June, 2013
Archive

  • Maybe Metaphors Are Lost On You?

    Reading and writing is good and stuff.  It important.  I care much reading nice.

    I spend a shit ton of my life writing and reading, so of course, theoretically I want The Munch to share these passions.  But reading children’s books is as boring as sitting on the toilet without your phone, and I desperately fear the day Munch starts writing about me… because boy am I in for it.

    But of course I have to prioritize The Munch’s education over my own selfish needs of wanting to avoid crappy kids books, and my desperate attempts to censor my child from exposing me like I have her.   Ahhhhh parenting.  The sacrifices we make!So I read The Munch books everyday, and then I read them again and again until she memorizes them and feels somewhat in control of her existence.

    Of course not all kid-books are torturous.  There are classics like Madeline, Pippi Longstockings, Peter Rabbit, and The Runaway Bunny.  Even though some of my favorites have demented values and a slightly skewed moral compass, I still appreciate the tangible effort and artistry that is put into the illustrations.

    But what drives me crazy about most modern kid-books is the computer-generated art that goes along with it.  If the book is beautiful, and someone took the time to hand draw each page as if it mattered, then I can truly honor it.  But when its some shitty story about some shitty talking peanut with shitty ass pictures I pretty much want to throw up in my hands.

    I crave some sort of stimulation when reading to The Munch, so when the stories and art blow cock I want to blow my brains out.

    So the other day I was searching through my shelves and saw a book called “I Haiku you” that was a gift from her babysitter.  I figured that would at least be somewhat intellectually titillating.  But even though I found the book to be quite poetic, I realized that toddlers don’t really understand metaphor.

    Toni: “your rainbow colors

    come out to play when it pours-

    chase the gray away”

    Munch: “But I can’t see it chase the gray away!”

    Toni: “Well, it’s not exactly chasing the gray away.  Its just that when the kids draw a rainbow it makes the rainy day seem less gray.”

    Munch: “Oh.”

    Toni: “Here, I will read another…

    what are the chances

    maybe one in a million?

    what luck I found you

    Munch: “But I can’t see one in a million!”

    Toni: “Munch you can’t take this so literally, one in a million is an expression and she is talking about the 4 leaf clover she found.”

    Munch: “But what are the chances? What are they?”

    Toni: “It’s also an expression.”

    Munch: “But I can’t see what are the chances?”

    Okay, fine. So maybe I get why kid-books usually try and keep shit simple.

    “Mamma I can’t see love letters in the tummy!!!!!”

    metaphor-blog-(i)

  • Maybe Being High is Really Fun?

    Call me old-fashion, but I don’t let my 2-year old do drugs.  Even though I am well aware that drugs can be amusing, I am pretty sure it is frowned upon to let your kids indulge in mind-altering substances.

    Because I am such a square, so far my child’s life has been a sober one.

    I try to minimize her exposure to temptations.  I force The Munch to subsist on kale and quinoa , so she doesn’t get a lot of treats or yummies with sugar.  The most wild I get is letting her indulge in a granola bar.  I know.  Shit be getting crazy up in here!

    But every one in a while The Munch gets offered sweets by other people, and when those opportunities come she is on it like brown on brown rice.  Her sexy baby sitter brought her a chocolate the other day and Munch was so excited her eyes almost ruptured out of her face.

    She ate the chocolate with such delight and savored it for almost half an hour.  Taking tiny little caterpillar sized bites so as not to rush the experience.  When she was done, The Munch was high as fuck.  She was talking fast, running around, getting grand ideas about the future, wanting to start a band with me….  It reminded me a lot of my party days of the past.

    I really do think sugar is a type of drug, and just like drugs when it becomes an addiction it’s problematic. But I am not villainizing drugs or sugar – just the way it is overused and abused by humans.  People often turn to substances as a way of avoidance, and an unhealthy dependency can form.  But watching Munch made me remember that like drugs, sugar in moderation is fun as fuck.

    The Munch was as happy as a fish in the rain.  It was like her life was suddenly in Technicolor and she was the girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

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  • Can’t I Just Be A Big Baby?

    Although kids are cute and all, they can also be as irritating as an over used fuck hole.  Everyone is always telling me to “appreciate every moment, they grow up so fast!” Yeah yeah yeah… Even though I know this to be true, and the years may be short with your child – the days are long.

