#35 Quirky Reasons Why I Love You

All (or most all) parents love their children in ways they never knew possible.  I get that.  But some of my favorite things about being a mom are bebe boy's quirks.

I love how you prepare for road trips by kicking back in your car seat with a Perrier between your legs, one leg tossed over the side and a book in your hand.

I love how you never walk from one place to another:  you either run or dance there.

I love how you will completely un-selfconsciously rock out in public when you feel the need to (Dancing Queen, All the Single Ladies, Proud Mary are some of your faves).

I love how you sleep with your bottom in the air.

I love how you can, literally, dance your diaper off.  In public.  To Mustang Sally.  {No picture, sadly}

I love how cherry tomatoes hold a special place in your heart {I ate thousands of them while I was pregnant with you... coincidence?}

I love how you expect people to love you and to be kind.  You remind me on a daily basis to fully anticipate the laughter and fun in life.

Being your mom rocks, little guy.  Thank you for choosing me.

#34 On Why I Am a Bad Mommy

At times, I feel like I am not exactly an exemplary mom.  Now don't start calling CPS just yet on me.  I spend $10/day on just organic strawberries and Omega 3 fortified, organic milk.  Yes, I have drunk the Cool-Aid, but I can't argue with the results.  He never gets sick, has never even had diaper rash and has the sunniest disposition imaginable.  If it ain't broke...

And to my credit, I did not yell at you, sweet bebe boy, when you were gnawing on my Hermes bag.  I did not get upset when you gave me yogurt dreadlocks.  Hell, I laughed it off when you pooped in the tub (while I was in it, btw).

That being said, it seems like other moms are much more bedraggled by their offspring.  And, for whatever reason, I assume that makes them a better mom than me.  Yes, my shirts are always dirty (but I consider evidence of baby lovin' and hugs rather than a permanent state of filth) but other than that....

We don't have a Raffi CD so there is not one permanently stuck in my car CD player.  I figure when you drive, you can choose the music but in the meantime, Shortie, Mommy chooses.  {Though I must admit that it makes me melt that you are so enamored with BB King.  Have I mentioned that you are one kick-ass, cool kid?}

I have yet to buy fish sticks, chicken nuggets or that pre-packaged applesauce in little plastic containers.  You have teeth, you can eat real salmon and apples.  Momma does not believe in breading or artificial thickeners, whatever the hell they are.

We have no qualms about having a glass of wine on the deck while you zoom around in your Porsche pedal car tormenting the dog.  Not every activity needs to be interactive with Mommy and Daddy, especially while we are having margaritas.

#33 Know What You Like

Rather than what is trendy.

Here are your favorites thus far (indulge me, people, I am not getting any younger and I suck at journaling and scrapbooking -- when did that become a verb, btw?  So, I write things down here so I will remember then when I am in the old folks home):

"Dancing Queen" by ABBA
"All the Single Ladies" by Beyonce
dogs, the larger the better (and if the dog can fetch, boNANza)
ice cream sandwiches (that's my boy!)
cherry tomatoes
udon noodles
strawberries
your bottle of milk (half gallon a day... egads)
Oma
balls (or pictures of balls, you totally don't discriminate)
shiny, exposed areas of flesh that you can zerbert (see posts from 1/11/2010 and 6/21/2010 for proof of his love of the zerbert)

#32 Crummy Jobs...

everyone has to have had them so they appreciate all the great stuff they later have.  You, kiddo, will be no exception.  I assume that we will be able to well afford a car for you but you are going to have to earn it.

Here are some of the crappy jobs your daddy and I have had:

** an ice cream scooper at Braums (though, not to brag, I can still square dip with the best of them and I make a wicked milkshake)

** a clown at McDonalds

Daddy's jobs went to the dirtier:

** laying sprinkler systems.  In the summer.  In South Texas.

** being a short order cook on an oil rig.

Yep, they suck they make you appreciate the good life when you get it.  There is NOTHING worse than a kid with a sense of entitlement.  Nothing.

#31 And Speaking of Gay

from yesterday...

Other stupid (stoopid, even) things that I have heard since you were born about homosexuals:

"His hair is too long.  If you don't cut it, he is going to be gay."

"Boys should not wear cardigans, they will end up gay."

And my personal favorite:

"Aren't you concerned that he likes strawberry ice cream?  It is 'gayer' than chocolate."

