Go Fly a Kite | Playgroups are No Place For Children

Category Archives: Go Fly a Kite

Those people

Written on February 28, 2009 by Jennifer in confession, Go Fly a Kite, Indiana, tennessee

People have moved into my house in Indiana.

I don’t know if they bought my house or if they are renters, really, it shouldn’t matter. I mean if they bought my house, hopefully they’ll care for it and love it as much as I did. But if they’re renters they might not love it as much if they don’t own it.

I feel like I need to whisper this next part. It’s embarrassing to admit. And sad.

As long as my house was still for sale, still uninhabited, I had this hope that maybe, maybe circumstances would work such that we’d get to move back to Indiana and slip right back into our old life, have our old friends, and just forget this whole move to Tennessee.

Those people, living in my house, I don’t even know them, but oh how I resent them. I feel so angry at them, for taking MY house, for taking my friends, for getting to live the life I want to live. They will be able to walk across the street for a cup of sugar only to end up staying for dinner. I probably won’t get to even see my neighbors again, likely ever, but they will. They will get to vacuum my frise carpet and bake in my double ovens and wash their vegetables in the vegetable sink in the island.

I don’t want to know if they have children. I don’t want to think of THEIR children sleeping my in MY children’s bedrooms, I don’t want to think of them taking my children’s place at the neighborhood get togethers.

This is so ridiculous, I know, but what I don’t know is how to get past all this anger about the move. It’s been months and it still feels as unfair as it did in September. Why did this have to happen? WHY?? I don’t want to be angry at those people who are living in my house, because I KNOW that it’s not MY house and hasn’t been since we sold it to the relocation company in November.

I guess it’s just that those people took the maybe away.

39 Comments - Leave a comment!

Digging out the candles and blankets

Written on January 28, 2009 by Jennifer in Go Fly a Kite, Huh?, tennessee

We received our first full month utility bill since moving into our house.

Electric, some bogus surcharge, Water, Sewer, and Gas

Um? Ouch.

Starting today, we’re going to start roughing it around here to save a few bucks. If you happen to drop by, don’t forget to wear your long johns and to bring a flashlight. I’m going to dig a hole out back for pooping, so don’t be startled if I send you outside to do your business. Air freshener might be a good idea because I’m certain the whole family will smell due to my new rules, 1. One bath per month and 2. Reuse your underwear until they can stand up on their own.

53 Comments - Leave a comment!

Let me tell you how I really feel about potty training

Written on January 6, 2009 by Jennifer in Go Fly a Kite, Little Monkeys

Basically potty training can suck it.

I hate it. What’s really WRONG with diapers anyway?

We’ve spent the last few days with Carson in underwear, except for outings (more about that later) and bedtime. We’ve also spent the last few days going to bathroom every 10 minutes.

Carson has peed on the potty ONE flippity-flapping time in these past few days. ONE.TIME.

I KNOW you’re supposed to wait until a child is “ready.” Well what the hell is ready anyway? He can pull his pants up and down. He knows if he’s peed or pooped in his diaper, though he will vehemently deny the existence of said waste. Sure he’s screamed things like “NO UNDERWEAAAAAAAAAAAAAR! and “I want to wear DIAPEEEEEEEEEEEEERS.” But he’s a headstrong kid with his own ideas and his own plans of how to do everything, though. Sometimes he just needs a little nudge.

And hoo boy, I’ve been nudging. Smiling while nudging, OF COURSE, and being patient while nudging, OF COURSE, but NUDGING.

Nudging is exhausting.

We started by going to the potty every 30 minutes as recommended by some STUPID potty training website. What this STUPID potty training website failed to mention was that 30 minutes is probably too long. Since I know that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results, I decided to head to the pot every 10 minutes instead. Have you ever hung out at a toilet EVERY 10 minutes before (besides after a night of excess in college)??? It’s still not fun.

Anyway, once he does actually potty train (like when he’s going off to COLLEGE, I’m guessing), how will we ever even leave the house? I mean, when a kid says they gotta go, THEY GOTTA GO, LIKE NOW! I’ve been imagining leisurely trips to Target being canceled because I had to pull over at a gas station, frantically trying to unbuckle TWO children from their car neats, screaming, “HOLD IT! Don’t pee, Carson! Wait!!” Running, dragging one toddler by the hand, the other in my arms, into the gas station just in time to see a wet ring form around Carson’s crotch.

