Trial by Fire Parenting: Episode 150: I yike monters

First, I would like to start off by saying that today is a good day. I managed to pull myself out of bed and get myself and the baby dressed before 8:30 a.m. and I didn't contemplate killing myself out of pure lack of energy one time. I had to drop my car off at the auto body shop, as it was once again hit while parked in front of my house, and the transition to the rental was smooth. I got an early morning text from one of my best friends living in LA (clearly he has not gone to bed yet) who I had not heard from in months. Later we spent time at the beach because it is, like, 70 degrees out. I got home to an email from Bob asking me to write a story for him today. Both sources picked up on the first ring. I got the whole thing done in a half hour. Un heard of. Today was a good day. I didn't even have to use my AK.

Anyway, this post has nothing to do with any of that. I was just sharing. At some point when you are a parent you realize that a certain percentage of things that happen to you are payback for something you did as a kid. Some of it is karma, some of it is just payback from your own parents, like when my dad mailed Av a Sesame Street disco dance hits CD for Easter. At first I figured it was payback for being an annoying kid, but the more I think about it it was probably more because of all those times I made him listen to the Deftones on long car rides as a teenager. Dads decidedly do NOT like the Deftones. Not even sort of cool ones like mine.

Yesterday I got some payback of the karma sort. We spent the day visiting my mother who lives three hours away. It is a miserable three hours, too. The first half spent navigating slow, nonsensical Boston suburban traffic, the second breezing through miles upon miles of nothing but depressing Western Mass landscape and highway side advertisements for such regionally exclusive businesses as the Big Y Supermarket and Gary Rome Hyundai, who once sold me the worst piece of shit car I have ever owned, a yellow Hyundai Tiburon that literally fell apart like old Play Doh every time I drove it. That guy is a crook. Almost as much of a crook as the dude who sold me my last car at Commonwealth Motors. I swear they gave me a fraudulent Car Fax report, but I'm too lazy to prove it. I digress.

The ride to Pittsfield is rarely good and yesterday was no exception. By the time we got out of the car at the Hot Dog Ranch where I was meeting my Mom for lunch Monica and I were just about ready to find separate apartments. As is always the case the frustration was nothing a few Western Mass mini hot dogs with chili sauce and a hug from my mom didn't ease, but the ride still sucked.

We spent the day petting farm animals and hanging out and then it was the three hour drive back. Somehow the drive home always seems smoother. Until we hit 95 and that Boston suburban traffic again. Anyway, we got home and I went to Salem House of Pizza while Monica put Av to bed. We got the usual greasy special, chicken fingers and a pizza. Awesome on every level. It is like those Greeks channeled whichever one of their mythical gods was in charge of sub shops and put him right to work.

We were just diving in and watching America's Next Great Restaurant when Av started to make a fuss. Monica went in there to do the kind motherly equivalent of telling her to shut the hell up and go to bed and the following took place, according to Monica's account.

She went in to the room and leaned in to the crib. The baby grabbed her face, looked in her mouth and said 'What's that? A chicken nuggie? I'm huuuuuuungry.' Monica emerged from the bedroom laughing, holding the baby, and Av saw the food on the table and said "OOOOHHHHHH.' She proceeded to sit with us through the entire meal, watching the show and mooching french fries, pizza and chicken fingers. Yes, it was 8:30 and she is 2. Not the healthiest bedtime snack. Who cares? Not me.

I promise you that she smelled the food from her crib and wanted some so she made a fuss. This is where the payback comes in. I used to do the same thing to my parents when I was a kid. Every time the delivery guy knocked on the door, I heard chips open or I smelled food I was getting up to go to the bathroom and trying to bag them eating something awesome. After a while my parents started ordering pizza with toppings I hated as a counter strike.

The funny part was she started to just lay on the cute as heavy as she could so she didn't have to go to sleep. First it was Monica. "Mommy, I love you." Followed by a hug. Repeat. Then she moved over to me and did the same thing. I think at one point she actually told Monica that she was 'cute' and that it was 'nice to see ya.'

In the process she was also watching the show. She usually just watches a few kid shows a day and the occasional baseball or basketball game, but lately she has been wanting to watch what we do. American Idol (I looooove me some J-Lo), America's Funniest Home Videos ('Fallin' show!) and the restaurant show last night ('Dat man make a restahonk?'). At one point I realized that when you are 2 the commercials are just like little mini TV shows. She watches every one with intent and vigor and excitement.

At one point, as a last ditch effort realizing it was almost bedtime and the party was over, she turned around and said 'Mommy, I yike monters.' Despite knowing it was all entirely bullshit to stay awake, it was still the most adorable 45 minutes of her life so far.

Somewhat related, today we found two awesome stuffed monsters at Walmart. They were .75 cents. Easter discount. Look at these guys and tell me what they have to do with Easter.