I just want to say that I didn’t mean to husband bash. Many husbands know lots of stuff, for example:
1. Spending 30-45 minutes in the bathroom 2-3 times a day…Alone (and he’s not cleaning it).
2. Never having to do laundry… turn a white load pink with a red sock (and we don’t own any red socks) gets them out of that duty each and every time.
3. Every Sunday (when I work) the baby sleeps in
.
4. Always arriving home in time just to have missed all the drama.
5. Never having to change the “most indecent” diapers, timing again.
6. Driving when the gas light is on for what seems to be forever, only to leave the car for you when you’re running out the door.
7. Being able to avoid doctors, dentists, and whatever for years (while it seems we are constantly being poked at.)
Of course these are just a few examples I’m sure I could think of more (but I’m doing laundry, I got to change a diaper, someone’s screaming in the other room, and I need to go get gas!)
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
2-22-06
Sometimes the scariest words a woman can hear from her husband aren’t … I’ve met another woman…. I lost all the money on craps… Brokeback Mountain really touched me… it’s “don’t worry“(Famous last words). Let’s see what lessons my husband had to learn though that infamous saying
NOT A PROBLEM: Standing in a shopping cart, “It’s no big deal”. PROBLEM: Laying under it a contorted mess is.
NOT A PROBLEM: Learning to go downstairs, “let her do it herself, that’s the only way she will learn.” PROBLEM: Watching her tumble down is slow motion only to hear a thud is.
NOT A PROBLEM: Hanging out in a busy parking lot with a three year old chit chatting with others, “I’m watching him.” PROBLEM: Losing him while the rambunctious tot ducks in and out of site, is.
NOT A PROBLEM: Having a six year old watch an almost two year old, “they’ll be fine”. PROBLEM: Leaving a two gallon jug of water with them is.
Most men believe women are “babying” the children and they are there to toughen them up. Most husbands want to teach their wives that they “know stuff too” (ladies please control laughter.) But I ask how long must we indulge (and clean up the mess that they have caused) these males? Women protect the innocent children! Unite!
NOT A PROBLEM: Standing in a shopping cart, “It’s no big deal”. PROBLEM: Laying under it a contorted mess is.
NOT A PROBLEM: Learning to go downstairs, “let her do it herself, that’s the only way she will learn.” PROBLEM: Watching her tumble down is slow motion only to hear a thud is.
NOT A PROBLEM: Hanging out in a busy parking lot with a three year old chit chatting with others, “I’m watching him.” PROBLEM: Losing him while the rambunctious tot ducks in and out of site, is.
NOT A PROBLEM: Having a six year old watch an almost two year old, “they’ll be fine”. PROBLEM: Leaving a two gallon jug of water with them is.
Most men believe women are “babying” the children and they are there to toughen them up. Most husbands want to teach their wives that they “know stuff too” (ladies please control laughter.) But I ask how long must we indulge (and clean up the mess that they have caused) these males? Women protect the innocent children! Unite!
2-21-06
Out the mouth of my six year old (just from yesterday)…
As I ask her to eat her lunch I said “you ate so well last night”… She gives me the “duh” look, “I was just trying to impress you.”(I guess I’m only allowed that impressive behavior once a year.)
We are looking at a magazine with beauty products, we come across some wrinkle cream, and she says “you really need that because of well you know.” My oldest jumps to my defense and says that’s not nice. She tells him “you need something for all those pimples.” As we stare at her with shock and awe she screams “I don’t know what I’m saying I have an earache, I’m sick!” (And low and behold we take her to the doctor and she does have an ear infection, I did not get any confirmation that this hampers her ability to express thoughts.)
She comes downstairs angry because her older brother has more baseball card then her. I said you want baseball cards. “No!” she yells. I’m confused, what is the problem? She looks at me (the duh look again) “It’s just not fair!” and the storms off.
