Sweet Brown Eyes – A tale from the playground

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To protect the identity of Old Brown Eyes, he is not included in the pic.

You know when you roll up on the playground and there is a kid there that you can just tell is going to be trouble? Yesterday was that kind of a day. Upon arrival, I spotted him right away, he was lurking around the ladybug teeter-totter, just waiting to make his move.  He looked about 4 years old and had big brown eyes. He immediately made a beeline to the swings where my child and her buddy began playing. I sat down on a bench to keep an eye on the playing and to catch up with my friend. About three sentences into our catching up, we notice the boy with the brown eyes making some major adjustments to the inside front of his sweatpants. Hmmmmm. We see that his Nanny is close by but is yapping on her phone while (not) attending to a smaller child who is having a ball going down the slide backwards and headfirst. At this point, Sweet Brown Eyes is one millisecond away from exposing his man parts when he quickly changes his mind to shake his booty in the faces of our kids. To his delight, our kids find this endlessly funny. My friend and I are debating if we should step in and put the kibosh on the fun when Brown Eyes tries to entice our kids into showing their underwear. Uggggghhhh. Attempt one at stopping Ole Brown Eyes begins. “Hi, soooo the underwear part and showing or touching your private parts at the park doesn’t work for me. That is something to do at home, in private.” Brown Eyes agrees that this doesn’t work. Perfect! Btw, Nanny still hasn’t noticed what Brown Eyes is up to and has somehow managed to miss his announcement that he has an “itchy butt” and shoved his hand down the back of his sweatpants to give the ole bum a well-deserved scratcharoo.

Our kids take off across the playground (sans Brown Eyes) so my friend and I head that way to keep an eye on them. We take a seat and start over with our catching up. As if on cue and like a shot, Brown Eyes comes darting out from under a slide wielding a 4-foot, 20 pronged branch and is manically chasing our kids up the steps to the top of the slide tower. WTF? Attempt two at stopping Sweet Brown Eyes. “Hi there, so the stick part isn’t working for us. It is not safe to wave a giant branch near peoples eyes since someone could get hurt. See all of these pokey parts? They could hurt someone.” Brown Eyes reluctantly agrees, puts down the branch, and meanders off to find something else to destroy. I scanned the playground looking for the Nanny only to see her still on the phone while the younger child found the 4-foot branch and was dragging it along behind him. Seriously??? Moments later, from behind, I hear stomping on the ground and there is Brown Eyes, crushing bugs left and right. Gleefully stamping on each of them while my child and her buddy watch in a state of fascinated horror as they start pointing out where the bugs are so Brown Eyes can do his work a la Dr. Kevorkian. Attempt three at stopping Brown Eyes (and our kids), “Hi, ummm, so we are outside and in the home of these bugs, the killing part isn’t working for anyone.”. Brown Eyes quickly crushed a few more before finally agreeing. Btw, Nanny is now about a quarter of a mile away in the sandbox with the smaller child (and branch). We are unsure if she even knows Brown Eyes is still in the park.

For about 10 minutes all of the kids find a game of pretend camping and are busy making S’mores under the slide when suddenly a squirrel mistakenly finds its way down near the swings where two other little boys are playing. I normally dislike squirrels (ever since one somehow found its way into our kitchen, terrorized us for about an hour and then got stuck behind the microwave and had to be chased out by my Dad) but this squirrel, I felt for him. These two boys saw him immediately and started chasing him around in circles. At first it looked as though the squirrel was actually playing with the boys because he was running all around, stopping and turning around to look and see where they were and then running off again, you might even think that he was having fun! Or maybe the squirrel was old, perhaps suffering from dementia because he was slower than most squirrels and seemed confused or maybe he was just dizzy from running in circles. Either way, about 2 minutes into the squirrel game, Brown Eyes noticed what he was missing out on from around the make believe campfire. As if in slow motion, I could see his face light up as he leapt up “YOU FUCKING SQUIRREL!!!!!!!” he screamed as he bolted out from under the slide and chased him up a tree, with my child and her buddy hot on his heels, screaming the same.

Fuuuuuuuuuck.

