So, it has been an eventful summer so far.
Child #1 turned 14 and is entering high school. (No, I don't feel old, I feel like she is one year closer to getting a job and buying her own damned Hollister/Abercrombie/over-priced clothes herself) Child #2 turned 12 and is entering middle school. Again, one year closer to being able to put more money into my retirement.
The baby, has been a whole different proposition. Let me regale you with the drama. I can tell you are interested.
See, she has become very interested in the proper use of vulgar bathroom language. She asked me, "Mom, do you shit, or is it shit?" Charming, yup indeed.
I have also heard her scream, "Bitch, Bitch, Bitchy Bitch!" I am not sure, but child #1 and child #2 may have exposed her to that word during one of their infamous "Take that off! That is MY (insert item of clothing)" arguments. The baby screamed the Bitchy Bitch soliloquy while floating in the middle of the pool. I was fully clothed, flapping like a deranged swan and trying to muffle her cuss tirade with squawks and promises of hiney spanking. (I am all talk)
Well, the piece de resistance of the summer so far has got to be the broken elbow. The baby was climbing one of her Little Tikes slides and had taken a tumble off the first step. Yes, she broke her elbow falling no more than 6 inches. I have seen her fly, head-first, off the back deck with no more than a scratch. Yet, this seemingly non-event had brought about a broken bone. And she's the sturdy one! This child is so thick, she should have bounced! But alas, she is sporting a fiberglass splint and a sling.
The elbow itself, is not the crowning moment of my slacker-dom. No, it comes a few days later. We had lost power for 14 hours on a scorchingly hot day. We were not going to open the refrigerator in an effort to conserve the food inside. So, like any good wholesome family, we made plans to go out for lunch. The baby looked like Medusa with her hair all wacky and her arm was in the sling. I bribed her with gum so I could try to tame her locks of un-love. (Get it?) I successfully did so and dressed her in a beautiful girlie sundress. Oh, how sweet! Child #1 and Child #2 dressed in their most Abercrombie-est ensembles and off we went.
As we drove across the bridge I heard a discussion emerging from the back seat. "Well, I didn't give her gum, so you must have!" "No, I didn't. Why are you being a bitch?" Ah, yes the B-word! So, I whipped around and glared my best mommy-glare. "Stop saying that word! I will wash your mouths out with soap!" (Again, all talk.)
"Mom, the baby has gum in her hair!"
Crap. I gave her the gum.
"I will get it out at home. You can barely notice it." No big deal! I mean really, she has a broken elbow for pete's sake! Let's keep things in perspective.
We arrived at the restaurant. Ate our food and went to the bookstore. The baby sat on the floor to read her books. I browsed. I overheard people laughing at how cute she was lying on the floor, with her sling just reading her book.
Here is where the other shoe drops.
I hear a shriek from Child #2. In the middle of a bookstore, on a Saturday afternoon (this is prime shopping time). Child #2 shouts to me, "Mom, didn't you know that the baby had no panties on?"
In my defense, I had put panties on her. She just takes them off when she uses the potty and then neglects to put them back on. What am I the "panty police"?
I mean, we have no shame in this house. As I write this, she is completely naked playing Barbies. I call it "airing out". My husband calls it naked palooza. Well, it saves me money on laundry and I don't care what the neighbors think. If they think I am crazy, they won't come by looking to borrow sugar. Am I right?
Mortification set in pretty quickly. My baby is lying on her stomach, girlie sundress askew, with her entire bum exposed to the patrons of this dignified establishment. What a sight. Arm in a sling, gum in her hair and her rear-end (with about 10 mosquito bites) shining in the fluorescent lights.
Slacker mom? I win.
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