This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Since James was born my way of thinking about things has completely changed.  And while I could tell you about all the goofy things Eddie and I do just to get one little smile out of James or the time that I cried while watching the movie “Cars” (those little cars worked so hard only to have all the I-40 travelers pass right on by their town), I will spare you the sappiness.   You see, the changes have been subtle – making sure we have milk instead of beer in the fridge before leaving to buy groceries (Who am I kidding?  Beer is still on the list too…just in a slightly smaller quantity to make room for the milk) or instead of hitting the snooze button a million times I now set the alarm 30 minutes early so I have enough time to get James to daycare and myself to work on time (okay…I still hit the snooze button but then I definitely bust my butt to get through the rest of my morning routine in an attempt to still get out the door on time – cursing the snooze button the whole way to work).  While I’ve come to accept that fact I will stumble over a toy or find myself humming Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to myself at least once every day, the ultimate “my kid has changed me” epiphany came tonight when I walked into the house sorting throught the mail and automatically tossed the PotteryBarn and WilliamSonoma holiday catalogs right into the trash.  I turned around for a second, peered into the trashcan – just to see what the front cover looked like – then moved on.  Why was that simple act such a revolution?   It was at this moment I realized that, at least until James chooses somewhat less clumsy and slightly more graceful lifestyle, the Foy Family cannot have nice things.

This is why we can’t have Nice Things

Like Ceramic Plates...

Because they break.

Or toilet paper...

Because it rolls (and rolls and rolls).

And of course clothes...

Because Spaghetti Sauce stains EVERYTHING!



Including faces.

Happy Halloween????

Halloween 2010

Every now and again I dream of what life would be like if I had some sort of superhuman power – teleporting,  the ability to understand and speak any language, the power to stop time or at least slow it down a little, and my all-time favorite a clone…of course with a slightly better outcome than poor Dolly.   So, of course on Halloween Night, a night filled with imaginative tales and children running around aimlessly pretending to be all sorts of characters, I found myself daydreaming once again about what I would do if I could do anything.  And on that particular night the answer was very clear… take a grumpy flying baby dragon that only communicated by screeching like a pterodactyl and turn him into a happy flying baby dragon that was trained to get as much candy as his Mickey Mouse candy basket would hold and bring it all back to mommy. 

My flying baby dragon didn’t wake up grumpy.  We actually had a great morning eating blueberry waffles and putting on spiked headgear.  He walked like a pro during his pre-school costume parade and even kept up with the 2-year-olds marching around the center showing off their costumes. 

G-daddy and CiCI came to wave at him as he and dozens of other kids dressed as everything from Power Rangers to Batman to Jessie from Toy Story to lions paraded around the halls of the daycare center like balloons at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade…Yep, some of them were moving that slowly. 

Even when James had to go back into his classroom and leave all of us behind only a few tears were shed.  

Later that afternoon Eddie and I returned to attend his “Fall Festival” party.  We ate cheese puffs, a cinnamon granola bar and a mini-cupcake. 

 Needless to say my little dragon was flying on a sugar high…but then he crashed and my cute little party ‘til the cows come home flying baby dragon turned into a fire-breathing don’t mess with me or you’re gonna get burned like it’s nobody’s business dragon. 

I thought we had gotten off easy when he fell asleep on the way home and took a late afternoon nap but as usual when it comes to these mommy-sixth-sense things, I was wrong. 

So off we went to Grandmama’s house about a half-hour late in the pouring rain trying to block out the pterodactyl screeches coming from the backseat and revising the schedule once again so that we at least got around to see the family. 

As the night wore on, our dragon’s blood sugar (and mood) started to stabilize and the charming flying dragon from earlier that morning started to emerge – until he went to answer the door and found a gorilla standing there. 

It wasn’t so much the gorilla that bothered him, he actually found that interesting, but when the gorilla removed his mask and magically transformed into a human (a superpower completely bewildering to a Halloween novice like a baby dragon) we were back to pterodactyl screeches and fireballs. 

Oh how I wished I had that superhuman power for just that night— but I didn’t.  After it was all said and done, I still consider the day a success.  While the rain prevented us from using an adorable flying dragon to solicit candy from neighbors, James did score a banana, a toy fire truck and a few bucks to add to his piggybank. 

Both Eddie and I were able to come to his pre-school party and see him play with all of the friends he has made there, he totally rocked it out during his costume parade, and he hung in there just long enough to make the rounds.  So while no pumpkins were carved at the Foy House and my craving for red starbursts was not fulfilled I still consider this Halloween Night a success, after all, we did tame a fire-breathing dragon.

And he was such a cute dragon.