And even if he was able to hold it?? Where is Ella supposed to hang out while I’m holding Carson over the toilet, attempting to keep his pristine hiney from touching the nasty, germ-infested toilet seat?? It’s not like she’ll politely stand right beside me, heeding mommy’s stern warnings not to touch ANYTHING. One kid crawling on a gas station floor while the other heavy one is being held over a toilet. This may very well be my version of hell.

It just occurred to me that I’ll have to always have extra clothes on hand so that WHEN this does happen, the leisurely Target trip won’t be canceled due to wet crotch issues. STILL. Potty training! I despise it.

97 Comments - Leave a comment!

I think we’re getting to the point where the readers of this blog are going to say, “She must be making up stories just for blog material.”

Written on December 13, 2008 by Jennifer in Go Fly a Kite, Huh?, Quirky Me

But I’m not making this up, though I so very much wish I was.

So I’ve had a bad year, and in particular an especially bad week.

I mentioned the other day that the movers broke my dryer and currently I’m at the bottom of a nearly two weeks worth of dirty laundry. Since I cannot wait for Cartus, my arch nemesis, to either fix or replace my dryer, Tate and I went out Thursday evening to buy a new dryer.

Surely, SURELY! my luck was changing, I just KNEW it was, when the saleperson told me they could deliver the dryer the very next day! Oh happy day! I was going to enjoy the bliss that can only be found when the laundry baskets are empty!

The very next day, right on schedule, the angels descended upon my home and delivered a brand new dryer.

After the angels left, I washed my first load of laundry and then placed it in the dryer. I turned on the dryer and smiled happily to myself, anticipating one load of laundry down, only 35 more to go.

That’s when the unthinkable happened.

After about five seconds of drying, the dryer abruptly stopped (and I thought I heard an evil cackle, but I’m not sure, maybe it was just my personality splitting into a million pieces in an attempt to save my psyche.)

Confused, I turned the dryer back on, thinking that it must have been some sort of “first time drying, HA! HA!” fluke.

After about five seconds of drying, it abruptly stopped again.

And continued to stop the 763 times I tried starting it again, because I knew that it was going to start and STAY ON the next time *maniacal laughter*.

I immediately called the store where we purchased the dryer and was promptly redirected to GE to discuss repair. Repair of a BRAND NEW DRYER.

I began crying on the phone to the lady at GE. I could hardly answer her questions through my crying.

Unfortunately she was unable to diagnose the problem over the phone, so I called the store back where we purchased the dryer to see if they could PLEASE HELP ME.

When they said they’d send out a repair person next week, I started crying again. And cussing.

So they agreed to deliver a new dryer today.

Which they did.

And guess what? No seriously…guess..

It didn’t work either.

Apparently we have wiring issues with our house. Our BRAND NEW HOUSE.

And that’s when my personality finally split into a million pieces.

–Written by Miss Trixie LaRue, edited by Hazel.

65 Comments - Leave a comment!

I’m in a surprisingly good mood

Written on September 16, 2008 by Jennifer in Go Fly a Kite

Things that are currently pissing me off

1. CSS and php files.

2. The Gravatars in the comments section which are in the wrong place.

3. The Flickr Uploadr which is slower than a man taking a dump.

4. My camera lens that I already had to send to Canon for repair.

5. This low carb diet that I’m on.

6. About 20 things that I cannot write about on my OWN blog.

What’s on your list today?

64 Comments - Leave a comment!

I don’t have a title, okay?

Written on September 3, 2008 by Jennifer in confession, Go Fly a Kite, hole-y matrimony, Little Monkeys, Mommydom, my stream of consciousness

I can hear him screaming over the monitor. Angrily I roll over to check the time on the clock. 5:48. Seething, I get out of bed, forgetting to stop and pee and march upstairs in the dark to his room.

I don’t know if I can do this again today.

“Mommy!” he screams. “Please don’t leave. Sit right here on the floor, beside me,” he pleads after I tell him that it’s not 7:00 yet and that Mommy is very, very tired and want to go back to bed.

I sit down wearily beside his crib, cursing inside. I wonder if he’s truly scared or if he’s just manipulating me. Also, I have to pee.

I promise him that I’m just leaving for a moment so that I can pee. “I’ll leave your door open. I’m just going right across the hall to the bathroom.” He starts to scream as I leave.

I turn to him and in my angriest voice, which surprises even me, I tell him to shut up and that I’ll be right back.

I only feel slightly bad that I told him to shut up. I hope he didn’t notice.

