the air show is the party...

We have been saying that (ad infinitum) for a year now. It all started at last year's airshow (there is a big one here every November) and for a long while following,  my son (kid 1) would say "There's the airshow" every. time. we. passed. the. airport.
My husband (who is oh so helpful and believes in clarity above all) explained to kid 1 that we were actually passing the airport and that the airshow is like a PARTY where the airplanes all get together and have some fun.
So then we said "There's the airport and the airshow is the party" every. single. time. we. passed. the. airport. Awesome.

But I digress.

This year my husband could attend the air show with us (he had to work during last year's show). Oh and his parents came down (no seriously, it was loads of fun. loads.).

His (the hubs) magical plan was that we would go sometime around noon and hang out until around 5 or 6. With a two year old and a three year old. And no nap. Oh...and he would go golfing with his dad that morning. Did I mention the no nap thing? When questioned about it, husband said "Can't they just go down early?". Yes dear, I'll put the kids down for their nap at 9 AM. Yahoo.

His reasoning was that a list of events hadn't been posted and he REALLY DIDN'T WANT TO MISS THE BIG JETS. REALLY, REALLY, REALLY.
At which point I assured him that those were the finale (silly man) and OF COURSE we'd get to see them!
So we agree to a shortened nap. Yay..mama happy.

We throw everyone into the car around 1.30 and head out. Immediately we get caught behind other awesome parents heading post-nap to the airshow (and driving brake-on the entire way so they can watch the planes over head. Good times.)

Finally, we get to the lot where we are helpfully directed through the gate. And by helpfully, I mean there are approximately 27-36 volunteers milling around and rather lethargically waving their arms around (although not in any particular direction, hmmm....maybe they missed their naps). Once we get through the ticket check, our FOUR lanes merge (and I am using that word loosely here) into ONE. All of the 57 volunteers are no where to be seen (so its a bit of a 2 mile per hour free-for-all).

And guess what is passing over to our right. THE BIG (farking) JETS. Seriously?! Seriously.

Husband begins to very quietly and maturely strain to see the planes (and by that I mean he leaned his head ALL THE WAY OUT THE WINDOW AND LOOKED DIRECTLY AT THE SKY WHILE DRIVING A MOTOR VEHICLE).

Its at this point that I decide he should get out and start walking while I park the car. He gratefully agrees, hops out and almost RUNS to the entrance. I yell at him to get the boy-child out already so HE can see it too and off they go. I think they got a few minutes in before the jets left (TO LAND AT THEIR AIRPORT 45 MILES AWAY...what?). So, the only thing husband wanted to see was now over. And we'd been there 3 minutes.

And that's how I killed joy in 2012.

Had a really awesome post for today

Well, I thought it was funny.
Witty even.

But I had to use spell chek (notice I've given up on spelling properly now). Because I went to edit it, clicked on a word and the WHOLE DAMN THING DISAPPEARED.

Of course, I DID NOT SAVE.

Blegh.

Blogging.  Think there's an app for that?

Update: O. M. G. I found it! Luckily, google accounts for stupid!
YAY!

Now, everbody comment and tell me it really IS funny.

There's a little game I like to play...

I call it "Who Brought the A**hole".

The kids go to pre-school three mornings a week.
The morning routines usually go something like this...

The kids get out of bed sometime around 7am. I tell them its time to get dressed, they lay on the floor (sometimes there is gnashing of teeth and flailing of limbs) and we get to play another of my super-fave games "Let's Pretend to be Overcooked Pasta". Sometime between 7.30 and 7.45 the dressing/teeth brushing/bed making marathon has been completed and we sit down to breakfast (well, the kids usually sit while I pack lunches, brush my own hair, run around like an idiot looking for keys...you know, the ushz).

This morning they had peanut butter/honey toast and half a banana. I know, sounds good right?
I packed myself a little cup of yogurt with some nuts and honey for the car.

We get loaded up and ready to (and MAY actually be on time...miracle of miracles!). Both kids (who have finished their breakfast), see mine and request politely beg for a taste.

Me: "I'll give you a bite when we get to school".
Kid 1: "I want some yogurt"
Me: "I told you, I'll give you a bite when we get to school"
Kid 2: "I want some yogurt"
Me: "OK...I've already said...I will give you a bite when we get to school. Now, this is Mama's breakfast, so PLEASE stop asking about it"
Kid 1 (plaintively): "Well, don't eat it all"
Me: "THAT'S ENOUGH"

8 minutes later, I'm licking my spoon when I realize, apparently that WASN'T enough...because I have the memory of a goldfish and ATE ALL THE D*MN YOGURT.

Yeah, so now you know...I brought the a**hole.

It's not just rainbows and unicorns around here...

There's vomit too!

So last week, I picked my kids up from pre-school (called that only because it sounds sooo much better than day-care for a semi-working-stay-at-home-mom) and we went to the grocery store (which is probably the most fun thing I can think to do with two small children. Woot. Woot.).

A small sample of our trip...

Kid 1: Maaamaaa, I want some water.
Me: I'm sorry?
Kid 1: MAAAMAAA...may I have some water, PLEASE?
Me: Yes, just let me finish and I'll get you some in the check-out line.

And repeat.

FINALLY, we finished and I got the poor, dessicated child a bottle of water. He promptly glugged it down, in between making "bubble noises" (not spitting, he assured me) and pretending to share with his sister. After my THIRD request for him to just DRINK THE D@MN THING INSTEAD OF BLOWING INTO IT...I turned to him and said/shrieked/whatever "What are you doing?".

He promptly threw up; apparently that particular round of blowing was actually gagging (and yes, I am currently accepting Mother of the Year noms).

So I got us home as fast as I could, unloaded both kids from the car, and told Kid 2 to IMMEDIATELY go potty (if you'll recall...we are potty-training her and its a bit touch and go), while I ushered Kid 1 into my shower so I could clean him off.

Kid 1 is fairly calm, with the exception that he doesn't want to shower, he wants to rinse in the tub..so now there are vomit clothes in the shower stall AND vomit clothes in the tub.
Kid 2 is quiet for all of about 3.6 seconds and then she begins to SCREAM HER HEAD OFF. Awesome.

APPARENTLY, I need to be VERY CLEAR about the order one is to use for going potty. APPARENTLY, it seems as if the washing hands portion of the potty trip should happen BEFORE the going potty portion. So she climbed on the stool. And promptly peed all over the floor.
Double Awesome.

I now have groceries slowly melting in the car, vomit all over my backseat, shower and tub, and pee all over the other bathroom floor. Oh...and the dog is barking anxiously to get out of her crate.

Sometimes I wish I lived in the sixties. A lovely time. A time of youth and innocence and, most importantly, the afternoon cocktail.