#7: Bad Mom Says “Here’s a $20; Go play!”

Remember the old saying “kids should be seen and not heard”?  That saying was often used at my grandparents’ house over the holidays when the kids were told to “go play” while the adults got to do fun stuff like get drunk and play board games.

I’ll never understand why kids have all these toys – and trust me wayyy more toys today than when I was a kid and thought Nintendo was the sweetest thing ever with my 5 games! – And yet they still want to constantly be up your ass every chance they get.  What gives?

In hindsight I should be grateful my kid actually likes me because I know in about 12 years she will probably hate me and will tell me I’m so annoyingggg, like kids teens love to tell their parents.  I’m already dreading it and praying I survive because it’s not like we need another hormonal chick in our household.

For now I try to remind myself to appreciate the Chiquita’s mostly cute and sweet nature and to enjoy her hugs, which are now big and plentiful.  There’s nothing like the moment when your kid wraps her little chubby arms around your neck and squeezes with all her might.  Ooohhh! She says in my ear as she squeezes me tight and wipes her little nose on my cheek.

But, then there are those moments when I just want some goddamn peace and quiet.  Please, kid, can you let me have three seconds of privacy so I can wipe my ass???  No, you can’t, because your kid wants to be right there staring at you, looking in the toilet and plugging their nose.  #Awesome.

And godforbid you actually shut the door in their face.  Yes, this Bad Mom has done that.  Sorry I’m not sorry, but the Chiquita had plenty of alternatives.  And no, I wasn’t actually wiping my ass.  I was putting on my makeup, and I already had her staring at my naked body while I was forced to take a shower with the shower door wide open.  Meanwhile I’m shaving my pits and my kid is staring up at me, laughing and pointing at my belly button.

I laughed, at that moment it was pretty cute, but 40 minutes later while I’m now trying to apply my mascara absolutely perfectly to my eyelashes – my day is ruined if I have a bad eyelash day, no joke – and she just wouldn’t leave me alone did she finally start to get on my nerves.

“For Pete’s sake!” I yell. “In the living room alone you have a big screen with cartoons on, a princess castle tent and oodles and oodles of toys, yet you have to sit in the bathroom and hang on my legs and pick up strands of hair off the floor to hand them to me???  Really???”

She stares at me and hands me a fuzzy she picked up from the bathroom rug.  I grabbed the fuzz, said thank you, and then shoved her butt out the door.  Yes, I did.  What did she do?  She turned around and walked back in.

“Go play,” I said.

She looked up at me.  She had the cutest look on her face, like she was begging to hang out with me.  I considered letting her stay and then she tried to reach for the curling iron cord.  That’s it!  How will I ever finish getting ready?!?

“Go play!” I said, louder this time.

My lovely bathroom

You’re probably envisioning this large and beautiful bathroom with a heated tile floor, whirlpool tub and chic decor.  I wish!!!  My house was built in 1927.  It is a 3 bedroom 1 bath cape cod.  The bathroom is probably the size of your closet.  It has a single-sink vanity, a bathtub and a toilet.  Two people barely fit in the bathroom at the same time – unless one of them is in the shower – and it is especially tight when my 1 ½ year old is trying to push her baby’s Graco stroller at me while I’m curling my eyelashes.  I swear this happened.

I snap and yell, “Out, out, out!”  I turn her around and nudge her little body out [again] and shut the bathroom door.

Yes, I shut the bathroom door on her.  I didn’t slam it, I’m not completely evil, but yes, I did shut it as she stood there crying.  Even though I really really really wanted to take a Calgon bath and like the commercials it would suddenly be quiet and peaceful with candles burning, soft music playing and a glass of wine next to my beautiful marble whirlpool tub, I woke the fuck up and remembered this is real life.  And in real life people don’t shut bathroom doors on their children.  Well, maybe they do, but not me.

So, I take a deep breath, open the door, and give the Chiquita a bigggg hug while I wiped the crocodile tears from her cheeks.

