The Piddle Puddle War of 2012

Happy New Year Everyone!  

As promised, I'm back in great sarcastic form and ready to take on whatever perils are hurled at me.  In fact, I already have embarked on a new year resolution - to conquer the infamous Piddle Puddle.

Some of you may be ignorant of this villainous affliction - but those of you with boys (young and old alike) have a good idea of what I'm about to describe.  

Picture this:  A young and well-intentioned boy takes the initiative to go potty by himself. However, this adorable little child loses his "stream of thought" half way through, turns to see what the dog is barking at, and.... well.... you get the point.  Needless to say, the grout that runs between my tiled bathroom floor channels all the piddle into a puddle which eventually runs under my toilet where it becomes next to impossible to clean.  

Another scenario where the Piddle Puddle comes into play is as follows:  The little boy realizes he needs to go "number 2" and assumes the sitting position.  Unfortunately, this time his "stream of thought" shoots straight ahead like an arrow, under (or over) the toilet-seat, and out onto the floor where once again, the puddle forms and slowly creeps back into the inaccessible regions of household plumbing.

The killer on this one is that I'm not always focusing my x-ray vision into the bathroom and am unable to divert and eradicate the puddle before it's too late.  Instead, I have to incessantly remind my child to STAY FOCUSED and not pollute our home.  More often then not, I am in the commando crawl position on the floor, trying to shoot bleach cleaner like a laser guided missile into the grout and under the toilet so that I can scrub, Q-Tip, ect... all of the Puddle's noxious waste into oblivion.  

Solution?  

It's time to spin around, put on my cape, and call upon my utmost superpowers so that I can crush this enemy faster than a speeding piddle stream.  I've had enough of stepping out of the shower to discover a mysterious yellow glow to my floor that wasn't there before.  No more, "Mom! I didn't know!!!" My first order of business will be a glass of wine, a new bottle of Lysol Bathroom Cleaner, and a really mean mommy face every time my son ventures to the potty...  

...did I mention a glass of wine?

Until next time, keep up the good fight and wear your capes with pride - and don't step in the Puddle.

Escape from Grown-up Gulag

Greetings friends!  Let me first apologize for my lengthy absence - I was trapped in a stark and cruel dimension I like to call "Real Life." I know, I know... it sends shivers down my spine as well.  Luckily, I was able to use my superhuman strength to break out of the Hades of the 21st Century (aka,  laundry that multiplies every time you pull it out of the dryer, endless seas of Lego heads, broken crayons, and Silly Bandz to vacuum, grocery shopping in the insane asylum, getting stuck behind a school bus no matter what time you leave for work, etc...).  

The whole wake up, get kid to school, go to work, pick up kid from school, cook, clean, go to bed, start again thing was admittedly an exhausting enemy to defeat. My secret, you ask??  Simple denial and irresponsibility - and a thing called Christmas vacation. Granted, the "Christmas Cookie Mess of the Century" created a small set-back but thanks to a fearless, sprinkle-fighting sister, it was overcome quickly. Anyway, I figured I'd use my brief moment of repose to check in with my fellow cape-wearing moms, dads, and assorted other grown-ups who can relate to fighting the forces of boogies as well as the boogeyman. I have escaped the Grown-Up Gulag, I'm alive and recuperating, and am looking forward to whatever new enemies are lurking under the bed.

However, the question stands:  After battling the laundry beast for three months, will I be able to muster anything to fight the forces of Indoor Sidewalk Chalk and Pocket M&M's? Will I have anything left in me to conquer the Stainless Fridge Smear?  Rest assured and stay tuned. A little "Real Life" can't stop me forever.  My powers are rejuvenating and I'm back with a vengeance. 

Coming up Soon... A battle of epic proportions for all those who have little boys... 

A Public Sanity Announcement

Shopping at a large retail store (aka UberCrapMart) is hell on earth.  Let's face it.  No one wants to go, yet it's so damn convenient, we do it anyway.  I happen to live within five minutes of a super-sized Wally-World.  When I run out of toilet paper, juice boxes, ketchup, dog food, or tampons, it's just a three minute ride away.  Yet if given the choice, I'll drive the extra ten minutes to a smaller yet more manageable grocery store or Target. But why, you may ask, do I pass up on the tempting convenience of a one-stop shop so close to me?


Let's do a quick run down of a typical trip to Super HellMart...


I pull into the parking lot and immediately dodge dozens of twenty year old Chevy Cavaliers, Oldsmobile, and Caravans  ducking and weaving diagonally through the lot searching out the perfect space. Once I pull into a seemingly safe space, I discover that six people left their carriages in it even though there is a carriage coral a mere two spaces away. Weighing the risks of  getting dings on my car's paint job vs. getting run down by a 1982 F250 with a Calvin pissing NASCAR sticker, I decide to stay where I am and head for the entrance.