    But I don’t blame kids for being annoying.  Children are in a constant state of growth, and that is exhausting.  They are having to learn new things daily, and are expected to adapt that knowledge while more and more input is flooding their tiny, still developing brains. It’s hard enough for me to learn someone’s name.

    I think one of the hardest things about being a toddler is the transition from being an infant into a child.  The Munch has actual memories of being a baby.  She recalls me holding her all the time, and having everything done for her.  But now she is expected to “be a big girl” and do things on her own.

    On the one hand I am sure being capable of new things is empowering for The Munch. That she enjoys her new found freedom of being self-sufficient.  But at the same time, being a baby kicks ass.  If I could live my life as one big baby you better believe I would.

    I feel like The Munch is nostalgic for those times and it manifests with this one constant request that she makes every day of my life:

    Munch: “Carry me Mamma.”

    Toni: “Munch, you are too heavy.  You’re a big girl now.  You can walk.”

    Munch: “NO CARRY ME!!!!!!”

    Toni: “Dude, it is like 700 degrees out.  If I carry you my arms are going to melt off.”

    Munch: “But Mamma, please carry me! I LIKE TO BE CARRIED!”

    Well I do too kid… I do too.

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  • My Daughter The Dictator

    My kid is one bossy bitc….uhhhhh person.  I think she was a dictator in her past life… and by past life I mean this one.

    The Munch has an opinion on just about everything.  She has to choose her outfit every day, and gods forbid I try to slip on Minnie Mouse underpants when she wants Daisy Duck.  The Munch even tries to command what I should wear and whether or not I can roll up my sleeves.

    Maybe you are thinking that she is just really into fashion but getting dressed is just the first activity of the day.  It goes on from there into every facet of our existence.

    Munch: “Mamma, are you going to eat some oatmeal like me?”

    Toni: “No Munch I am fine for now. I am going to have some water first.”

    Munch: “No Mamma, have some oatmeal.”

    Toni: “Munch I am okay. I am just thirsty right now.”

    Munch: “NO MAMMA HAVE SOME OATMEAL!! HAVE A BITE!!”

    Toni: “Okay okay…” (So I pretend to take a bite and kind of fake her out… or so I think)

    Munch: “Are you eating it?”

    Toni: “Yes!”

    Munch: “You are chewing it all up?”

    Toni: “Yes Munch.” (I am still pretending to be eating the oatmeal)

    Munch: “OPEN YOUR MOUTH! LET ME SEE!!!!”

    Sometimes I take The Munch for a bike ride where she sits in this carrier I drag behind me.  As I am sweating like a whore in church trying to get up the hill, towing my princess in her chariot, The Munch starts shouting orders and conducting how I ride.

    Munch: “Mamma, go faster up the hill.  Faster.  But don’t stand up! Sit back down!! Put your bum back on the seat okay? Sit down but go faster.  Now Mamma, go slower down the hill.”

    The other day my brother came over and was chilly.  I offered to get him a sweatshirt, but the Munch wouldn’t let me give him one.

    Munch: “NO MAMMA NO!! THAT IS YOUR SWEATSHIRT!!”

    Toni: “But your uncle Laszlo is cold and he wants to borrow it.  Do you want him to be cold?”

    Munch: “YES!!! I do want him to be cold!”

    There are times when we will be sitting and cuddling, and The Munch will start orchestrating exactly how I position my body and hold her.

    Munch: “No Mamma, don’t cross your leg.  Put your foot here.  Don’t let your head be floppy! Put it on the pillow. But not that pillow, that’s my pillow.  And hold me this way! Don’t hold my legs. Now tickle my back!”

    Although having someone try to choreograph your every move is exhausting, I also respect The Munch’s leadership skills.  Maybe she is prepping to be a politician, or CEO one of these days?  But a politician who isn’t corrupt and greedy (but can totally have sex scandals) or a CEO for an organic-free range-fair trade-sustainable-eco aware-non toxic company of course.

    (My lady in her chariot)

    my-daughter-dictator-blog-(i)

     

     

     

  • My Kid Annoys You

    When you bring your child out into the public people usually have two reactions.  Either they are charmed by them, and look at your child fondly, or they are seriously annoyed.

    I have been on both sides of this.  Sometimes just the sight of a child warms my heart.  I watch them interacting in their imagination, and am moved by their mere presence.  And other times a kid being a regular a kid makes me want to tackle them and tie them to a pole.