***

Fast forward a week…we are having dinner at All Aboard Diner, this super cute restaurant that serves meals by train.  It’s kid friendly and serves alcohol, omg, I couldn’t imagine a better place to spend our Friday night with the Chiquita.

We’re sitting at the center counter.  There are booths around the outskirts of the restaurant, but if you want to have your meal served by train you have sit at the oval counter in the center of the restaurant.  I’m sipping my wine, Hubs is sipping a beer and the Chiquita is having a ball watching the train continue to go round and round.

We’re sitting on the short red diner stools, the Chiquita in the middle of us, and this place is super loud because there are kids everywhere.  Hubs and I cheers to the weekend, and I say, “I love this place for serving booze!”

Dinner is going great – and then the food arrives.

Now when you are about to have your first kid you constantly hear warnings pertaining to the lack of sleep.  And I guess I got lucky – super lucky – that the Chiquita is a sleeper.  My kid goes to bed early and gets up late.  The one warning that seasoned mom’s never gave me was that you will never be able to eat in peace again!

Feed me, Chiquita!

Eating with a child can be very stressful.  It consists of Chiquita trying to feed our begging cat, Kennedy, who thinks she’s a dog, throwing food that she doesn’t like and screaming over conversations of Hubs and I trying to discuss our day.  Basically dinner with the Chiquita is all about the Chiquita.

So after Hubs and I toast to the weekend and the red wine starts moving through my veins I’m like in total relaxxx mode.  The food comes, and I forget that I’m out with a 1 ½ year old.  I’m expecting this peaceful dinner consisting of me sipping more wine and having this deep conversation with my husband.  Then maybe sipping lots more wine.

A harsh reality hits me in the face as Chiquita is trying to grab everything in sight to shove in her mouth, including the very hot corn dog on her plate.

“Wait, wait, wait girl,” I say and grab her plate to cut the corn dog into tiny pieces.

Side note, this kid is an eater just like her mother.  Lucky for us we have great genes, until you hit about 30 and then suddenly the fat doesn’t fall off so easily anymore.  So sad.  I’m not a fan of working out and wish I could pay someone to do it for me.  Yes, yes, it does make me feel better when I DO workout, I just wish I didn’t have to for both my sanity and keeping my FAB figure. 😉

But back to feeding little people – as in kids not midgets – when you feed a child not only are they supppperrrrr impatient but by the time I get her situated, cut her food up, give her a drink, pick up the food she’s thrown off her plate, cut more food up because now the other food is gone, and I’m finally able to sit to eat my [cold] meal this kid is done eating and is ready to get up and move on to the next activity!

Wtf, I haven’t even taken my first bite yet!  I just want to eat and drink in peace!  This eating ritual will take place whether you are in your own kitchen or whether you go out to All Aboard Diner.  This did not occur to me.

At All Aboard Diner

While I’m cutting up Chiquita’s corn dog Hubs is sipping his beer and eating his juicy hamburger.  I’m salivating and looking at him like I want to murder him as my own juicy hamburger is looking at me and calling my name.

I get Chiquita situated [finally] and as I said above she’s now finished.  We’re in this awesome play land, and I’m sort of wishing she was old enough to go play so I can just kick back.

I look at Hubs and say, “I can’t wait until Eva is old enough to go play in the game room by herself.”

Hubs looks at me, and I continue.  “Like, I would just say to her, ‘Here’s a $20, now go play.’” As I motion my hands in a Shoo gesture.

I laugh, and then it’s like I heard in my own ears what I actually said.

“Hmm…does it make me a bad mom if I say to my kid ‘Here’s a $20, now go play so I can sit here and drink my wine!’”

Ummm…I think so. 😀 But at least I recognize it.

2 thoughts on “#7: Bad Mom Says “Here’s a $20; Go play!”

  1. Haha, I’ve so been there. Just think, one day though, they’ll just walk up and demand the $20…that’s what mine do.

    By the way, I tagged you in my last post, and you’re it!

    1. Haha, you are sooo right!! 😀

      Yes, I saw that, but I haven’t sat down to actually read the post yet. I will this weekend!! Thank you so much, I’m honored! Have a good weekend.

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