Tag Archives: parenting expert

No One is Immune to Peek-a-Boo | Jenny From the Blog

Jenny From the Blog goes beyond any beauty pageant hopeful in the question/answer portion and not only strives for World Peace she finds a means to achieve it.  Please, hold your Pulitzers until you’ve read the piece.

Today, I was in a crappy mood.  I walked into Starbucks, as is my routine, with a sluggish gait knowing it would take my half-caf grande, no fat, no foam latte to remotely tackle my morning.  When I entered I realized 22 other people had the same thought and my crappy mood got exponentially worse.  An acquaintance two people ahead of me foolishly tried to make chit chat, which I quickly put a stop to with my terse responses.  Don’t try to talk to me right now lady, I’m pissy and I haven’t had my coffee.

 

Frankly, there should be a rule that no one talk to you in the morning coffee line, because we’re all in the same boat (barely awake and coffee-less.)  Unfortunately, the person in front of me did not get that memo or maybe she did, but she couldn’t read it because she was approximately 1 year old.

She was also being carried by her mother and therefore facing me directly.  The one thing about lines that you can usually count on is that people face front in anticipation of their turn, which means less talk.  Kind of like the way people stare at the doors of the elevator until it’s their floor.

It would be odd to have someone facing you in an elevator… and this was my current situation.

 

 

 

Sure, she was cute.  She had fiery red curls and sweet blue eyes.  But she wouldn’t break me, uh uh.  I was not smiling for anyone and some baby was not about to change that, even if she flashed me her own 4 tiny, little toothed smile.  Then out of nowhere she started laughing this adorable little giggle.  Clearly, she sensed my disdain and was taunting me.

Puhlease Baby, you think you’re soooo cute don’t you?  But not to me, uh uh.  I’m in a bad mood and your precious, I mean dumb little laugh does nothing for me… NOTHING. But this baby was not giving up; she was relentless in her torture.  She cooed and ooed and ahhed, but I would not crack.  It was my will against hers and I would win.  Finally, in defeat she buried her head in her mom’s shoulder.

Ha, Ha Baby, I’m the winner, yes I am… Wait, what’s that?  What’s she doing now? She popped her head back up and put her hands over her eyes, she wasn’t cowering as I had hoped; she was playing peek-a-boo. Nooooo, not peek-a-boo.

She opened her hands to show me her eyes and I clenched my fist ready to weather the storm.  “Peek-a-boo,” escaped from my mouth before I could reel the words back in.  She giggled and next thing you know I had my hands over my own eyes.  Then she giggled, then I giggled, then I smiled like a big pile of mush.  She was working me like a marionette.  Oh, she was smug one… cooeing and flashing her 4 tiny teeth.

My mood had picked up, even before gulping down my latte.  I wasn’t all daggers and evil thoughts, I was rainbows and unicorns.  Don’t judge me for crumbling.
No one and I mean NO ONE is immune to peek-a-boo.

In fact, I think we deal with the unrest in Libya and Egypt by sending cute little babies to the front lines.  What would enemy militia do if a Hummer pulled up and a bunch of babies trained in the art of peek-a-boo waddled out?  Hmmm?  Sure, you’ve probably been asked that before, but have ever given it any real thought?  What if we air dropped babies over enemy lines with their tiny little baby parachutes?  The campaign would be called “Drop Babies, Not Bombs.” Brillaint, right?  Sheesh, why do I have to come up with all the ideas? Gaddafi and Mubarak you better watch your step, chubby legged cooing babies with parachutes will be dropping in when you least expect it.

Okay, I’ll take my Pulitzer now.

For Other Articles I’ve Done on Hybrid Mom or to comment directly at their site: HYBRID MOM

COMMENT QUESTION:  Do You Got Any Better Ideas? and if not could I borrow your baby?

My Son was the Featured Student and I’m Pretty Pissed about it

Any mom who gets that “featured student” backpack sent home, with a stuffed animal and journal instructions, knows why this “honor” is better left to somebody else’s kid.

Don't let the smile fool ya. He was miserable... miserable, I say!

Last week, my son was the featured student in his class.  Oh, don’t get all congratulatory; I’m pretty sure his teacher picks the names out of a hat.  On top of this, my son wasn’t even happy to be featured student, and frankly, I understand why.


One of the perks of being “featured student,” is that both student and mother get extra “homework” each night, so that the class can learn more about said student.  Let’s not forget the obligatory schlepping around and journaling of a stuffed animal.  Sure, watching my kids carry around Clifford in nursery school was cute… well, minus the barrage of snot and germs each of the other kids left on him before it was our turn, but carrying a stuffed dog around in the 3rd grade could ruin a kid’s rep.


