I’m Still Kicking Asses and Yet Still Sucking Lemons, Too…

*Check your homework assignment at the bottom of the post. YES! YOU!

 

Well, it seems as though the more I humiliate myself and admit to embarrassing habits and parental failings, the better things get around here. I’m not sure what to make of this, but I think it means that when I look bad, you all feel better about yourselves. So basically, my blog, which is supposed to be therapy for me, is actually therapy for all of you. Isn’t that just as soothing as a white picket fence?

That said, I think you’ll all be disappointed with the following announcements:

1. Apparently, Mrs.Bear, over at Outnumbered Two To One, thinks I’m the Beary Best. Truthfully (sshhhh!!), I think she just feels sorry for me. Either that, or she’s just so freaking happy that I am such a shiteous mama, she can’t help but egg me on, because the worse I look, the better she feels about her own questionable parenting. Yeah, that’s it. I’m on to you, Mrs.Bear.

So, in keeping with that tradition, I’m going to award the Beary Best button to Dawn of My Whine Cellar. This chick can whine, dudes. In fact, she whined so much to me last night about my collection of awards and her, well, lack of awards, that I promised to award her with this button just to shut her the hell up. She thought that sounded great, but did beg me not to tell you about the whining. La la la. Here you go, Dawn:

Now stop the bloody whining, got it? It’s like you’re old (like almost 40) or something and you think you’ve earned  the right to be a whiny old hag. Well guess what? You haven’t. So take this award and put on your granny big-girl knickers, and get on with it. Jolly good.

2. Someone, who will remain shamelessnameless, told the web geeks over at Alltop that I’m a kick-ass blogger and belong on their list of mom bloggers with the other cool kids. Guess what? Those web geeks agreed. I’m so dumb- kick-ass I can’t even stand myself. Go check it out sometime. I’m on there. Right at the very bottom, last time I checked. Not sure how to take that, but losers like me beggars can’t be choosers, or something like that.

So there you have it.

Updates:

I think because I was feeling all cocky and accomplished last night about Little Man’s lack of baba’s, God decided to knock me back down a peg or two. Heaven forbid I should feel minutely successful at this parenting shiz.

Little Man is sick today and  Hubby is out this evening at CrueFest (Just in case you were wondering, you will never  meet a less-likely, more reserved Motley Crue fan than Hubby. He is the anti-rocker in every way, except in his taste for music. Funny and yet, not. I told him not to breath too deeply at the concert tonight, as I don’t want him driving home high), thus I’m left sitting here, holding my own breath and praying that Little Man doesn’t wake up, start coughing, and vomit his brains all over his bedroom. Yes, he usually does this when he’s sick. No, I am not  good with vomit. It seems that with the amount of practice LM has given me, I should be so totally over my vomit-fearing ways, yet I am not. Logic eludes me.

So there’s that.

There’s also the fact that Hubby has been out for 3 evenings this week and Little Man hatesit when one of us is out, for any reason other than to go to a job which allows us to buy him shit. LM has been pretty stoic about daddy’s absence at bedtime, but tonight he was beyond reason. Bedtime went something like this:

“Mommy, know who I want?”

“Who, baby?”

“Daddy.”

“Mommy, know who I miss?” (Whimper, sigh….)

“Um, Daddy?”

“Yeah.” (Sigh, sniff. Cough.)

“Time to lie down and get some sleep, Little Man. You need your rest so you can feel better.”

“Ok. (Sniff, whimper, cough.)”

“I love you very very very very very very very very very very very much, buddy.”

“And (whimper) that’s (whimper) a (whimper) loooooooooooooooottttttttttt….” (full-on sobbing)

“Aw, muffin. What’s wrong, babycakes?” (Yes, I have a lot of stupid, cheesy, gag-me-with-a-spoon nicknames for my kid. My problem. Not yours.)

“I’m siiiiiccccckkkkk. And I miss Daddyyyyyyyyy. And I miss my baba’ssssssss…..”

Poor little dude. He’s been so brave all week and so mature and going-off-to-college-next-week-ish. I think it was too much for his little heart to hold by the time I got him to bed tonight. I did manage to get him to go to sleep though. Lots of singing and playing of music that almost had me snoring, but he’s out.

Now I get to play with Harrison FordIndiana Jones Lego. Wheeeeeeeee!!!!! Holy shit was that Lego set hard to find. I had my Toys R Us guy calling stores all over Ontario trying to find this:

Apparently there were only 26 of them in all the TRU stores in Canada. We found one relatively close though, and now TRU is down to 25. So this brings me to your homework. Today’s question is this:

How much time do you think it took me to assemble this entire set (929 pieces, dudes) today?

I haven’t decided what the winner will get, but it might be something good. Or not. Are you willing to roll the dice? You know you wanna….

Kia