Blog Archive

Friday, August 5, 2016

That f***ing swimming Nemo toy

Hi everybody!! Long time no speak!

I haven't blogged in months because I've been pretty busy dealing with a few things, including but not limited to:
-- moving
-- divorce
-- crippling depression
-- single parenting
-- my dishwasher was making a funny noise

If you've ever had to deal with a dishwasher that is making a funny noise, then you know how stressful it can be. What if it breaks? Will it flood my whole kitchen while I'm at work one day? Will I have to wash things by hand in the interim? How long before they can fix it???

But the dishwasher is fixed now and my crippling depression has been downgraded to "moderately debilitating depression" so everything is on the up and up! :-D

... with just one caveat. A couple weeks ago, I told Audrey she could choose one toy while we were at Target, and she opted for a water-activated swimming Nemo toy in celebration of the movie Finding Dory. And I have never, never regretted the purchase of any toy as much as I regret that Nemo. Nemo may be the one thing standing between me and pure, unadulterated happiness.

This motherf***er.

The Nemo-related drama started immediately upon getting into the car after buying it, when Audrey insisted that I open the package and get Nemo out for her to play with. He was, of course, locked tightly into clamshell packaging and I had no scissors on me. I told her to wait until we got home. She responded with the opening salvos of a screaming fit.

So I Incredible Hulked it out of the plastic and gave it to her, and she was happy.


Once we got home, she decided that of course Nemo needed to find somewhere to swim. Could she perhaps have a bath in the middle of the day when she had just had a bath the night before? I said no and suggested instead that we fill a big mixing bowl with water, and Nemo could swim in that. She reluctantly agreed.

We started out with the bowl of water in the kitchen because I'm really really stupid. A gallon of water on the floor later, I realized that this activity would be better suited for outdoors.

So the bowl of water moved out onto the balcony, and Nemo's happy swimming resumed.

... until Trevor got involved. He kept reaching into the water and splashing everywhere and trying to knock the bowl over, which led to Audrey screeching "TREVORRRRRRRR NOOOO!" at a volume fit to wake the neighborhood. No problem -- I'll just get Trevor his own bowl of water to splash around in and then he won't bother Audrey. I did this because, as mentioned previously, I am really really stupid.

Two gallons of spilled water and a soaking wet child later, I realized that this, too, had been a miscalculation. I don't know what kind of brain damaged moron gives a baby a giant bowl full of water and expects anything other than Biblical Noah's Ark level flooding, but I am exactly that brand of brain damaged moron.

It was around this time that Audrey announced that Nemo was hungry, and that he wanted some Goldfish to eat. I was a bit concerned about the implications of that, but the kid wants what she wants and who am I to say no? At this point, I figured there was no way she could make any more of a mess than they already had, so I just gave her the carton of goldfish and told her to have at it.

She eventually poured enough goldfish in the bowl to kill Nemo several times over, and only stopped when I took the carton away from her.

Nemo was very hungry.

Unsurprisingly, Nemo's eyes turned out to be bigger than his stomach.


The travails of Nemo didn't stop there. Next, Audrey felt that Nemo should be allowed to swim around in the bathroom sink. Then she felt that Nemo should be allowed to play with blocks while swimming. So into the sink went 25 (I counted them) wooden blocks for Nemo to enjoy.

It was ALWAYS time for Nemo to swim in the sink. Our lives revolved around him and his needs. I spent more time looking out for Nemo and his various issues (he's hungry, he's tired, don't turn on the lights because Nemo is napping, don't make noise or you'll wake up Nemo, Nemo needs more water in the sink, Nemo needs less water in the sink, Nemo is thirsty, Nemo needs some cake, go wash your hands in the other bathroom because Nemo is having a swim, I can't brush my teeth because Nemo is in the sink again) than I spent looking after myself.

Nemo needed a washcloth in the sink with him so that he could lie down on it and have a nap.

Then she wanted to go back to the store to get Nemo's mom and dad, which I agreed to do the next day while she was at daycare. I hoped she would forget about it, but nope, in the car on the way to daycare she confirmed that I would go to the store that day to buy more Nemo toys. Another $15+ later, we were the proud owners of a large stuffed Nemo and Dory. My total investment in this f***ing Nemo toy has now risen to $30.

The day after that, Audrey wanted to bring the whole Nemo family in the car with her to daycare, and she pitched a screaming fit the entire way there because we forgot them.

Another time, swimming Nemo went missing and could not be located in time for bathtime. Screaming fit in the tub.

Nemo played in the sink with 600 toys again, and Audrey accidentally soaked herself to the point that she stripped off all her clothes and used them as towels to clean up the water on the floor. She then refused to take a nap because Nemo needed her.

Nemo came out to the pool with us and Audrey wanted him in the pool, then out of the pool, then in the pool, then out of the pool. I will give you 10 guesses as to whose responsibility it was to move Nemo in and out of the water as needed. Hint: IT WASN'T AUDREY.

And so, friends, in conclusion I will leave you with this: if I had a time machine and was only allowed to use it once, would I stop Hitler? Would I prevent 9/11?




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