notesfromthetrenchesIII

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Thursday, March 31, 2005

Scenes From A Chinese Restaurant

Scene: 4yr old standing on his chair waving around a craw fish he has speared with his chopstick

4 yr old (yelling,just before flinging it off his chopstick and across the table):


I do NOT eat disgusting things. And this is definitely a disgusting thing.


********************

Scene: 1 yr old splashing in melted ice cream dish with her spoon

Rob: oh, don't do that! It is so messy.

takes spoon away from toddler, screaming ensues

Rob: Pretend you are a kitty. Show Daddy how the kitty drinks.

1 yr old dunks entire face into the bowl of icecream.

Rob: Oh good job! Hurray for the little kitty.

Me: Are you insane?


*************************************************

4yr old (again standing on the chair, yelling):

Why does everyone have a dick?!? Dick! Dick! I want a dick! I want two dicks!

Me: They are sticks, sssssssssticks. Chop ssssticks. Try to say the "s" at the beginning. Chop-stick chop-stick...

4 yr old: I want a chapped dick!

Me: Oh good, that was much better.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005

Oh Look, It's Complimentary!

I don't even know where to begin with my dentist appointment.

Should I start by describing the waiting room with it's plush carpeting, fresh fruit basket, snacks and bottled water They are complimentary, help yourself. (Note they don't say free).

Or the lovely x-ray technician and dental assistants who wear those headphones like they do at Old Navy so there is no shouting. Though it is a bit disconcerting and gives the impression that everyone is talking softly to themselves.

Or that my root canal didn't hurt one tiny little bit.

Or the massage chairs.

Or the private televisions in every room.

Or how utterly depressed I was to find out that one tooth might need to be extracted since it cracked below the gum line. Somehow that makes me feel like I am just one step above living in a homeless shelter.

Oh, but what is that to distract me and take the edge off my pain...

the lovely etched glass walls that serve as dividers for the maze of offices and exam rooms. Ooooooh Aaaaaaaaah.

Or the incredible crown molding and wallpapered ceilings.

Or the fact that they call it a dental spa, instead of a dental office. If they offered manicures and got rid of the annoying drill and bib held on with metal clips, it would be a fabulous day spa. The steaming hot cloth they gave me to freshen up with after my appointment was nice too.

What about the supervised playroom(!!!) The dentist made a point to come and tell me that all my children were welcome and she would make sure to have two staff girls in the room if it was necessary.

How about that I am in love with my new dentist, in a totally non-sexual, not creepy sort of way.

Or that I was approved for a credit line greater than the price of my first car, and it probably still won't be enough.

But I am ignoring that for now. Oh what is that? A muzak version of Paul McCartney (with subliminal messages) Sing along with me. All you need is love (and shiny white teeth), love is all you need (finance available), love is all you need (1 yr interest free).

Or the fact that I am going to have to sell my body on the street corner to afford all the dental care I need from this office. At least all my new perfect teeth should attract a higher paying clientele.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

Dental Fun

Tomorrow I have a dentist appointment. I hate going to the dentist. So far in my life my visits to the dentist have been to put out fires.

Tooth hurts, go to dentist get it fixed. Go for cleanings now and then, but not near as often as I should. I hate that scrapey pointy tool that sounds like nails on a chalk board as they poke and scrape your teeth.

I just hate going and find any excuse I can not to go. Which is sad since I spent over four years in braces. I should care more.

Two weeks ago I made an appointment with a new dentist to go in for an assessment and plan of treatment. Sounds ominous, no?

And in that two weeks I have developed a toothache, one that today reached it's pinnacle. I haven't been able to eat anything today but body temperature water and tylenol.

So tomorrow I am going to the dentist for what will probably end in a root canal. Oh joy! Oh happiness! I can hardly wait!

And I will be leaving my husband home with all the children, including the baby, who has never been away from me and never taken a bottle or had anything but breastmilk. Oh joy! Oh happiness! He can hardly wait!

Sunday, March 27, 2005

Scenes From An Easter Morning

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Rob and I woke up to Easter baskets that had already been ransacked. FWIW, the Easter bunny is much more generous than when I was a child.


