So, on that note, I can say that I am also a lousy parent this week...I TRIED to be nice and make the kids happy....really, I did. Flyboy and I decided that we would take the kids out for ice cream on Sunday (Father's Day) and then to see "Toy Story 3" at the IMAX theater. Fun, right?!? Well, it was...for the most part.
We went to this new little ice cream place in our local town and thought it was for the best of the store and the other patrons that we eat outside with our crew. (Have I shown you ice cream pictures of these monsters? No? Ah, well it is now on my "to do" list...which is about a trillion miles long. So, in other words, you may or may NOT ever see them...but I will try!)
I sat all of the monsters down in their seats at a round table just outside the outdoor "order" window. We made the rounds of who wanted what and then went back around because everyone changed their mind when they heard something else "better" from another sibling. OK, got it...vanilla with sprinkles for Gidget, vanilla with M&Ms for Bug, and a Blueberry Water Ice with sprinkles and a cherry for Cricket. (Nevermind the full size Banana Split that I ordered for me....)
The ice cream gal starts handing out the orders one at a time (because of course she is the ONLY one working, sigh). Bug gets his...good to go. Gidget gets hers...good to go. Cricket gets hers...good to go. (Aaahhhhh....Mama's turn! Bring on that Banana Split -- and extra whipped cream with cherries on top please!)
All of the sudden there arose such a clatter! I spun around on my heel to see what was the matter!?! Flyboy yells "Son of a bitch!" and that's when I realize that Gidget has face planted backwards out of her chair onto the concrete. (Damn, put a hold on that banana split.)
We both ran over and she of course has busted not only her top lip, but the bottom lip too. I ran her into the bathroom and washed her face off and gave her the good ol' Mama look-over. She indeed had two bloody lips and had scraped her poor little button nose as well. Now, as you can imagine, being a 2 year old, Gidget was done crying by now and was much more interested in getting back to that ice cream that we left melting in the sun. So, in the end, she finished her ice cream (and I got mine to go).
Now every once in awhile when I am washing her little face off, she reminds me..."Mommy, don't wash my owie on my nose that I got when I ate my ice cream!"
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