Playground Etiquette (aka ‘how NOT to piss other moms off’)

True story.

Buckle up folks, it’s about to get real up in here. I have joined forces with a group of bloggers for ‘Themed Thursdays’. Today’s theme is PLAYGROUND ETIQUETTE.

Having three daughters I’ve done considerable time at the various parks/playgrounds in the LA area, frequented by mommies and children from all walks of life, and um…parenting styles . In other words, I’m pretty up on this shit. You know, etiquette and stuff. After all…I AM a Southern girl whose mama pretty much raised me with Amy Vanderbilt‘s book in one hand and Emily Post‘s in the other. Unfortunately, there aren’t any chapters in those reference books covering this subject, so I’ve made up my own set of rules.

Read them. Learn them. Live them. 

1. Accept that kids throw sand, or wood chips, or whatever happens to be the ground covering of choice at the given park. Sometimes it’s by accident, sometimes it’s on purpose. Regardless, unless the ground covering is rocks….which is stupid anyway….don’t act like my child has assaulted yours with a deadly weapon, and then step in to reprimand my child before I’ve had a chance to,  if this happens. Believe me, I know my girls aren’t perfect. They make mistakes. ALL CHILDREN DO. Even yours.

2. If you decide to bring sand toys to the park, realize they will get picked up, licked, and played with…perhaps even broken… by children other than your own. Put your initials or family surname on each and every toy, and be prepared to search around the play area to retrieve them when it’s time to go. And if you aren’t a parent who thinks sharing is a good lesson to teach your child, or you’ve invested the equivalent of a mortgage payment in super cool, unique looking play things in an attempt to grab the attention of every parent kid….leave the fucking toys at home. Because all it does when you try to keep toys away from other kids, is make you look like a controlling bitch raising a selfish kid.

3. Back to the labeling of toys….If, after leaving the park you discover that you have mistakenly picked up someone else’s toy(s) in your haste to get to your next destination, please be courteous and return to the park immediately if possible, but definitely the next day and seek out the owner of the items. Ask everyone at the park if it’s theirs, or put up signs with your cell number if necessary. Because chances are, the kid it belongs to really, really loved whatever it was and threw a nasty tantrum as soon as he/she found out it was missing. Even if they had never even played with it once!

4. Make sure your kids take turns. Don’t let them hijack the swings for an infinite amount of time. Or sit at the bottom of the slide preventing other kids from sliding down. That’s just plain rude, and you know it. And more than likely, if it goes on long enough with no intervention from you, I will allow my kid to slide down anyway, and literally boot yours off with their feet so they land face down in the sand/wood chips/grass. Just sayin.

5. If you are having a group play date, and some of the kids are old enough to utilize riding toys like Razor scooters or bikes or whatever…..don’t let them zoom through the most crowded area of the park at breakneck speed as if they have blinders on. It’s very dangerous, and usually ends up in an injury….and maybe even a lawsuit…against you. I mean, those helicopter parents who freak out about sand throwing would have a field day with that shit.

6. When visiting a park with a ‘water feature‘, make sure your kid knows that just because someone is sitting near the refreshing spray, does not mean they wish to get drenched, while you sit back and laugh because they are splashing recklessly. Oh, and if you happen not to know the park has a water feature and you come unprepared (i.e. without swimming attire) don’t let your kid play in it naked if he or she is over the age of say…2. I’m all for being naked, and teaching my girls to be comfortable with their naked bodies in the right environment…our fenced back yard, our home or in the bathtub. But a public park is not the appropriate environment.

7. Either feed your kid before coming to the park, or bring snacks. Do not allow he/she to take my child’s food while she is not looking, after we have indicated that we didn’t have enough to share. Scavengers are just not welcome. Yes, this really happened, and the mother did nothing. I wanted to feed HER a mouthful of sand.

8. If my child is throwing a tantrum because she has a splinter in her foot, and will not let me get it out, which results in me loudly threatening to cancel the playdate we are at the park to have because she refuses to walk or let me extract the splinter….DO NOT try to swoop in uninvited and be Florence Nightingale. I got it. Thanks.

9. Keep an eye on your kid instead of playing on your smartphone, or gossiping about the latest celebrity to your friend. Don’t assume just because he or she is engaged in play with my child, that I want to be your babysitter. I mean, I WILL NOT discipline your kid if he gets out of line, and if mine takes off in a swift run in another direction, what do you think I’m gonna do? Stay with yours while mine darts off towards the street? Yeah, right.

10. Last but not least….play well with others… yourself. Don’t be a bitch, who thinks her kids are perfect and can do no wrong. They aren’t. That really isn’t setting a good example for your kids, and you won’t make any mommy friends at the park. So there.