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Young children still in their pajamas and already heading into sugar comas.


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The Easter egg hunt in the snow. I met a neighbor in Walmart on Saturday when we were both trying to find last minute fillers for our children's baskets. We commiserated at our plight of having set the bar too high for the children's expectations of what an Easter basket should contain. My children were making lists and I was forced to remind them that the Easter bunny does NOT have a sleigh being pulled by many strong reindeer or a posse of little working elves, only a little basket he has to carry himself.

She bought her children new sleds. Because as you know, nothing says Easter like the traditional new Easter sled.


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Look at the children scurry around on their sugar high. I suggested we bury the eggs under the snow in the driveway and give the children shovels. If they want the eggs, they must shovel the driveway to find them.

I did learn that throwing plastic eggs across the icy, snowy yard would cause the eggs to pop open and cause the candies to fly out.

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And my little daughter wearing her Easter turtleneck and snow boots. It didn't take her long to learn how to open the little eggs to get out the colorful bite sized pieces of crack, otherwise known as jellybeans.

But really, nothing says Easter, like a solid chocolate bunny that is as big as your head.

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If there is anything to miss about childhood it is the ability to eat candy with sheer abandon. I can't remember when the last time was that I walked around the house, hugging a chunk of chocolate the size of my torso, and gnawing on the top of it with my teeth.

And finally, the tradition in our house. New toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste for each child.

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I hope everyone had a great Easter, filled with family, laughter, and of course lots of candy.

Friday, March 25, 2005

You Know Who You Are

Dear Friends,

Recently many of you have been losing weight. I was happy for you, really I was.

But now I must tell you to knock it off.

While researching on the internet, (what did people do before they had 24 hour unlimited access to information) I discovered a little known law of the universe that was proven by Einstein. Really, it's true. I read it on the internet.


The Law of Conservation of Fat states that fat cannot be created or
destroyed, only converted from one form to another. The fat 'stored'
in an object can therefore be converted to another form of fat without doing 'work'



In layman's terms this means that there is a fixed amount of fat in the world. If you are losing it, it must be going somewhere else.

And that somewhere else seems to be my ass.

I regret to inform you that this cannot continue. So please, grab a fistful of jellybeans and break off a chocolate ear off a bunny, and reclaim what is rightfully yours.


Thank you.


PS -I am also working on a petition to add an amendment to our Constitution prohibiting full length 3 way mirrors which cause you to view your body from perspectives you were never supposed to unless you were a circus contortionist. I firmly believe if God had wanted us to see what we looked like from behind he would have made our heads be able to spin around like that of an owl. Clearly, these mirrors are the spawn of Satan.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Just Makes Me Sad

I was watching the local news the other night. The lead stories:

A man who was arrested and facing life in prison for killing puppies. The community was outraged... those cute fluffy puppies.

A serial killer who long ago confessed to his crimes and wants to be executed rather than sit on death row for more appeals. But you know what, he isn't allowed to make that determination. The death penalty is cruel and unusual punishment.

And a woman who is being starved to death.

I'm not particularly interested in the legalities of the case or the politicians and their posturing. I don't care to discuss the Constitution, Micheal Schiavo's motives, Bush (any of them), how the Pro-Life Movement and the ACLU have co-opted this case for their own gains...

Because holy shit a woman is slowly being starved to death while her helpless parents look on, and so many people are perfectly fine with it. Perfectly fine with it taking over a week for her to finally die.

Are there no more moral absolutes?
Can we not even agree as a society that starving someone to death is wrong?


I found a link to this blog entry at Jordana's blog. And it pretty much sums it up for me.



(I am disabling comments on this entry, because I can't debate. Like Jordana it just makes me too sad.)

Wednesday, March 23, 2005

Dirty Little Secret

Rob and I have a dirty little secret. Two, or three, or sometimes even more times a week we do this.

Rob will call me on his way home from work to make sure the children will be in bed on time. He will frequently stop at the liquor store in preparation for the night's events.

We discuss it on the phone during the day, way more than seemingly educated people should.

I will stand up now and be held accountable.

My name is Chris and I watch American Idol.

I know I am not alone. There should be 29,999,999 others of you out there.

