momtrolfreak

Where oh Where Can My Child Have Gone? Alas, I Shall Never Find Him, For He is So Skillful at The Hiding and The Seeking....

p.s. Which reminds me of this stand-up bit from Louis C.K. about playing hide and seek with his daughter (the hide and seek part starts at time marker 1:35), here.

Oh, Little Town of Bethlehe--OH SWEET JESUS, THE HUMANITY!!!!!!

It's all fun and games until the skeleton dinosaurs attack your town.

 

The Usual Suspects

Until he was three and a half, Frog had no interest whatsoever in stuffed animals save his floppy bunny ("Bunny"), who, along with "Blanket" (<--formal name), constituted his favorite things, the two things he must have in order to sleep. At daycare, he had a "nap blanket" that was different from "Real Blanket," but he never took a "Friend." Bunny was the be-all and end-all, and of course was a seasonal item from Pottery Barn from a year before when he started honing in on his preference for him, so I embarked upon a mad craigslist/word-of-mouth/eBay search to find a backup just in case he got left somewhere, a la KnuffleBunny. After six months, one finally surfaced on eBay and I paid FORTY DOLLARS to get it. The very next day, before it even arrived, he decided Bunnies were for babies and he wanted Penguin to sleep in his bed. Well, that was just effing GREAT.

Now that he's in an urban, public preschool, a boy's gotta have a posse. You never know when you could get jumped at snack time. For nap at school, he has a small Star Wars pillow, a friend (the identity of which rotates weekly), and a "school blanket." At home, however, it's a free for all. His bed gets a bit crowded, but he's a great sleeper so I don't care. He can have whoever he wants in his bed as long as he doesn't get out of it before 6:30am.

This past weekend I heard him playing in his room sounding very bossy, which was odd since he had no classmates over (and of course no siblings, because I am a horrible, selfish woman who cares nothing for my son's future happiness). I peeked in and found that he and his friends were having circle time, and he was the teacher.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Mesdames et Messeurs, I present to you FrogBoy's "friends."

It was show-and-tell, you see. Apparently Monkey (bottom left corner) had brought both a blanket AND a tractor--going over the proscribed one-item-per-child allotment--and this had caused quite a stir, so Teacher FrogBoy was having to straighten those whippersnappers out a bit.

Funny how, looking at this, you can totally pick out a few stereotypical preschoolers in the bunch; I haven't been in the new class enough to know, but this looks an awful lot like my son's old class back at The Daycare:

1. The monkey is bigger than everyone else and clearly having trouble keeping his hands to himself (one can hardly blame him, though--i mean, his palms are covered with velcro).

2. All the littlest kids (including "Dude," the turtle from Finding Nemo, R2-D2, baby penguin, and baby lion) are sitting together--safety in numbers, ya know...

3. Lion is totally laying down not even pretending to pay attention. (King of the Jungle + top of the food chain = totally spoiled)

4. Thomas the Train looks like he's about to LOSE IT over Chicken having a foot in his personal space

(By the way, have you sensed a trend here? However creative my son may be in other ways--his fish are named Pirate, Dreidel, and Frank; he has a rich fantasy life--his stuffed animals' names leave something to be desired.)

Now to the other side of the circle...

THREE GUESSES...

WHICH ONE IS THE BITER?:

You can just TELL from Bunny's body language that he is afraid to sit there. He knows he's gonna get bit again. Watch out, Bunny!

And of course, last but not least, there's the kid who's strung out on Ritalin:

Best part? The sheep (an exchange student from Scotland) not only 'baa's but, if you pull his tail, actually VIBRATES. How appropos.

An Open Letter to LucasFilm and the McDonalds Happy Meal People:

Dear LucasFilm and McDonalds' Happy Meal People:

I took my three-year-old to McDonald's for lunch the other day after school shopping.

Got a Happy Meal.

"OOh, Star Wars!" I thought. Then I opened the package.

WHAT

THE FUCK

IS THIS?

I mean, Look. I like Chewbacca, and I like an AT-AT or AT-ST (I don't know the difference, I'm not THAT big of a fan) as much as the next guy, but DUUUUUUUDE-uh:

PUT.

THE BONG.

DOWWWWN.

I'm not even going to get INTO wondering why Chewbacca is crosseyed.

This is a case of someone not knowing when to stop.  It's the equivalent of a perfectly good pair of jeans that somebody had to go and bedazzle. Why could you not just have a cool-ass windup AT-AT thingie? That would have been awesome!