At this exact moment, the Nanny magically appears out of NOWHERE. I see the look on her face as she hears my child and her buddy screaming the F word while chasing Brown Eyes to the tree (the squirrel is now LONG gone so it now appears that my child and her buddy were chasing Brown Eyes while screaming the F word). Panicking, I run over to help solve this little pickle, and the Nanny turns to me and says, “Your child has on such cute pants. And she just yelled the F word.”. Stunned that this woman has the nerve to tell me that my child has just yelled the F word when she has missed the last hour and a half of what was going on with the child she wasn’t watching was ALMOST too much for me to take. “Interesting you should say that, she was repeating YOUR little guy, but thanks for letting me know.”

I hate the playground.

Saving the World – One Green Bean at a Time

Hello Dearests!

Sanctimama here to bestow upon you a pearl of wisdom that will enrich your life, save our planet, and give you hope that you can make a difference. As the environmentally conscious mama that you are, I am sure you have asked yourself if it’s worth making your own baby food. I am here to say, of course it is. I have read all of the reviews on Williams Sonoma about their baby food making machines and have come to the conclusion that if you care, even one iota about your child’s health and the world at large, then you will understand the benefits of this gift that you will be giving them, the gift of life. By making their meals by hand, you are showing how invested you are in an eternity of success for your little one, life-long eating habits and equally as important, not endorsing these big corporate monsters who are jamming their steroid-infused, alien monster “foods” down the throats of our sweet and innocent babies. Have you seen these four year olds with double d’s? I cannot support the child brassiere industry.

First, did you know that jarred baby food could sit on the shelves for decades before it expires? DECADES! Dearests, you may as well spoon-feed your child Alpo if you are going to allow those genetically enhanced pureed green beans to enter into their pristine systems. I can’t even walk down the baby food aisle without having a breakdown for the little ones being forced to eat this poison. I take one look at those little “beef sticks” marinating in a brine of salty, pesticide juice and it sends chills down my spine and fills my heart with a profound sadness. Secondly, the manufacturing of these jars and pouches of food is killing our mother earth as quickly as Raid kills a cockroach. Do you want your little one ingesting RAID? I didn’t think so.

The best and only advice I can give you is to grow your own organic produce for your baby food. Trusting a store that says something is “organic” is putting your health in jeopardy. Never assume something is organic, even if the label it says it is. The only way to know for sure is to grow it yourself. Also, foraging is an excellent way to get those beautiful, rare items that can’t always be found at your local organic co-op. Don’t get hung up on the amount of time these foraging trips may take – try to think of them as magical adventures into nature with your children and if that doesn’t work, try remembering that this will be the perfect opportunity to wear those Hunter boots and to use that hand woven basket you bought in Micronesia while you were there saving the lives of the endangered Miniature Unicorn Beetle. When you say that you don’t have time for foraging it is really just another way of saying that you don’t love your child. Bringing your child into nature to find these incredible foods will bring you closer together – allow nature to be your classroom. I can assure you, once you get into the swing of the growing, harvesting, and foraging, it becomes second nature and the hours just fly right by. Another benefit of foraging is that using unique and rare items will only broaden your little ones palate. We all want to have children who grow into eaters who can decipher a crimini mushroom from a porcini mushroom and not just know the difference between a Twinkie and a Ring Ding.

Let me tell you that I have felt nothing but bliss and an indescribable inner peace since embarking on this culinary adventure. My little one is taller than all of those little Gerber babies and I can assure you that she is also much smarter and can do more somersaults than those little runts could ever dream of doing. I owe all of this to my Organic Farrow and Winter Squash medley and to our family’s superior genetics. The hours I spend creating these delicacies are worth every second. My babe knows that her food is made with love and a food pouch says, “I just don’t give a fuck”.

So grab your hand-woven basket and your “Eclectic Guide to Foraging in Abundance”, written by yours truly and get up into your neighbors fruit trees and get picking.

XO,

Sanctimama

©PENGART.COM

Children’s Programming or Satan’s Work?

TV is everywhere.
TV is everywhere.

