping. For most of the time we had 4-5 dogs and 3 small kids with us.

What used to transpire on these trips to Mentone, AL, was long lazy naps and 1-handed Champagne croquet. Now, with motherhood, what transpires is the following:

I am in the cook house which is sort of like the “living room” cabin of the property where everyone gathers. I look out the front door on to the path leading up to the door and see my 4-year-old son standing there with a dog leash clipped to his shirt and his pants at his ankles. Hmm, I think. I should probably investigate this.

I stand to look out, and am not very happy to see a very large, human turd behind him on the ground. That’s right. I don’t know any other way to describe it.

Me: Monkey, WHAT are you doing?

G Monkey: Being a dog… I go poopy on the ground like the dogs.

Me: NO YOU DO NOT.

I look around for anything… Anybody to blame this on. There are dogs around but there is no hiding what this really is. It’s also right in the human walk path.

I consider for a moment kicking or throwing it into the bushes. Fertilizer right?

I decide that is not moral. Where is a husband around when you need one?

UGH!!!! What else to do? I grab a LARGE wad of paper towels and the “thing” in one hand (I can’t bring myself to type that other word again), and my son’s hand in the other.

I drag him across the property with his pants around his ankle. He is trying to quick run with his little legs to keep up with me.

I run into the big cabin where a bathroom is. My stepmom is blow drying her hair in the bathroom. I run into the room very quickly shouting over and over, “I’ve got a situation here. I’ve got a situation”.

She doesn’t say a word, just puts the hairdryer down and walks out.

Oh, good times.

2) Dog Boy #2

Only G Monkey and I, and about 4 dogs are on the property. Everyone else had gone out for a little while. I was feeding the Monkey his lunch in the cook house when all of a sudden I hear a man yelling, “HEY! HEY! STOP! JAKE!”.

I step out the back door just in time to see a Jack Russell stop suddenly in front of me. I reached out to snag his collar as it occurs to me that this might be “Jake”. Just as I got an inch from him he took off again.

A few seconds later his human daddy came running by, “Did you see a dog?” he panted breathlessly.

Me: Yes, I just missed him. Sorry…

Before I could get it out Doggy Daddy was off again.

Me: He went up that hill.

I pointed up a thickly wooded hill, well, small mountain really.

As the man runs up the hill all I hear are desperate, painful, wailing cries, “JAKE! STOP! OH HE’S GONE!”

I thought, man this guy is serious about it.

A few minutes later a car pulls onto the property. A woman gets out with a leash and some dog treats. I walk down to her. She looks at me desperately. I point up the hill.

Me: They are up there.

She begins yelling at her son up the hill, trying to help.

He wails back, “Forget it Mom, he’s gone. He’s GONE!”.

She looks at me with a tear in her eye, “I just left the door open for a minute and he was gone. They just came up for the afternoon, oh what are we going to do?”

Me: It’s okay. He will come back.

Mom: No, no you don’t know this dog.

For about 10 more minutes I console this woman and her husband who had by now driven up. The entire time we are listening to sobs from on top of the hill.

Dog Daddy finally appears out of the woods. He is missing a flip-flop, sweating, crying and has scratches on his face from running blindly through the woods.

Me: Listen, our dogs run up those hills all the time. He’ll come back. It’s hot as hell. He’ll come down for water or food or to hang with our dogs.

Dog Daddy (wiping tears): No he won’t. He’s gone. You don’t know this dog. It’s over.

He stomps off down the road with one flip-flop. Not only is he a cry baby but he’s a bit of a brat as well. Did I mention this guy is about my age, 35 maybe.

His mom yells after him and he whips his arm back at her to leave him alone and continues the pout walk.

I exchange numbers with Mom and Dad and tell them not to worry, I’ll return the dog if I see him.

True Story: 5 minutes, maybe. Might have been 3 minutes after they leave the property, I look over and lo and behold if it isn’t little Jake sitting there panting like crazy from his romp through the woods.

I said, “Hey Jake, want some water?” He follows me to our community dog water bowl while I slip a leash on his collar.

I grab G Monkey and tell him we are about to go make someone very happy. The 3 of us, me, Jake, and the Monkey head down the road to a cabin “Mom” had told me they were staying.

We get about half way there when an SUV pulls over suddenly in front of me and blocks traffic on the entire road. Dog Daddy hops out of the car, still crying, and goes,”No way. NO WAY. God bless you. Oh, wow, thank you so much.” He gives me a sort of sweaty, tearful hug. I told him no problem, as I know how dogs can be.

