Being Buried Alive Must Suck.

August 28, 2012 Written by One Classy Motha

Every time we go to the beach I laugh at those families that get suckered into buying their kids a hermit crab.

“Don’t you know how to tell your kids no, you wuss?  Parents like you are the reason kids today think they should get everything they want. Read a parenting book sometime.”

Then we bought not one, but two.

Ugh. My gut said “no” but my family said “you suck mom”. So Ana bought Lily, a feisty little thing that actually had a lot of personality for a crab. And Collin bought Jack who also had a lot of personality until we walked out of the store with him- then he kinda gave up. I’m guessing he was courting us from his cage, the honeymoon must have been on the way to the register, and when the cashier said “that’ll be $24.99”  well…Jack must have considered himself married because he barely moved from his sponge after that.  Such is life.

Anyway, as soon as we were out of the store darling Ana was very, very interested in holding her crab and “loving” it like any careless 3 yr old. We gave the crab two weeks before Ana would ‘love it’ to death. Apparently we gave her too much credit as it only took one week. Though in her defense, I too would have thought that Lily’s shell could protect her from a flight of hardwood stairs. Poor thing. Sadly though she lasted longer than Jack. He died of natural causes 3 days after coming home…or so we hope he was dead…

The Possibly Tragic Story of Jack

It was a sad, dark day when we buried Jack (it was really 87 and sunny). Collin and I said the customary stuff you say about a deceased crab you knew for all of three days and then we promptly went about our lives. However, a week later, after Ana had dropped Lily, I was doing some Google searches: “hermit crab not moving”, “hermit crab looks disorientated”, “irresponsible children”, etc. and came across some articles describing how molting crabs lose their whole exoskeleton and hide deep into their shells for weeks until they harden, surviving from a black bubble of nutrients they develop on their rear (attractive, right?).  uh oh

Me-Umm Brian, did you say Jack’s legs were just laying around the cage?

Brian (watching tv)-Yeah, why?

Me-And you mentioned something about a black liquid?

Brian-Yeah, it was around his shell. (annoyed by my questions because Giada was on)

Me-Did you happen to look deep into his shell?

Brian-Deep into his eyes?

Me-No, his shell.

Brian-Why would anyone do that?

Then I read him the article.He turned Giada off.  Oh crap. Did we bury Jack alive? Dum..dum ..dummm. It was like an episode of Dateline (which Brian is obsessed with watching. So if I disappear check the reruns for possible clues). That night Brian and I couldn’t sleep. Although it had been more than a week, we just had to know. Brian decided he would exhume the body in the morning. It felt like Pet Cemetery.
The next morning I tried to tell him where to look.

Brian-Can you be a little more specific than just pointing into the yard and saying ‘over there’? I don’t know why you won’t just tell me where he’s buried. It’s like you don’t want me to know.

Me-What?

Brian-Why don’t you want me to know where he’s buried?

Me-You think I’m hiding something?

Brian-Yes.

seriously? alright, we’ll play this out…

Me-(I bury my face in my hands) Oh god, I was hoping you would just drop it. But you just won’t give up until you learn the truth, will you? Damn you. Fine. Maybe you should sit down for this.

Brian-Sit down for what?

Me- Alright, I’m just going to say it…he’s alive Brian, Jack’s alive.  Shhh (placing my index finger over his mouth), just hear me out before you judge me. He came to me  late one night, because we’re both nocturnal, and he told me he wanted a chance to start over, to do things right this time. He needed a fresh start and he needed my help. Having made some mistakes myself I understood (Now Brian knows I’m lying because I don’t make mistakes). I had no right to judge. So the next morning I went to Petco and bought him a new shell, a little pink number…still no judgement, handed him a ten dollar bill, and drove him out to the ocean. Unfortunately it wasn’t until after I had thrown him into the water that I remembered he was a land crab. But I’m confident that little son of a bitch is just fine. He’s resourceful and probably buoyant. So there you have it. Happy?

Brian-That’s bullshit

Me-You think?

Brian-Where is he?

Me-I told you, he’s in the field over there, under a rock.

Brian-Why is he under a rock?

Me-To discourage grave robbers. God, you know nothing about burying bodies.

Brian-Whatever. Can you just tell me exactly where to go so I’m not just digging in random spots.

