True Story

{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!


“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 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.


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”.


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.


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.


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.

{February 6, 2011}   Poopy and Turtles

True Story:  A grown woman should probably not dream about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

Yet, I did. Which is strange because I never watched the show and it’s been 20 years since I’ve seen one. So, why was my dream the other night filled with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?


True Story:  Still potty training.

So with Mommy and Daddy out of town for 2 weeks at Sundance, G Monkey regressed a little bit with the Nanny and all of the changes he was experiencing.

He still is just too busy to stop and go to the potty for #2. He has videos to watch, animals and trains to play with. There is just no time in the day for excretion and personal hygiene.

So yesterday, I noticed that he needed to go. I grabbed him and put him on the potty.

We had a talk: You’re going to be 4 this year; no more poopy the pants; Mommy’s going to start taking videos away; you know better; I’ll pause your program while you go, yada yada…


Me:  Yea G Monkey! I am so proud of you. You are such a big boy. Give me high-five…. You know what? I am so proud, I think I am going to give you a prize.

G Monkey:  That’s a great idea Mommy. I wonder what it should be? What do you think?

True Story:  I think these kids are on to us…

{January 9, 2011}   Christmas Memories

True Story:  One of my favorite Christmas memories happened this year, during my 35th Christmas.

Fav Memory #1

The weekend before Christmas, Gray and I went up to North Alabama to have Christmas with the family.

We did immediate family night on Friday. We have lots to celebrate at the end of one of the worst years in all our lives. Baby sister got married in November to a great guy, so we got a new bro in law; Mom has a clean bill of health after a health scare; Middle sister and bro in law get to move to a new city with a great new job; And my film got into Sundance. So good Times!

Saturday night we did extended family fun. We have a long tradition of playing Dirty Santa with the extended family on Christmas.

Not that kind of Dirty Santa you dirty birds. I know we are from the south where it is completely acceptable to be “dirty” with your first cousin… But that is not how we roll.

This dirty Santa means you can steal gifts from people.

We are cleaning and putting food out and getting ready for family to show up. Just about the time folks start coming through the door G Monkey comes up to me and says, “there’s something wrong with my pants, Mommy”.

Me:  What do you mean?

G Monkey:  Uh, huh…

I look in his pants… Full on diarrhea everywhere. Nasty!

Me:  Come on. Come on, let’s get to the bathroom, quick.

My niece and nephew have jack and Jill bathrooms. I take Gray to my nephews bathroom. Running in there, I find my nephew and Bro in law washing their hands and looking very frustrated.

J:  We’re in here Ashley.

Me:  Sorry, emergency.

I turn to run the other direction with G Monkey, but have to stop short as I am standing in 2 inches of water.

Me: Hey, What’s this?

I point to the toilet water I am standing in.

J: Oh Sh*t.

Apparently Nephew and his Daddy are still learning about the proper amount of toilet paper use.

Now toilet water was flowing down the hall and into the living room where guests were arriving.

I back track out of there and push G Monkey down to my niece’s side of the bathroom. I precariously take his pants and underwear off. I think I’ve got it all together with no mess, when… Plop. The whole pair of underwear flipped out of my hand and flat on the floor. Gross!

I start yelling for help. J is yelling for help on his end. Both 3-year-olds are just staring at us. All the while I am dry heaving at the distusting-ness of it all.

I yell for help again while I keep G Monkey from touching anything until I can get the floor and toilet cleaned up, and am able to get him in the bath.

My sister runs back and forth to each bathroom bringing disinfectant wipes and towels.

I finally get G Monkey in the bath and we get both bathrooms cleaned up.

We come out sweating to greet our family members.

This is when I announce that this really is my favorite Christmas Memory, and a really special time we should all remember. One of those, make sure “you live in the moment moments”. 

True Side Story:  One of my uncles lives for Dirty Santa. I think he thinks about his Dirty Santa gift for most of the calendar year.

Unfortunately, this year he didn’t think he was going to make the party due to a funeral, and was unable to get a Dirty Santa gift in time.

We knew he wanted to play really badly, so we told him to just go wrap something up.

His gift you wonder?

$30 stuck in a colorectal cancer testing kit… Yes, that’s right. I said a colorectal cancer testing kit. 

Uncle B: This is serious business. You could really use this thing… Sounds to me, like we could go swab those bathroom floors and see if either of these kids is unhealthy.

This is true, we could have. I don’t know how much faith I have in those disinfectant wipes.

Fave Memory #2:

My sweet, sweet, giving and grateful little boy.

I got all my shopping done early this year. G Monkey knew who every present under the tree was for. Every time someone came over to the house that had a gift under the tree he would run and get it for them and say, “You wanna open yo-were present?”

Santa gave G Monkey a Globe, a rocking horse (pogo stick) and a guitar. He comes out Christmas morning and sees what Santa has left.

G Monkey:  Wow, a guitar. Hey, I could use that.

Famous and Ma’am Juwee won the best present award. They gave G Monkey all the Mickey Mouse characters. 8″ Donald, Mickey, Goofy,Pluto, Minnie, and… Hey, Where’s Daisy?

Apparently there was a run on Daisy at Toys R Us.

They had wrapped each character doll in individual boxes. So after a couple of characters G Monkey caught on to the pattern. After he had opened them all but Daisy, he would open every gift after that saying, “Maybe it’s Daisy?” Even if it was clearly a book or a gift for someone else.

I hear he did this with every gift later in the day at his Daddy’s house as well.

He continued this “Maybe it’s Daisy” business for the next couple of weeks. Every time I opened the mail box or unloaded grocery bags, “Maybe it’s Daisy?”

We told G Monkey that Daisy was on a cruise.

Yesterday he was sleepy. It was about 4 o’clock. We were going to change clothes and go to the park. I pulled up to the mailbox to check the mail and guess who popped out???


Yes! She is home from her cruise.

Well, the park was out of the question after that grand surprise. We HAD to play with Daisy… That elusive Ducktress.

True Story: rocks!

{August 29, 2010}   I can’t want it

True Story:  G Monkey speaks Back Asswards.

Please say all of these examples in a whiney voice.

Example #1: I want to carry you!

Translation: Pick me up and walk around with me.

Example #2:  Hold you, please.

Translation:  Hold me.

Example #3:  I can’t poopy my potty.

Translation:  I don’t have to go right now.

And my favorite…

G Monkey:  I can’t want it.

Translation:  I don’t want this. Other translation variations:  I am all done. I don’t want anymore. Not what I had in mind, etc…

My Translation for grown women: 

“I can’t want it” could be your response to the following offers:   

Just one more drink?

How about dessert? 

Brad Pitt?

Translation:  I’m not allowed to have it.

{August 22, 2010}   Holiday Dreaming

True Story:  My son, on any given day, out of the blue, will stop what he is doing and throw his arms in the air and scream, “I want Christmas!”

Me:  Yeah, yeah, yeah, kid, I want a shoe box full of $100s. Wishes and demands are like your bottom, everybody’s got one.

{August 11, 2010}   Boogers

True Story:  These words actually came out of my mouth today.

I was driving and G Monkey was in the back seat with his fingers jammed up his nose.

Me:  Uh, uh, baby, no boogies. We’re going to eat lunch.

True Story:  He is often caught taking boogers from his nose and putting them in his mouth. One day I said, ” No Booogies”, and he screamed, “Ah! I want to eat da Boog-ers”!

et cetera