Some of the 18 toys in the series (click on photo for more) kind of make sense--an Ewok head on a scooter, sure. But most of them look like they've been hacked up and superglued together by that mean kid from Toy Story. And the R2-D2 one? Come on. You weren't even trying.  What kills me is, these pieces of crap come FREE with a cheeseburger, but for some reason if I want just a plain, NON-BOBBLE, NON-CROSS-EYED, NON GENETICALLY MUTATED Han Solo action figure it's gonna set me back $78 on eBay. What is the world coming to. OH THE HUMANITY.

p.s. I know, I've been neglecting my blog. I'm really very sorry. I've been traveling for weeks doing fun stuff that did not include computer access--jet skis and waterparks and other stuff the men in my life love to do that I find annoying--and taking a whole week off work because we took Frog out of his old school and then it was a week before the new one started (more on that later) and while I know there are moms who are home with their kids all the time AND write blogs, Frog has this strict (I am not kidding) "no cell phone" policy in his room, so if I am playing with him I cannot even text anybody, much less post to the blog. It's like his room is located in the 16th century. Super annoying. So. Oh, and right now I'm studying for grad school, like  REALLY studying, for this big huge final full-day essay exam I have to take to walk away with my Master's. So after this weekend, I'll be back. Be proud of me: I'm trying really hard to be good. I'm seriously cheating by even being on here right now. Not kidding. Don't tell my mom. Hi mom.

Chicago Peeps: WTF Will You Do This Weekend?

I don't usually do these kinds of posts, you know, and by that I mean reviews, or "What to Do This Weekend" type things.

If you want reviews or cool stuff for moms and kids, you've got to check out CoolMomPicks. They are awesome. I think I buy, like, every third thing they recommend (I'm not made of money, ya'll).

If you want a list of stuff to do in Chicago there are a couple of sites for that I guess but the BEST one, IMO, is WindyCityTot. Funnily enough, I just went over to her site to grab her URL (I always screw it up because it's got that blogspot part in there) so I could  link to her, and she has just posted a tip I sent her earlier this week that I was about to give to you here, so now I can be TOTALLY LAZY and just link to her site!  Of course the link she put to me doesn't work so now I will have to go kick her butt. Just kidding.

SAVE THE MELODRAMA FO YO MAMA

Anyway, the thing I told her about for her weekly run-down of activities in Chicago is this show at Quest Ensemble called
"ALAS! ALACK! ZORRO IS BACK!"

It's an old-school melodrama, very campy and fun. There are some bawdy jokes but they soar right over the kids' heads. It's not a kids' show per se, but holy moly, did FrogBoy love it. Quest does shows for FREEEEEEEE, totally free, not "suggested donation," just FREE (though there is a bucket you can donate in if you want, there's no hard sell).

You buy a bag of popcorn (or two, if you want to eat one) - all refreshments are $1 so knock yourself out--and then you take your seat. Inexplicably Frog insisted on sitting in the front row. NO IDEA, HAS NEVER HAPPENED. Anyway, a guy comes out in character and introuces the characters and tells you what to do: when the bad guy (basically Stephen Colbert in a handlebar mustache--and by that I mean TOTALLY AWESOME) comes out, you yell BOOO!!!! and throw popcorn at him. That's right, you're allowed to throw popcorn. How. Cool. Is that.

When the ingenue comes out, you say "Awww!" as she bats her eyes. When the hero (duh, Zorro, keep up people) comes out, you clap and yell YAY!!!!

Now, Frog absolutely adored this. He's three and a half and is kind of hit-or-miss with theatre. Sometimes he can sit through a show, sometimes not. This one, he was riveted. It's short with an intermission, so don;t worry, it's not like sitting through Hedda Gabler or something. And here's the thing: it was a show my kid enjoyed THAT DID NOT ALSO MAKE ME WANT TO BLOW MY BRAINS OUT ALL OVER THE STAGE.

Which is good because there was a gun (which Frog charmingly calls a "shooter." Bullets are called "shoots.")

No one is actually shot, however. There is one well-done, exciting, but non-violent (no one is actually stabbed) rapier fight (Frog said they were like "metal lightsabers"). Even the town skank is pretty PG, nothing actually low-cut. The cast is great at interacting with the audience, bantering, and acting all "mad" when they get booed. The highlight of the show was when a piece of popcorn actually got stuck to the thick makeup on the bad guy's face, and he had no idea and went on with the scene like that for a good five minutes. Frog was LOSING. HIS SHIT. Laughing so hard.

