I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
July 24, 2008
>Returning to a BlogHer-free life in which I’m not being introduced to some guy who takes pictures of Silicon Valley bigwigs naked in the desert (surely I heard that wrong), random people are not running up to me and reciting random portions of my blog by heart, and I’m not being offered spicy vodka concoctions in the lingerie section of Macys has been, well, difficult.
I came home to a house that looked like some dude named Fisher Price used it to recover from a stomach virus. Toys covered every single surface. Every single surface! I couldn’t even blame Hubs- to be honest, it didn’t really look all that different from certain days when I’m “on deadline.” Still. Me? Clean up toys? Mop floors? Scrape viscous goo from the kitchen sink drain? I’m too cool for that now!
Not.
Besides easing myself back into the old ‘clean routine’, I’ve also returned to taking care of the kids. My girls are all pretty easy, but baby Bruiser is another story. Half the time, I want to hug him and play many, many rounds of the Nom Nom Game, the one where we try to gum each others’ faces off. The other half, I want to run and hide from him and the incredible mess he manages to make everywhere he goes. Or yell, because he’s scratched me yet again with his demon nails or pulled my hair so hard that I’m convinced I’ve been freaking scalped.
“Mmmmmgggggah!” I said yesterday after Bruiser drove me crazy for about the 50th time in an hour-long period by grabbing a glass of juice off the table, throwing it on the floor, and then lying in it on his freshly-shirted belly. I needed to let out some angst, but what to say? What to say?
“I just want to…” I said to Hubs, pausing for a moment. What did I want to do exactly? Slap him? Hell no. I wouldn’t even joke about that. Sell him to the gypsies? Forget it. Didn’t want to tempt fate. Feed him to the sharks? Horrors.
“I just want to… to… put him in temporary housing!” I finished weakly.
Temporary housing? That was the best I could do? Temporary housing. That’s like, the lamest insult ever, not to mention a horrible sign of the kind of parent I’m apparently destined to become. Is temporary housing seriously going to become the scare tactic I use with my kids?
“Y’all stop fighting or I’ll put you in temporary housing!” I imagined myself saying. “It’ll be like a hotel that’s been turned into a dorm! You’ll have to share a bathroom with strangers! With! Strangers!”
The kids will cry and plead with me. “Don’t send us to temporary housing!” they’ll beg, hugging my knees. “Not temporary housing, Mommy! Please!”
I’ll remain unmoved. “You’ll have to put a hold on your mail!” I’ll threaten. “Or get a P.O. Box! And you’ll have a really hard time establishing credit! So watch yourselves!” That’ll make them shape right up, I’m sure. Temporary housing.
Is it too early for a martini?
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>I could have written everything about the throwing stuff, the demon nails, the favorite game of throwing anything in reach and covering every surface with sticky grime and toys. And the hair pulling. But then my 10 month-old gives me the gummy smile, and I can’t be mad at him (well, not as mad). Still, the temporary housing sounds awfully nice.
>It’s noon SOMEWHERE.I’m just sayin’…
>I threaten to suck mine up in the vaccum cleaner. Until they are about 4 they are really undone this, totally not sure whether it’s possible or not.
>FEMA has quite a few “Temporary Housing” units… but those travel trailers have Formaldyde issues…or maybe not, depends on who you ask. Next Storm, Get one of those and throw it in the back yard!!! Baby Bruiser Bus !
>Well just when I thought mine were old enough to be past all that, my oldest threw grandchildren at me and I forgot to duck. So it just never stops. And it’s never too early for vodka… or tequila… or rum…
>I love the temporary housing threat! I did threaten once to give my younger son to the gypsies when he wouldn’t stop tormenting his brother but then his brother pitched a fit that he would lose his brother. “I like being tormented by him Mama. Don’t give him to the gypsies!!!….um, what’s a gypsy Mama?”
>OMG – Fisher Price threw up at your house too…what a crappy houseguest. 😉
>The demon nails! My baby’s not even here right now and it hurts to just read those words. My oldest was not born with claws, but the baby. WTF? I use clippers, scissors and even a nail file to no avail. He’s like part raccoon or something!
>The idea of temporary housing scares me if that’s any consolation.
>Okay, I can’t even count the various threats that have run through my mind that I would never say out loud. But the best I’ve come up with is something about taking away their birthdays or hanging them up by their toenails, neither of which they would understand for another few years. Thankfully, the older the kids get, the more it forces us to be creative. And who knows, maybe I will threaten them that I will go to temporary housing…
>He sounds like a great candidate for the new NBC show called the Baby Borrowers!!!
>Love the vacuum idea- That would work great for Punky, but Bruiser LOVES the vacuum. He chases after it, hits it and yells menacingly. I have also threatened to not let Punky turn five. That seemed to work well for my mom….
