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    He clearly missed the memo about hiding when you are doing wrong deeds

    February 12, 2008

    Today I was trying to get stuff done.  I don’t know why I bother because  I never get anything done.  But I try.  Honestly.

    I was sitting in the family room and The Baby wandered past the doorway.  His smile was so big I was instantly concerned.  Then I see a head pop up from behind the chair in the living room.  The head disappears as fast as it has appeared.  It was the quick peak of champions.  I turned my eyes back to The Baby.  He is still waddling past but I now notice that he is gnawing on something. 

    K:  What do you have?
    The Baby:  Ah.
    K:  What is that?  Give me that.
    The Baby:  (running away wildly)  AHHHHHHH!

    I ran after him.

    He had cranberry bark in his hand and all over his mouth.  Cranberry bark that we made the week before Christmas.  Roughly 7 weeks ago.  I snatched it out of his hand and decided to go straight to the source.  Nail his dealer, if you will.

    His dealer met me in the middle of the living room.

    K:  What’s behind that chair?
    The Boy:  Nothing, Mom (grasping my legs in an effort to keep me from rounding the chair). 
    K:  What are you eating?
    The Boy:  We aren’t eating anything, Mom.  There is nothing there.  (pushing me away from the chair).  Don’t look.

    There was the bag of candy, stashed behind the chair.

    Realizing he was busted, he took a different route.

    The Boy:  Mom, I wasn’t eating it.  I didn’t eat anything. 
    K:  Let me smell your breath.
    The Boy:  I WASN’T EATTTTTTTING IT!!!!

    As he opened his mouth to scream maniacally at me, I noticed his teeth were filled with chocolate.  He sensed the inevitable and ran.  Very fast.

    The Boy:  Dad, Dad, Dad.  Mom said to me “let me smell your breath” but I didn’t let her, Dad.  I didn’t have candy. 

    At that point, The Baby wandered by with yet another piece of bark.  He nodded to me and kept walking.  I don’t know what we are going to do when he realizes he should be hiding behind the chair to eat the candy. 

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    Half-Assed Parenting Tip #2: Unless you are blind, it’s recommended to have at least one eye open at all times

    January 28, 2008

    So I’m in the shower this morning and The Baby is in his blue tub at the bottom of the shower.  The Boy has run off with my I-Phone to God only knows where.  The Boy suddenly reappears at the bathroom door without the phone.

    TB:  MomMomMom.  Your phone is on the green couch. 
    K:  Yeah, I would prefer to have my phone here.

    The Baby opens the shower door because, God FORBID, he miss anything.

    K:  Shut the door, Nate. 
    TB:  But it’s on the green couch.
    K:  Then I would like you to go down to the green couch and bring it back to this bathroom
    TB:  (quite cheery) OK, Mom. 

    And runs down the hall.  I need that phone back because when it locks, it only allows emergency calls.  I need to know if someone thought we were having an emergency and now some form of emergency response unit is showing up.  You know how the locals get fiesty about repeatedly showing up at your house for nothing. 

    I continue to wash my hair and as I close my eyes to rinse out the shampoo, I feel a cool, univited breeze on my body. I look down to find the shower door open and a very wet, very naked, very fat-assed Baby toddling precariously across the very slick bathroom floor.  Because if you have been walking for all of 3 weeks, you should jump right to the Wet Tile portion of the show.  The door flies open and The Boy hands me my phone. I look down to see that the Notes function is open and the word “Jugg” is written on the pad.  The Boy points to what he has written.  I yell to The Baby to get back into the shower and he yells, “MOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYY”  and starts to walk away faster.

    Their father would be so proud. 

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    Mommy Needs a Night in Jail

    January 17, 2008

    I got the text message yesterday. 

    “They are going to swear out a warrant if we don’t pay the parking ticket today.”

    Swear out a warrant?  On the Toyota?  Does the Toyota get to hear his rights first?  I pulled out the registration papers.  Yep, in both our names.  I call him up.

    K:  What the hell?
    D:  You didn’t pay it.
    K:  First I didn’t pay it because I just assumed I had 30 days.  Then I realized that I only had 5 days so I went online to pay it but they don’t have an online option.  Then I thought I would wait until the “You’d better pay this” reminder showed up.  Who the hell doesn’t have an online payment option?  The last check I wrote was to the plumber. 
    D:  I know.  I tried to pay it while you were gone.  Where’s the checkbook?
    K:  I could not tell you if my life depended on it. You know where a stamp is?
    D:  Nope.  Well, the reminder says they are going to “swear out a warrant.”
    K:  On who?  Both of us?  For what?  Not paying a $20 parking ticket?
    D:  I don’t know who they would arrest.

    This reminds me vaguely of the time I got caught exceeding the posted speed limit in Montana while on our cross country trip.  The cop very politely informed that I could “pay him now” and be on my way.  I thought he was joking.  I laughed.  He didn’t.  I mean my father used to tell stories about following the constable to see the magistrate, but come on.  That was the ’60’s.  Who has cash now?  If I can get an internet connection on my laptop, I’ll pay you your $27 via Paypal and print up a receipt on my handy dandy Canon portable printer? Thank God my husband is Mr. Responsibility and had $27 to keep me out of jail. And the cop was able to buy a round of donuts for his friends 20 minutes later. “The Little Lady was doing 17 over the speed limit.  Go on and get yourself some coffee too. WOOHOO!!”

    D: I figured you could just run into the police station and pay it after you drop The Boy off at school. It’s right there on the Avenue.
    K: No. No, it’s not. That’s the REAL police department. This is the City WITHIN the CITY police department.
    D: Where the hell is that?
    K: Lord if I know.

    It’s right across the street from the train station. The train station where The Husband got the ticket in the first place because he didn’t have his current registration sticker on the truck yet. It was November SECOND. They expired October 31. I believe we affectionately refer to this as “shooting fish in a barrel.”

    I decided to go over there and view my options. My friend Dana used to say that when the kids were little, she had visions of calling Protective Services and turning herself in on a Friday night. She figured she might be able to regain her sanity by Monday. I always thought that was very optimistic myself.

    It was the littlest building you have ever seen. Remember the jail cell in Capote? I could do two days in that. Assuming I could get an internet connection on my I-Phone….

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