First World Problems

Sisee!

Why have we not blogged in so long?! Obviously, as with almost all other things, it’s either the kids’ fault or the kids’ fault. Amiright or amiright?? Ladies?? I feel like I could give a recap of the holidays and blah blah blah, but you already know the lowdown, so let me instead just complain about other people’s children: why are they so LOUD? Hey, kids… SHHHHH! They’re like tiny little 80’s boomboxes, except the 8 giant batteries never run out and “Take On Me” by “A Ha” plays over and over and over again. I was at the Children’s Museum none too long ago, and the volume was craaaaazy! At one point, in the pretend “café” – (yes, soooo Portland to have a pretend coffee shop in the children’s museum –  I imagine in the Alabama Children’s Museum they have a pretend gator pond. If you are from Alabama and wondering whether or not you should be offended, the answer is, YES. That was indeed offensive to you.) – anyway, where was I?... yes, ok, I was sitting at one of the faux bistro tables in the pretend kids’ café watching Evan and Alec fill up their canvas reusable pretend shopping bags with the pretend organic fake food and this not-so-little girl (like 9-ish) (PS. Why aren’t you in school right now?! This does NOT count as homeschooling – tell your Mom.) kept bringing me literally tray after tray of fake sushi and fake panini, trying to engage me in some sort of play. Uh… what’s that all about?! At one point, having been unsuccessful at discouraging her, I actually said “Sweetie, WHERE is your mom? And please clean all this up.” I should have added “PS. You see those two boys – who are btw, THREE and TWO – I’m watching THEM.” Anyway, from wherever her mom had been undoubtedly texting and facebooking on her iphone, she suddenly turned up and was all “Kennedy, sweetie, bring that over here.” Yeah Kennedy, go… go now!

Disclaimer #1: I, too, was texting and facebooking on my iPhone, which is the real reason I was annoyed – I didn’t pay for an annual museum pass so my own kids would nicely play while I then had to play with someone else’s kid. That would be crazy and a “bad investment” as they say in money talk.

Disclaimer #2: I have no idea what the kid’s name actually was. I just assume Kennedy because this is Portland and that’s what hipster liberals all name their kids. Frankly, I can’t believe I haven’t met any little girls named Clinton. It’s just a matter of time.

Sis, can we chat about First World Problems for a minute? WHY does DVR only record TWO channels at once? How has technology not yet advanced enough to allow me to simultaneously record as many ridiculous tv shows as my heart desires? Really, only TWO?! What’s next – I’m thirsty, so I walk to the local well and fill up my jug? Unacceptable.

I can imagine trying to explain this archaic technology to Evan while we sit at Starbucks in like 10 years, and he’ll say “What’s DVR?? So the little box couldn’t just scan your brain and show you what you want on the “screen”… whoa!” And he’ll use finger quotes around the word “screen” because by then we’ll just have 3-D holograms to watch wherever we want, rather than that crazy clunky tablet called the “TV.” In fact, I’ll just be talking to Evan’s hologram at Starbucks because the real Evan has to be at home doing homework. (The hologram will be impeccably dressed like the real Evan who will hopefully not have that shaggy dog Justin Bieber hair that HAS to be making an impact on the quality of our youth’s vision – how do they SEE with all that hair in their faces, HOW?!) Oddly enough, I’ll still have to buy him a juice or milk from Starbucks, which - with the Starbucks index of inflation – will assuredly cost in the ball park of $25.00 by then. You got me again, Starbucks, even though your mean barista still refuses to thank me when I grab my Americano, even a decade later! And yes, this is all in ten years. Get to work tech scientists – my brain waves aren’t gonna read and start marketing virtual goods to me, by themselves… get crackin’!

So Sis, how is potty training going? Other than being the immense joy that it is, I mean. It’s funny, when you are young and picture yourself with those sweet little cherubs all decked out in their Baby Gap winter plaid, saying cutesy things like CHEE-YOS (Cheerios) and BABA (bottle), it never for even a second occurs to you that you may at some point have to touch pee. And poop. Over and over again. Evan is almost 4 and we STILL have to convince him that he does, in fact, HAVE to go to the bathroom. Son, it does not matter that you already went this morning, or last night, or yesterday… you STILL have to go. It’s not optional. If you eat and you drink, you have to pee and poop. We don’t like it either. I was changing Alec’s #2 diaper today (which he promptly notified me of by repeatedly yelling EWWW! POOP IN MA PANTS! POOP IN MA PANTS!) and as Evan observed the diaper change he suddenly spoke the wisest words to be declared by a 4 year old child: “Poop is gross, Mommy.” Yes, Son. Poop is gross.

Well, Sisee I better go. It’s been short but sweet, no? We covered all the things that needed to be communicated, so I need to take the boys and do some grocery shopping. They will undoubtedly want to ride in one of those ginormous, police car / fire truck / race car shopping carts that I will have to maneuver with the strength of a professional football player. Unsuccessfully. Man alive, do I hate those carts but man, do I love my boys.


Huge kissies to my delectable niece and to you my beautiful Sisee.

Xoxo

Ava