Count Waffles

Puddles of Mud

April 11, 2007 by Queen of Spain 13 Comments

I’ve been accused of blogging (or playing on second life) too much, while my children light mattresses on fire.

I’ve been accused of NOT paying attention while they say three MILLION TIMES “Mommy watch me! Mommy watch me! Mommy watch MEEEEEEE!!!!”

While I will not indulge you with the details of how I may not exactly qualify for the mother-of-the-year in 2007, I will tell you I had TWO eyes on them and engaged when both of my children did exactly what I told them to and stopped playing in the sprinklers.

Of course I assumed, as I saw the backs of their heads move up and down, that they were playing with sidewalk chalk on my patio…but they were giggling and laughing out loud and seemingly doing what I asked…NOT getting wet in the sprinklers.

When I stopped watching out the kitchen window and stepped outside to see their works of art on the concrete, I was a little…um…well…you tell me…

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Princess Peanut, Royal Sillies

NYC

March 23, 2007 by Queen of Spain 11 Comments

So what’s a California girl to do in rainy NYC with NO photo ID???

Go to a Knicks game, of course.

Yes, I’m in New York City for BlogHer Business and I’ve lost my driver’s license. Everyone has been very helpful, not at all bitchy and flippant like the many movies and shows about New York have lead me to believe.

Truth is, the Kaiser has to find all kinds of documentation in our Los Angeles home that then must be faxed to this hotel before I can board my flight back to the West Coast on Saturday. So I’m being really nice to the New Yorkers in the event I’m stuck here forever. Which would be fine. Because the food is really good and the original Macy’s in right down the block.

My mother thinks this is all just a ploy so I can get my stay away from real life extended. I would agree with her, if it weren’t for my son’s birthday. You see, I get home on Saturday…when he turns 4. I have to be there. I MUST be there. I can’t miss my child’s birthday.

Everyone start a Kaiser chant now please…FIND THAT STUFF. FIND THAT STUFF.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Kaiser

Its the Great Tampon Charlie Brown!

March 19, 2007 by Queen of Spain 8 Comments

My kids love Charlie Brown. My daughter says “Oh Good Grief” all the time and my son thinks every dog should look and act like Snoopy.

I love it. Finally some shows I can watch with them that give me the warm fuzzies about my own childhood.

Today while watching the Valentine tivo’d Peanuts…Count Waffles amused himself by going through my backpack. Normally I’d stop him, but I knew there wasn’t much in there as I have FINALLY finished unpacking from our recent trip.

Of course he finds the pens and the airline ticket stubs. He also finds my pads and tampons. Oh boy. Here we go.

I’m half paying attention as I surf blogs and second life, and don’t realize he’s taken a tampon out of the wrapper and is studying it. Oh boy.

Mommy, is this a shooter blaster?

Um…not, not exactly.

But look, it shoots out…see?

Yes it does, but that is for girls. Girls use it when they have blood, remember?

Oh, but why?

Well, so I don’t get messy.

But PigPen likes being messy.

Yes, PigPen does like being messy.

So I can play with this, like a shooter blaster, then you don’t need it and can be messy like PigPen.

Well, I don’t want to be messy like PigPen, and those are not toys.

Fine, but Charlie Brown would play with it. He would use it as a shooter blaster and give it to pig pen with the blood.

No, honey, really…these are not toys and lets not talk about them being bloody.

Well, that girl wouldn’t kiss them. She doesn’t like dog lips with Snoopy or blood lips. Did you know she didn’t like blood lips.

Oh my God…this conversation is getting out of hand.

Its not in my hand Mommy, it goes in your pees.

Ok. Stop.

Well I don’t want it play with it, it won’t go back in.

Ok. Just give it me, and don’t play with these anymore, ok?

Maybe I”ll just use the pillow diapers instead.

No. No. No…..here, have a sucker.

Sigh. Did I mention he’s 4 on Saturday? 4 and playing with tampons. What a life.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, kill me now

Call me when he’s in college

March 1, 2007 by Queen of Spain 15 Comments

If there are any Mom cliche’s left that I haven’t used, feel free to send them my way…because tonight I was scraping the bottom of the barrel and came up with:

“I MADE YOU! I MADE YOU IN MY BODY AND YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TREAT ME THIS WAY. NINE MONTHS YOU WERE INSIDE ME KICKING AND NEARLY KILLING ME AND I DID THAT FOR YOU and you WILL be NICE to me!”

Or something like that. I’m not sure, I couldn’t hear much with the smoke shooting out of my ears and fire spewing from my mouth.

Almost 4-year olds can suck it.

Filed Under: Count Waffles

Go to Jail, Go directly to Jail

February 26, 2007 by Queen of Spain 13 Comments

My son really, really, really does not want me to go to jail. Or die.

Which is good, because I really don’t have any desire to go to jail. Or die.

He seems to think both are real possibilities and both could happen at any moment. I mean, he’s right about one of those…but still. I wrote about this over at DotMoms, but I need to post it again here, because I honestly don’t know how to answer him anymore. I think explaining to him only bad people go to jail helped relieve some fears. But the death thing? He flusters me daily. I just can’t bring myself to tell him anyone of us could be gone tomorrow.