Oh honest to God, if your grasp on heterosexuality is so tenuous that ice cream is the deciding factor, you are going to be gay, my darling baby boy.  And for the record, that is fine with your daddy and I.  Please do not be one of those closet cases full of angst and self-loathing.  You are one of the most beloved people on the planet, your sexuality could never change that.

Our view is what someone does in the privacy of their own bedroom (between consenting adults) is none of anyone else's business.  {Child molesters are another story but they are, statistically, heterosexual men.  And dead if they come near my sweeties.  And I do mean, D E A D but previous to death, tortured.  Hubby has a degree is that kind of stuff, don't tempt fate in case you are a fan of my blog}.

I know, I know.  Totally out of character but occasionally I post pictures of sweet bebe boy and it kind of freaks me out.

And, for the record, your daddy loves strawberry ice cream and he is decidedly heterosexual.

#30 On Affection

Do not be one of those freaky dads who can't tell their kids that they love them, especially their boy children.  "It will make them weak" is a crock.  Your daddy loves you with all of his heart (as do I) and he is man enough to publicly and {loudly} express it.

Don't get me started on men who won't kiss their sons/grandsons because it will "turn them into homosexuals."  Seriously...

#29 Thank You

Always be the first person to say thank you. 

Know how to write a proper (and beautiful) thank you note.  

Know that thank you notes are not just for job interviews.

A hearty thank you and handshake is appropriate for the owners of a restaurant while everyone else needs a tip along with your gratitude.  

#28 On Nakedness

Let your own babies have naked time.  To a one they all love it and who does not need more "happy dances" in their life?

And learn the difference between naked time and nekkid time.  One is for babies and one is MOST DEFINITELY not for the underaged.

Bunny!

I have heard it said that in every parent's life, there comes a time when you beg the universe "please don't let that be my child."  Normally this thought is precipitated by the crashing of hundreds of bottles of BBQ sauce or a display of crystal.

Well, my first "PDLTBMC" moment came today at Whole Foods.  Now to bebe's credit, Whole Foods is his 'hood.  He is totally a Whole Foodie and currently has a $5/day organic strawberry habit in addition to his $4/day milk issue.  I am trying to rationalize this with decreased health care costs but, seriously, Houston, we have a problem.

But that is for another day.  This is about The PDLTBMC Incident.

We are zooming through Whole Foods and bebe boy is perfectly content eating strawberries and sampling the free smoked gouda (yes, I totally let him eat the free samples at WF but not at other places.  For whatever misguided and warped reason, I am convinced that dirty hands don't touch the WF samples.  Yes, I know this is ridiculous but it is my madness as well as my blog so there)!

Once he has been sated, he insists on getting out and pushing the cart.  I hate this because it slows me down but, seriously, this is not the hill upon which I choose to die, Marine.  So I let him out.  He pushes the cart in huge circles and randomly stops to dance or pick up some snacks for his discriminating self ("ohhhh, Baby Bells, don't mind if I do."  "Is that cave-aged cheese?").

So, I am at the charcuterie counter (SO much more attractive than "deli counter") and here comes a character I will deem "Bunny."  Now everyone knows a Bunny or, at the very least can pick her out in a crowd.  She is the 30-something woman who wears completely inappropriate attire for Sunday morning grocery shopping and acts like she has no idea that she is, essentially, naked.

Bunny's get-up this a.m. consisted of a silver lame shirt and (really beautiful) platform heels in black snakeskin (hey, she is a whore but a whore with very good taste in footwear).  And, yes, I do mean she was wearing a shirt.  I think when the vice police come to get her, she will swear up and down that she thought it was a dress, but it was a shirt.  And not a particularly long shirt either.  I am against forcing women into wearing a burka but, seriously, I am less than amused with seeing your cheeks while I pick out my Romas.

So, anyway, bebe boy is fascinated by shiny, half-naked girl (which was clearly her intent.  She was, hopefully, aiming for a slightly older audience than my 18 month old but attention is what she wanted and she got it.  In spades.)  When she zooms by, bebe boy claps.  Not as appreciatively as he does for cherry tomatoes or strawberries but she got a higher score than the bananas got this morning.  Not bad for 10am on a Sunday.