I'd like to say that I am watching the show as some sort of anthropological study on the decline of American society. But that would be lying.

And I'm frankly too busy right now. I have to get the kids to bed, clean up the kitchen, pop open my drink, and join the rest of America on the couch by 8:00pm, having my last remining brain cells sucked out by the blue flickering light. It's tough fitting my life around my new tv watching habit.

I have now lost the last shred of my smug superiority. Oh how the mighty have fallen. In one short year I have gone from a no television watching zealot, to watching pseudo-reality televsion designed to exploit vulnerable people to the fullest.

Now that I have gotten that off of my chest, I feel better.

***************************************************

This has bothered me since the beginning, yet I have never heard anyone else mention it, except for my daughter who screams "Dolly Dolly" whenever she see her perform.

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If you add a red clown nose, a blue hat, and some pony tails...

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Holy crap, it's Loonette. She is a contestant on American Idol.
Everytime I see her I fully expect her to shout out, 'Time for the 10 second tidy!'

Note To Self: Charge The Camcorder

Friday my 4th son will be turning 6 years old. I am a bit in denial about it, but trying to resign myself to the fact that my babies are growing up.

My 4 yr old is sitting across the kitchen table from me wrapping presents for his brother. It seems very lovely at first glance. The amount of tape that is wrapped around the packages is truly a sight to behold... to be honest I am not sure if there is even paper under the layers of tape. He is very intense and passionate about his wrapping of presents.

But, and there is always a but, he is wrapping up toys that belong to his other siblings. He went into their bedrooms and took stuff "birthday boy would like" and is now planning on giving it to his brother for his birthday.

I can only imagine the looks on his siblings faces as they watch their stuffed animals and toys being unwrapped on Friday. And, of course, the look on the birthday boy's face when they reclaim all their stuff shortly therafter.

It's the thought that counts, right?

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Don't You Wish You Were Married To Me

We could have conversations like this all the time.


Chris
: Have you noticed the price of coffee lately?
Rob: Well, what are you going to do? It's one of those things that they can charge as much as they want for and you are still going to buy it.
Chris:Like gasoline
Rob:or electricity

Chris: or heating oil
Rob: yes, you have proven that one
Chris: Silly me wanting to be warm. I have been heating my house with abandon.
Rob: I don't think sweaters are overpriced.
Chris: but they will be if people turn down their heat and start buying more of them.
Rob: So you are doing your part to keep sweater prices down.

Chris: Exactly. I'm all about thinking of others.
Rob: But it's not like you need coffee. Plenty of people survive, even thrive, without coffee.
Chris: How dare you blaspheme the nectar of the gods.
Rob: I thought that was Nyquil?
Chris: Can't there be more than one nectar?
Rob: You could do without it.
Chris: I shudder at the thought.

Rob:Like the Mormons
Chris: I could never be a Mormon.
Rob: Because of the coffee?"
Chris: Hmmmm. I'd have to say yes. That would be the defining reason why I could never be Mormon.
Chris: All things are negotiable except my coffee intake.

Chris: Well, I wouldn't want to be a part of a religion that sacrifices things either.
Rob: Maybe a religion where you are required to drink coffee.
Chris: And if you didn't drink your allotted amount we'd excommunicate you.
Rob: or toss you to the lions
Chris: Oooooh. good one. Maybe I'll rethink the human sacrifice thing.
Chris: We could be the Church of Later Day Romans.



Chris: Do you think that there are less Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts in Salt lake City?"
Rob: That's an interesting thought.
Chris: Yes I thought so, that's why I thought it.

Rob: You think pretty highly of yourself, huh?
Chris: I think I suffer from delusions of grandeur. Honestly, I fantasize that if I were on a plane and the pilot took suddenly ill, I could land the plane.

Rob: You can barely drive a car.
Chris: I mean how difficult could it be?
Rob: I'm thinking rather difficult for someone who has never even been in a cockpit.
Chris: I didn't say I was rational. That's the thing with being delusional.

Chris: But things like that never happen to me.
Rob: You say that like it's a bad thing.

Chris: Or if I were trapped in an elevator with someone who began choking I could perform an emergency tracheotomy using things in my diaper bag.
Rob: I'd hope you would try the Heimlich maneuver first.
Chris: Maybe.