    I remember one time I was hanging out with my godson and his mom eating lunch.  This was long before The Munch, and my godson was the closest I was to any child.  I loved the crap out of him, and had been a huge part of his short life, but he kept touching me with his gross little food-infested sticky hands.  I guess I was giving his paws the stink-eye when his mom noticed and said, “Seriously, what is wrong with you Toni?” I guess she was pretty fucking offended.

    I get where she was coming from… You never want someone to look at your child with contempt.  Looking back at that moment I feel like a monster.  But his hands were really yucky!!

    Its hard for me not to notice when someone is irritated by The Munch.  Not to say that she can’t be frustrating as fuck sometimes, but there are other times when someone is just bothered by her regardless of her behavior.  She could be regular kid stuff like playing, running, or touching your face incessantly with hands coated in maple syrup.  I see when someone is watching her with that look on their face that reads “why doesn’t the mother of this wild beast do something?”

    But to be honest, I am not going to intervene every time I think The Munch might be getting on someone’s nerves. If I don’t thing what she is doing is truly obnoxious, or genuinely vile, I kind of think to myself “fuck it.”  Maybe it is part of that person’s life path to deal with the inconvenience of the existence of children.  I don’t want to over moderate her every move, and unless he is being a total dick, why not just let her live her life?

    my-kid-annoys-you-blog-(i)

  • 10 Reasons Never to Grow Up

    1. So you could pick your nose without shame
    2. If you really wanted something, throwing a tantrum would be a viable option towards getting it.
    3. You get carried around whenever you are tired.
    4. When you fart, people make up pet names for it rather than saying “ewwww gross, go do that outside.”
    5. So you could cry in the middle of the store if you wanted cookies.
    6. Getting sleep is a major priority to everyone around you.
    7. If you take off your pants in public people think it’s cute rather than offensive.
    8. To be able to go around with food on your face and no one would consider you a slob.
    9. So jumping would seem like fun rather than annoying exorcises.
    10. So I could swing on a swing and not want to barf into my hands.

    reasons-never-to-grow-up-blog-(i)

    June 21, 2013 • 2 years old, Musings • Views: 52

  • Maybe I Don’t Want To Play Doctor With You

    You know how kids play pretend right?  Well even though I don’t do that any more (except every time I get on Facebook and pretend my life is perfect), when I spend time with The Munch it often involves me entering into her world of imagination.  She gives me her dolls or stuffed animals and makes me talk for them, as I become a character in her very elaborate vision.

    Let me just get this out there before you go much further.  Full disclaimer.  The mind of a two year old is pretty demented place to enter into.

    The Munch is into role-playing situations that have happened to her.  So if she and I had a conversation about patience, and I tell her how she can’t cry and demand to have things “right now” all the time, she will then make her baby cry and be told she has to be patient.

    Okay, that seems pretty benign. Internalizing life lessons by recreating them under circumstances she has control over.  I was fine with this, and a willing participant.

    But yesterday things got kind of surreal.  The Munch was having me be her bunny, who she said was sick and needed its eyes fixed.  Alright.  She did at one point have pink eye, so I figured this material was inspired by that memory.  The Munch was telling Bunny its eyes had yellow stuff and needed to be cleaned. So far, pretty accurate.

    While looking for something to wipe the bunny’s eyes, The Munch found a thermometer.  I am not sure how she knew what one was, considering I hadn’t used one on her for over a year, but she did.

    Munch: “I am just going to take your temperature Bunny.  So turn around so I can put it in your bum.”

    Okay, so that was how I took her temperature, but again, this was a long time ago! I mean I guess children have wayyyy better memories than we think they do.

    Toni: “Okay Munch, but you have to be gentle when taking Bunny’s temperature.”

    She looked at me, and at first was gently placing the thermometer on Bunny’s bum.  But then she started maniacally laughing and sodomizing poor Bunny!

    Toni: “Munch that is not gentle!’

    But she didn’t care and kept laughing! And that is the story of when The Much anally raped a bunny.

    anal-rape-of-bunny-blog-(i)

  • Do You Think It’s Possible To Change?

    Even though change is the only constant in life, doesn’t it seem impossible to change as a person? Just the thought of changing feels exhausting.  It is hard enough changing my underwear let alone my whole personality.

