10-09-06

I have come to believe that in hell they make you scrape wallpaper. So I would just like to take this opportunity to apologize for anything I've done in the past or may do in the future, if I have some sort of brain lapse (someone please kick me). Thank you.

10-06-06

Remember my visit to Target with the kids, well I went alone today and fortunately I didn’t have to deal with misfit children but I had to deal with my own covetousness (my big word of the day, if you don’t like my stories maybe you can learn some vocab).So just to begin, its probably not a good idea to go down each and every aisle. When I was staring at all the different choices of bathroom cleaner (who knew of all the upgrades since my scrubbing bubbles came on the market), I should have realized that dilly- dallying would cost me. So when I finally reached the last aisle (on just the right hand side of the store) and a lady looked into my cart and said “Oh, I’d hate to have to put that all away when I got home” I should have ran straight to checkout. But NO…I plugged on over filling the cart. I had some gawkers, amazed at the balancing act I was performing but I proceeded on, looking at snow pants and Christmas presents (I know I’m insane). Eventually I reached the checkout and began to unload my ample supply of goods. The cashier had to use the big bags! The bags for a lot of stuff, the garbage sized bags, the bags reserved for the elite Target shoppers, and I knew my bill would be unmentionable (especially to my spouse). Any way what I’m getting at is I can’t tell “him” (my hubby, my other half, the man who thinks paper towels are a waste of money) how much I spent. To get to the point I would like all (twelve) of my readers to pledge some dinero to get me out of hock. If any of you can boost my readership the deposit from each of you could be minimal. So for any of you that have found yourself wandering through life (or a major discount store) and getting in a little over your head (with parmesan and garlic potato chips) I plead to you. My comrades, amigos, mothers (and fathers I know you’re out there), help this mom (bury the truth from her husband). I thank you for your time.

10-5-06

One of the first stories I wrote was about my daughter’s loose tooth. Well it’s been awhile and the ones that she has lost between then and now have seemed easy. We now are back to the irrational thinking and mass drama. Her not front tooth but side tooth is loose. This morning she spent a good 15 minutes staring at it in the mirror (like magical powers will painlessly drop it from her mouth into her palm) until I suggested maybe getting dressed for school. She turned to me and looked at me with the crazed Wookalar face (see “Private Eyes” one of my favorite movies of all time). “And how am I supposed to get clothes on?!” My response, “Over your head?” This is when I began to fear for my safety “My tooth is in the way!” I calmly suggested that she close her mouth. This is when she looked at me with her favorite “duh” look, “How am I supposed to do that, my lips are stuck because they’re dry.” Perhaps some liquid? Again stupid me she may swallow the tooth. That’s when I brought up that through this whole conversation she has been moving her lips. I will tell you now that she doesn’t ever want to be wrong (and I told her that 99.9% of the time she will not be wrong but that’s when she’s in a discussion with a man… again something to discuss a later time.) Anyway a high pitched screech emitted from her small frame a she stomped off and got dressed. Whew. Oh I forgot to mention she hadn’t eaten breakfast or brushed her teeth yet… so the melodrama had yet to really begin…

10-02-06 pt.3

Part 3 of Monday… While writing about Huggies experiment another incident occurred. A can of newly opened cashews and water was involved. Some of the cashews had been partially chewed (yum) and some were left whole. Again this procedure took place on the train table (and lucky me every square inch of the table was covered to insure proper analysis.) Perhaps he was looking into the effects of water absorption on nuts? Or maybe he is researching behavior of a mother on the edge?

10-02-06 pt.2

Part 2 of Monday… I walked in on my 2 ½ year old as he was performing a scientific test, only he wasn’t in a lab and he didn’t have a microscope. Let’s just say he was in the family room using his train table and conducting a Huggies pull-up “how much water can you hold” experiment. Only he was using the pull-up he’d been wearing and with one hand was pouring the water and with the other… using a god created instrument (good, right?) The other “equipment” had yet to be used. So I believe I just stopped some deadly chemical spill that would have needed E.T. wearing specialists and a syringe of valium… for me.


P.S. It reminds me of two lavatory experiments his older brother did when he was little. First, which is softer, toilet paper or your sock? (That one freaked me out and I may have thrown up in my mouth a teeny bit).Second, how high can I fill a cup… also done in the bathroom.

10-02-06

This morning consisted of the usual Monday morning mayhem. My oldest son’s alarm kept going off and my youngest kept jimmying the lock with a toy spatula and pressing the forward button so this continued on 4 more times until I figured out the problem. Then the toddler reached for a bottle of juice in the fridge (just as we are headed out the door) and proceeded to douse himself in cran-grape. This turned into a mild argument with my husband and myself because I said “who didn’t put the lid back on right?” and he said “I don’t think the lid was on wrong”. Then it was “well then how did the juice get out?” and he was like “well he tipped it” and I was all “well if the lid was on right I think he could turn it upside down and dance a jig”… you can see where that was going. So I get my daughter to school and hubby’s finally off to work. I reluctantly head to the dungeon of multiplying laundry where in the last two weeks I’ve dealt with leaves in the washer, which left what looked like doo-doo stains all over the clothes, and also a metallic bronze crayon mysteriously showed up in the dryer (how many bad words can you think up). Plus no matter how much I do the laundry it seems to be multiplying like rabbits. Low and behold I get to the basement and all my fears were fulfilled and I swear I saw a pair of boxers hop over to a corner! Anyway my neighbor calls and asks if I want to walk. Let me fill you in a bit I do not exercise but I have started this walking bit maybe 3 times before. My neighbor has the route all planned out and I believe she might be trying to kill me. Firstly it seems about 28 miles and secondly she has found the one mountain in our neighborhood (and even in this city) in which we must scale in this workout. Lastly I have to push the stroller with my child, who with the stroller and him combined probably exceeds 124lbs. at least (I never exaggerate people) .We get to the Himalayan part of our hike and I can’t even speak (this is unheard of) and I’m perspiring (ew). This is also the part where I want to knock on any door to make friends and see if they can give me a lift home (I’m a wimp what can I say). I also think of ways this could be easier, like if the stroller was remote controlled or we had something rigged up like in a mine shaft to pull me along or we could float on command, all the usual ideas. It also might be easier if my nanny was watching the child and the buff trainer was encouraging me as we went along with “you are gorgeous” or “I could bounce a quarter of that rump” and when we got home my personal chef (Tyler Florence maybe) was whipping me something up in the kitchen and my masseuse was on stand by and the butler brought me a drink just as I stepped into the hot tub. Why must I be denied! Well its only 10:00 a.m. now and my maid has forgotten to show up but I can’t do anything until the Motrin kicks in…

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.