I tell her maybe she should rest for awhile (this turns ugly). I then say maybe you should just play quietly. Polly Pockets? “No because I’ll leave shoes out and I’ll lose them, I can’t clean that up properly!” Maybe just set up separate areas? “No then I’ll have to move all around the room (a space the size of a 5 by 8 rug) I’ll be exhausted!” Maybe change the dolls clothes? “No then they’ll be stuff everywhere, under the bed it will be a huge mess!” Gameboy? Now she just gives me a look, which again means “duh”. At this point I grab my chloroform filled cloth and miracles of miracles she sleeps the whole night.”
As I ask her to eat her lunch I said “you ate so well last night”… She gives me the “duh” look, “I was just trying to impress you.”(I guess I’m only allowed that impressive behavior once a year.)
We are looking at a magazine with beauty products, we come across some wrinkle cream, and she says “you really need that because of well you know.” My oldest jumps to my defense and says that’s not nice. She tells him “you need something for all those pimples.” As we stare at her with shock and awe she screams “I don’t know what I’m saying I have an earache, I’m sick!” (And low and behold we take her to the doctor and she does have an ear infection, I did not get any confirmation that this hampers her ability to express thoughts.)
She comes downstairs angry because her older brother has more baseball card then her. I said you want baseball cards. “No!” she yells. I’m confused, what is the problem? She looks at me (the duh look again) “It’s just not fair!” and the storms off.
I tell her maybe she should rest for awhile (this turns ugly). I then say maybe you should just play quietly. Polly Pockets? “No because I’ll leave shoes out and I’ll lose them, I can’t clean that up properly!” Maybe just set up separate areas? “No then I’ll have to move all around the room (a space the size of a 5 by 8 rug) I’ll be exhausted!” Maybe change the dolls clothes? “No then they’ll be stuff everywhere, under the bed it will be a huge mess!” Gameboy? Now she just gives me a look, which again means “duh”. At this point I grab my chloroform filled cloth and miracles of miracles she sleeps the whole night.”
Friday, February 17, 2006
2-15-06
Why is it that living with a two year old is like a horror movie? The house is suddenly eerily quiet (a pin could drop); out of the corner of your eye you see something race by at speeds so great your not sure if it was your imagination. You tip toe quietly around not seeing anyone at first but in the corner behind a chair you see a tuft of hair and an eyeball. At this point you know he is up to no good. As you pull the chair back he screams clutching at his prize(in this case a bag of potatoes).As you try to retrieve the prize (potatoes) wild manic shrieks come out of this 28 lb. child. He is thrashing trying to reclaim his prize all the while piercing red arrows of death are shooting at you with his eyes. Now at this point knowing he has lost he throws his body back as if you have used some sort of paranormal blast from your fingertips and as quickly as this started it stops. He looks up at you with big round eyes and gives you a look like it doesn’t matter he will have the last laugh… and he then laughs. Slowly you back away, looking down at the prize then realizing. A silent scream comes from my mouth, “Crap how many potatoes has he hid in this house!” … this movie isn’t over.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
2-14-06
You are what you eat, that must be why I feel like crap now. I am typing to you with only one finger knowing at anytime I may pass out. So this is just an educational letter of toxic chemicals not to mix at anytime. Alright here we go, cinnamon popcorn, Quarter Pounder with cheese (no onions I’m not crazy), powdered donuts, large sweetened beverage (doesn’t matter what it is, it’s the sweetened part that will get you), french fries with ketchup, chocolate hearts (it is valentines day), and a touch of water. I’m a lump on the floor and the worst part is I’m thinking about dinner. Oh also I did chew up a couple of Tums (the calcium is good for you). Well Happy Valentines Day to all, just remember to celebrate in moderation. This may be the #1 day of bloating, nauseousness, constipation, gastric eruptions, and all around pressures in the middle section. Just remember to hug all your loved ones and don’t be afraid to push someone out of the way for the last chocolate marshmallow carameled heart… you’ll have to wait a whole year to get another one.
2-13-06
So my sister has been telling me for 3 weeks I need to go to this party with her.
Everyone is going from her work and she owes them, since she never goes out (she is a mother of 2 with another one on the way, and I have 3.) We never get to go out so I’m thinking ok. The day of the party I ask her what it is for, surprise party is all. Of course uneducated me assumes we will be jumping out yelling “Surprise!” No, no, No it’s a “surprise” party. What? (As we are walking in she whispers “ya know private stuff, you can buy it.” WHAT! She nods and reassures me we will be outta here in a flash. So we sit down for the presentation (and education) of predominately battery operated thing-a-ma-bobs, edible ya-knows, some non- edibles, and see through what-cha-ma- call-its. The presenter (a skinny blond in a half shirt, totally under 30) says keep one hand clean for tasting, I pinch my sister. She starts painting each persons hands with glassy, glossy gunk. She says “now if you’re allergic to sugar (wink, wink) this won’t work you know where.” I whisper over how would you know that? My sister says maybe a Snicker bar for a few minutes could tell you. I think what about the peanut content; we then decide people must test with a Hershey bar. The lick ‘em, heat ‘em, and numb ‘em stuff goes on forever. But no worries its time to bring out the stuff under the satin cover. Ok I am broke but spending top dollar and I’m not kidding top dollar on a double A “whirly Q” seems steep. Of course as she is passing everything around we all stare in wonder. One has 7 different controls (I’m thinking you will have to spend sometime with this thing, with all these buttons you won’t see them once it’s… you know.) All this while I’m pinching my sister and we are laughing uncontrollably especially when she shows the stuff for “that other area”. (Trust me I can’t type it… some of you already know, some may want to know, I just wish I didn’t know.) The party is starting to end because people are now arguing over what’s a must- have, or a want, or whatever… I’m just ready to go. My sister has to say the good-byes. The presenter then announces “if anyone wants to try anything just let her know” (I’m thinking a shower, a shower, I’m dirty.) WE finally get to the door and head out, 10:00 the party is just starting they say (I’m thinking when did I turn ancient 10:00 is bedtime). When my sister drops me off we’ve agreed that or bodies have seen more action then the party goers (hello almost 6 births between us). We will just stick to our fifth Tuesday of the month rendezvous when there is a full moon… some say prude, we say puritan.
P.S. My husband will cringe at this story so let’s just say this is totally fictional!
Everyone is going from her work and she owes them, since she never goes out (she is a mother of 2 with another one on the way, and I have 3.) We never get to go out so I’m thinking ok. The day of the party I ask her what it is for, surprise party is all. Of course uneducated me assumes we will be jumping out yelling “Surprise!” No, no, No it’s a “surprise” party. What? (As we are walking in she whispers “ya know private stuff, you can buy it.” WHAT! She nods and reassures me we will be outta here in a flash. So we sit down for the presentation (and education) of predominately battery operated thing-a-ma-bobs, edible ya-knows, some non- edibles, and see through what-cha-ma- call-its. The presenter (a skinny blond in a half shirt, totally under 30) says keep one hand clean for tasting, I pinch my sister. She starts painting each persons hands with glassy, glossy gunk. She says “now if you’re allergic to sugar (wink, wink) this won’t work you know where.” I whisper over how would you know that? My sister says maybe a Snicker bar for a few minutes could tell you. I think what about the peanut content; we then decide people must test with a Hershey bar. The lick ‘em, heat ‘em, and numb ‘em stuff goes on forever. But no worries its time to bring out the stuff under the satin cover. Ok I am broke but spending top dollar and I’m not kidding top dollar on a double A “whirly Q” seems steep. Of course as she is passing everything around we all stare in wonder. One has 7 different controls (I’m thinking you will have to spend sometime with this thing, with all these buttons you won’t see them once it’s… you know.) All this while I’m pinching my sister and we are laughing uncontrollably especially when she shows the stuff for “that other area”. (Trust me I can’t type it… some of you already know, some may want to know, I just wish I didn’t know.) The party is starting to end because people are now arguing over what’s a must- have, or a want, or whatever… I’m just ready to go. My sister has to say the good-byes. The presenter then announces “if anyone wants to try anything just let her know” (I’m thinking a shower, a shower, I’m dirty.) WE finally get to the door and head out, 10:00 the party is just starting they say (I’m thinking when did I turn ancient 10:00 is bedtime). When my sister drops me off we’ve agreed that or bodies have seen more action then the party goers (hello almost 6 births between us). We will just stick to our fifth Tuesday of the month rendezvous when there is a full moon… some say prude, we say puritan.
P.S. My husband will cringe at this story so let’s just say this is totally fictional!
Saturday, February 11, 2006
2-10-06
Why is it that no matter what you cook for dinner someone hates it? Tonight it was my daughter, tears immediately stream down her face. She looks at her plate as if I was serving worms, Bambi’s head, and spiders. The sobs increase as I say “just eat it and get it over with” (I say this 5 out of the 7 dinners I serve a week.) Because of the intense crying her head now is hurting “so bad”. I try to keep my calm saying eat quickly it will be over soon (like she is getting a shot). Unfortunately my voice level increases, then she starts with the “you’re scaring me”, “you don’t love me”, “and I’m stupid”. All the while getting madder because I know she is trying to make me feel guilty. The tension rises as she exclaims “the potatoes have blue in them!” What? Blue? “Maybe darling it’s the spots in your eyes from crying for the last 25 minutes”, I say through clenched teeth .Her older brother is trying to help because he can see that I’m starting to get a twitch. She starts throwing guilt talk at me “I’ll never make good decisions”, ” I’m a bad person”, “I will never grow”, and my fave “you’ve never loved me”. I am now just cleaning up ignoring the ranting; somehow she manages to choke the poisoned pig swill down. She chews up some Motrin and heads upstairs to get ready for bed. I sigh and center myself then I head upstairs to check her progress. Pajamas are on, and she is ready to be tucked in. As I pick up around her room she says “don’t make any noise its hurting my head!... Breath… and turn up the TV I can’t hear it!” Drained I walked out of the room. My husband walks in from work at this moment and I say “you’re timing is impeccable.” My life so far…
2 Year Old
Watching my almost two-year-old son today I noticed he has begun something new. He closes his eyes as he is playing. Fascinated I watch him tool around our family room (also known as “mini- toys ‘r’ us) trying to do certain tasks with his eyes closed. I began to think maybe he is closing them because he does not want to get caught messing with something he shouldn’t be. If He’s messing with plugs and his eyes are closed I won’t see him, that line of thinking. Then it dawns on me that there is no other explanation other than he’s just... Gifted. As he sputters around with his little tykes drill and hammer eyes closed banging into the sliding glass door, I see this must be what Yoda was trying to teach to young Skywalker this whole time. Only my son is teaching it to himself! He is just trying to get inside to his inner chi. I look at him in awe and think of all the possibilities he can have. My son could be a super spy, a Chinese diplomat, a Jedi knight, or a landscaper (one with nature and all that crap). I watch entranced and try to think what must be going on in that highly intelligent mind. Maybe how to build a better automobile, perhaps stopping global warming, how to end world hunger, the list goes on and on in my mind. Suddenly I hear a whimper, instantly snapping me out of my daydream I look down at my son and “Yes what do you need sweetheart?” Looking up with his big blue eyes and wrinkled up nose I notice his hands are down his pants and the odor I smell is not coming from my cooking roast. I realize his communication skills are beyond superb and again I drift back into my daydream… speaker of the house, talk show host… My life so far….
Juice
As many of you may or may not know my eldest child (14 year old boy) is into a “health” kick. I think it started when he was reading a boxing book and the book included their diets. This health regimen consists of just changing his liquid intake. No longer will there be Coke, Pepsi, energy drinks, 7-up, and etc. It will only include 100% juices and water. Well believe it or not there are not an abundance of 100% juices many 3%... 10% … or my fave no juice at all. So as I search the shelves at the store V-8 is the one that stands out. Now I have a 14 year old who can gag on many vegetables… a green bean can make him shake ever so slightly like a baby with high fever. Convulsions come for most others. I really thought I lucked out when I found new V-8 fruit and veggie. Peach mango, strawberry banana, and orange medley OH my! He has been sucking down this juice for over a month (this is the longest “kick” he’s ever been on… we have had others they are all just shoved under his bed now). Last night though everything changed he fell off the wagon. It started when the baby grabbed a pair of scissors and caught and cut the oldest ones thumb. He fell to the floor grasping his very important digit (although I did not see a lot of blood this still is one of the “worst injuries” he has ever suffered). Slowly he shook as the life was being squeezed out of him though the 1/8in opening in his throbbing appendage. As my son lie there looking at a “light” only he could see… I resorted to grabbing a pop to revive him (this had been my downfall). He drank the beverage as he had just been rescued from a desert island, missing his mouth, spilling, gulping, and spraying anyone who was in range. I patted myself on the back (another emergency diverted). I then went to work everything under control… Supermom saves the day… again! When I arrived home the children were in bed so I tiptoed around ate a little something then around 11:15pm headed to bed. My other two snoring away, angelic halos surrounded their heads. When I entered my eldest room and saw bright raccoon eyes staring back at me and then the giggling filled shaking I knew something was up! My poor baby had fallen off his health “kick” and I was to blame. As my first born awakens to start day 1 I look into his sunken caffeine stain stare and know he will be okay… he will be okay.
2-9-06 pt.2
Yesterdays story brought out some concern in people (one really, “hi dad”). I just want to say that I did not take out a second mortgage. Author takes certain liberties to add spice, spunk, silliness to the product. Hopefully these punches of color will bring a chuckle, not terror (“hi dad”).
2-9-06
Today was a headache day. Anyone who has had headaches will agree that headaches suck. Anyone who has headaches and CHILDREN will agree they doubly suck. I did everything, I took Motrin, I napped, and I even ate (even though the nauseousness was upon me). But this was the day that the baby was going to have “my 2 year molars are coming in“fit. I calmly thought I will reason will this non verbal child he will understand the pain I’m am. No words are needed; he will look in my make-upped stained eyes and know. We will have a “simpatico“moment. Of course I was in la-la land. Things are whipping by my head and the cries from his mouth are similar to the wild titmouse (there is such a thing Google it!)He is flailing about like a fish out of water and I am pleading with him “Ill give you a dollar”… “I’ll give you five dollars”… “Okay whatever it takes” (we have now negotiated a sum that will work, of course now I’m on the phone with the mortgage company getting a second mortgage.) Anyway he magically stops (magic or M&M’s whichever). Calm, calm, calm… breath in through the nose and out through the mouth, cleansing breaths only. I may survive after all, 20 minutes till my 6 year old daughter comes home I can make it. Throbbing continues on and sister heads home. Because she is to shy to talk at school, she immediately lets loose when she sees me. “I drew a picture… I saw dirt… I ate lunch …and then …and then… also I need these important things by tomorrow… I want to read this novel to you…” Did I mention she is jumping this whole time? She settles down and I ask (plead probably a better word) to play with her brother while I just have a “mommy moment”. She and her brother skip off, two second later the arguing starts. I then decide to let her “help” me by rubbing my neck. Why I thought this would “help” I don’t know. She takes out one finger (ONE!) places it on my shoulder and with the pressure you would give an automated door touches me for one nano second. Huge sighs emitted from her and she exclaims, “If I’m going to do this all day I won’t be able to do all the other important things I had planned because this is making me tired!” Defeated, deflated, discouraged, I say… My life so far…
2-9-06
I was trying to remember, when did my mind start deteriorating? I would assume my first pregnancy was the start. One story seems to be the beginning of the downward spiral. My oldest talks (screams) in his sleep and fell out of bed frequently we he was younger. Now as a mother you can get 10 hours of sleep or 4 but the exhaustion continues. So I would hear a thud from his room or chatter I’d get up check on him and continue back to bed. When he was about 6, my husband and I both sleeping, I heard the crash or thud. I immediately sat up and screamed “Oh my god Jim he’s broken his leg!” My husband bolted out of the room at top speed to save the day, this is when my uncontrollable laughter started. Instantaneously I had realized what I had done. Firstly, I really didn’t know if any injury had occurred because of course I had not seen my child. Second and most importantly was that my husbands name is not Jim. It was if someone had given me laughing gas because I could not stop giggling. When my husband came back in the room, he had also realized that I was nuts, he had fallen for my delirious sleepless talk. He crawled back into bed tired from the “fire drill” I had just put him through and I can’t stop shaking with giggles. Each and every time I start to control myself he would whisper… Oh…my gawd… Jim… I began to think this is more than putting the peanut butter in the fridge and the jelly in the cabinet. My mind is melting… My life so far…
2-6-06
As I end my weekend of fun and excitement I thought I couldn’t have done this without some of you. Here it goes… To the inventor of closed captioning I couldn’t have watched a whole (and understood) movie without you. The maker of baby wipes! You all know those suckers can be used for just about anything. Also I’m not going to for forget my quicker picker upper… Bounty! My oldest son and husband for “keeping it real” and not carrying the laundry down all weekend, I’m mean what am I some sort of princess? After a long day at work I’m thanking anyone that delivers pizza, popcorn, fries, goat cheese, whatever’s edible, you all know who you are ! For the leprechauns that will be dropping off my gold to take care of all my debt, I have patience you little guys, I’m not giving up on you! Finally a great big hug to those who bring me Zoloft none of this would be possible without any of you! Keep ‘em coming! My life so far….
2-3-06
Last night as I head to bed I think what I think most every night, what time will the baby wake me and will I end up with a crick in my body from sleeping in his room. Fortunately my husband offered to lay with him if he awoke. Now my husband I believe is like most in the sense that he doesn’t normally hear cries in the night. A screamer in the night and the man is dead to the wind, a sharp object to the backside will help him along (I then pretend to be snoring away not hearing anything myself.) So when he offered I was skeptical knowing I would have to wake him up anyway, but what the heck a night off is a night off. Well the baby didn’t start the screaming till 5:45am and I knew it wouldn’t be good because his screams mainly consisted of ma,MA,mama,ma,MAAAAAAAAAA! I poke my sleeping husband anyway and he slowly (can I emphasize slowly), Shirt on, pause, socks on, pause, bathroom break, pause, and etc. All the while the screams are vibrating through my skull and at this point I’m thinking maybe I should have just gotten up! He lethargically slunk down the hallway. I can hear that the baby’s pissed now so when he sees his dad the Mama’s start right up again. After what seem forever quiet came, but not long later the baby awoke again with the same squeally pleas. “Mom I know you’re in there, don’t you love me?” “Mommy I’m hurting inside, you’re scarring me for life!” “Just come get me, I love you the most!”(Disclaimer: the baby doesn’t talk author is taking creative license). As I tossed and turned for what seemed years Dad finally got up to calm him down. They headed back to our bedroom, where the baby clung to me for life. As my beautiful baby dozed off into my arms… BEEEeeep, beep, beeeep, its time to get up. My life so far…
2-2-06 pt.2
I’m back from outing… the only conversation I got involved with was… Vomit. Pitiful… My life so far…
2-2-06
I awaken today like most mornings, a thirty pound child sitting on my bladder (my alarm clock). I shower, and then head down to start the day to refreshed faces. This morning it was my lovely daughter screeching “I hate my life!” In my head I’m thinking stay home and switch with me today, but of course I smile and hug her and say “Princess it’s going to be a great day, just wait.” Now internally I am struggling what I am doing today?... Laundry (yippee), cleaning (double yip), perhaps I’ll organize something (yip, yip, yip). I then remember I have a play group with the baby this morning Oohh the stories I will hear, infidelities, murder, embezzlement, and total Desperate Housewives moments! I rush now to put on make-up (I’m going out!) My day will now have a story a Grown-Up story. I will report back in a little while, stayed tuned….. My life so far….
2-1-06 pt.2
Some readers have asked “what happen to the tooth”. Actually a certain reader wants a “shout out” for taking charge and retrieving the tooth promptly and semi-painlessly. I mulled over this request for a good amount of time (10 or 15 minutes… I have short attention span.) I have decided to quote a very famous person “Behind every great woman is a… helper. A person who the woman can entrust certain tasks. In the end these helpers would be at a loss for … well everything.” So as you see a “shout out” to this person would just result in more praise for moi. I don’t see any sense of trying to bring more attention to myself, when I am constantly bombarded with accolades. My life so far…
2-1-06
As many of you know we left of with my daughter’s tooth hanging. Just to keep you all updated it continued that way for the rest of the day, actually loosening more if at all possible. She refused to eat any lunch and started to use speech only a mother could understand. Tooth in the way and not wanted it to accidentally fly out with a sigh, she began to scream at me in the new language that I can only describe as nails on the chalkboard. So my head throbbing I left my sweet angel to the computer and took the baby upstairs to nap. The baby yawning away and Toothzilla on the computer I knew rest was moments away. My eyes closed curled under a crib blanket I never felt more comfortable that’s when I should have predicted what was next. Baby got a second wind! Oh I tried to ignore the dive bombs precisely landing on my head and neck each and every time. The puzzle pieces flying at me as I tried to protect myself with a pillow (also remember we are still at the WOODEN puzzle piece faze). It was when the strobe light of the light on and off on and off that I gave in to the torturer and confessed some of my deepest darkest secrets.” Yes we did have M&M’s; I save them for myself when you are asleep!” I screamed. “I pretend to eat my veggies!” I sobbed. “Sometimes I do go to Burger King eat it in the car and hide the evidence, while you suffer through peanut butter again!” The baby stared at me, confused I think was the look, then lay down next to me and passed out. Slowly my head stopped throbbing and relaxation set in. I knew I must leave for work soon so I prepared a dinner that tooth girl would not touch. That was when I began to barrage my husband with 40 -50 calls about “You need to do what’s right for the family”… “The situation has gotten worse, we need to go to plan B”… “If you love us you will do what’s needed”. When I arrived home from work the tooth fairy gods had blessed us, my daughter was asleep with a beautiful toothless smile. My life so far…
1st story pt.2
Some have asked what the baby is doing during this traumatic time. The baby would gladly help his sister if she would only sit still long enough so he could hit her with the baby brush that he’s been carrying around. Also for some I emailed the previous letter from the wrong email address.
All I can say is dementia, Alzheimer’s, and some sort of chemical abuse are probably to blame.
All I can say is dementia, Alzheimer’s, and some sort of chemical abuse are probably to blame.
1st story
Woke up with a headache to my daughter crying because the baby bumped her front tooth (which is now hanging in the middle of her mouth like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible).
Can’t change clothes, may get stuck on tooth….. Can’t eat but somehow manages….Drooling…. Cant go to school because it hurts and “I look funny” ( during this her tooth is swaying back and forth due to the gusty winds her speech causes)… now sitting on the couch watching Dora the Explorer eating peanut butter crackers…. PEANUT BUTTER CRACKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well I then decided to continue on my daily chore of laundry only to discover that it has reproduced in the middle of the night!! Could be the result of my oldest and his “layering” phase! Although he did make it to school despite the cut on his thumb (which will “make it difficult for him to do anything at school”). My husband at least was completely supportive through this trying time, words of encouragement have been seeping from his pores… I believe it was “Sprint account… conference call... Report…nothing to drink at work … and Later!” My life so far….
Can’t change clothes, may get stuck on tooth….. Can’t eat but somehow manages….Drooling…. Cant go to school because it hurts and “I look funny” ( during this her tooth is swaying back and forth due to the gusty winds her speech causes)… now sitting on the couch watching Dora the Explorer eating peanut butter crackers…. PEANUT BUTTER CRACKERS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well I then decided to continue on my daily chore of laundry only to discover that it has reproduced in the middle of the night!! Could be the result of my oldest and his “layering” phase! Although he did make it to school despite the cut on his thumb (which will “make it difficult for him to do anything at school”). My husband at least was completely supportive through this trying time, words of encouragement have been seeping from his pores… I believe it was “Sprint account… conference call... Report…nothing to drink at work … and Later!” My life so far….
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