This is where the wheels come off.  I am chatting away with the deli guy (oh sorry, the charcuterie monsieur) and I hear a bit of a ruckus.  I turn around just in time to see that Bunny is bent over, cheeks fully exposed.  Seeing her shiny naked self is too much -- bebe boy has abandoned both the cart and the mozzarella de buffala.    He has danced over (he either runs or dances everywhere.  Walking is so boring), lifted up her shirt the rest of the way, done a quick bongo set on her cheeks and given her a very large zerbert.  Quite possibly his best zerbert ever, it was the perfect combination of moisture, length and pressure.

He then falls down laughing and clapping for himself.

I am beyond horrified.  There is no way you can apologize enough to someone to express the horror I felt.

Did I mention that Bunny was not wearing underwear?

#27 Plant

Every summer, regardless of where you live or how busy you are, grow tomatoes and basil.

Naturally, if you have the space plant more things but these are the bare minimum.  Yes, even if you have the tiniest of balconies.

Learn how to make bruschetta with these ingredients and be willing to share.

# 26 Memorial Day

Give your sincerest thanks to veterans.

Always remember that WWII vets saved the world.

#25 You May Have One Phobia, Anything More Than That And You Are Just Wimpy/Annoying

So this weekend we started building the chicken coop.  Well, that is a lie.  Hubby started building, I merely helped with the design, answered math questions and provided encouragement.  I am all about encouragement (and math if you must know).

We have decided to keep some chickens for the eggs and because we think that bebe boy will get a charge out of them.  No, we are not going to eat the birds themselves -- that is a little too natural, even for me.

The downside of this (brilliant) plan is that I am afraid of birds.  Terrified.  Scared poopless (trying to swear less now that bebe boy can repeat stuff).  I know it is a ridiculous fear but it is a fear nonetheless and I figure I can have one phobia if I want to.

Hubby does not like alligators.  I don't like birds (but I love 'gator handbags and shoes).  Bebe boy, you may have one ridiculous phobia.  But please don't let it be a fear of flying since travel is muy important to your parents.  And you may not also be afraid of elevators since Mommy hates climbing stairs.  But, other than that, quiver on, dear child.

The Femivore's Dilemma

Fabulous article.  God, I love The Times.

The Femivore’s Dilemma - NYTimes.com

www.nytimes.com

Can chickens save the desperate housewife?

#24 On Making Up

Since yesterday's post seemed angry to some, here is a nice follow-up:

Always forgive someone the first time.  Ponder forgiving someone the second time. 

The more you love someone the more often you should forgive them.  However, don't be a punching bag...

#23 On Fighting

Your mom is a pacifist and relies upon karma.  Being a pacifist is much easier when you are married to someone who is well-armed and trained as a USMC sniper.  Just saying...

That being said, Mommy's advice is to always stick up for the little guy.  If you have to come to blows, hit hard and first.  Preferrably in the nose.  Odds are, you will never have to do it again. 

Daddy's advice:  hit to disable.  I am not sure precisely what that means but I am positive you will get the full explanation at some point.

Both of us agree on the following tenets:
1) don't hit girls
2) don't be a bully
3) always stick up for your beliefs and your family

#22 Happy Earth Day

Eat organic. 

Eat local.

Support local.

Support small family farms.

Eat grass fed.

Eat cage free.

Eat free range.

Hug a tree.

Thank a tree.

#21 When to Brag

There is NOTHING classier than someone who will brag about their friends' accomplishments.  The beauty of this is twofold:  your friend get her accomplishments out there without, well, looking like a braggart and you show grace.

Caveat:  this only works if you are sincere about it.  If you are filled with envy, skip it.  Otherwise, you will look like an ass.

#20 Read

every day.  NO ONE is too busy or too tired to read at least a chapter.

Presidents, military generals and admirals, CEOs, scientists, astronauts and all other successful people read.  If Einstein can make the time to read while sorting out relativity and Patton can read while saving the world from Nazism, you can crank out a chapter of a best seller (at a minimum).

We all have 24 hours in a day, use yours wisely.

No matter how busy you may think you are, you must find time for reading, or surrender yourself to self-chosen ignorance. ~ Confucius

 

#19 Watch James Bond Movies

preferably with your dad.

Have a favorite Bond and know why you prefer him.

#18 Dating

When out with a woman, offer to at least split dessert with her (if she claims not to want her own).  As a rule, we love sweets but don't want to look like pigs.  If she refuses, be wary... high drama and maintenance may be right around the corner.