My son is asking about death.

He wants to know if he will die. He wants to known when he will die. He wants to know how he will die. He wants to know what will happen after he dies. He wants to know if Mommy will die. He wants to know if Daddy will die.

When I was asked these deep questions by a not-quite 4-year-old, I paused. This was one of those moments when I needed to have my Mom act together. I was not going to get away with a, “Oh, just because…” answer.

It was during my pause that my son threw me for a loop. It seems he wasn’t so concerned about dying, but actually more concerned about being “alone” and “away from everybody.”

He wasn’t really worried about dying, he was worried about not being able to hug his mom when he needed it most.

Did anyone else’s heart just jump into their throats?

I, of course, assured my tiny worry wart that he would always have someone. I was vague. I was very non specific, and I choked back tears the entire time, knowing it wasn’t true.

I lied.

I wasn’t as concerned with the lie as I was the truth. One day he may be alone. One day I won’t be here. One day…

I think I liked it better when I thought he was obsessed with death.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Royally Screwed

When CoSleeping Ends (Part II)

February 13, 2007 by Queen of Spain 18 Comments

Put on PJ’s. Brush teeth. Read stories. Get tucked in. Go to sleep.

It’s that FUCKING SIMPLE.

My kids don’t do that. They have NEVER done that. Well, expect for the past three nights.

Cue the choir of angles.

Having been breastfed to bed, co-sleeping babies, our bedtimes habits are a bit…umm, lax. Throw in the usual snots and sniffles and pukes and we had a routine of children either having been breastfed, laid with, or held to sleep.

We slowly made the transition from our bed to their beds with protests. Throw in some parental laziness and bam…four people in our king.

Now that I’m on the mend and the kids had a few night of Mommy gone at the hospital, we’ve decided to re-impliment the “kids go to bed in their own beds” rule. I automatically assumed this would be a total failure. Which is fine. I’m tired. I don’t have the energy.

Turns out we’re on night #3, as I type this…with kids asleep in their own beds. I nearly gave in to the Count because he has a bad cough and runny nose. But I held firm. KNOWING this could go on and on and on until they go off to college.

People TELL me co-sleeping kids eventually leave your bed, but really you don’t believe it. You just assume they will come and go and come and come and come and come and come. And just stay. Forever. Or until they decide to marry or something.

I am still emotional over weaning Princess Peanut. So this whole not sleeping with a kid-leg in my ribs is a little hard for me. I keep telling myself it’s fine. I keep telling myself not to get all crazy/protective/hover mommy.

But none of that really goes away until mindblowing sex, IN MY OWN BED, with the Kaiser.

Emotional crisis over. Cue the choir of angles again.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Kaiser, Princess Peanut, Royal Sexlife

Preschool and Playboy

January 26, 2007 by Queen of Spain 23 Comments

I caught my son on the crapper with his father’s Playboy.

Sure, it was upside down. Sure, he’s only 3 1/2-years old.

But I’ll be damned if he didn’t get all embarrassed and throw it to the ground.

When I asked him, laughing, what he was doing he said, “Nothing,” with a shit-eating grin on his face.

The magazine may have been upside down, but it was clearly not the monthly interview portion of the rag.

I don’t care in the slightest that he’s looking at naked women. I don’t care that he’s curious and thinks its funny to see boobs. BUT, if we hide those magazines do we implant the idea that what he did was wrong? If we don’t hide them, will he be playing doctor with the girls at preschool a little too soon?

Do you hide your Playboy? Do you leave it out? Do you keep it under the sink counter and if the kids look, they look?

I don’t want to give the impression there is anything wrong with nudity or exploring your sexuality or getting that tingly feeling down below.

I also don’t want to raise a perv.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Stepford Crazies

Jesus is a GIRL

December 22, 2006 by Queen of Spain 10 Comments

Count Waffles the Terrible is adamant that Jesus Christ is a woman.

Apparently the preschool, preholiday puppet show included “a baby girl, a donkey, star people, an angel, clouds, and a blue guy.”

When I tried to tell my little guy that I was rather certain the “baby girl” he spoke of was actually a baby boy, he stopped me.

“No. No. Mom. No. It was a girl. I saw it. It was a girl.”

Funny I didn’t even question the inclusion of “star people” or a “blue guy” in the nativity, as far as I know there aren’t any scientologists at our preschool. Or smurfs. But Jesus? A GIRL? Hell yes that got my attention. Seeing as one of my favorite feminist cartoons depicts a nativity scene with everyone peering into the manger and exclaiming “IT’S A GIRL!”

Later on in the day I asked the Count again why he thought the baby in the manger was a girl. And the feminist household I covet had it’s image shattered into pieces, by a 3-year-old;

“Mom, I knew it was a girl because all she did was cry and whine.”

Ouch.

So in the spirit of the season, please, please, please, go listen to this wonderful rendition of O Holy Night. Sung by some guy. Please, promise me you will listen to the end. Promise me. Now. Then return here and tell me how much you love O Holy Night and Jesus as a woman.

Filed Under: Count Waffles, Men and their duckcamps