Day 1: Took a picture of my son pretending to play basketball with a stuffed dog, which he was actually using as the ball.  Who could blame him, a 5th grader was watching.  That evening I was required to write an essay about why I love my son, and what’s special about him.  (yet another writing assignment that I’m being underpaid for).

Let’s face it, writing about your kid for the whole class to hear is cheesy and prohibits you from saying what you’d really like to say.

Hello, parameters people.

Clearly I didn’t want to embarrass my son in front of his friends.  Hence, a sentence such as, “I love it each night when you beg me to come lie with you, and we giggle as I give you a kiss attack,” though true, isn’t advisable.  Also unacceptable: “You’re the best at insert sport, smartest at insert subject, and easily the cutest kid in your class, even better looking than insert name. Yep – extremes, though you’re certain are true, are totally frowned upon.

Day 2:  Took a picture of my son pretending to feed cereal to his stuffed dog, and ended up wiping spilled milk from both parties’ faces (secretly prayed that dog didn’t reek of rancid dairy by recess). We also had to find pictures for him to bring in which showed the major occurrences in his life from birth to date.  I printed a bunch from an SD card and wrote Disney with varying years on them.  (No one will be the wiser)

Disney 2010

Day 3:  Took pic of stuffed dog, among all my son’s other stuffed animals.  It was meant to be ironic, like in E.T., except it wasn’t because the stuffed dog is in fact also stuffed.

Notice how you can barely distinguish the dog from the stuffed animals? Crazy!

Also, pulled stuff together for “collection” day.  When my son asked what the heck he collects, I said, “Bring in the last 5 books I bought you, and tell them you collect dust.” Ba da bum. In reality, I handed him a bunch of pennies and said, “Tell the class each is from a different year.”  What, like someone’s gonna check?

Day 4:  Took a portrait with stuffed dog as if he was part of the family.  (That picture turned out good.  Note to self: photo-shop real family cat in later.)

Not a holiday card... but not bad.

Also, brought in a special lunch for the featured student.  After allotting an hour to get the stuff together, including cupcakes for the class, (a precedent some mom started 10 featured students ago,) I was ready to enjoy a meal with my kiddo.  I arrived to find that it happened to be “Lunch and a Movie Day.”  Yep, the kids were watching the “Cat in the Hat” on a huge screen at the front of the lunch room.  What the hell am I paying for at this school?  Oh right, I don’t pay… figures.

We didn’t get movies at school; we got some hostess pies, a roll that was seran wrapped with a pat of butter on top and a “full fat” chocolate milk, and a bunch of other deliciously fattening junk, that’s what we got.

Remember him?

“You guys are so lucky,” I said to my son and his friends.  A few of his friends responded.   My kid, who recently told me not being able to do more than one thing at a time was his downfall, was captivated by Mike Myer’s portrayal of Cat and barely nodded in my direction.  Correction, that wasn’t a nod, he was tilting his head to see around my head, as I was blocking his view… silly me.

I then conversed with a few of his friends about how my day was going and what they had learned thus far, but a woman screeched onto a mic and interrupted, “If you can hear me clap 2 times.”  We all clapped like cattle, ok, cows don’t clap, but you know what I meant…

Or Do They? Mawahaha

The woman continued, “Now, let’s use our movie manners!  We are not here to socialize so let’s not talk to our friends and let’s just eat and enjoy our movie.”

Really, they’re not at lunch to socialize?  They get like a 15 min recess and now they can’t talk during their 20 min lunch? – Which, didn’t even get them to the introduction of Thing 1… or Thing 2, for that matter.  (Leave it to a school to ruin movie lunch.)

Day 5:  We returned stuffed dog and I breathed a sigh of relief.  “I get a year’s reprieve from this awesome task.”  Maybe in 4th grade the boys can bring home something a little more masculine, like a sword… or a condom.  Well, that was just silly, a condom would look ridiculous sitting next to grandma in a family portrait.  Of course we could always photoshop in a pet snake or this guy:

See ya next year!

What is the worst thing the school has your child do?

If you enjoyed this, read about the time we got Clifford the Big Red Dog Drunk. Oh, and you have to read the Duck Porn article if you haven’t yet… it may be my all time fave!

One last question for a segment I’m doing on CBS:  How do men mess up on Mother’s day?