Seriously Sucky Start to Summer Sabbatical

Honestly, this post was supposed to be about something else entirely.

That being, The Oldest Girl must attend summer school. Because she sucks ass at math, just like her mama. It’s not because she doesn’t try, it’s because she is entirely left-brained and creative, which severely impairs her ability to wrap her multi-faceted, artistically inspired mind around logical problems with finite answers. Go figure. She excels in EVERY OTHER SUBJECT, and barely passes math. Oh well. What’s a girl to do? I’ll tell you what. Drag her butt out of bed in time to BE AT SCHOOL, IN CLASS by…SEVEN-FREAKING-THIRTY, EVERYDAY for the first five weeks of summer vacation. Guess who has to drive her? Um…yeah. Me. With her complaining all the way there, and all the way back when I retrieve her two and a half hours later. You’d think she had done a stint in San Quentin.

Oh, the joys of motherhood. 

Anyway, that rant is what inspired the title of this little post.

Then lots of other shit happened, before I even wrote the first line. So I had to ‘save to draft’ with just a title, until now. Somehow, the title still seems appropriate, given the dichotomy of this past weekend. So.

We had both the incredibly joyous occasion of a birth happen in our family on Friday. (No..I didn’t give birth. My BFF did.)  Followed by the unexpected, tragic death of a beloved canine member of our immediate family on Saturday morning. 

I ask…WTF do you do with THAT?  Put on a brave face, and smile though your heart is shattered? Adding insult to injury, the circle of folks involved are all quite tight, so I had to break the news of Buster’s passing to my friend while she was still in the hospital, one day postpartum celebrating the best thing that has ever happened to her. Then, rush away to wrap my arms around my MIL and FIL, who are understandably inconsolable. To them, Buster was their child. And the grieving is just as intense.

One gorgeous, cuddly, innocent, perfect human child born, while another, equally gorgeous, cuddly, innocent, perfect canine companion is taken away. There simply is no justice in that. I’ve cried myself to sleep the past two nights, and so have The Man and The Girls. My eyes are puffy and red, and my head really hurts. Which come to think of it, may actually work in my favor this weekend while shooting a zombie movie. (more on that later)

But, here is the thing. Buster was majestic, respectful, obedient and never wanted anything more than to give everyone he met…human or animal…LOVE. And the only thing he sought in return was LOVE. He touched the lives of so many people in such a way that his memory will live in them for eternity. I believe he was given to all of us as a gift, a teacher, and when God believed his mission complete, he called him back home…without warning…

…and sent this precious angel baby in his place to remind us all to return to our true innocence and live our lives giving unconditional love always.  Who’s with me?

Anyway, I just needed to get that out. Hope you don’t mind.

I’m again, teary eyed and sleepy.

Night y’all,

N

A few things.

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Been gone awhile.

No, I wasn’t on vacation. I just got my ass kicked by the last few weeks, which have been leading up to the END OF THE SCHOOL YEAR…this Thursday. Not that I’m dreading it or anything.

Anyway, during my absence, I discovered a few things.

The first is that, judging by the way my family leaves things (or the wrappers) right where they are once they have finished using (or eating) them, there is a strong chance all of them could end up on an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive one day. Of course, this behavior could also result in me appearing on an episode of I (Almost) Got Away With It on another channel, simultaneously. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to this, as I would much rather land my own talk or cooking show or perhaps something in the vein of What Not To Wear. That would be too. much. fun. Honestly.

The second is…I have deep seeded road rage. Not just any road rage though. Mine is specifically triggered by elderly drivers. Yes, I know I am headed straight for Hell in a fast moving vehicle for saying this, but it’s true. Seriously.  The laws mandate that you have to take a driving/road test to get a license when you turn 16 in this country, so why not pass a law stating you have to take one every year once you reach, say, 70 years old, in order to keep your license? Seems logical to me, because let’s face it…some people, no matter how sweet they are in their geriatric stage, simply should not be driving. Period. Personally, I plan on turning my license in once I am rich enough to hire a driver, so I will not cause undue stress to those younger than I on the roads I may travel in my old age. My mama always loved Driving Miss Daisy, so I believe she would approve of my decision.

