It wasn’t enough for the Rapacallion to throw his dinner on the floor. It wasn’t enough for him to herald this with, “Doppings on the flo.” No, he then had to run laps in the kitchen, going on tiptoe through the food he threw so his feet wouldn’t get dirty.
His twin, Poopsiekins, ate angelically, with a disarmingly innocent expression, so that I was taken by surprise when she left the table and started rummaging through the cabinets.
…that Leonidas’ forces would have won at Thermopylae if they had been joined by the Rapscallion and fought with the same vigor he uses to defend his possession of the Vtech singing-and-vegetable-eating dinosaur.
Once upon there was a food truck called Bernie’s Burger Bus (BBB). All the locals in the land loved it so much that it became a brick-and-mortar restaurant. Its burgers and truffle fries became legend. The school-themed decor was adorable. But it went from excellent to Camelot by providing top-notch customer service to everyone, including families with young kiddos.
The high chairs were plentiful. The Recess (gourmet grilled cheese sandwich) arrived promptly with milk. The patio was ventilated comfortably. All was well.
But then, my Exchange Student (lamb burger) arrived, cooked beautifully to a tender turn. And then I had to stifle an orgasm.
Husband enjoyed his chicken burger, whose name I can’t remember.
And we had a lovely afternoon.
Multiple locations are opening throughout the metro area. Prepare for more stifled burger-gasms throughout the land.
And we all lived happily ever after.
Bottom line: go. Sooner rather than later.
Quoth the Rapscallion, “I see the black cat.”
In 20-month old enunciation, it sounds like, “I see the bobcat.”
This is the bobcat:
1. Put Mulan or similar on from Netflix because the toddlers have school vacation.
2. Take a brick of firm tofu and press it between paper towels, paper plates, and a jumbo pack of D batteries to prevent the lip-licking, bulimic cat from getting at it.
3. Heat oil in large frying pan. Keep eye on toddlers who found a box of almonds you didn’t know you had. They are pouring the almonds on the floor.
4. Chop tofu into nuggets and toss nuggets in a mix of flour and spices in a big Ziplock bag.
5. Lightly pan-fry the nuggets until the coating crisps.
6. Cheer on the twin who gobbles the nuggets. Try not to weep at the twin who starts tossing nuggets on the floor and then runs to a white sofa and wipes his greasy hands on it.
7. Feel comforted by the fact that the Rapscallion somehow found time to stuff his cheeks full of tofu like a heart-healthy hamster.
8. Polish off the leftovers and celebrate with a chilled Topo Chico. Bon appetit!
You’ll never catch everything.
This evening, the twins pulled the fireplace door setup out of the wall.
No one told me this could happen.
I’ve got nothing.
What is miraculous about this is that it unfolds so compactly. It really is a great way to transport 3 littles. They loved the seats. They loved the rumble board. And I love that pushing it fully-loaded is the best full-body workout I’ve ever had.
I think my spouse will get more use out of it than I will because I’m not strong enough to get it in and out of my van. But I can push it in and out of the garage just fine.
Beware: there is a learning curve on the rumble board. You don’t just engage the metal clasps on the sides. You also secure it with the snapping straps. Also, don’t do any sudden starts or stops or your rumble board rider’s head will smack into the metal frame.
Bottom line: heavy and has a learning curve, but still a great way to transport 3 littles.
So, our backyard is a mosquito amusement park, which is challenging because I need the backyard for toddler horseplay. I’ve got a bug zapper and a shipment of bug repellant arriving tomorrow, but I needed the backyard today and was low on supplies. However, I have a reasonably well-stocked kitchen, so I figured Google would help me whip something up.
As it so happens, I must be the only thirty-something mother lacking a pantry-full of essential oils. Nonetheless, I scanned several recipes and figured something was better than nothing. So, here’s my snake oil recipe:
4 handfuls of coconut oil
Large splash of vanilla extract
3 squirts of lemon juice from bottle
A hefty few shakes of dried basil
Then I nuked it just long enough to melt the coconut oil and stirred with a whisk until I had a brownish concoction with basil floaters. It smelled like a skanky bag of Chips Ahoy.
I then rubbed the babies and myself with the mixture, and basted us all during the playtime as needed. And, holy shitsnacks, I think it worked! I can’t find any confirmable new bug bites on any of us!
The downside is that it does leave a brownish residue on fabrics, and I don’t know if it’ll wash out. Plus, the basil bits look a little strange. We were in the privacy of our own backyard, and the babies were in swim diapers for fun with the hose, so there was no need for us to show off. I bathed the babies before naps, and I must say, our skin is fantastically conditioned.
So, while I’m not sure this is not reliable enough for West Nile prevention, I must say that this initial attempt was encouraging. I’d love to hear feedback from those with more DIY experience than I!
I feel that this book, wherein the zoo gorilla steals the keeper’s keys and causes a mass exodus to the keeper’s bedroom, is an allegory for one’s three children having a 5 AM wake up.
At the risk of beating the eponymous equine, I’d like to address what I think of as being the “mommy rebel” culture. That is to say, raging against the machine of probably-suburban, play group-attending, mom jeans-wearing, possibly non-interesting/non-creative motherhood.
Look. Peter Pan is an enduring figure largely because he speaks to that in all of us which wishes to remain childlike, free, and in encumbered by the bourgeoisie. And the child-neglect confessions I’ve been lambasting are a manifestation of mommy rebel thought. Changing diapers at 1 am and not leaving infants home alone is so blah and unrealistically responsible, the narrative suggests.
Let’s stop this “Rebel without a cause” shit. Fulfilling duties of care doesn’t make you a lemming. It makes you an adult, which you are. Mammals and every other form of life have been producing offspring since time eternal. Having human babies and mothering them isn’t an abstraction invented by the boring. It is life. It is existence. There’s nothing to fight in there. Neglecting your kids doesn’t make you cooler or better.
It is a pity that we are going through a phase in the Western world where motherhood is deemed uncool, and I think some women internalize that and struggle with it in their babies’ early years. So I have a suggestion for those ladies.
Be unique. Mother your babies, right down to their midnight diapers. And stop glorifying immaturity.
Mimsy At The Zoo 