9-27-06

I have a cold. The kind of cold where your arms and legs are sore and your brain is foggy. Anyway due to this cold I must have not fully secured the upstairs from the 2 ½ year old. So you are aware upstairs we have a highly sophisticated system of locking all doors so the toddler cannot enter, only a few trained can come and unlock the doors if necessary. Two things are needed to have this distinguished honor, height (you must be able to reach the top of the door) and a unique device to jimmy the lock (it happens to be a nail but we tested many before finding the one with the exact measurements needed). To start again the toddler was upstairs in his room (or so I thought) and I was meditating (ha-ha). Anyway the doorbell rings and normally he’s the first one to the door but not today. Magazine seller, which I’m sure she’d be scared off by my sunken eyes and dripping nose but not that easy. “No but thanks”… “Oh, not today thanks”… and finally “AHCHOO, ok then bye”. I close the door and was glad that he must have dozed off. But as I reach the top of the stairs and see my bedroom door wide open a chill goes down my spine. As I enter the room I see my blond haired babe standing over our predominately black cat who now has multiple white dripping stripes all over her. My sweetheart has pretty much emptied a bottle of lotion all over her (and of course she sat through it … see story with cat tweezing incident). Of course though when I grab a towel and try to come to her rescue she bolts around the room then down the hall to the baby’s room. I grab her and begin the buffing process; she now looks like we’ve tried to laminate her and I cannot see her getting a hairball in the near future (or stuck anywhere). While I’m still polishing her I smell a familiar smell in the room… my mousse. He has moussed his room, covering the chair, dresser, a magazine, and other assorted items. I quickly start trying to wipe that up with the towel in my hand but “duh” the towel is covered in glossy cat hair and I’m smearing it all over everything and now its glossy with a touch of cat hair (if Hildi from “Trading Spaces” sees this I’m sure of her next design, cat haired cover cabinets ). So as I finish the cleaning I wipe my nose on my shirt (who am I kidding people I’m not that refined and my arms are sore from the cat shellac procedure and the razoring of the walls). He, my youngest my blued eyed offspring has won again… I am defeated.

9-22-06

So my sister and I were hanging out yesterday, she brought her three ninjas with her (two regular and one in training, they are always in combat mode.) Anywho we were watching the Emmy award winning daytime dramas that the major networks offer (between breaking up biting, kicking, or whatever). SO this young lady had a baby with her husband but little did she know the baby was really her first love’s because they made love (it’s never sex) while suffering from hypothermia (where paradoxical undressing can occur… for real look it up) and couldn’t remember (I hate when that happens). SO now somehow a paternity test has come to light showing who the real father is and the young lady is torn of where her true heart lies. At this point I look over at my sister and say remember the time that my husband wanted me to cut down on my paper towel usage to save pennies and I went into that angry deep funk for days where I was torn between extra laundry and my sanity and I chose paper towels? Are lives are not that different are they? Who am I kidding I never gone into some chocolate induce coma where I’ve been passionate with the Hinckley and Schmidt delivery guy only to find out he’s married to my best friend and possibly my cousin….

9-20-06

Ever watch the food channel or talk shows when they have “quick and easy meal” recipes? I’m always watching for the next easy meal. Fortunately they always start off simple enough… Chicken breast, salt, pepper, flour, but then out of nowhere they add something crazy, and they will always start by saying “the key ingredient” , “the item that brings this whole recipe together”, or “you can’t skimp on this”…. llama hoof scrapings that were raised in the Netherlands on the tiki tiki berry. This item can be found at most exotic stores and online, but be cautious of the stuff that is from northeast Idaho it’s definitely not the same quality. You will probably pay a little more ($45 an ounce) but it’s something no kitchen should be without. Right? Anyway so I’m watching a new talk show and Lisa Kudrow (Phoebe on Friends) is on and she has a quick and easy recipe all you need is a toaster oven and M&M’s… hello she must be talking to me because those items are a staple in my house (yours too I’m sure). So all you do is place your plain M&M’s on foil on a tray, set the toaster on medium( but be careful toaster oven times may vary), and toast them till they crack open. They’re tasty! I thoroughly enjoy them and now I can say snootily, “No I don’t have llama scrapings but I prefer my M&M’s toasted.” Finally a recipe I can follow. Thanks Ms. Kudrow!


Quick follow-up I said “toast” the M&M’s not rub them on toast (my sister was a tad confused). So I apologize to the people she told and especially the people that tried it (yuck).

9-19-06

My seven year old daughter has been suffering from PMS, pissing mommy (off) successfully, for a few years now. The more I smile the more she frowns. This morning it was hair trouble. First combing it sets her off, then the styling begins in which she replies “I look like a rocket ship!” I of course bite down and grin and say “Let me guess which orifice the fire will come from.” She doesn’t find me amusing, I try holding her hair straight in the air and saying “this is going to be a long day, me holding this up all day.” Again nothing. I finally finished, she seemed satisfied because she glared at me a said “done.” I then received the cursed eye and she stomped off. Ah, the joys of the early morning.

