Confession: I may have to change the name of my blog to Confessions of an Obsession, which will chronicle a nearly 30 year old, married mother's sick obsession with New Kids on the Block.
Confession: I have listened to the CD so much that Parker now turns his head around in his rear facing carseat so that he can give me a look that says, "Really mom? Again?" Honestly though, the new cd The Block is pretty good. Although, when I played pieces of the best parts for Josh, he replied, "Nikki. This isn't even funny. It's not even so bad it's funny. It's just SO bad." Despite my desperate encouraging and futile attempts to convince him otherwise, Josh is not/never will be a fan. Sorry guys, I tried.
Confession: On Saturday, 2 days after the concert, I downloaded some...well maybe not some. The word some implies a small number whereas I currently have 10 NKOTB songs on my ipod, so more than some. After the songs were safely and securely on my ipod, I told Josh I needed to go workout. It was 4:15 meaning I got to the gym at 4:30 and it closes at 5:00. I didn't care. I NEEDED to hear these songs. Please understand this is a need.
While at the gym Parker, who is the intended focus for this blog, pulls himself up on, well anything. Or anyone I guess. It seems he tried to pull himself up on a little boy at the gym named Hunter, who is probably six months to a year old than Parker. These boys have a love hate relationship. When Pfunk was a wee-funk and went to the gym in the carrier, Hunter used to lift the canopy thing* and sweetly touch Parker's fuzzy hair and then pull the canopy thing back down. It was very cute.
About a week ago when we got to the gym, I sat Parker down and Hunter came over and patted Parker's head sweetly and then started grabbing his face. Parker sat there with this "What the hell..." look on his face. I just said, "Oh no Hunter, be nice to Parker." Hunter stopped and they were back to being buddies.
A day or so later I came into the gym after a great workout (with NKOTB) and was getting my little monkey ready to leave. Then I realized one of the day care girls was talking to Hunter's mom and saying that he had a good day, but that he kicked someone. My ears perked up and I asked, "Are you talking about Parker?" and the day care girl replied, "Yeh, but it was no big thing and Parker did not even cry."
She is NOT someone I would ask to babysit Pman for money.
P.S. I did tell her supervisor that while I realize this sort of thing happens, I also expect to be told when my son gets kicked.
*I'm not really sure if canopy thing is right, but when I asked Josh what that thing is called that you pull up on the baby carrier to cover their head, he said canopy. Works for me...but what is it called. Somehow canopy still seems wrong...
Confession: Parker has a new found love of cupcakes (minus icing) and oranges (including the peel). I gave him both for my own amusement, a parenting practice I seem to have developed. This is what happens when you are home alone with a child for the better part of an afternoon. They become a sort of guinea pig.
Confession: I hate and I mean HATE changing the sheets in Pman's crib. It fills me with an irrational rage that can only be equaled by a pregnant woman who is kept waiting at the Babies R Us. (see previous entry- about this time last year). When I am changing the sheets in his crib I force Josh to take Parker out of the room because a lot of language is flying about and I really do not need his first word to be anything X-rated.