Me-You’re right, I’m sorry. My field directions have been shoddy lately. How’s this…when you get to the lawn you’re going to head west for about 26 feet, then hang a right at the first milkweed you come to. After that you’re going to see some poison ivy on your right, now it’s really important that you merge onto the poison ivy.That will bring you straight out to a pile of dog shit. I want you to continue through the pile of dog shit until the smell makes your eyes water. Just when you’re starting to itch and you can’t take the smell anymore you should see the grave on your left.  But if you fall into that big-ass gopher hole you know you’ve gone too far and you’ll need to turn around. Do you need me to write this down?

He threw the shovel in the garage and said “screw  it”. The question will always weigh heavy on our minds…did we bury him alive?   I mean, at this point would you dig his by now rotting body up or just have a toast to him and call it a day?

RIP Jack.

Lily in happier days (aka alive). Jack died too soon for a pic.

By the way- because we are so freaked out about Jack, we have yet to bury Lily. Right now she smells mildly like shrimp. We’ll give up on her when she has the aroma of a dead rotting fish or she disintegrates.

P.S.  Please don’t tell our son about this as therapy is very expensive and time consuming

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Pillow Pet Birth pt.2 – Let’s try this again.

August 27, 2012 Written by One Classy Motha

I did it!  I finally got the baby calf necessary to more accurately demonstrate the birthing process!  As you may remember, I inadvertently confused my children by demonstrating a cow pillow pet giving birth to a baby squirrel (not a real squirrel, that would be so weird) as my calf resources were non-existent at the time.  Anyhow, we made a trip last week to the Rehoboth boardwalk for the express purpose of winning the pillow pet necessary to accurately depict this miracle of life.  Ok, that was my purpose- the rest of the family had other motives like rides, restaurants, quality time, blah blah blah.

I found myself back where it all began…the horse races.  Not real horse racing, the kind where you roll the little ball and hope it goes into the red hole because your horse will move farther than the others guy’s. I was a little off my game so I enlisted the help of my family.  Twenty dollars later we had won enough large prizes to trade in for the HUGE momma cow.  But did we get it? Nooo. Someone (Brian) felt entitled to get the HUGE dog he wanted because he said he pulled most of the weight.

Stupid dog.

I told him I was not going to do another inter-species birth, so 20 more dollars later I finally got my cow.

Here they are folks….

cowbirth3

 

If you want me to explain this life affirming moment to your children just let me know.  I can come over or create a YouTube video for the whole family to view.  I’ve never been a member of 4-H or anything but I watch a lot of Animal Planet so I think all the pertinent information will be presented.  All you need to do is pop the popcorn.

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Enjoy Your Next Beach Day- Parasite Parenting Tips

August 27, 2012 Written by One Classy Motha

The one in pink is ours. We don’t know the family she’s with but we do know it was a relaxing day…for us