9-14-06

My toddler was awake at 5:15 a.m. and as of 5:18 p.m. has yet to nap. So because of this lack of rest today he has had a myriad of activities (for me). To start with today was the day I tackled vacuuming the stairs. Now I know that sounds boring and easy but I went all out rotating attachments to get all the crevices, all the dust bunnies, cat hair, beads, and miniscule particles that appear from beyond (what can I say I live in a Jackie Collin’s novel). I don’t mean to brag but it looked fabulous until my blond ball of energy decided to tweeze the cat… yes… and what’s even odder is that the cat sat for this de-hairing exercise…. Ok then on to emptying his dresser drawers… till you could hear an echo. He removed each item and made sure nothing was left folded and no like items together, I guess a fall sprucing was in order. Each diaper change consisted of me using the few WWF moves that I saw Hulk Hogan perform in the day. He also orchestrated the removal of all his toys from their containers and spread them across his now chocolate chip cookie smeared bed, that apparently he smuggled upstairs while I working on some other menial task(like scrubbed pencil marks off the wall). Well I just had to step away from this story to calm the wide eyed moppet. He was franticly trying to cram every item he owns in his backpack. He kicked, pushed, and screamed… then swayed and bobbed… and now is conked out. Nothing like the sweet little angel napping at 5:48 p.m. that should make for an interesting night…

9-12-06

Yesterday while I was taking out the garbage I walked through a web… ok gross right? But it was the inhabitant of this web that sent me into hysterics. He was huge (he looked at me and mouthed “yum”, ok!) Basically I was frightened out of my mind. First I went into the hee bee gee bee dance all the while cussing (the usual cuss words but I made up some new ones… I’m very creative that way.)Once I established he was no longer on me and he had climbed back up his sinister web, I knew I had to get him for I would never sleep again (sorry all you bug lovers). I looked around for my weapon of choice and it happened to be a rake (plastic not even metal, what I really wanted was a blow torch… maybe next time I’m in Target) Anyway, my spasms had not subsided (I keep slapping myself all over feeling the creepy crawlies!), I pulled him and his web down with the rake. Unfortunately the trauma had made me a bit out of sorts… I couldn’t think of my next move as he shuffled off. I thought the “duh” moment had passed as I tried to attack him with the rack (I’m not a valedictorian) but of course that was not successful (rakes have spaces, genius I am). Ok so now what… A shoe but where will I get one of those? (The ones on my feet were way to obvious… remember I was violated people, he started it.) So I found another shoe and completed my goal (again I hope I’m not offending any PITA members (people identifying to arachnids). So I got back into the house but once more felt something on me and at this point I really freaked. Cussing, banging my head against the wall (yes I know ow but I thought … no I didn’t think), and jittering around. I finally jittered and jived all the way to the chair where I just sat. I have decided not to leave the house because if this guy has even one friend…

9-8-06

Is it me or has Target got its own zip code now? The marketing guys that design the set-up for the store are geniuses. No matter which door you enter you’ll always need something on the opposite side so you must travel the whole store. Now if I was alone (no kids) I would browse forever (M&M’s, shower curtains, shoes, make-up, whatever you can think of), lame that I would count that as a mini vacation. Anyway to enter the store with kids you really need to have a plan (similar to breaking in to a bank). You must have all the supplies needed to get in and out, wipes, drinks, snacks, list, a suicide pill if it just gets out of control, purse, and cell phone (because you can always call your husband directly at work and scream as they scream). So as I enter the store unprepared, other than the Neopet cards that my 7 year old daughter wants, I feel a sense of dread. First off my 2 1/2 year old doesn’t want to sit in the cart; he went stiff leg on me immediately. Well now I have to lay down the rules for walking independently. No running, jumping, dragging, screaming, screeching, (there is a difference), pulling, pushing…. Oh he is off skipping away already. Secondly, the only plan I had, the Neopet cards, are not in stock. This turns into eyelash batting and “we can look for something else right?” I’m screwed. Forty minutes, bathroom break and cart full of stuff later I think we are pretty much home free, nothing’s broken or on fire so we are good. But as soon as I turn my back my 2 ½ year old disappears. I calmly call him (I popped some capillaries in my face) thank the heavens he is just around the corner. Unfortunately he has two bottles of K-Y warming liquid on each ear and he is moving them like he’s trying to get a signal. Trying to get a hold of someone on another planet, Venus maybe? Not embarrassing at all… I just discreetly take the antennas and move away… Nope we’re (he’s) pissed! He begins flailing and hollering, dropping to the floor just to hit his head so the tears can be real (method actor). I try to pick him up whispering sweet nothings into his ear (death, please, never see me again, ya know the usual), but nothing works. Biting and kicking have started and he is now lying in (on) the main aisle just adjacent to the contraceptives (a public service ad if I ever saw one). Of course I try to ignore him smiling at the other visitors, chit chatting with them…“kids will be kids”, “no nap today” (he did), “hasn’t been feeling well” (he’s fine), and “aliens are melting his brain he just was on the”… oh never mind. Somehow I bribe him to the check out line (Halloween flashlight…I know, it’s just September 8th). I begged him to sit in the cart while all 40 of us wait in the open two lines but he preferred digging for nose gold and staring at people. I finally check out and not two steps away from the register he wants to ride! I get into the car and sob not because of his fit or my new bruises it’s because I know I have forgotten something, I always do.