Third thing. I fall into a funk when The Man is between film projects. Unfortunately, the last 8 months have mostly been filled with ‘in-between’ time, resulting in my neglect of writing new posts for y’all to read. Go figure. The funk is not because of the loss of income, but because he morphs into an energy vampire who sucks the life right out of me when he is off work with a pair of idle hands. Bless his bones, I love him more than life itself, but The Man needs hobbies…or friends…or a love of social networking for hours on end…or DIY projects. Or all of the above. Well, maybe not DIY projects. That could be bad. But I digress. On a typical day off, he wakes up, takes a shower, makes any work related calls he needs to, and then proceeds to wreck the flow of things in my routine by hovering over me asking what I’m doing. Mind you, I said ‘hovering’ not helping. Then he alternates between pacing back and forth through the house, sitting on the sofa watching sports, or lounging out by the pool listening to Howard Stern. After this, he usually scavenges around the kitchen, and asks me what there is to eat. Which drives me bat-shit crazy, because inevitably it invokes feelings of guilt in me, and I end up halting whatever activity I am engaged in to make food for him. Once he tires of these activities, he follows me around as I gather laundry, straighten up rooms, make beds, etc….trying to take my clothes off. Oh yes. This really happens. I have even talked about it before. Right here.

There once was a time when I bitched and moaned about being a ‘mixer’s widow’, spending my days with 3 little ones and very little adult interaction, because he was always working, and never home. Let it now be known to the Universe: He has more than compensated for all those years by being up my ass the past one, so take him back…please! Thanks in advance, His wife 🙂

Last thing. I miss y’all when I don’t write. So I pledge to try to stay focused, while thwarting advances from The Man and entertaining children who will be out of school for summer break.

On Thursday.

Not that I’m dreading it or anything….

DAY-UM. What a week.

YEEEEESSSSSS!

YEEEEESSSSSS!

My apologies for being away so long, but…

DAY-UM! I’ve had a week. Let’s recap, shall we?

Last Saturday started with CAKE FOR BREAKFAST, in honor of Sweet Pea’s 6th birthday. Would love to take credit for this genius tradition, but all the credit goes to my high school friend Sarah and her sweet family. Seemed like such a fantastic way to start a birthday, that we hijacked it from them. We’ve been at it for 2 full years now 🙂 Every birthday starts with cake. Even the ones that fall on school days. The Beans’ teachers just love me for this I bet. After cake and presents, we headed out to spend a gift card she received and to lunch at her favorite chain restaurant, California Pizza Kitchen, where I was compelled to perform a stupid human trick I learned in college while watching Mr. Wizard, when I should have been studying for finals. It involves counter-balancing two forks atop two toothpicks stuck in a salt shaker. More than a few dollars have been made by hustling unsuspecting people guys at bars who swear it can’t be done. Whatever, suckers. Not only can it be done, my daughters marvel at my ability to do it, thus earning me a spot in the “Cool Mom Hall of Fame”.

Stupid human trick. Try it. I dare you.

Stupid human trick. Try it. I dare you.

After lunch, the family headed downtown to the Flower Mart to gather the necessary supplies for this…

A gift of flowers for my MIL

A gift of flowers for my MIL

I must admit, I am beginning to really enjoy this new creative outlet I’ve stumbled upon with floral artistry. You might say it’s growing on me. LOL. Check out my first crack at it here. Both arrangements were well received. Thank God. As both were for very important occasions 🙂

The rest of Saturday went off without a hitch. It wasn’t until Sunday morning–Mother’s Day–when things got a bit chaotic. What? You aren’t surprised that MD in my house would be crazy? Yeah. Me either. Actually though, ITCHY is a better description.

After being awakened by the smell of a vanilla latte fresh from Starbucks delivered to my bedside, I was showered with homemade cards and presents, followed by hugs from all three girls who’d slept, snuggled around me, in my bed, all night long. This is an important detail to remember, because the next thing I did was discover that Sweet Pea had head lice, while washing her very long, blonde hair. On Mother’s Day.

I plan. God laughs; deciding to remind me what being a mama is really all about: exterminating unwelcome pests that have invaded my special day by hitching a ride from school, hanging on to the strands of my child’s hair. WTF? Adding insult to injury, it’s the second time since November, which was the first time EVER. For nine years we escaped, and then BAM…it finally happened. We got inducted into The Lice Club. I went ballistic. Not only did I treat all 3 small heads of hair in the house, spending a minimum of 3 hours sectioning/combing with the fine-toothed metal comb until their scalps were raw, I also replaced all the pillows, brushes, and hair accessories. I opted for the toxic shit called RID over the “natural remedies” because I wanted the pesky little fuckers dead, and couldn’t be sure that something eco-friendly would indeed do the trick. In addition, I sprayed down the sofas and mattresses, put the cushions out in the sun for 24 hours, bathed our dogs in medicated shampoo, and bagged up every stuffed animal they had ever touched for two whole weeks. Oh, did I forget to mention I also stripped all the linens from every bed and washed them along with The Beans’ backpacks on the sanitary cycle which uses extra hot water and takes 2 hours? Yep. Did that. Treated hubby and myself as well. To say I went off the rails the first time, is an understatement. The Man was ready to divorce me. Or kill me. Or both. Seriously.

