Okay, I sort of had an unplanned hiatus. Typical “life happens” stuff. I blinked, and apparently September is beginning to wane. It’s been a busy few weeks. My baby turned three with a big Princess Party, which was a huge hit. The Statler & Waldorf component of the festivities also went well – not sure how that’s possible. The day pretty much went like this;
Statler and Waldorf arrived
Miss Emmy had a nap which was the designated time for decorating
Statler wondered why I hadn’t decorated and set the table the night before – ’cause evidently, I have that kind of time
Statler decided Waldorf needed to fish out something that was jammed between the closet door and the deep freeze (our deep freeze is in our kitchen closet). This meant I had to look over and see Waldorf’s feet in the air while he’s trying to reach the tin foil pie dish which had been there since Christmas, but has now been freed. While this is going on, Statler felt free to wonder aloud why I hadn’t removed the pie plate in the first place, why I had Emmy’s hair cut so short (’cause that’s not feminine), cheese placement, etc. There’s a good chance I was drunk by that point.
Emmy awoke from her nap and the party was in full swing. She had a blast and although there were points where I thought my ears would bleed from the shrill screams of 5 little princesses, I think they all had fun. Also, I’m still removing glitter from my ass and other orifices as Princess Parties is where glitter goes to die.
The following morning, Emmy and I decided to have breakfast with Statler and Waldorf at my favourite restaurant. Statler and Waldorf had never been, Emmy always eats well there and I love it, so it seemed like a good idea. Statler and Waldorf beat us there by about 15 minutes and when I arrived, our waitress quietly asked me if these were my parents. I confirmed, and she replied, “you must be tired”. Seriously. Thank goodness, she had a sense of humour because I am sure another other waitress would have done unmentionable things to our food. At one point, Waldorf asked her “Sprechen sie Deutsche?”, she replied “a little” and his response was “well, then, droppen sie dead – ahahahahaha”. Seriously. Bob Hope he ain’t. This was met with uncertainty and she left to get me more coffee & I begged her to make it Irish but it’s a breakfast joint. Statler & Waldorf then have a heated exchange about whether uttering death threats at waitresses is appropriate behaviour while I resisted the urge to crawl under the table and resume the fetal position. Waldorf then apologizes to the lovely girl and I thought we could have the rest of our breakfast like normal people. Fast forward five minutes. I’m half way through my raspberry chocolate crepe when I look over and see Statler heaving into her napkin. Yep, had several bites and then threw it up into a napkin. Even Emmy was like “What the fuck?”. I ask if she’s okay and she says “yah, just ate something that didn’t taste good”. This is why I don’t cook for them. Also made a mental note to never take them to restaurants I intend to return to.
Statler & Waldorf go home and Alec & I begin to get ready for a week long vacation in the Hot Springs. Some friends and family joined us for various parts of the trip, which was nice. We rented a 2 bedroom condo because it had a full kitchen (but no internet = no blogging). I learned that this kind of a vacation means planning, making and cleaning up meals. The kitchen was really handy, but sometimes felt like the only thing different from home was geography. Nonetheless, the scenery was beautiful & Alec and I did have a chance to relax a bit.
For those of you who know me, it will come as no surprise to learn that I am white. By “white”, I mean damn near translucent. As a kid, if I ventured outside – even in the winter, a burn was guaranteed. This was difficult as Statler & Waldorf’s idea of “sunscreen” was tanning oil. So my hatred of the sun and any sun related activities began. I have now graduated to Sunblock 60 or 80 and I haven’t had a burn in years (having your back skin come off like dryer sheet will make you remember the sunblock!). My kids are also as fair as I am – as long as I’m here, they’ll never, ever tan. They also have my sensitive skin.
Last summer, two old bitties – one pushing the other in a wheelchair – decided to comment on the colour of Emmy’s skin, which was very pink. It was 35 above & she had plenty of sunblock on. However, she’s like me and when she overheats, her entire body goes pink, esp. if she’s running. They were convinced she had a terrible sun burn and felt the need to share that with me. Luckily a friend of mine assured them Emmy was perfectly safe and not burned at all.
This summer, at the Hot Springs, something similar happened. Emmy and I were in the change room after our swim (well, she floated in a raft thingie and I wouldn’t say that I swam, but whatever) and I got her down to her birthday suit when 3 old ladies came in the change room. One of them passes and says “Well, look at that pink bum, looks like you cooked her good!”. I respectably said that Emmy has sensitive skin and her skin goes pink even in the bath. They pass by with their blue hair and judgement to find change rooms. They continue to discuss Emmy in the change rooms as though I can’t hear them, one of them used the word “scald”. It was as though when they closed the 3 stall doors to peel off their old lady bathing suits, the cone of silence that follows them around was dropped. I felt awful. I second guessed my parenting. Like, maybe we shouldn’t have taken Emmy in the hot springs. Then I remembered Emmy is 3 – not stupid. If it was too hot, she would have told us.
I bit my tongue as Statler’s voice rang in my ears “respect your elders”. And, if anyone was mean to my Grandma, would have dropped kicked them. Then I remembered, my Grandma would have never made someone feel that way. Talk about them when they’re out of earshot – hells yah, but not in front of them! Grandma had what people usually lack – tact. She didn’t have blue hair either.
When do you reach the age that you feel it’s okay to spew your verbal diarrhea of judgement on people younger than yourself? Kids annoy me – I want to strangle most teenagers. But if I ever think it’s okay to make someone feel small or inadequate, just shoot me.