The cast stands at the door after the show so people can meet them. One of them even gave Frog a balloon. This is the fourth show we've taken him to see at Quest (again, they are not a children's theatre, but a lot of their stuff is universally accessible, as it were). They have GREAT production quality--original composed music was awesome, the cast's voices were GREAT, and the set was amazing--the one backdrop with a picture of Zorro on it blew me away (note: The Set Designer and Scenic Artist are friends of ours, but we got in for free because EVERYONE DOES). They are funded I think by a grant from the city and from donations. Did I mention it's FREE? You gotta go.

Here's their info: Quest Ensemble: Alas! Alack! Zorro is Back! Fridays & Saturdays at 8pm, Sundays at 2pm. August 14-September 27th. THEY DO SELL OUT SOMETIMES so I would recommend a reservation. Calll 312.458.0895 or visit www.questensemble.org. 1609 West Gregory (basically Ashland and Bryn Mawr area).There are bathrooms available--real indoor plumbing! And everyone is very laid-back: it is unlikely you will get dissaproving looks from audience members about your child--unless you are a TOTAL DOUCHE and stay in teh room when your child is crying. Don't do that shit, it makes us all look bad.

p.s. Please to be bringing the dollars for the refreshments. You'll need to buy more ammunition I MEAN POPCORN at intermission.

PARTY TRAIN-ING

Second thing is the Thomas the Tank Engine festival at the Illinois Railway Museum, or, if you're not able to do that this weekend, then just going to the Illinois Railway Museum, period. It's the largest Railway Museum in the country, and there are a ton of trains and streetcars and buses there to look at plus ones that work that you can ride on. The festival was here just last weekend and then this weekend, so if your kid is EVEN REMOTELY into transportation, GET THEE TO UNION ILLINOIS. It ain't close--it's like an hour and 15 minutes northwest of Chicago: like, a bit past IKEA DO NOT STOP AT IKEA.

This weekend an $18 pass gets you admission including a ride on Thomas (see above for the picture of Frog standing dumbstruck in bottom left corner as he watches Thomas go by) and tons of activities, such as a cool push-pull trolley thing kids power themselves, a bouncy castle (a.k.a. moonwalk), a train tunnel with a ball pit, a meeting with Sir Topham Hat (in case you have any important Sodor city business you need to bring up with him), and a little learning lesson by a very sweet but boring old man about train safety. Oh AND, mini golf! And a craft tent where you get a Thomas tattoo,

and make a greeting card with stamps, and play with TONS of train tables full of Thomas trains. There is also a big gift shop DO NOT GO TO THE GIFT SHOP UNLESS YOU WANT TO SPEND MONEY LIKE LINDSAY LOHAN SHOPPING FOR BLOW.

And look, people, do not plan on just showing up and buying a ticket, because the Thomas train ride is a timed entry ticket, and you will be out of luck and stuck there until 4pm waiting for the last ride.

For more info, check out the Illinois Railway Museum site. Again, don't get mad at me because I'm telling you three times, THE THOMAS STUFF WILL BE GONE AFTER THIS WEEKEND. 

Although, so will the mean old (and by old I jsut mean, like 60, and healthy-looking, not some decrepit sweet-faced pruney 90 year old that we should all love and endure no matter what she says) lady who yelled at Frog for bouncing a (near-weightless, inflated, beach) ball on the floor AND BY FLOOR I MEAN GRASS IN THE GIFT SHOP, which is not indoors but is, rather, a large tent.

Mean Lady: "No! No! No little boy! Do not play with that ball in here!"

Me: (giving lady silent "don't fuck with me" smile)

Frog: (quivering lip) ?

Me: "Come over here honey, apparently, this silly lady thinks the Thomas Festival is for SERIOUS ADULTS and not a place for CHILDREN to have FUN. Isn't that silly?"

Frog: (wanders over to where Aquaman is looking at some wooden track AS IF WE DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TO CIRCLE THE EARTH THREE TIMES)

Mean Old Lady: "How could you let him bounce that ball in here?" (with emphasis, as if I was letting him play with a twelve foot python)

Me: "Um, It's not a museum, it's a TOY TENT at a train festival FOR CHILDREN." 

Mean Old Lady: "You are a horrible mother."

Me: "And you are a bitch. Mind your own fucking business."

...ANNNNND SCENE.

Frog was no longer within earshot, so calm down. Really, folks, no weekend child-related outing would be complete without a bitch smackdown and the F-bomb. Am I right or am I right?