Rob: You frighten me sometimes.
Chris: I'd be like MacGyver Mommy.
Chris: Are you frightened by all my potential?
Rob: No, I am frightened that you spend time thinking about these things. Truly.

Chris: I also think if I were on Survivor I'd win.
Rob: That's funny.
Chris: Despite the fact that I am not athletic and refuse to eat gross things. I think I would win.
Rob: Now that's delusional.
Chris: Of course in my fantasy I am younger, tan, and look really good in a bikini.
Rob: Of course.
Chris: I'm funny. They'd keep me around.
Rob: Until the first time they had to carry your sorry ass through one of those challenges.
Chris: Literally. Good thing my ass is small in my fantasy.

Rob:Why don't you just fantasize you are athletic too?
Chris: Well, I have to keep some element of reality. I mean the gorgeous in a bikini thing isn't that much of a stretch of reality.
Chris: You don't know what to say.
Rob: I'm damned either way.
Chris: Just say you'd want to be trapped on a desert island with me.
Rob: I would.
Rob:Unless your athletic ability would a determining factor in my winning a million dollars.
Rob: or you had to take over flying a plane I was on
Chris: Wow, I am hurt.
Rob: Sorry, in my fantasy there would be another licensed pilot aboard.



Chris: What if the coffee is cold?
Chris: or in the form of icecream?
Rob: I have no idea.
Chris: What if it is only coffee flavored?
Rob: Let it go.
Chris: You know I can't.


Chris: Rob?
Rob: The length of this conversation has far exceeded my interest in it.
Chris: you say it, but you don't mean it.
Rob: No, I do.
Chris: Remember that when you are choking one day and I have to save you.
Rob: I beg you, just let me die.
Chris: before or after I cut your neck open with my nail clippers and jam an empty pen case into your throat.

On second thought maybe I do need to rethink the coffee habit.

Monday, March 21, 2005

It's A Learning Experience

Things that seemed like a good idea once upon a time, but now don't.

1) Buying a white couch. This needs no further explanation.

2) Encouraging children to learn to walk and talk. I won't be making that mistake a seventh time. Whenever Miles seems to be taking the initiative in either of those ventures I am going to push him down and tell him to shut-up. Really.

3)Teaching children their address and phone numbers. Now I can't lose them. They just find their way back home.

4) Replacing my wooden highchair with a "low maintenance" plastic one that has nooks and crannies for food to get trapped in and a cloth covered seat. I would say who in their right mind would manufacture a high chair like this, but then again who in their right mind would buy one like this.

5)Teaching children how to tell time. When I say we will do something in a few minutes, they know exactly what it means and hold me to it. And more importantly, bedtime can never be even a minute early.

6) In the same vein, buying oldest children watches that have alarms on them. Now they set their alarms for very early in the morning and have contests amongst themselves to see who wakes up first. They should start calling it the contest to see who gets yelled at by me first.

7) When potty training my sons encourage them to pee standing up.

8) Live somewhere that welcomes the first day of spring with a snowstorm.

Friday, March 18, 2005

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?!

What is up with blogger?!? I am having so much trouble trying to post anything. I click on my blog link on the dashboard and nothing happens. I have been tempted to just start banging my head against the keyboard out of despair.

I can't even go back and edit, so everyone will just have to pretend my typos and grammatical errors aren't there.

I wanted to trackback to Jenny, the ringmaster of the Three Kid Circus, but I can't figure out how to do it. Oh well. It was her idea to write your own obituary. She is funny and I like her lots, in spite of the fact that she lives somewhere warm and flaunts it constantly with all her walking outside and going to the park. If you have a son who loves Harold the Helicopter, you must go read her recent blog entry.


And to file under the heading of Things I Never Want To Do Again:

Clean vomit out of a child's carseat. There is just no way to do it without the vomit coming into contact with your hands. It's just so gross. And then trying to reassemble the carseat is a feat in and of itself. I think you need a degree in engineering to figure out how to put the straps back on properly.