Can you envision the horrified look on his face when I screamed “Mother Effer!! Sweet Pea has head lice again!” at an ear-splitting volume from the shower Sunday morning? Mother’s Day 2012 did not get off to a very promising start. And considering last year’s tragedy, I am now entertaining thoughts of dumping it from our slate of celebrations altogether.

Suffice to say, I repeated the eradication scenario and we were again, lice-free by Monday morning. However, I notified the school and kept Butter Bean and Sweet Pea home until their classes had been checked by the school nurse. Miraculously, Sugar Bean didn’t have it, so she went back on Monday. When Tuesday morning rolled around, imagine my surprise to see the same family who had it last time waiting to be head-checked in the school office again. Coincidence? Yeah, right. My girls never had it until being in class with this sibling pair. One in Kinder, the other in second grade. It was all I could do not to punch their mama square in the face, right there in front of the principal. Was my anger misplaced? Maybe. Am I headed to Hell in a chartered hand-basket? Probably. But so-help-me-God, nothing irritates me more than mamas who clearly don’t take the due diligence necessary to prevent recurrent lice on the heads of their young, who inevitably transmit the parasites to everyone who comes in contact with them at school. Feral children! Even chimpanzees “nit-pick” and groom their offspring. And before you go all “well maybe your kids were responsible”–don’t. Because the first time it happened, I assumed The Beans were the source, as they had just begun gymnastics at a new facility. However, if you read the post just before this one, you’ll know they haven’t been to the gym in 3 weeks. Nor have they had any playdates. So there. Honestly, as expensive as it is to treat the pests—$200 minimum, each time, when you have girls with long hair, because it’s not like you can shave their heads and start over, you know—you would think that alone would be motivation enough for periodic checks throughout the school year. Since mine got it in November, I have checked on a weekly basis. That’s how I found it the second time!! Maybe I should send her a bill for the cost of treatment. Whaddaya think?

Okay. Okay. I’ll get off my soapbox, because the rest of Mother’s Day was very pleasant, spent relaxing at a bbq at the home of the wonderful lady responsible for laboring The Man into the world and raising him to be the awesome hunk he is. So there. All was not lost to the freaking lice.

Let’s cut to Wednesday. Open House at school. Sugar Bean had to present her country report, complete with a food item representative of her chosen land. She studied New Zealand, which was fantastic considering one of my dear friends lives there and was able to provide us with lots of information, including the idea for me to make a Pavlova Cake. Since I only bake once a year…rum cakes at Christmas time… it was a bit daunting. All turned out fine and dandy, with this as the finished dessert:

a New Zealand Pavlova cake

a New Zealand Pavlova cake

Apparently it was tasty. The plate was literally scraped clean. I plan to make another for the family soon, so I can see what all the devouring was about 🙂

In addition to Sugar Bean’s country report, Butter Bean  had to do a project for display based on a Caldecott Award Winning book. She chose “I Know an Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly”. Together, we made this dyorama, which I thought would surely win an award for my precious second-grader. It didn’t. A lap-top made out of paper won. I’m not bitter. Promise.

Anyway, judge for yourself.

Secretly, I love making shit like this. But don't tell anybody.

Secretly, I love making shit like this. But don’t tell anybody.

Yesterday was rather unremarkable stacked up against the early part of the week. In the morning, I went to be fitted for my bridesmaid’s dress which I will be wearing at the wedding of my niece, Meaghan, in September. Took The Beans for fro-yo after school, like usual. Two Thursdays ago, this very funny thing happened on the way to fro-yo, which, ironically is also about Meaghan. I also did some laundry. Gained some new Twitter followers. No unexpected surprises though. In fact, the only thing I can remember about it is that Lexi died on the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy. That really sucked. I was mad…for about 10 minutes. Then I turned off the tv and went to sleep. Nothing like when I found out GCB got cancelled. Loved that dang show! As Nicole Richie Tweeted earlier in the week, “We need to figure out who needs to bone who to keep GCB on the air.” Right on, girl. RIGHT ON!

And now it’s Friday. Well, actually Saturday. Which means I need to get my ass in bed, because boy do I have a helluva weekend full of events planned for the family, starting at 10 am tomorrow morning, and carrying straight through until 6pm Sunday evening.

Yes, there will be posts. And pictures.

Probably not ’til Monday though.

Nite y’all 🙂

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