    But we all suck, and need to change all the time for other people. You have to change for your parents, friends, lovers, employers, employees, and even your child.  Anyone who is around you for more than 1 hour a day is going to ask you to change.  Because lets face it, we are all really annoying.

    The idea of changing is overwhelming.  I am not a fucking caterpillar.  I don’t know how I can just change from one thing into another. I don’t even know how to make a cocoon or what I would construct it with.  Would organic goat feces work and wouldn’t I smell kind of funky when I emerged?  Who am I supposed to change into and where is the old me going to go?

    I feel like the concept of change is so esoteric and intimidating that people often feel they can’t.  “I can’t change. This is who I am.  Can’t you just accept me for me?” Nope. Probably not.  Because you are a big poopy pants.

    Then I realized something.  Thinking that the concept of “improving” is only accomplished through “changing” is totally counter-productive.  You already have the person who you want to be inside of you, the key is being that person more often.  So rather than thinking of being a totally new you, be the best version of you most of the time.

    Every person has good in them- kindness, empathy, caring, and consideration. You have been that before and can be that again.  Even serial killers are nice sometimes to some people.  So rather than focusing on change like you have to be different than who you are, be yourself.  Just the 2.0 model of you.

    (Even thinking about changing makes me have to lie down)

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    June 19, 2013 • 2 years old, Behavior, Family Drama, Mommy Mind, Musings, Relationships • Views: 62

  • I Need My Space… But Wait, Don’t Go Away!

    Remember being a kid and getting into fights with your friends?  It always felt like it was the biggest deal.  My world was over if someone was mad at me, or I felt like my friends at school were turning on me.  I would pretend to be sick just to avoid dealing with the idea that people didn’t like me.  Is it just me, or was childhood filled with a lot of social anxiety?

    I think part of that stress was because when you are young, you lack the perspective of foresight.  Knowing that these things happen, and eventually you will either make up, or grow apart.  Its not like you are going to die just because someone is mad at you or doesn’t want to be your friend.

    It is so easy to give people power, because it is so hard to remember that their opinion of you doesn’t have to be your opinion of you.

    Fighting with people is part of the being in relationships, but it is still stressful and something I try to avoid.  When I do go there, I have come to realize an important strategy.  Don’t talk when you are still mad.

    When you get angry with me that usually makes me get angry at you.  I get pissed because you are pissed.  Two people being pissy, it is a recipe for an argument that goes in circles.  You tell me how I suck, then I tell you how you suck.  You say I am shitty, and I tell you that I am shitty because I am reacting to your shit.

    If I am mad or frustrated, I am not listening to you.  I don’t even really want to move on, be empathetic, or forgive.  It is like I am stuck inside the mouth of a lion, and I don’t want to be there, but keep feeding into it.

    If I have time to let things breathe, and think it through on my own, I am so much more capable of approaching things with an open heart.  And when I am open to move forward, the conversation is much more productive.

    I try to apply this logic when dealing with The Munch… but it has proven to be quite challenging.  Especially considering she is way more relentless than the average person, and for me to take my space and leave her in the house to go weep in the woods and drink a pint of whiskey would be considered bad parenting.

    Munch: “No Mamma I don’t want to wear that dress I want to wear my birthday dress!”

    Toni: “Well, you have been wearing that dress for about 6 days straight and I put in in the laundry to clean it.”

    Munch: “But I want to wear my birthday dress!!!!”

    Toni: “Munch, its is really gross and dirty and needs to get clean.  So its in the laundry.  I will wash it tonight and you can wear it tomrrow.”

    Munch: “I WANT TO WEAR MY BIRTHDAY DRESS!! GET IT OUT OF THE LAUNDRY SO I CAN WEAR IT TODAY!!”

    Toni: “Dude, no.  That is insane.  Your dress is cruddy and gross and has stains all over it.”

    Munch: “MAMMA NO!! GET IT FROM THE LAUNDRY I WANT TO WEAR MY BIRTHDAY DRESS!!!!!!!!”

    So this is the part where I think it would be best for me to exit the conversation and take a moment.  To think things through and contemplate how best to explain that wearing a dress that has scuzz all over it is really yucky and eww.  And The Munch would take the time to see my point.  That perhaps she could wear something fucking else.  But instead we are both in each other’s faces because I am supposed to watch her and make sure she is alive all the time.

    Toni: “Fine.  Wear you stupid dress I don’t care.”

    Munch: “Thank you Mamma, I love you.”

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