You Know You’re a sleep deprived Parsnip, er, Parent when:
· You used to tell Son. No. 1 to “be a little quiet,” or “can you take it down a notch,” or even “inside voice, please” (although that one never worked, because the boy is *loud.*)
Two Androids and a Tablet later, it’s all about the “50% volume voice”, the “75% voice” or even the "10% voice" (reserved for when the baby can’t sleep and needs to be rocked to some awesome '80s muzik.)
|You doing the "GOT GREEN? Blog O'hop?|
· You finally have a breakthrough moment! (Anyone following this series of posts knows that me and the Lucky Charms are not friends right now – they started it!! – but today, HA!) we solved the problem.
(I plan to work on the smaller issue of world peace next.)
Yes, yes, and will you tell us already. You know many readers can only skim all these blogs while the boss is out of the office. They don’t have time to spend listening to me telling I to hurry up…Sore-y.
Are you mad?YES! (sniffle) I’m tired of your waffling…you’ve changed.
What?? I’ve changed. No I haven’t.
|Thanks Cassie :)|
Yes, you have, ever since Calliope Mae put you up for two awards… your ego is too big. It’s going to pop out of your head.
|Will Pass These On, I Promise :)|
Well, there’s no hair to stop the pop, what can I do… sigh.
Anyhow,where were I?
· Oh, yes, so the solution to the Lucky Charms debacle…. One bag between two sons… Give No. 1 Son the responsibility to hold said bag. Tell him he needs to share with his brother.Then, No. 2 Son feeds himself ‘till the cows come home and
The idea. Not you.
(Meanwhile, back at the ranch, a chicken wing dipped by to say get back on message…)
Oops…You Know You’re a Parent When…
· You’re busy writing something tres thespian and muy serious and then… about thirty seconds later, you’re behind the couch playing hide-and-seekIn a really small room…
Actually the couch is about all you can hide behind…
But, you’re having tons of fun and all the Sons are lovin’ it like a McDonald’s promo.
· Without thinking, you happily wipe the chocolate off the face (not even the mouth – the face) of a neighbor’s child as if said child was a renegade No. 4 Son. (If you asked me to do that five years ago, I would have ran screaming in the direction of my missing ManCard. Seriously.)
· You’re rocking No. 3 Son to sleep – while “jamming” (very loose verb for the actual body movement) to Pop Muzik (by M, circa 1979) when you realize that back in the ‘80s, you used to rock with babes to this futuristic dance hit (see below :)… and now, well, now, you’re still grooving and rocking with the babe… only this one poops and cries a lot more often…
Final thoughts for this Monday: Later this week, my wife and I will celebrate ten years of being together (two as date-ees, eight as a married couple.)I love my wife and I love me our three boys, so while I’ll never be rich like the amazing Mr. Mark Y. Mark Wahlberg, I am rich like the unique Mr. Mark Koopmans – and to God be the glory.