In my head I thought, “Good Lawd, get a grip.”

So later on I tell the rest of the crew this story when they get back.

I had also mentioned earlier in the day that today was a full moon, and supposed to be one of the sweetest ones of the year. Also, I might mention, my horoscope said it would be my most romantic time of the year. I didn’t really see how this was going to work out for me as I was camping in the woods with my family.

I know what you’re thinking. Well, you are in Alabama. When in Rome, right?

My Dad decides that this has to be full Moon fate. It has to be:

1) My dad has the same first name as the Doggy Daddy. 2) Jake is my dad’s alter ego’s name. 3) It’s a full Moon. 4) The dog was a Jack Russel just like my dog, the Demanding Paw.

My answer?

I’m way more of a man than that dude is.

True Story: There are more stories and observations from North Alabama Vaca to come later. But I am too dog pooped to type them right now. Pun intended.

{August 22, 2011} Tuesdays with Monkey

True Story: Last Tuesday was Docky Doc Day. (That is Van Coulianese for “the Doctor”).

The Monkey and I had a good morning. I worked on my computer while he watched some boob tube. They were discussing hair color on some show he was watching.

Me: Monkey, what color is your hair?

GM: Brown.

Me: What color is Mommy’s?

GM: Greasy.

Me: Allrighty, then.

I took a shower.

It is 4-year-old check up day. I really like our pediatrician. He has 3 kids, the youngest being 1 week older than G Monkey, and he worked for 11 years at Birmingham children’s Hospital’s ER. We have not been to see him since our 3-year-old check up, which is awesome and we know how blessed we are.

G Monkey suffers from a common preschool age illness of molluscum bumps. Many of you parents may know what they are, small wart like bumps caused by a virus that lasts normally between 12-18 months. They usually go away on their own. I knew what they were and was waiting on the 4-year-old check up to deal/treat them.

Talking with G Monkey about the check up for 4 days leading up to it, he told me several times a day, “Mommy, I want to keep my bumps”.

True Story: About 6 months ago the monkey and I held a baby kangaroo at the zoo.

He tells me the day before the docky doc visit that he wants to go to the zoo and to his kangaroos.

I say sure, hating that he has to get shots I think we probably have time for a quick run around the zoo and to hold the baby kangaroos before our doctor’s appointment.

We have a famous small zoo in Gulf Shores, AL. It has been featured on the Animal Planet as the only zoo that has had to completely evacuate all animals 3 times due to hurricanes. I love the little zoo, but also fear for our lives every time we are there. It just looks like the tigers could jump out of their rickety cages at any moment and eat us, but are choosing to be polite.

I don’t know why I showered before we headed to the zoo. $35 later and 2 minutes after arriving I was dripping in sweat. I normally only “zoo” or play putt putt October through March, but this was a special situation. Anywho, of course I have to drag him around in a $4 cart they conveniently place by the pay counter and buy $2 worth of nasty dog food to feed the goats with.

I am hurrying through the zoo mainly because I am about to ignite, and we are running out of time to hold the kangaroos. I don’t do reptiles. You may remember this from a previous post titled amphibians, so I purposefully run past the snake house.

GM: Mommy, you missed the snakes.

Me: I know.

GM: Uh, uh. We have to see them.

Me: Grrrr.

Snakes done, I continue running through the zoo. I keep telling the monkey we got to get to the kangaroos so we can get to Docky Doc on time.

I finally pull up to the kangaroos looking like I just stepped out of the gulf of Mexico in my clothes.

GM: No, Mommy. Not these kangaroos… Kangaroos!

WTF?

“Kangaroos” is a warehouse filled with jumpy things. I stupidly did not make the connection before that that was what he meant. Had I, I probably wouldn’t have had to stop off on the way to the doctor’s office at a truck stop for a 2nd shower.

I don’t “do” Kangaroos. I think those jumpy houses and obstacle courses are dangerous, claustrophobic, nasty and potential death traps. Especially when the big kids run over your little kid the whole time.

Every time G Monkey brings up Kangaroos I tell him he needs to talk to his Daddy.

Now you learn in the required Divorce Transparenting class that you are not to use your kid to get back at your ex-spouse.

Examples: 1) When weaning your toddler from passy don’t hand the child off to Daddy for the weekend and purposefully not include said passy in the diaper bag, so that Daddy has a wailing kid at bedtime. Nor, do you, 2) knowing that Mother has forbidden motorcycles from teenage son, buy him a brand new crotch rocket.