I did discover the carseat has an expiration date stamped on the back of it. Come December 2006, the seat will self destruct. I can only hope there isn't a small child sitting in it at the time. That would be a lot worse to clean up.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Found In The Obituary Section Of the Newspaper

Chris, the 35 year old mother of 7 children, was found dead today in her home. The cause of death is presumed to be the result of a noxious cloud formation, which occurred when she simultaneously used bleach and Lysol to disinfect her house after another incidence of vomiting children.


The deluded mother is said to have believed that end times were near, as evidenced by her family contracting a never-ending, Lysol resistant plague. Neighbors say she took precautions by stockpiling her home with bread and other food items. She was recently spotted pulling two grocery carts through the store filled with food. The family insists this is just their regular amount of food and there is no hoarding going on.

Her calls for help apparently went unheard due to the shrill ear piercing screams of the toddler in the house. The children claim the mother never called out to them, although an autopsy showed evidence to the contrary. Her vocal cords were damaged, which can only be attributed to a vast amount of pre death yelling.

Authorities reveal that the children suffer from an under diagnosed disorder called SHD (Selective Hearing Dysfunction). Authorities witnessed the SHD first hand when they requested children pick up the toys up off the floor, since they were hampering the search effort.

SHD is a hereditary disorder passed down through the Y chromosome.

The mother was discovered by authorities shortly after they arrived to the home, under a pile of couch cushions that had been thrown off the couch and discarded in the corner of the room. It is unclear how long the mother has been dead, but authorities say the children had used her limbs, which had become stiff with rigamortis, to hold up a blanket in some sort of tent-like structure.

The family reported the mother's absence after their clothing failed to
mysteriously appear clean in their drawers. When they searched for their mother, to have her explain and fix this phenomenon, the children stated they could not find her.

When pressed for details it was revealed that that they did not actually look for her, but wandered through the house helplessly whining about their plight. The eldest child is quoted as saying, "Why does this always happen to me?"

In lieu of flowers, the family is asking for a cook, housekeeper, laundress, chauffeur, and teacher. Whoever decides to apply for this thankless, non-paying position should be prepared to wear a hazmat suit and respirator mask to prevent the spread of the plague. Experience is not necessary, as oldest children know everything and will be happy to freely share this knowledge.

Monday, March 14, 2005

That's My Girl

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I know, sweetie, I know.
They just don't put as many cookies in the box as they used to.

I Don't Need To Move

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Rob went out and bought this trap after the bowl/cage fiasco. The fiasco that involved him tearing out newly taped sheetrock when the weseal ran behind it. It wasn't pretty.

So we bought and caught it in a havahart trap. Then fearless Rob put it into his car and drove it far far away.

"How it got into your house?"
"Why, it crawled up a hole from the basement to the old laundryroom," she answers like that is a normal occurence in all American homes

Doesn't everyone have holes in their floors?

That area of the house is sealed off from our living area of the house by a door in the kitchen. However, we still need to walk through it to get to our new laundry room. It is still pitifully under construction. But this weasel in the house incident has definitely moved putting up walls and sealing off holes in the floor to the front of the home improvement list.

I told Rob this weekend that I feel like I live in a crack house, just without the crack. Yup, a crack house with a really big mortgage and no illegal drugs.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

Pop Goes The Weasel

Feel free to sing along and do the heebie jeebie dance and shout expletives along with me. Because some situations just call for cursing

All around the big yellow house
The father chased the weasel
The mother screamed,
The children did run.

I'm not joking
It's a weasel.


The father caught him under a bowl,
A stinky smelly weasel.
but how do we get him
out of the house.

I'm not joking
It's a weasel.


The father says the weasel is cute.
The mother screams "just kill it"**
The children cry, "But we want a pet!"


No joke
It's a fucking weasel.


The father and brave son stare at the bowl
under which is the goddam weasel.
Oh how do we get it
Into a cage

This disgusting
Fucking weasel.


They come up with an intricate plan,
Involving wood and cages,
but things go wrong
the fault of brave son.


It's loose again,
fucking weasel.


** By "kill it" I didn't mean literally kill it. I meant more along the lines of get it the hell out of my house in any way possible.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Of Mice And Screaming Women

Following our attempts to catch the "mouse" last night, I present the following scenarios and the conclusions could be drawn from them.

