Some peoples' children

Moon got to have a friend sleep over to celebrate his birthday. He chose M., the annoying one (okay, all of his friends annoy me, but this one is extra annoying). The evening went like this:
6:00 - M.'s mom returns my children, who have spent the last four hours at her house, and drops off M. with his sleeping bag and essentials for the evening.

6:05 - Moon shows off the huge quantity of snacks that were purchased for consumption at his sleepover. He has: Oreos, M & M cookies, Cheetos Puffs, Cheez-its, Tostitos, and lots of soda.

6:06 - M. declares he won't be having any snacks because we didn't buy anything that he likes.

6:10 - I ask M. if he likes Pizza, since the snacks were a total strike-out. He declares his love for pizza. So long as its cheese or pepperoni, and tastes just like the kind that he likes. When prodded for specifics, he says that he only likes Costco pizza.

6:11 - All three boys sit on love seat and play gameboy. Individual gameboys. Without looking at each other, talking, or interacting in any way. It appears to be big fun.

6:40 - Non Costco pizza arrives. When offered a soda, M. declares his hatred for every kind that we have. When offered milk or water, M. informs us of his "problem" with dairy, and requests orange juice (which we don't have). M. ends up with a glass of water.

6:45 - M. picks all pepperoni off pizza and stacks in a pile. Then makes a pile of cheese. M. likes to eat his pizza ingredients in seperate portions.

6:55 - Dessert is offered. M. wants ice cream, despite his dairy "problem." Informs us that dairy just makes it hard to poop. Opts for vanilla ice cream, because he doesn't like the kinds that we have.

7:00 - The video gaming begins. M. decides that he must kneel on the ottoman in order to play. When I suggest that the boys remove some of their stuff from the ottoman to make room, M. informs me that it's okay, his house is every bit as messy as ours, so he's used to it.

10:00 - D. suggests that Peanut be allowed a turn at the video game, as he has waited patiently for THREE HOURS. M. assures us that Peanut doesn't need a turn, as he can play the game any time he wants.

10:30 - I retire to my room to nurse The Baby, so as not to traumatize M. with the appearance of my freakishly massive jugs.

10:35 - M. barges into the room where I'm nursing and says, "Excuse me, I understand you have the trays to make popscicles. Could you make me some. My mom makes them all the time and I really like them. If you make them now they would be ready in time for me to eat them tomorrow before I go home. They're good with orange juice, but since you don't have any, you could at least try to make them with rootbeer." I reply, "No."

11:00 - The boys are told to turn off the games, brush their teeth, and go to bed.

11:55 - The boys finally spread out their sleeping bags and lay down.

12:00 - Peanut complains that M. has his comforter from his bed and won't give it back. M. yells that we should explain to Peanut that he needs the comforter for padding under his sleeping bag and Peanut should just go without.

12:01 a.m. - We make M. give Peanut his comforter back.

5:45 - M. is wide awake.

6:00 - M. wakes Moon up so they can play gameboy.

6:01 - I tell the boys there's no way in Hell they're getting up this early or playing video games and force them to go back to sleep.

8:00 - The boys are all up for the day with nowhere near enough sleep. Video gaming commences.

8:30 - M. barges in on me while nursing (again), and says, "Um, excuse me, my mom is going to be here in a little while, and I'm pretty hungry. Can you get up and make me some breakfast?" I say, "You're nine. Make your own breakfast."

9:00 - D. gets up and cooks homemade waffles for the boys. M. says, "Um, excuse me, can you please heat up my syrup?" D. says, "We don't do that here."

10:00 - M.'s mother arrives to pick him up. We tell her that M. is a joy, and we're glad to have him any time. They leave, then we breathe a sigh of relief, compare notes on the audacity of other peoples' children, and vow to never do this again.

10:01 - I realize that my children were at M.'s house for four hours the day before, and Peanut uses the word "Anus" in every sentence as noun, verb & adjective. And he throws in the occasional "penis, fart, butt, poop," as needed. I remember that M.'s mom gave my children snacks. And realize that Peanut announces he is finished with a food by gagging on it until he nearly vomits (or actually vomits), and spits the food in the garbage can. I remember that if he's not allowed to regurgitate his last bite in a garbage can, he will throw-up on the table.

10:02 - I remember something about glass houses and stones.

10:03 - I congratulate myself on the fact that Moon is a really nice kid.

Breaking up is hard to do (even with caller ID)

Now that school is out, I'm not ambushed daily by the Pushy European (P-Eu). However, she still has my phone number. And my cell phone number. After avoiding her for two weeks, I made the mistake of answering the phone three days after The Baby was born. It was P-Eu, of course, inviting Peanut over to her house for a play date. Knowing that Peanut had his nose out of joint about The Baby, I figured some time away would do him good. P-Eu even kindly offered to pick him up and bring him home so I wouldn't have to leave the house.

She showed up an hour late as usual. P-Eu Jr. climbed up her skirt and showed everyone her thong-clad Euro-ass. And then she tried to leave with my kid. In her tiny red convertible Euro-car. The one that has no seatbelts.

When I looked out the window and saw them climbing into the car of death, I waddled my postpartum self outside to stop them from leaving.

Me: Uh, wait, does that car have seatbelts?
P-Eu: Oh, no, it doesn't. Are you not okay with that?
Me: Um, no, not really.
P-Eu: Oh, well how about I have him ride in the front seat, it has a seatbelt.
Me: Hm. Well, he's not really supposed to ride in the front seat, either. No, I'm sorry, he just can't do that.

Seeing Peanut's face fall, I volunteered, three days postpartum, to follow P-Eu in my car and drop Peanut off at her house, even though driving was very uncomfortable for my crotch (yeah, I said crotch, deal with it).

I dropped him off, came home, and was pissed. I bitched to anyone who would listen about how that crazy P-Eu wanted to drive my child around in her death car. I badmouthed her mothering skills and her inability to follow the laws of this, our beautiful nation, as if I have room to criticize anyone. And I vowed to break up with P-Eu.

But, I didn't plan to actually tell her I'm dumping her. No, I prefer to take the passive aggressive route and just avoid her calls. She must have been embarrassed by the car incident, because she didn't call for an entire week. And when her name started showing up on the caller ID again, I didn't answer the phone. Problem solved.

Then the bitch got wily.

She called from her cell phone. And D. was home from work and didn't know any better, since her name doesn't show up when she calls from her cell. D. answered the phone and BAM!, my break-up plan was ruined.

I was even feeling a little weak, and considering letting Peanut have a play date with P-Eu Jr. After all, he's a nice kid. He can't be blamed for his mother's hyper-aggressiveness and complete lack of consideration for other people. Sure, a play date would probably be fine.

Except, P-Eu wanted a play date that day. When I told her no-go, we had plans to go to the library, she asked if I could take P-Eu Jr. with us. See, she wanted to attend a class, and if she couldn't find someone to take P-Eu Jr. she would have to hire a babysitter.

11 days postpartum, with three kids and a sore crotch (yeah, I said it again), P-Eu asked me to babysit. That takes some serious Euro-balls.

I am so totally breaking up with her.