After he’s finally settled I go back to sleep for what seems like ten seconds, but rather it’s about 40 minutes. 6:58 is what I see on the clock as I hear Carson screaming for me again. Just to spite him, I want to let him scream for two more minutes until 7:00. Or to spite him, I want to go up to his room and scream at him to please just shut up and wait for f*cking 7:00.

I go in, scoop him out of his crib, saying nothing. The day begins.

*******

I look around the kitchen and notice the crumbs and fruit flies. My floor looks as if I haven’t swept or mopped since ever, despite having done both just two days prior.

There is a pile of dirty dish towels, in desperate need of washing and smelling like spoiled milk.

My washing machine is broken, full of water and wet towels.

*******

“Uh oh!” Ella squeals as she tosses her sippy cup, full of milk over the edge of her chair.

The cup is no longer full of milk.

It’s empty, the white milk in a puddle on the floor. Splashes of white milk dot the cupboards.

It doesn’t matter. The floor is already dirty.

*******

“You don’t even like me anymore. I can’t even joke around with you anymore.” In one respect, I hear Tate’s words and I feel badly that he could even think this. Of COURSE I like him. Of COURSE he can joke around with me, but after days of little sleep and constant battles, I need adult interaction. I need HIM to listen to ME.

Immediately his words make my heart harden and I feel my face redden with anger. “How dare he,” I think silently to myself. “All I do every minute of everyday is GIVE. What about me? What about thinking of MY feelings.” I say nothing.

*******

Ella is almost walking. She takes two or three hesitant steps, her arms out in front of her body for balance before she falls on her bottom. Over and over she stands up and tries again.

I smile at her and want nothing more than to swoop her up and feel her soft skin against my face and smother her sweet little neck with kisses.

In an instant I can go from feeling such rage to giggling in spite of myself.

*******

He asks if I need a break, just to get away. “Go for a walk,” he tells me. I can hear the annoyance in his voice and I want to shout back at him, “you have NO idea what it’s like to be home everyday with these kids. I do EVERYTHING for them. You have NO idea.”

I do need a break. I do want to get away.

NO. I want to RUN away.

“It’s too hot to go for a walk,” I say instead.

********

I consider not hitting publish.

But I do it anyway.

(Haven’t I written this post about a hundred times before?)

132 Comments - Leave a comment!

How to murder a fly. A tutorial.

Written on August 5, 2008 by Jennifer in Go Fly a Kite, Quirky Me, Randomness

No, I didn’t finally remember to get a fly swatter, but I did become a maniacal fly vigilante with only a dish towel and DETERMINATION.

Follow these easy steps and you, too, can scare the crap out of your children KILL FLIES.

1. Have food lying around. This is easy if you have a two toddlers.

2. Find some sort of easily maneuverable swatting device. A fly swatter would certainly be IDEAL if you’re one of those “think INSIDE the box” people. I used a dish towel and it performed splendidly.

3. Wait patiently by the food, biding your time for the arrival of your evil nemesis.

4. When the fly/flies arrive, smirk. The little bastards have it coming. Do your best Jack Nicholson impression from “The Shining” and say things like, “Herrrrrrrrrrrre’s Johnny.” The impression is easier if you haven’t showered or brushed your hair.

Also fun: “Herrrrrrrrre’s Johnny, bitches.”

5. Take your shot. This is YOUR moment of GLORY.

6. Curse quietly, under your breath, when you miss.

7. Curse slightly louder when you miss again.

8. Try to disguise the next bellowed curse word as you miss. Again.

9. Say something genius like, “How you like me now!” or “boo-ya!” as your fly swatter/dish towel strikes and FINALLY HITS the fly.

10. Feel slight remorse when your one-year-old’s eyes are the size of saucers as she looks at you in horror and begins wailing.

11. Remove said child from room so the killing spree can continue.

12. Repeat steps 4-9 until all flies are annihilated. Think of clever quips from movies as you murder each fly, “Say hello to my little friend.” Or!!! “I will get you my pretties! MWAH HA HA.”

13. Remove child who has crawled back in where you’re committing fly murder and is again crying from the room. Reconsider killing spree.

11. Kill one more for good measure, this time silently and without jubilation. Swell with pride ON THE INSIDE.

12. Put murder soaked dish towel (if that was your weapon of choice, of course) in the dirty clothes hamper so that you don’t accidentally dry your hands on dead fly guts later.

12. Write frightening blog post about killing flies. Strongly consider NOT publishing it, but then do it anyway.

13. Wait for the men in white coats to arrive. Put on mascara.

53 Comments - Leave a comment!