>One of my girlfriends threatened her etiquette-challenged daughter with, “You’d bet shape up or…..you’ll… never have TEA with the Queen!”(A little background: we live in Michigan where there’s not exactly a dearth of royal high teas.)
>Every night, my husband and I beg our 19 month old to please please stop kicking our asses.
>I was so glad to get your post! I LOVE your blog. I actually deleted my post that I mentioned on Stephanie's site. The more conference recaps I read, the more I change my feelings about it all. After reading about all of these private parties, meet-ups, etc, I realized I was more left out than I thought (like the kid tagging along who has no idea that she's not part of the inner circle). But I want to go back next year as a blogger (NOT a sponsor) to experience the real deal. Duy Huynh lives in Charlotte and is often at his gallery, Lark & Key. Got to meet him during a gallery crawl and gushed like an idiot. If you're ever here, you have to check it out!
>My husband used to threaten to hang our son on the wall.I suppose it’s too late now, but when I hear of these baby terrors I wonder why playpens went out of fashion. Oh, and one more thing. It’s five o’ clock *somewhere*. 😉
>This reminds me of a time when my sisters and I were younger and we were in the store with my mom probably acting up as we did frequently. Anyway she said “if you don’t stop I’m going to slap the dickens out of you” My sisters and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. dickens. WTF!? Seconds later my mom started laughing to when she realized how utterly ridiculous that sounded.
>My go-to thing is “I just want to crate them.” Sounds awful, but I’m referencing our dog crate that the kids are forbidden from playing in, yet so badly want to make their club house.
>I love it. Temporary housing. I also like ‘I just want to crate them’!
>No, it is not too early for a martini.As if!You know my number.
>January to March I’m phoning the easter bunny, April to July summer might get cancelled and July to Christmas I phoning the big man himself, yep santa and cancelling her toy order, caue you’ve gotta order them, santa’s no mind reader, just a delivery boy.I agree with angella, it’s always noon somewhere. Failing that stick a pin in the phone book and celebrate a birthday.
>It’s hard to imagine your family making you go back into domesticity. Don’t they realize you are a Super Blogger Diva Princess? Shame on them! Well, if you want to really scare them, they can come stay here for temporary housing… and I’ll go hang out with you and have a martini!
>Well, instead of temp housing you could threatened them with a FEMA trailer. I know where you can get one fairly cheap, but it won’t show up for many, many months. You will have to worry about the poisioning, but it is so slow that I am sure they won’t notice until they have lived in it for several months.
>Never too early for a martini.Re – entry has been fun for no one, I’m sure. Certainly, not me. It was nice meeting you this weekend.
>It’s never too early.And I think, though I’ve been wrong one or two times before, I think that threatening temporary housing is better than,”I was trying to decide WHICH second-story window from which to TOSS our child…”Just sayin…
>You had an eye-opening, life-experience weekend of fun, laughs, experiences, cheeseburgers, falling elevators and burly security officers.Now regular life returns to…regularity.Welcome back.
>I tell my kids that I want to call on the Goblin king…if you’ve seen David Bowie (and his inappropriate codpiece) in Labyrinth this is absolutely terrifying!
>I’ve “called” Santa, the Easter Bunny, and Rich Brothers’ Fireworks Company to tell them to cancel the festivities because the kids are too naughty. I’ve also locked myself in my bedroom which was stupid because then the kids just beat on the door and trashed the hallway. Oy!Kristina
>Guess you could always use “I’ll lock you in the attic!” lol. Or, basement…or cellar…and, if you have none of those…a closet always works.
>i left my home for a mere 36 hours and returned to the fisher price puke as well, not to mention a dog hair explosion, nap boycott, runny noses, and no milk in the refrigerator. no milk?! how can we have no milk?! off to the grocery store i go…ah back to work.
>a-hem, it’s NEVER too early for a martini.
>I’ve been playing the Nom Nom game a LOT lately. Just didn’t realize there was a name for it…Also, demon nails? Check. Fierce hair pulling (with drool-covered hands)? Check.
>I don’t know, sticking them on the wall with a velcro suit on always seemed like a pretty good idea to me.And martinis are fine. Any time.
>I threaten to sell mine to the monkeys. My 8 year old just rolls his eyes now and my 4 year old tells me to make sure I pack bananas. I don’t think they take my threat too seriously any more.
>I threaten my boyz with “the farm.” As in, “You are soooo going to the farm.”But really? I think it should be ME going to the farm. The funny farm, that is.
>If you find a good temporary housing gig, let me know. I’m just sayin’. ;)And it is never too early for liquor.