I have no intention of acting that way, OR going to Kangaroos. So, of course, I had to tell Ex-Pump when I dropped the monkey off later that afternoon, that the Docky Doc visit went well, and “Oh, by the way, you need to make a tent tonight and you are going to Kangaroos tomorrow. Sorry.”

Before that conversation, G Monkey and I leave the Zoo and head to the Docky Doc. It is a 25 minute drive. The entire time he repeated, “Mommy, Mommy, I want to keep my bumps. Okay, Mommy. I want to keep my bumps”.

Me: Son, you can have your bumps. The doctor is going to check other things besides your bumps.

GM: Okay, I’ll take a deep breath and then I can keep my bumps.

True Story: We arrive at Docky Doc’s.

He told the check in lady, the nurse and the Docky Doc that he wanted to keep his bumps.

He is climbing all over Docky Doc while we are discussing his behavior.

GM: Docky Doc, are you talking about me?

DD: Yes.

GM: I want to keep my bumps.

When he got his shots he screamed out, “Mommy, I hurt myself!”.

We walked out of the office and he says,”That was a great time”.

True Story: Just your average Tuesday with Monkey.

{June 28, 2011} Mommy & Me Summer

True Story: Summer School is only 2 days a week. Oh, how do we fill the days???

Swimming Lessons:

Ex-Pump took G Monkey the 1st day. Which I thought was best as he is a Momma’s boy. I thought it might be less tragic if his Daddy took him. He calls his Daddy Mommy anyway, so it was all good.

I asked him on the way home from school that day how it went.

G Monkey: It was okay Mommy. My teacher is a girl. I cried because I had to do bobs. Mommy, I don’t like some Bobs.

Me: Will you go back?

G Monkey: Yes, but I don’t like some bobs.

The next morning the first thing out of his mouth was, “Mommy,um, I don’t like some bobs”.

Me: I know Baby, but we all have to do things we don’t like to in order to learn. They are trying to teach you to swim.

We get to swim class. As he is changing into his swim trunks and heading out there, a continuous flow of “I don’t like some Bobs” comes out of his mouth. Everyone he sees or runs into, he tells them.

He does well in the class. But Every time the teacher tells him to do something he says, “Is this a bob?”

Movies:

Movies with the Monkey. These are always interesting.

G Monkey likes to act things out when he is watching them. So there are a few rules to taking him to a movie.

1) We can only go to the very first movie of the day when there are not many people there.

2) He likes to get a small popcorn and a “smoothie”. Did you know they make sugar smoothies at the movie theater? Some people call them icees.

3) We have to sit in the handicap area so he has room to run around and swing on the bars.

True Story: The last movie we went to I said, “Be quiet son. Use your inside voice. Other people are trying to watch the movie too.”

G Monkey: But I have to yell. I can’t want to talk quiet. I like to TALK LOUD.

True Story: We leave most movies early.

The Animals:

G Monkey has about 30 stuffed animals/characters that he plays with all the time and acts out stories and episodes of children’s television and videos. The animals are a huge part of our daily life. We talk about them a lot.

G Monkey: Mommy, But what about my an-i-malsssssss? Mommy, where are my animals? Mommy, I want to play with my animals. Mommy, I am missing one of my animals.

Sometimes the animals have to travel with us. This is when I put my foot down and say, “not all of them. Pick out only enough to fit in 1 plastic sack”. I can’t haul grocery sacks full of animals everywhere. 1st of all, I’m lazy, and 2nd of all, I look like an idiot everywhere I go as it is.

The worst part is when one goes missing. I have no idea how he knows who is missing. Sesame street characters, dinosaurs, large pink bears, and Mickey Mouse clubhouse characters all live together in Grayland. It really complicates things when one of them takes a mini vaca under the couch.

PJs:

I am waiting on children’s services to call any day now because my son refuses to wear anything but Pajamas all the time. Which he calls “My PJayz”. Many times I give in, but not to school. It is a battle every morning to get him into regular clothes.

The minute he walks in the house with regular clothes on, whether it is 10am or 8pm he peels off his clothes and puts PJs on.

He absolutely can not play with his “animals” in anything but PJs. Why would you even suggest something like that.

See photo attached. Circa 2011, 115 degrees outside

True Story: Since he likes to announce things like “Mommy, my penis is standing up” very loudly, I am a little nervous about going to the Library.

{June 18, 2011} The Rite Aid

True Story: Only in the south would a lady in her 50s explain going #2 to me.

