Martyrese

I've learned a lot of things as a parent.  I can change a diaper with one hand while setting up a pack & play with the other; I can install a car seat while simultaneously cleaning vomit off of my pants; and I no longer retch if someone defecates directly onto me - provided that someone is one of my children.  One thing I didn't expect to learn was a new language.  But I have.  The language is Martyrese and I'm awesome at it.

It's not a hard language to learn.  You can use all of the words that you already know - you just can't use them to speak to the person with which you are communicating.  Martyrese must be delivered via a third-party to be effective.  It's a finesse language.  Intended to make your spouse feel guilty.  And if done right, extremely angry.

Let's practice.

Situation:  Baby is screaming, on the floor.
English Phrase:  "Dear wife, I would love some assistance with the crying baby."
Martyrese:  Spoken directly to nine-month-old child:  "Oh, I'd love to pick you up sweetie, but Daddy has been so busy doing all of the housework while Mommy sits over there checking her email that I'm not sure when I'll be able to help."

Sounds like English, right?  But it's not.  It's way better.  It's like English on amazing passive-aggressive-steroids.  The emotion that such a simple phrase evokes in Martyrese far exceeds almost anything you could get from a sentence with such few swear words in English.  If your wife doesn't speak to you for an hour, you'll know you've got it right.

I get it right a lot.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to quit blogging so I can go finish up some work stuff.  I want you (dear readers) to know that I would have done it earlier, but I was too busy doing laundry and making sure our family finances don't fall apart while someone sat on the floor playing with our adorable kids that I didn't have time.

I'm so good at this it's scary.

Never mind

Found the other one. She was running an important errand for Daddy.

-- Post From My New (Jail) Cell

The Artist at Work

I'll bet Kitty thinks twice before leaving both kids with me for the day next time!

Wait a minute. I swear there was another kid around here.

Crap.

-- Post From The Doghouse

Money Money Money

Kitty and I sat down the other day and had a very frank conversation, in which we decided that we didn't have enough crap in the house. Specifically, we were missing plastic crap and we were most definitely short some broken crap.  We decided to remedy the situation immediately.  We gave Finn an allowance. 

After all, if someone is going to be buying cheap crap that breaks and never gets played with again it might as well be him.  

Despite the fact that it took me nearly 30 years to learn how to manage my money, I assumed that Finn would pick it up immediately.  I was therefore crushed to discover that unlike not-listening-to-me and inability-to-use-table-manners, budgeting is not one of Finn's inherent skills.   Toning down my expectations got easier once I realized that he really has no idea how much different coins/bills are worth and therefore he makes an easy mark for fleecing.  I'm making money on this whole allowance thing.

Now before you judge, let it be known that he forced me to give him $4.50 in exchange for a $5.  I tried to tell him that wasn't to his favor, but he insisted.  Who am I to argue?  Of course, the next day he offered me $20 and when I asked, "Seriously?", he replied, "No, I just wanted to blow your mind."

Mission accomplished, jerk.

For what he lacks in financial skills, he makes up for in bacon wallets.  I needed to ensure that he had a stylish spot to keep his cash and I had an extra bacon wallet laying around that fit that bill nicely.  Who doesn't?  Unfortunately, the cash never really gets a chance to accrue.

This is impressive when you consider that he gets $10 a week in allowance.  Yeah, I'm not good at depriving him.  Have you seen how much Legos cost these days?  It's absurd.

Not like it matters.  Just last week he blew every last penny he had - and even went into debt to me - for a $40 Boba Fett gun for Halloween to accompany that sick costume above.  On the plus side, if you were just a casual observer, you'd think that thing shoots real lasers.  It's amazing.  I can safely say that it's money well spent.

Lesson?  Learned.  Now where's that Lego aisle?

Fangs

Someone is happy about her new teeth, just in time for Halloween.

Eatie

Rules for feeding Edie, or any self-led-weaning child, for that matter:

• Put down some plastic. If that sounds like too much work already you can probably skip all remaining steps just by getting a dog.
• If you're too dumb to acquire a dog, start by purchasing saliva & food resistant clothing & strip her down before inserting her into this, as well as several layers of bib and preferably gloves.  And a neck guard.
• Be prepared to feed her everything that you eat. Otherwise, be prepared to watch her scream - loudly and unintelligibly (psst, she's a baby) - until you figure out exactly which piece of food that you're eating she wants. Then give her that piece of food, you idiot.  Unless it's salty.  Then talk about how you shouldn't be giving her that piece of food before coming to your senses and giving it to her anyway just to stop the screaming.
• Assuming you survive dinner, note that there are three steps to cleaning up:
• Step one, sigh pointedly in the direction of the person who read that great book about how awesome baby-led weaning is and who chose this smelly, smelly path for your family
• Step two, put aside all self respect and begin picking up the largest half-chewed pieces of stewed zucchini, avocado and salmon from the floor, the furniture and your clothes/hair.
• Step three, alternate crying, throwing up and washing the dishes.
• Last tip, and definitely the most important:  do not loudly announce, "I'll wash my hands right after I get done undressing your sister" in mixed company. 
• Otherwise, be prepared to register yourself in all future communities to which you may move.

But doesn't she look sweet?

Don't look under those neck folds.  It's wild down there.

Well, this is embarrassing

I've got a pop quiz for y'all:

The term "Fart Oil & Back Heat" refers to what, exactly:

1. The two most popular sellers at Spencer Gifts in the mall?
2. An offbeat TV comedy starring Jack Black and Owen Wilson as his talking-motorcycle sidekick?
3. What my son informed his mother I leave on my side of the bed when I get up in the morning?

I don't think I need to tell you the answer.  I'd be terribly embarrassed sharing this with you if it wasn't so hilarious.

Extra credit if you guessed that Fart Oil and Back Heat are actually synonyms.  Because, of course they are.