1)Finding a trap that has the bait missing from it, but isn't sprung. I had hoped it meant the trap was old and not so springy, but attempting to pick up the trap set that fear at ease.

Conclusion: The "mouse" is smart and is mocking me from his hiding spot.


2) Finding a trap that has sprung, but there is nothing in the trap.

Conclusion: the "mouse" is too large to get caught in a measly mousetrap and is mocking me from his hiding spot.


3) Finding that the bait and trap are missing.

Conclusion:the "mouse" is dragging a trap around that is attached to one of it's appendages and is plotting against me from his hiding spot.


4) All three of these scenarios.

Conclusion: Some sort of super "mouse". Who mocks me, plots against me, and is otherwise messing with my mind.


I fear I am in a bad horror movie where all the animals go crazy.

Soon my windows are going to be covered with flies and I am am going to be chased down by a rabid St Bernard, while being pecked to death by a flock of birds.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Have A Heart, Trap That Is

How is your day going? That's nice. How's mine you ask?

Well, today I was going into my mudroom from my kitchen when out of the corner of my eye I saw something scurry near some pipes that lead to the basement. I screamed, because I whole heartedly embrace the rodent fearing female stereotype, and ran out of the room.

But, after thinking about it more thoroughly, I convinced myself that I saw nothing but a shadow or a dust bunny... a dust MOUSE! Yes, that's it! An innocuous DUST MOUSE!

A few hours later, my 7 yr old walked into the mudroom and screamed. My 10 yr old, who has probably inherited all my worst qualities, pushed everyone down that was in his way and ran over everyone else to get as far away as he possibly could. My 9 yr old, the only brave one in the family, quickly ran into the mudroom.

Then he began screaming "Get me a gun!"

Oh yeah, that's a good idea! A 9 yr old with a gun. A 9 yr old with ADHD and poor judgment, shooting a gun in the house, surrounded by other people. I am not sure which disturbs me more, the fact that he thinks I might actually give him a gun or the fact that it was his first thought upon seeing the mouse.

But I pushed those thoughts out of my mind...la la la. I have a more important pressing issue at hand than delving into my son's possible mental instability.

I tell him that I regret to inform him that we have no gun, and furthermore people don't shoot mice.

"But Mom, it isn't a mouse. It's bigger, much, MUCH bigger."

What? What did they mean by bigger?

I had the heebie jeebies just thinking about it. But I was sitting on my kitchen stool with my legs safely tucked up under me, so I didn't get up to look. Because, you know, it might just run up my legs and gnaw at my kneecaps.

At this point 9 yr old is inside the kitchen and the 7 yr old is still in the mudroom and a fight breaks out over the door that separates the two rooms. The 10 yr old is screaming close the door. The 9 yr old is trying to close the door, like the obedient underling that he is. The 7 yr old is trying to get in the house away from the much MUCH bigger mouse that he says is looking at him.


Finally I scream over the hysterical children. "For the love of God, if it is as big as you say it is, let your brother in the house before that mouse eats him!"

Okay, that was so NOT the right thing to say. Trust me on that one.

So now the kids are trying to explain to me what the thing is. We have established it isn't a mouse or squirrel.

I googled mole, nope.

I googled gopher, nope.

I googled weasel, nope.

I will not google rat. I refuse.

Because if my children look at the picture and identify it as what they saw, I'll have no choice but to move out.

And burn the house to the ground.

And that would totally suck.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

All Purpose Butt Cream

I have a huge container of Aquafor, which I call the all purpose ointment. Actually I call it butt cream, which, in retrospect, probably was not a great name for it since I use it on more than butts.

It is great for wind chapped cheeks (the facial kind). It is great for chapped lips. Dry flaky hands or feet, this is your cream.

Mostly though I use it on the butts of the diaper wearing duo. Frequently I will be changing my daughter's diaper and she will put her little finger in the tub of Aquafor and rub it on her own lips and cheeks. Sometimes I'll suggest she put it on my lips and cheeks, just so she will lay still while I am trying to wrestle a clean diaper on her.