     Some of you have expressed an interest in how you too can locate a surrogate  family to play with and entertain your young children while you relax (deservingly so) on the beach. Here are the recommended steps you should take to weasel your kids into another family’s fun.
1. Location, Location, Location.
Choosing the right spot on the sand is crucial for creating an afternoon of lackadaisical  parenting. Things to look for in an ideal location:
     – Sit right next to or behind a landmark (i.e.  Lifeguard Stand, “Danger” sign, or one of those really obnoxious sun tents that could double as a homeless shelter in the off season). Point these out to your kids so they’ll have an easier time finding you when the host family leaves. And mark my words,  they will leave when they realize what’s happening.
     -Always choose to sit near a family that is digging a hole. Whether they’re digging to China or digging a hole to drop a body in later doesn’t matter. It just needs to be a hole that your child will wander into and want to stay in for the long haul.   However, it’s very important that the hole is being dug by the father and his children, not the mother. It is my experience that fathers start a hole and then become consumed with making it bigger and bigger, deeper and deeper. They have a stick-to-it-ness that mothers don’t. I think it’s some sort of vagina-envy-but-with-a-hole thing. *Side note: today’s father disappeared underground and only came up when he found a blue crab and bones of questionable origin. The kids were fascinated by both.
2.  Maintain an Appearance of Effort.
 If the other family gets a whiff of your shirked parental duties they’ll shut your kid out. They’ll claim it’s because they want to spend “quality alone time” with their kids. But really they’re just pissed because you’re more clever than they are. To avoid this you have to do a bit of work. But don’t worry, this can be carried out between chapters of your Fifty Shades and cosmopolitan refills.   Do the following:
     – You should occasionally (about every 30 min) approach your child and spray sunblock on him/her while saying ” why don’t you kids come back to our blanket and brush up on math problems or snack on some edamame?”
*If your kids follow you back then I can’t relate to you and I bet we’re not friends.
     – you MUST wave to the other parents at least once, shrug,  and mouth “she loves you”. Make sure to close with that “yikes, I’m so sorry” look.
     – Drop off crackers, gum, juice boxes, shovels, and buckets at the hole – basically help your kids set up shop so that they have no reason to come back before the sun goes down. On your way back to your chair say to the dad “Great Job! I’ll be over here on my iPhone looking up  Guinnessworldrecords.com for the deepest beach hole. I’ll let you know what I find. Though the internet has been really slow today. Weird.”
By following the above steps you should be able to read a book, play UNO, get a tan on your back, or brush up on your bartending skills, all with little interruption. That reminds me of my last point…pack drinks in a quality thermos as it is vital that you keep your beverages cold.  I can’t stress this enough. Sure, a high end thermos costs more than a  repurposed Turkey Hill Iced Tea container but it’s worth the investment. No one wants to drink a warm margarita while watching another mother plead with your child to stop throwing sand in her eyes, it’s a buzz kill.
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The Family goes to Philly

August 13, 2012 Written by One Classy Motha
 Let me start by saying that we are not one of those families that takes their children on day trips, cultural trips, or educational trips…unless they revolve around a really great restaurant.  In fact, we first think of a place where we’d like to eat then we make a mental map of the places we can go while waiting for that restaurant to open.  I mean, why drive all the way to the zoo or aquarium when  Petco is right next to Cafe Napoli? Museum? Nah, there’s a little antique store next to Jessop’s Tavern (the best crab dip ever! Am I right Joanne?). We don’t even go to Disney unless Epcot is having their Food & Wine Festival.
 So imagine my surprise when Brian suggested we go to The Franklin Friggin Institute! Whoa, what? I’m immediately suspicious. Then he says,”you know, I think it’s only a mile from the Reading Market”. Yeah, the same Reading Market that has DiNic’s famous porkette sandwich, I’m onto you.  So now I’m thinking ‘Do I want to ride 45 min for a porkette sandwich?’ instead of ‘wow, my kids would get so much out of the Franklin Institute’. What the hell is wrong with us? Any culture they get is apparently the result of the hospitality industry. I say to myself, ‘c’mon Kim, strap on the fanny pack and do the damn day trip’. So we go.
The institute is fun, the kids seem to enjoy it. There is a moment in the heart exhibit when we lose Ana around the aorta but she eventually emerges from the right ventricle.  No harm done. All in all we have a good time.

I find it ironic that I nearly had a heart attack when we lost Ana in Cardiac Adventure

And Brian is doing a great job of being patient knowing that DiNic’s closes at 6pm.  At 5pm we head out WALKING the mile to the market. Ugh. We’re taking in all the sights and sounds of the city. We get to the beautiful LOVE park and see a wedding party taking pictures with hot pink flowers as their background and a passed out homeless guy as their foreground.
Strangely, everyone  was acting like this wasn’t happening, like he wasn’t just laying there in front of the photographer. I began to wonder of I was imaging him so I took a picture- nope, he showed up on the film. Moving along, we’re approaching the market, I’m getting hungry, then I smell…but of course, horse shit. Yup. There was horse shit and hay on the road outside of the Reading Market. I still don’t understand why and I’ll probably never know. When we go into the market Brian stands in line for DiNic’s and I go in search of pizza for the kids. I go around that god forsaken place 3 times before finding a slice of pizza  Meanwhile Ana throws several fits because I won’t let her out of the stroller. By the time Brian gives me my porkette sandwich I’m thinking,’this better give me an orgasm, make my boobs grow, or cause me to shit gold’. Obviously I was setting it up for failure. It was good but none of the above happened. Exhausted and full we drove home. And I had a well deserved and much desired glass of wine (or two/three).
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