In school, you learn how to spell words and the meanings of those words. You are taught how to use the dictionary to define words. You are told that the definitions will always remain the same.
FALSE.
See, after having kids, your definition of certain words changes. You think you have a good grasp of the English language.
But you would be wrong.
Dressing Up
Before Kids: Doing your hair by blow drying and flat ironing. Putting on your full face of make-up. Taking 20 minutes to find just the right outfit to wear.
After kids: Making sure to put on a bra. Actually brush your hair. And your teeth. Putting on a pair of clean-ish jeans.
Fancy Dinner
Before Kids: Going to a new trendy restaurant that opened downtown. 7pm reservations. White linen tablecloths. Leisurely enjoy a cocktail and appetizer while considering which entree to order. Finish meal with decadent dessert.
After Kids: Mac-n-cheese at home. Promptly at 5:00pm because the natives get restless. With a glass of wine.
Tired
Before Kids: Wow! Had a great time out with my friends last night but stayed out too late and had too many glasses of wine. I sure am tired.
After Kids: Up every two hours. Then up every four hours. Then up once a night. Some tiny person wants to crawl in bed with you and sleep with their feet in your spleen. Some tiny person peed the bed. You haven't slept through the night in seven years. Where am I? What is happening?
Coffee
Before Kids: Maybe I'll have a caramel cappuccino. Oh! Or a white mocha. I just love those fancy coffee drinks!
After Kids: Must. Have. Coffee. Cofffffeeeee... *Dumps coffee grinds directly into mouth.*
Going To The Bathroom
Before Kids: I think I'll go to the bathroom.
After Kids: *Goes to the bathroom. Naively locks door. Child or children bang on door repeatedly crying and yelling to get your attention. Next time you open the door thinking this approach is better. You get your kid wanting to climb onto your lap to read you a book. Or a play-by-play commentary on your bathroom uses.*
Date Night
Before Kids: Nice dinner and maybe a movie. Out with a group of friends for drinks and dancing. Going to show or a concert.
After Kids: When kids are asleep, sitting in bed eating cereal while watching Netflix.
So I don't know about you, but I think a ton of definitions have changed after having kids. I mean I could literally write down at least 50 definitions that are no longer valid right now.
And I would totally write more about it.
But I'm exhausted.
After the last episode of season 6 of The Walking Dead, I was so distraught.
And numb.
And in denial.
Total denial.
I was all "Hey! It's going to be okay. Surely nobody is really dead. They wouldn't just leave us hanging for AN ENTIRE SUMMER."
Then I started to venture into anger.
"Who do these chumps think they are?! Leaving us hanging all summer to find out what happened to Rick and the crew. HAVE YOU NO SOUL?!"
Now, three days away from the season 7 premiere, I have reached acceptance.
"Okay, I get it. It's a post-apocalyptic world. Not everyone is going to make it. I don't like it and it rips me up inside, but I understand it."
*Sigh.*
So over the summer, I was wondering what the heck I was going to watch while The Walking Dead is on hiatus.
Enter Netflix.
We signed up for a free trial over the summer.
The boys LOVED that they had all their TV shows and some new ones that they could watch at any time.
All my friends kept telling me about the gloriousness of watching a TV series on Netflix so I decided to check it out.
My first choice was Breaking Bad. I didn't watch past the first episode.
I didn't like it.
WAIT. Don't throw things at me!
For my next choice, I did a little more investigating and choose a cult favorite, Supernatural.
People. People. People. PEOPLE.
This show is amazing.
I get it. I get the cult following. I totally get it.
The plot line is interesting. They hunt supernatural creatures. There is a strong sense of family on the show. There is snarkiness and alpha maleness.
And there's the brothers, Sam and Dean.
Oh, Sam and Dean.
Sigh.
Give me a minute.
Or several.
If you have never watched Supernatural, you need to stop what you are doing IMMEDIATELY and go watch it.
You're welcome.
And if that is not enough for you, Jeffrey Dean Morgan plays John Winchester, Sam and Dean's dad.
Which - if I'm being honest - my brain is having a hard time with.
John Winchester in Supernatural plays a good guy, stern, loving, albeit-misguided-at-times father who hunts all things supernaturally evil and plays Negan in The Walking Dead, bat-wielding ultra-psycho with a penchant for bashing in heads.