Today I was sitting on the floor nursing the baby and tying my 4 yr old's boots. (I can multi task with the best of them). My daughter walked into the room and I could smell she needed a clean diaper.

So I said, "Oh, do you have a poopy butt?"

I guess she just heard the word "butt" and associated it with butt cream. Because the next thing I knew she was wagging her little index finger in front of my face. A little index finger that had just visited her diaper. And she was trying to put it on my lips.

I guess it is all the same to her... goes on your butt... goes on your face...

I tried to get away with a baby attached to my boob. And to scream, without opening my mouth, because her finger was awfully close to my face. And really I don't think I could handle poop on my lips. But it is hard to scream loud enough to be taken seriously when you can't open your mouth.

A sense of humor should be a prerequisite for motherhood. That and a high tolerance for poop.

And now that I have told this story, with all it's mention of butt cream and poop covered fingers, I am cringing at the google hits I am going to get.

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Payback

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Doesn't my mother know that Christmas is over? Why does she make me wear a queer sweater on my legs and call it cute? A sweater that has furry little white feet.

What is this store called the GAP that all the mothers love to shop at and rejoice over the sales? A store that makes all the fathers roll their eyes and say,'I don't care how much you saved. How much did you spend?'

It's a good thing I am secure in my masculinity; usually she wraps me in a
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and now this.

I have all this photographic evidence of her transgressions. Just give me another 13 years, I am so going to get back at her.

Monday, March 07, 2005

Things I Learned This Past Week

1) There is no such thing as toddler proof.

2) Toddlers, potatoes, and a sharp knife are not a good combination.

3) We will now be eating mushy foods or grabbing hunks of meat with our hands and tearing pieces off with our teeth (see number 1 above)

4) Bandages cause toddlers more angst than a gaping, bleeding flesh wound.

5) Toothpaste adheres to a slate tile bathroom floor more strongly than grout and must be scraped off with razor blades. Not sure what I will do from now on (see number 1 above)

6) The amount of time spent preparing a meal is inversely proportional to the amount of enjoyment the children get out of it.

Boil water in the kettle and pour into Raman noodle cups, loved by children. Any food that a) doesn't come in it's own serving container, or b) requires more than one pan to make it, or c) contains more than two ingredients is not a big hit with children. And if the food meets all the above three criteria, it will be instantly loathed, without even tasting it.

7) Similarly, the amount of parenting advice dispensed by someone is inversely proportional to how qualified they are to give the advice.

Note to woman cashier at the dunkin Donuts drive through, it took you two attempts to give me back the correct change. Two attempts to correctly count out $7. Keep your advice to yourself.

8)Sanding in one room of the house, even if that room is completely sealed off, will result in dust being everywhere in the house.

9) Merely looking at birthday cake can cause weight gain. I know this because the only cake I did eat I ate standing up and that has already been scientifically proven as a method of eating to prevent weight gain. I'm not exactly sure how that particular scientific law works... Something about gravity increasing food motility. It's one of Newton's laws I think.

10) My breasts have super powers. They have the ability to make men cower and run away when they are exposed for what nature has intended them to do. It's amazing really.

11) The steam feature on my iron works. Steam is hot. Attempting to iron your pants while you are wearing them would not be wise.

Saturday, March 05, 2005

Not Feeling The Least Bit Guilty

Giving your child hot chocolate milk in a bottle: free with cost of homeschool tubing session

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Letting same child finish off your cup of coffee, so you don't have to hear her screaming any more: free with cost of homeschool tubing session

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Allowing same child to carry around and eat a baggie of Froot Loops (notice it is not spelled fruit, wouldn't want anyone to be confused and think there is actual fruit in there) : less than $1

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Seeing the horrified looks on the faces of all the superior parents: priceless

Seeing the horrified looks on the faces of all the superior parents as you photograph child with these things: There are just some things money can't buy.

Update on Baby Jack

The latest news we have heard on baby Jack is that he is in critical, but stable condition.

He is hooked up to an ECMO machine, which is a machine that works instead of the heart and lungs. In an email that they sent out to friends and family they said that they have had a couple of hopeful signs of his progress, they will take any small positive signs they can get. He still has a very long road ahead of him.

