Saturday, March 19, 2011

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Recycled McGriddles

So. I've discovered that Caden gets carsick if he eats McDonald's and tries to read in the car.

Monday, we were up before the sun, packed in the car and headed toward College Station to meet Jo, my step-mom. I stopped in Hillsboro to get a white chocolate mocha with two pumps of caramel from Starbucks and Caden saw the golden arches. So I got him this pancake/sausage/biscuit contraption. He devoured it, and even proclaimed, "I am going to eat at McDonald's EVERY DAY for breakfast. Okay Mom?"

Sure, Caden.

We make it a little past Waco; he is intently studying one of his books, and he casually calls up to me, "Mom. My tummy hurts."

I don't think much of it. He is always hurting something. So I mumble something to the effect, "That's nice," and continue to drive.

Again, this time with a touch of panic in his voice, "Mom. I think I'm gonna...I'm gonna throw up!"

As a mother, you can sense the change in your child's tone when he is in fact, panicking and truly scared. So I whip over on the side of the road and hand him the only bag I have handy. Which is, in fact, a McDonald's bag.

Yeah, those are made out of paper.

So Caden is throwing up every thing I think he's ever eaten, and I'm turned around, trying to help him get it all in the rapidly deteriorating bag. He manages to get recycled mcgriddle and apple juice all over my hanging clothes (which aren't hanging; they are laying on the seat next to him), his booster seat and himself. And his DVD player. And his headphones.

When I'm sure he is done, I take the bag to dump it out my door. In order to do this, the bag must cross over my lap. And precisely the moment it's crossing over me, the bottom falls out of it.

Good times, good times.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Crazy Saturday Nights

A friend got married today. While happy for her, so glad it's not me.  I took Caden with me to the wedding and while at said wedding, made grand plans to go out afterwards with some friends. Caden just pissed all over those plans, so I'm sitting on my couch,  in my pj's, watching the end of 48 hours. He was going to go spend the night at friend's house, but at last minute, decided it would be a bad decision because Bobs, (his stuffed tiger), was feeling "squishy".

So now, I'm having a bit of wine.  By bit, I mean lots.

Ah well. Still love that little shit.

Here goes....something?

I honestly don't know how many blogs I've begun in the last 7 or 8 years. It always begins with a rush of words, swirling with energy and excitement, about documenting the little things in my life that I just know I'll appreciate remembering later, and it always seems to fizzle out after a few posts.

I was unsure what to title this; I even visited a few blog name generator sites that suggested names like "Yard Helpless" and "Dancing Pottery".  And although those names were appealing, I was reminded of a blog I recently discovered, written by a single dad who was chronicling all the funny shit that his kid does. Now, I don't know much, but I do know funny kid shit. I've got a pretty funny kid of my own...and remembering all the cool things he says and does is partly my goal with this blog. Anyway, Dan named  his blog, Single Dad Laughing. Thus, Single Mom Laughing was born.

Dan's blog: