8-24-06

Did I ever mention that my 2 1/2 year old licks the towel when he’s done washing his hands? Nasty right? Well this weekend while we were camping (I mean that loosely we had a cabin with air, shower and toilet) he brought his Aunt and I a plastic cup filled with water. “Mmmm”, he said lapping at his lips. I thought where did he get that? I don’t think he can reach the sink… Well people I don’t think you have to be Nancy Drew to crack this whodunit. I really wanted my sister in law to lie to me about where he retrieved the sparkling libation (actually I demanded she lied to me, there was a bit (teeny bit) of screaming…) but it was written all over her face (neon lighted even). Anyway it’s been about five days since that incident and I’m getting near him again (I’m not running away anymore like Michael Myers is chasing me (not the Austin Powers, the Halloween…although he can be quite frightening with those teeth). Actually today I let him hold my hand while we went for a walk …until… the fire hydrant… As I scream and gag at the same time trying to explain to him that “sucking on it wont get you anything” he looks over at me grins gives it one more lick then skips off…Yucky poo-poo, I sigh…until… the next fire hydrant (really must there be so many of them!)…

8-16-06

Remember the new hose attachment for my backyard hose? Well my husband also purchased one for the front. So am I totally shocked that this morning as my three kids and I were trying to rush out to take my oldest to soccer that the 2 year old took us hostage with the tsunami mode on the hose? No I guess I shouldn’t be. I shielded my seven year old daughter from the direct hit (the kids got no problem with aim now) which left me drenched (I wish I was exaggerating). We made it back inside slamming, the door as he pummeled us, laughing the entire time. My 14 year old made it behind the van; he had to save us because now my daughter and I were trapped inside. I screamed at the two year old through the glass window in the door but this just seemed to excite him more as he sprayed at me, shaking with amusement. I watched as my oldest stalked him with slow movements ready to overtake the little bugger. But oh no the two year old was on to him, he turned at the exact moment of attack and targeted my eldest sending him running, then he turned back to me to spray at me through the glass. Finally I guess the right amount of high pitched wails(coming from my now sore throat) kept him distracted enough for him to be over thrown, stripped from his crown and deflated he bowed his head in defeat and stomped off. Riding in the car with my underwear meshing to my skin is a great way to start any day.

8-15-06

As I sit outside on a beautiful cloudless day, reading my new highly anticipated novel, my 2 year old watering the thirst deprived plants with the new hose attachment, I find myself humming to the weather gods. He looks so angelic my blond boy misting the yard and I’m reading away. It’s like something out of a Rockefeller portrait. WHAM! Gasping for air, water is pounding away at my tone svelte body (ha-ha). My sweet bambino is attacking me! He has change the setting from mist to TIDAL WAVE! As I push my way through the skin removing stream I grab the hose and I … take a breath… I pull myself together … I’m alright… laser resurfacing is expensive; I’ve just saved possible thousands…I turn the hose on the little hellion and use full power. Let’s just say the laughing from his tiny mouth stopped very suddenly. I set down the hose to survey the damage. Book is sopping, I am sopping, now baby is sopping… great now more to do but I chuckle inside, I got the little turkey. I now head for the door and… Sweet Baby Ray’s he’s got the WMI (weapon of mass irrigation) again. The cackles coming from him are definitely something from “The Exorcist” (I swear I saw his head spin too.) Crap… I lean left… then fake back … twisting to avoid the onslaught of spray… I jump… I dive… breathing hard I make it to the door where just as I open it his aim has improved (let’s just say he’d win the kewpie doll). I’m down, struggling to get the door close before the family room is covered in flood! As I shut the door panting as if I just ran the Boston marathon, he appears at he door soaking and sobbing no more chuckles, his big wet blue eyes look up at me like a lost puppy, I look down at him … stick out my tongue and walk away… settle down I’m more mature than that… I let him in, trying not to strangle him as I dry him off… see I’m a grown up calm down…

7-31-06

I had to run to the bank on Saturday I asked my daughter if she’d like to go with me, “boring but ok.” We ran to the bank and then I told her she could pick out lunch. She wasn’t really thrilled but I pulled the car over to discuss all our choices. I ran through all the fast food options ( if you go down the secret hallway in each fast food joint you will find the wee lettered poster with all the nutritious facts of each and every item that these exceptional places offer). Taco bell…maybe… McDonalds…I hate their burgers... Beef Villa…no way... Chicken…alright. Okay Popeye’s or KFC? The one with the picture of the face… are you sure last time you didn’t like that as much, let’s drive by Popeye’s see if that is the one first. We drive by and she said no not his one. I say they have biscuits too… no, no, no. So I drive another 82 miles (not that far but not next door either) to KFC. We pull up and she says that this is the place. I get in line, 2 cars in front and one pulls right in behind me. I turn to her with a smile and say “ok, what kind of chicken do you want?” She gives me a disgusted 7 year old look and says “I don’t want chicken… I just want a biscuit.” Ugh…

7-25-06

In my haste to tell the story of “The Negligent Other Half” I missed some important factors. First the litter box is a covered box… “He” put the liner in but omitted the key kitty ingredient… cat sand. Secondly (and most importantly), he seemed to miss out on all the “tidying up.” You know picking up and disposing of all the prize presents left behind and scrubbing the “essence” out of the upholstered chair. Lastly (maybe even more importantly) have I received any sort of commendation for my efforts through this trying time? Um? Perhaps praise? Some sort of trinket? Well people if I had I would not be straining my hand, typing away, still telling on the f*&^%$# fellow now would I?