When they said they are looking forward to the day he will open his eyes and look at them, well, it broke my heart. I remember how special it was to be nursing your newborn baby and have them gaze into your eyes. I really can't imagine what they are going through right now, and baby Jack is never far from my thoughts.

As far as the group B strep testing, the mother had tested negative, obviously a false negative.

Baby Jack can still use everyone's good thoughts and prayers.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

I Love Apple Pie

I am seeking nirvana. No not the band. Not the state of mind. But a real actual location.

As I sit here in the midst of another snow storm, I wonder about the perfect place to live.

My criteria for the perfect place to live:

1) Nice weather year round

2) Near a large city that has cultural events, museums, theater

3)Good economy

4)Nice weather year round, did I mention that?

5)Affordable cost of living, in other words housing doesn't have to be dirt cheap just affordable compared to salary

6) Cool interesting diverse people, though I suppose this is rather subjective

Places I think I have ruled out(or where I show my fondness for stereotypes and expose my ignorance) :

1) California: too expensive, combined with the earthquakes and mudslides make it less than appealing

2)Seattle, Washington area: too rainy, too cold, even though I do have a fondness for coffee.

3)Boston, MA area: love the city of Boston if I could transplant it somewhere warmer. It has too long and cold a winter and the surrounding suburbs are too expensive. It could also be that I love Boston so much because I went to college there and was drunk most of the time. Everything seems better under the influence of alcohol.

4)Arizona: dare I say too hot, even though the idea of living in a desert wasteland sounds appealing from a no lawn maintenance point of view and never having to shovel snow again sounds nice.

5)Florida: too humid and those big palmetto bugs. And why does it seem like there is so much violent crime in that state? Though Annalise lives there and we could go rock climbing together.

6) Boulder, CO: We used to really want to live there, but I was there last year and it had changed. All the hippies had been replaced by yuppies, and all the cool stores had been replaced by Banana Republics and baby GAPs.

7)Alaska: two reasons...SNOW and no daylight for months on end. I wonder why there isn't more violent crime in this state. Though perhaps everyone is just too cold and depressed to go out and commit crimes.

8)Hawaii: I just don't have the body to walk around in a coconut shell bra year round and it would cut way down on my internet shopping, since no one likes to ship out of the 48, and I hate shopping in real stores. My husband might consider these things pluses though. And Brash Hetty is going to move.

9) New Hampshire: Even though my friend Karen lives there, it is way too snowy and cold. And frankly I am frightened by their state motto which is emblazoned on every license plate: Live Free or Die.


For some reason in the past week I have been hearing/reading about Austin, Texas. From people who are not at all connected with each other. It seems like it might be a nice place to live. Housing seems nice and affordable. The weather seems really nice. An online search found many varied homeschool groups.

But I hate country music. It would seem that would be a prerequisite to living in Texas. I also hate line dancing. Um, and cowboy boots and cowboy hats... unless ofcourse you are a real cowboy. And I'd have to start saying y'all.

Saying this makes me feel decidedly un-American. It's like I am blaspheming the holy American trinity of country music, baseball, and apple pie.

But I'm not, I love me some apple pie.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

A Baby Named Jack

I was sitting here writing a blog post, watching my 9 yr old teach his 4 yr old brother how to bake a cake. The phone rang and it was Rob.

His friend's wife, the one I was buying a present for when the important bits fell out of my car, just gave birth to their first baby on Sunday. The baby has Group B strep and is very ill. They flew the baby from the NICU at the children's hospital she gave birth in, to another hospital where they will perform some kind of life saving procedure. It is only one of a handful of hospitals that do this procedure. I have no idea what the procedure actually is.

But it sounds scary. I am so sad for them. I can't even begin to imagine how frightened they are.

I am looking at my 2 month old son, who is cooing and smiling at me, and praying with every fiber of my being that 2 months from now they will get to experience this also. And that 4 yrs from now they will have a son who makes them laugh, like mine does by wearing all his underwear backwards so he can see the pictures on them. And that 9 years from now they will be baking a birthday cake too.

So if you pray, please say a prayer for baby Jack. Or light a candle. Or send some healing vibes. What ever you've got. He can use it all.