We’ve all suffered through watching a plethora of animated series with our kids. Some of them, like anything child related are unbearable, others cute, others mind-numbing. What I love most about these shows are the different opinions parents have about them and the dinner party conversations that ensue where one mom will be defending Caillou to the death (you know who you are) while most would argue his future as a member of the MS-13. I find it all super amusing. Here are some thoughts I have had while watching some of my daughter’s favorite animated shows.

Why is Barney still available for viewing and torturing parents everywhere? Like his predecessors before him, he too should be extinct.

Sometimes, I feel like I might be on the verge of a seizure when I watch the Paw Patrol. So.Much.Stimulation.

I think Wyatt from Super Why could use a humanitarian trip to Syria to show him what a “super big problem” actually fucking looks like.

Has no one ever noticed that there are children working in Sofia the Firsts‘ castle? Wonderful. Sofia’s off to enjoy a picnic with mother, send some of the children to prepare the carriage for her.

I won’t discuss Caillou because when we talk about him, we keep him alive.

Peppa Pig, your voice is like a thousand knives, impaling me slowly. I get it that you are a pig but every time you snort, I get the urge to call Dr. Kevorkian while snacking on bacon.

Curious George is actually teaching children that it’s ok to illegally smuggle exotic animals into the country and then hole them up in city apartments with unnamed men who only wear yellow and probably have Schizophrenia. Lesson learned, thank you.

Why is Dora now a budded-breasted tween? Stop it! Her fans will not grow with her, they will move onto something else. Stop being so desperate and making her look so pathetic. Oh, she has human friends now? That’s not interesting. You know what’s interesting about Dora? That she raised those twin babies on her own. She calls them her sisters but we all know that old game. Stick to your twisted life of raising babies and following a map drawn by a monkey – let your freak flag fly, girl,  just not in my house.

Angelina Ballerina…if I ever get my hands on your back stabbing, whiney ass, you’re cat food.

Diego, you are a coat tailer who has never had an original idea in your life. You can thank your cousin, Dora for your career. If it weren’t for her, you’d be dealing heroin on the corners of the city streets of your ambiguous Latin American country . You know it and I know it but good on you for getting out.

So much to watch, so little time.
So much to watch, so little time.

The Magic School Bus should be called the Magic Bus of Horror and Fear yet they’ve revived it and put it on Netflix for children everywhere to enjoy. I am forever indebted and remember you every time my kid has night terrors. Merry Christmas.

This is a warning! The Veggie Tales IS A CHRISTIAN show! Not that there’s anything wrong with that but if you are not a Christian household, you’d better have your explanation shoes on when they come a asking who Jesus is.

LalaLoopsy has no fucking eyeballs. That’s all.

While watching The Dinosaur Train, no one else thinks, “So, this is a show about creatures that have become extinct”? Is it just me that gets sad about this? I feel like I’m watching a bunch of dead people that don’t know they’re dead yet, it’s awful.

What’s wrong with that poor kid’s parents in the Bubble Guppies who are always giving him crazy shit in his lunch? I constantly feel bad for him and he always sounds so defeated and sad. His fake parents are so mean and someone should call the fake child services on them.

Ruby, you are a condescending whore who should be slapped in that smug face of yours. Your poor brother, Max does not have the best ideas, agreed but that does not mean you get to insult his wants, needs and intelligence. God, I loathe you. I really loathe you. Every time your 50 year old voice over artist speaks, I rock myself to the safe place where you don’t exist.

And finally, The Mother Goose Club. Creepalicious tweens sing Mother Goose songs and act them out in dime store costumes made from a an ex-meth head turned costume designer. They sing so much but they don’t sing so well. Poor kids/adults on this show. I feel like they were kidnapped and made to do this in return for their promised freedom…which will never come.

Wrapping up, I freaking hate most cartoons and in today’s age, there are so many of them but I am forever indebted to them for allowing me to breathe once a day. I cherish them because they exist to assist me when I can no longer deal, like that moment at 5:00pm when I truly believe I might not make it until bedtime, I pour myself a glass of wine and on comes the neglectavision. Thank you to everyone who makes these awful creations, I really do appreciate you.