My four year old and I walk into store, and try to avoid the over-sized kid carriage that he always wants to ride in.  The few times I've given in, we crashed into every display stand in the center aisle and got into at least two hit and runs before I ditched it and stole someone else's mostly empty carriage.  After a very mature argument over why the smaller carriage is the one we are sticking with, we say hi to the friendly senior citizen greeter and high-tail it for the toilet paper section.  However, on the way, we pass the cereal aisle and I agree that Cookie Crisp can come home with us with the strict understanding that it is my sugar cereal and maybe I'll share it. Then I remember we need yogurt and I make a bee-line for the dairy section. On the way back from dairy-land I remember we are definitely out of tortilla chips - so that means we also need salsa.  But I like to mix my salsa with diced tomatoes so we walk the half mile to the canned tomato section.

www.peopleofwalmart.com

At this point I am exhausted but we still need dog food so I gather my remaining stamina and make a compass heading for the east side of the store. Once we acquire the doggy vittles, I've decided I can no longer stand all the near misses with cranky people on Rascals. The sound of screaming moms, crying kids, and old guys hollering, "MARGE!!! THEY GOT THE GOOD PEANUT BRITTLE!" has driven me to the brink of sanity.  I push the carriage at warp speed towards the the check-out lane and after five minutes of cardio I make it.... to find out that of the twenty-five check out aisles in the store, only two are currently in operation.


Shoot me. Now.


While waiting the half hour in line, my son has decided it's time to make a play for some take-home candy. I say, "No." He says, "Why?"  "Because." " Because why?"  "Because I already let you have candy this morning after breakfast (oops)." "But I want more." "No." "Why?" "Because" .....  And finally, after five people in front of me paid with paper checks (really people? really?), it's my turn to escape and be free.  We pay, we flee, we get home...


...And I still have no toilet paper.


And this, my caped friends, is why I try to avoid convenience like the plague... yet I am constantly defeated again and again.  (Thank God for wine).

Attack of the Frozen Mess-Maker

Today I experienced fear - fleeting of course - but fear none-the-less.  So what happened? Did I forget to wear my cape? Did I skip my super-powered coffee before the morning cartoons?   No, nothing so severe, yet still a serious matter. I was at the local lake attempting to keep mud, wet grass, and assorted dirt bits off the towels, when off in the distance I heard....

... The Ice Cream Truck.

Immediately I  tried to distract the kids and encouraged my sister to do the same... Quick! Get them back to the water!  Run away!  Let's sing Ring a Round the Rosie as loud as humanly possible!  But before I was able to craft ear-muffs out of balled up t-shirts, the blaring sound of Pop Goes the Weasle echoed through the trees, amplified across the water, and most likely traveled to the next state.  Kids everywhere began wandering towards the the sound like zombified munchkins - their mouths watering for artificial coloring and gooey toxic waste. The Pied Piper of Hamlin would have been proud.

Ten minutes later everything within twenty feet of me was a sticky mess. The muddy beach towel was now a collection of melted globs of bright green Ninja Turtle and Rainbow Push-up puddles.  The kids had matted pink hair, blue striped bellies, and sugar crazed eyes. The insanity was in full swing. Not to mention, every mom on the beach just lost her coffee money stash to the Ice Cream Truck monster.

All this to say, beware, Moms with Capes. Hide your children and your wallets. It's summer time and no place is safe from the annoying and relentless beast on wheels. Unless of course you plan on surrendering, adding some more "muscle" to your waist-line, and enjoying a frozen Strawberry Shortcake (which sounds pretty good - I can't be a super hero all the time). Just be sure to pack the wet-naps.

So I did it. I Started a Blog.

Greetings citizens of the world. This is my first blog entry - ever. It took a 90+ degree night in my overly sweaty office to finally make the plunge. Perhaps my mind was altered by the 100% humidity and sweltering inferno that was my house. Or the relentless nagging by the 4.5 year old who lives with me : "MOM!!! I'M SO HOT!!!! I WANT ANOTHER ICE CREAM!!!" (Does it make me a bad mom to reply: "NO! You've already had five! Go lie on the cold tile with the dog - you'll feel better in no time!")

But I digress... So who am I exactly? Just an every day, average mom with a boy, a dog, and a love of all things superhero, mutant, and otherwise. Whether or not you know the slightest thing about Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker, or Charles Xavier, if you're a mom, you wear a cape. Simple as that. It's about time we embrace our superhero side, share our battles with the evil Play-Doh monster, our struggles with the infamous laundry crayon, and our triumphs over sugar-induced insanity. There needs to be a place on the internet where we can reveal our weaknesses - ie., hoarding the best sugar cereal for ourselves, the occasional 2pm glass of "mommy juice", and pretending that Caillou is no longer available on TV, DVD, or streaming Netflix.

I will attempt to update this blog as regularly as I can escape reality - in other words, between my shifts at work, removing action figures from the sink drain, and singing along to Raffi. You catch my drift.

In the meantime, Godspeed Moms with Capes. We have a world to save.