So I am standing in line at the pharmacy counter for a prescription at Rite Aid the other day. G Monkey is running around the store with a 4 pack of toilet paper yelling, “I love toilet paper” over and over. The pharmacist assistant is trying to check out someone in front of me while trying to suppress her laughter at G Monkey.

What??? She’s never seen a kid that loves toilet paper before. At least he doesn’t loves snakes or faberge eggs. Saves me a lot of head ache that it is just soft paper he loves.

It looks like it’s going to be another 10 minutes or so before my scrip is ready. I decided I could go to the restroom and reign G Monkey in to go too.

I turn the door knob to find it locked. This is something the Monkey can’t understand.

G Monkey: (Very loudly) It’s Lock -aah - ocked Mommy.

Me: Yes, that means someone is in there. We have to wait our turn. Go play with the toilet paper some more. I’ll call you when it is our turn.

G Monkey: Ok.

He grabs the toilet paper and runs off.

The bathroom door opens and a middle age, woman, reminiscent of Paula Dean, comes out of the bathroom. She grabs her grocery cart and stands in front of me as her scrip is ready and mine isn’t. About that time G Monkey runs up and grabs my hand and says, “Mommy, let’s go to the bathroom now”.

Paula Dean turns around.

PD: Oh, I am so sorry Honey. I am so sorry. I had to go. Normally I would wait until I got home, but it was bad, and I had to go.

Me: Umm, oh, that’s okay. I understand.

PD: Well, there wasn’t any spray either. I’m so sorry.

My thoughts: Awesome. Thanks lady. I don’t even have a good smeller, but now with the powerful power of suggestion, even if I don’t smell it I am going to feel nose raped by this lady’s business.

G Monkey is tugging on my arm.

G Monkey: Mommy, Mommy, let’s go to the potty.

I look at him and look at this lady. What would you do?

If I tell him no, we can’t go now, she will know I am scared. And, what if he really needs to go? If I go in there I may die, or worse, G Monkey may yell out, “Mommy it stinks like poopy in here”. Everyone in the store already knows he loves toilet paper.

Ya’ll know this is a serious dilemma. At Rite Aid, there is only the 1 bathroom by the pharmacy with the 1 stall.

In the end, I looked at the lady, she looked sheepishly back at me, and we went in.

True Story: In most cases I really believe it is better to ask forgiveness than permission. I wish this lady felt that way.

{May 25, 2011} Sorry. It could be fine

True Story: Well, it could be…

“Sorry, it could be fine,” is G Monkey’s latest phrase and answer whenever I say, “please be careful”.

Examples:

1) Me: Monkey please stop jumping around with that knife in your hand.

G Monkey: Sorry. It could be fine.

Me: Yes, it could be. But it could also be tragic. Do you like stitches and needles?

2) Me: Please don’t stuff that much food in your mouth.

G Monkey: Sorry. It could be fine.

3) Me: You don’t need to pee outside every time the dog does.

G Monkey: Sorry, it could be fine.

Once again I think this is a wonderful phrase to adopt in my life.

Examples:

1) Officer: Ma’am, do you know why I pulled you over?

Me: Sorry. It could be fine.

2) Doctor: Ashley, you are just coming in now???

Me: Sorry. It could be fine.

3) Me: Oh, I forgot to tell you guys, I got married again.

Family: What?!?!

Me: Sorry, it could be fine.

True Story: It really could be fine you guys. Take a hint from the unabashedly, wonderfully, ignorant and hopeful. Think positively. It could be fine.

{February 23, 2011} I know… Be Nice

True Story: 3 year olds are geniuses.

If you even remotely scold G Monkey or ask him if he pooped his pants, his response is, “I know… Be nice”.

I am not sure who taught him that if he would just be “nice” everything else would go away, including dirty undies.

Once again, I have decided to adopt the 3-year-old mindset.

Examples:

1) If I ram somebody’s car with mine: Drive away while yelling “I know… Be nice”.

2) Girl: You are flirting with my man.

Me: I know… Be nice…

Walk away.

3) Bank Teller: You are overdrawn.

Me: I know… Be nice…

Drive away.

True Story:

Mommy: Quit all that. I’m tired of listening to it.

G Monkey: But Mommy… I got my whine-nies….

I think this could apply to many areas of my life as well.

	Mary Susan Slaughter on Shake it up
	paige on Shoes & Dating
	dani parham on Shoes & Dating
	Lori Wescott on Monkey Lately
	Alonnna on The Rite Aid

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