This might be Hell

The handy storage spot for the toilet brush adds a certain je ne said quoi.
Note the handy storage spot for toilet brush.

Simply put, here is a morning that I hope to never repeat. Ever.

  1. Car has unidentified issue (involving some unexpected bucking and then shutting off completely), bring to dealership, afraid to drive it further.
  2. Get inside dealership and child promptly pees in her pants. Luckily (and shockingly), I actually have extra pants and underwear with me.
  3. In dealership bathroom trying to change child without her doing stuff like licking the handrail or putting her fingers in her ears because she is afraid of the automatic flush on the toilet. All the while, someone is knocking on the door with the urgency of massive diarrhea.
  4. Discover I have just gotten my period and have nothing with me for that situation. Toilet paper it is. Still unsure as to how I carry a station wagon sized bag and nary a tampon can be found inside but if in a pinch and you need 700 pens, I am your woman.
  5. Need loaner car. Which is about 10 miles away (in LA this is equivalent to about 2 hours). Have to take everything out of our car and get driven to the loaner place. Discover that loaner car employees are not allowed to help install car seats – this could not be any more unhelpful. Take car seat out of our car and put into dealership shuttle. Take car seat out of shuttle and lug into loaner place. Sweating like a farm animal. I hate the car seat.
  6. Child needs to go to the bathroom the minute we get to loaner place. Bathroom smells and looks like a zoo. To be exact, it looks like something from a horror movie. I want to die.
  7. Replace my toilet paper situation while child makes a PSA about the blood. Surely all loaner car employees hear what is going on in bathroom through the paper-thin door. Child then takes the opportunity to announce, “It smells like dog poop in here.” in her loudest voice. I can’t blame her, she is right.
  8. Wait for loaner car for an ungodly amount of time. Child running around like a maniac in waiting area…which is fiiiiilllllthy, btw. I spend my time avoiding the magazines which have undoubtedly been in the bathroom at some point, ensuring child hasn’t found an old M&M on the floor and is about to pop it into her mouth and making sure I am not sitting on unidentified stains on the upholstered waiting room chairs.
  9. Nobody has eaten lunch and we are out of snacks. Briefly consider buying Fritos and a Coke from vending machine but decide the better of it since I wasn’t about to go back into the bathroom to wash hands and since Fritos might give ME diarrhea and I would be forced back into that hell hole bathroom…and since I hate Fritos, I decided to pass. The last thing I need is diarrhea.
  10. Loaner car employee finally shows us loaner car (which is parked in the back corner of the lot under a massive tree that is home to every bird in LA) – a peach colored vehicle circa 1994 (this is an estimated color and year since the car itself is coooooovered with bird poop, rendering it impossible to identify) and gives us the lowdown on the hoe down on any scratches or dents on outside (also impossible to see through bird poop situation).
  11. Turns car on to show us how to use it. Horrified because car sounds like it doesn’t have muffler. Employee gets out to explain more about car while I just stare at his lips moving through the blue smoke that is pouring from tailpipe and hold back laughter because I cannot hear one word he is saying over the sound of blasting unmufflered car. Car sounds like it is idling at 8 RPMs and may explode any minute.
  12. Child begins crying because of the noise – and smoke.
  13. Loaner employee reminds me that this is a non-smoking car as I open door to find it looks like a 4 pack-a-day smoker has been using the front seats as an ashtray for the past 20 years. Seats are burned up with holes and reek of smoke.
  14. Screaming over the roaring engine, I ask if I will be charged for fire damage to the front seats of the non-smoking car.
  15. Install car seat for 10th time that day. Throw our shit in the trunk (which is surprisingly and miraculously odorless) and get the hell out of there.
for post
My usual state when installing the fucking car seat.

*Side note, when pulling up to stop sign or red light, the car goes from a roaring engine to puttering like it is juuuuuuuuust about to stall at any second. Had to keep revving engine when stopped. As if peach bird shit mobile wasn’t ridiculous enough, I could feel the stares as I revved the engine repeatedly while next to stopped cars at red lights. I imagined myself screaming “WHAT? YOU WANT A PIECE OF THIS??????” and then stalling out as other car left me in the dust.