Does. Not. Compute.
So The Walking Dead starts back up again tonight. And I know one of my favorite characters will bite the dust.
I know beloved characters have bit the dust in the past.
That is what happens in a zombie ridden world.
But it cuts. It cuts deep.
The Walking Dead hurts so good.
However, it is a HUGE comfort to know that Supernatural will be there to console me.
Hold me, Sam and Dean.
This past weekend, I took L (5) to one of his kindergarten classmate's birthday party. This was L's first kid birthday party so he was beyond pumped.
Lucky him, his older brother, J (7) got to tag along too.
Since it is close to Halloween, it was a costume party. L went as Iron Man (Mach 3) and J went as a ninja.
I feel I should tell you that I don't even know what "Mach 3" is but apparently Iron Man has several different suits. My boys know that this suit is the Mach 3. How they know, I have no idea as they have never seen the Iron Man movie. But, okay, sure. It's the Mach 3.
When we arrived at the party, the kid's mom was so gracious and welcoming. She ushered us outside where the bounce houses were set-up.
I don't know about you but for my boys, it really doesn't get any better than bounce houses.
Except for maybe Minecraft. Or Pokemon Go. Or Wii U.
But still!
Bounce Houses = Awesomesauce
I quickly positioned myself on the deck to have the best view of the backyard and made myself comfortable.
In between keeping an eye on my kids, I made polite conversation with the parents.
It was a mildly controlled chaos.
14 boys. 4 girls. 2 bounce houses, 1 pinata stuffed with candy.
Oh yeah.
This party was ON.
Since it is middle of October in the south(ish), of course, it would be 80 degrees. L quickly tired of his Iron Man suit, I helped him peel it off his sweaty little body so he could go play.
Minutes later, J comes up with his socks. Followed by L and his socks.
I'm holding all of the kids stuff in one hand and my lemonade in the other. And I'm doing a fine job, I might add.
Wanting in on more action, I make my way down the steps to the yard.
Standing there watching the kids, a tiny little Spiderman comes up to me.
He thrusts out his hand to me, "Hold this." He then gives me three little trucks.
Wait.
What?!
Where'd you come from?
"Okay," I answer and manage to shove them into my delicately balanced pile of kid stuff.
He runs off.
I strike up a conversation with one of the other moms.
Little Spiderman returns. "I want a gun," he tells me, pointing to my older kid's Nerf gun.
Um, okay.
"There are some upstairs in the living room. A whole bunch of them," I answer, pointing up the stairs for added emphasis.
"I want a gun." he repeats, slowly this time in case I didn't get it the first time.
Who is this kid?!
Magically, my oldest son, J, appears and says, "I can show you where the guns are. Come with me."
"Thanks, sweetie," I say.
A few minutes later, a tub is brought outside full of water and of apples.
"Bobbing for apples!" the host mom yells.
Looking over at the ginormous tub, my eye starts to twitch.
Bobbing for apples. With kindergartners.
Watching all of those little faces dip into the water, starts to give me the heebie jeebies.
Please don't let my kids want to dive into that cess pool of bacteria. Please, oh please.
Five minutes later, "Mom," J asks, "can I bob for apples?"
Crappity crap.
To which I reply, "No,sweetie. We're not going to be doing that. Oh look! cupcakes!"
I have never been so glad to see cupcakes in my life. Perfect timing.
After we eat the cupcakes, the boys new costumes are covered in frosting, their foreheads plastered in sweat so I declare the party a success.
Time to head out.
I turn around and see the little Spiderman.
Again.
Sticking out his hand that holds the Nerf gun, he demands, "Here, hold my gun."
Hold up, Spidey. I'm on to you.
Pointing to the small table next to me, I respond, "Look! Here is the picnic table. You can set your gun down over here."
He glares at me, stalks over to a lady about 6 feet away and says, "Mommy, hold my gun."
Insert picture of sucker here.
Well played, Spidey. Well played.
As we head out, the host mom is so sweet and thanks us for coming.
I make sure to make mental notes about my kids' future birthday parties.
Have plenty of Nerf guns. And bounce houses. And cupcakes.
Definitely NO apple bobbing.
*Shivers.*