Despite Mean Old Lady and the 90-degree heat we had a great time, all three of us. When we go back next year (it's a touring thing), I'm wearing a t-shirt that says

(front:) "THE CRAZY TRAIN DOES NOT STOP AT THIS STATION"

(back:) "SO STEP OFF, BITCH."

Subtle, no? 

I mean, come on, most of these little fuckers can't read anyway.

They'll never know.

Well, I guess he knows how to spell now....

 

This is my new favorite adjective. I just can't quite decide if it's a positive or negative one.

To wit:

"I think this might be past its date. Here--does this smell penisy to you?"

or

"Mmmmm, what's for dinner, honey? Smells penisy in here."

or even

"Nah, I'm gonna stay home from work today, I'm feeling a little penisy."

The possibilities are endless.

B*tch, this IS my good side

Against our better judgment, we've signed our son up for a pee wee soccer group for the next six weekends. Why “against our better judgment,” you ask? Well, I think he'll love it, and it’s good outdoor time, but my reticence stems from three uncomfortable truths:

1. he'll be the oldest in the class by a long shot
2. I'll be forced to make new friends.
3. I’ll be forced to watch my mouth whilst making new friends.

I know this sounds hyper-misanthropic but seriously, I already have a few core friends and a bunch of peripheral friends and acquaintances and I don't have time to spend with any of them as it is. Speaking of which, my friend Eden¹ is actually due with her first baby in a month or so and just boasted to me today that she and her husband are taking a private childbirth class so that they wouldn't have to make any friends (you think I'm misanthropic, heh. just check out these two).

I didn't know private childbirth classes existed. We had to endure the ones with 30 other perfectly normal-and-intelligent seeming yuppie couples who actually raise their hands when the instructor asks "does anyone not know what a c-section is?" I just don’t have time in my life for that brand of stupidity. You don’t have to know how to spell caesarean, but if you are seven months pregnant and you don’t know what a friggin’ c-section is, then they should take your baby away and give it to someone smarter. Like maybe Angelina Jolie.

The other bonus to the private class, apparently, is that Polly and her husband were actually allowed to OPT OUT of the videos. You know what videos I'm talking about. The sweaty, naked, seventies-triangle-bush, crotch-cam videos, videos from a time “when a lady garden was as big as a slice of New York pizza.”² I reject as false the supposed diametrical opposition of having a healthy relationship with your body and not wanting to hold a hand mirror down there while you push out something bigger than a purse. My healthy relationship with my body is, in fact, completely DEPENDENT on my NOT holding a hand mirror up to my crotch while I push out something bigger than my purse. Fortunately for me my baby was born via (unplanned and unanesthetized) c-section. So the only thing I need to look at with a mirror is my bikini line, and it's just fine, thank you.

So soccer. (I know, try to keep up.) One of the moms put the whole thing together, and then another mom e-mailed everyone to see what we'd think about getting little soccer jerseys for everyone at about ten bucks a pop. Just about everybody e-mailed back something along the lines of "Great idea! we're in--thanks for organizing!" except for one mom, who replied to all:

"Thanks for doing this. My Madison³ looks best in cooler tones."

Okay, really? Your Madison is TWO. I don't know her, but she’s a toddler so I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that she looks cute in just about anything. Saying that she looks best in cooler tones is basically implying, "My eensy daughter looks butt-ass ugly in anything but pale blue; I mean, honestly, when she wears jewel tones I pass out." Plus, are you familiar with the term "beggars can't be choosers?" This is like going over for a playdate and being offered a cup of home-brewed coffee and responding, "Sure can you run out and grab me a venti soy half-caf frappacino with whip? Oh, and feed my meter while you're out."

This one comment has solidified my fear of making new soccer mom friends. It's some sort of cross-pollination of 'soccer mom' and 'stage mom' that I did not previously know existed...you know, like…a Labradoodle, but a lot less cute.

God help poor Madison when she makes it to the prom:

"Bye honey! Have a great time! Make sure when you pose for pictures you suck in your stomach! And only show your left side! NO, the LEFT side! The right one has that awful MOLE, remember? And don't have sex! If you get knocked up you'll never lose the weight! And you need your women’s soccer team money—you’re not smart enough for academic scholarships!"

Poor Madison. First the name, and now this.

Do they have 529 plans for therapy? I gotta look that up. My little poptart is gonna need it, too.

¹ Name changed to protect the maniacally pregnant
² I miss you, Amy Poehler. Parks and Recreation better be good, and your baby better be really fucking cute. Otherwise it’s not worth it to me to have to live without you on SNL.
³Name changed to protect the red-headed; though I promise the exact nature and tone of the original name have been painstakingly preserved