My thoughtful husband went to Target to pick up some OTC medicine for my stomach (because having a cold wasn't enough for me, I gotta go for the gusto) earlier this evening and took Short Stuff along for the ride.
He decided to introduce Jacob to The Toy Aisles (cue theme for 2001: A Space Odyssey) this is the first time that Jacob really NOTICED the toy section, and by that I mean the little guy had an epiphany.
My husband said he stopped dead in his tracks, clenched his fists, his arms rigid at his sides, and looked slowly around at the wondrous sight. He then took a long, deep breath and began flapping his arms up and down frantically, squealing a jubilant ''EEEEEEEE!!!!'' as he raced down the aisle, clearly overcome by the idea of All. These. TOYS.
My husband got him an inexpensive car and muttered to me that he may have made a tactical error by introducing him to the toy aisle concept.... but maybe Jacob wouldn't remember next time?
While his daddy was running the bath, I asked Jacob if he had fun at the store with daddy?
He put his hands on my cheeks and leaned forward, looking at me with his serious expression.
''Caaaaaaar,'' he whispered, almost reverently.
Oh, I suspect he's going to remember.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
She's Cold as Ice
Sure enough, I now have Jacob's cold. I can't take cold medications so it tends to put me a little off of my game.
However I put on my big girl panties and went to work, to wage my daily battle against... well, whatever I need to battle. There's always something.
But I'm trying to be sensible, drinking plenty of liquids and all that, and that was why I had a 32 ounce cup of ice water in front of me. HAD is the operative word, here.
Naturally, being a klutz who's somewhat foggy in the head, I knocked into it when I leaned down to open one of my file drawers. Although I managed to catch the cup before it tipped all the way over, I splashed a generous amount down my chest. Including a few pieces of ice, some of which slid down into what COULD be called cleavage (if one were feeling generous) and lodged there.
And even more naturally, because we are very busy, someone Very Important walked into my office to tell me a painfully long story while that ice melted into my bra.
It is not considered Acceptable Professional Office Behavior to reach in and grab ice out of your tatas, so all I could do was try to look as though I was not considering such action and wait for the Very Important Executive to leave.
At least I was wearing black, so the dampness didn't show but let me tell you what... Boobs On Ice will definitely wake you up faster than a double shot of espresso.
However I put on my big girl panties and went to work, to wage my daily battle against... well, whatever I need to battle. There's always something.
But I'm trying to be sensible, drinking plenty of liquids and all that, and that was why I had a 32 ounce cup of ice water in front of me. HAD is the operative word, here.
Naturally, being a klutz who's somewhat foggy in the head, I knocked into it when I leaned down to open one of my file drawers. Although I managed to catch the cup before it tipped all the way over, I splashed a generous amount down my chest. Including a few pieces of ice, some of which slid down into what COULD be called cleavage (if one were feeling generous) and lodged there.
And even more naturally, because we are very busy, someone Very Important walked into my office to tell me a painfully long story while that ice melted into my bra.
It is not considered Acceptable Professional Office Behavior to reach in and grab ice out of your tatas, so all I could do was try to look as though I was not considering such action and wait for the Very Important Executive to leave.
At least I was wearing black, so the dampness didn't show but let me tell you what... Boobs On Ice will definitely wake you up faster than a double shot of espresso.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Happy Easter Y'All
Once again, I say "Oh we'll just do something small." Once again, I spent waaaaaay too much time in the kitchen. Originally, it was just going to be my husband, Short Stuff and me. Then the teenager decided he wasn't too cool to have Easter dinner with his mom (yay!) so we quickly threw a shopping list together and made plans for an actual Dinner. That also meant I had to empty the dining room table so we could put it to its intended use, rather than World's Flattest Filing Cabinet.
And then my daughter called to say that she'd be able to come for dinner after all too (yay v2.0)and was there going to be chocolate cream pie (a family tradition)? Aw heck, the stores are now closed and I have no pie crusts, nor pudding. But I do have The Joy of Cooking and a ridiculous Can-Do attitude about Easter Sunday Dinner , and lo. I made 5 individual-sized cream pies - two vanilla and three chocolate. And lo. That was an enormous pain in the ass. And an even bigger mess. And my super-flaky crusts kept breaking as I tried to get the pie beads out of the shells, but Common Sense gave my Inner Martha a savage beatdown and said "Bitch! You wanted pie, you shut up and make PIE!" Common Sense knows that broken crusts tastes the same.
And someone else was hoping for sweet potatoes. Someone else wanted mashed potatoes. Asparagus, broccoli, wild rice... I see why people go OUT for Easter dinner, but I was on a roll. Good grief, this was easier when I was a kid and only had to worry about my sisters eating my coconut egg out of my easter basket. How many years until I can pass the baton of holiday dinner responsibility on, I wonder?
I was ALSO insane enough to make parkerhouse rolls from scratch WHICH a certain someone who will remain nameless observed that they sort of kind of maybe looked like labia... which made the teenager's ears turn scarlet with embarrassment and made everyone decide maybe we didn't want any more rolls with dinner. We're Klass right here, folks. I KNEW I should have gone with Pepperidge Farms brown & serve....
No one squabbled, I only cut myself twice, nothing blew up. A good day. Well, other than the rolls. You can't have everything. Not even on the good china.
And then my daughter called to say that she'd be able to come for dinner after all too (yay v2.0)and was there going to be chocolate cream pie (a family tradition)? Aw heck, the stores are now closed and I have no pie crusts, nor pudding. But I do have The Joy of Cooking and a ridiculous Can-Do attitude about Easter Sunday Dinner , and lo. I made 5 individual-sized cream pies - two vanilla and three chocolate. And lo. That was an enormous pain in the ass. And an even bigger mess. And my super-flaky crusts kept breaking as I tried to get the pie beads out of the shells, but Common Sense gave my Inner Martha a savage beatdown and said "Bitch! You wanted pie, you shut up and make PIE!" Common Sense knows that broken crusts tastes the same.
And someone else was hoping for sweet potatoes. Someone else wanted mashed potatoes. Asparagus, broccoli, wild rice... I see why people go OUT for Easter dinner, but I was on a roll. Good grief, this was easier when I was a kid and only had to worry about my sisters eating my coconut egg out of my easter basket. How many years until I can pass the baton of holiday dinner responsibility on, I wonder?
I was ALSO insane enough to make parkerhouse rolls from scratch WHICH a certain someone who will remain nameless observed that they sort of kind of maybe looked like labia... which made the teenager's ears turn scarlet with embarrassment and made everyone decide maybe we didn't want any more rolls with dinner. We're Klass right here, folks. I KNEW I should have gone with Pepperidge Farms brown & serve....
No one squabbled, I only cut myself twice, nothing blew up. A good day. Well, other than the rolls. You can't have everything. Not even on the good china.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Second Verse, Same as the First
A little more snotty and a little bit worse...
Yep. Short Stuff has come down with Nasty Cough and Cold #433 for the year, with a side of Really Green Goop and Occasional Fever. So he and I are home today... I really absolutely needed to toss a load of his clothes into the wash, so as he sat playing, I turned on the TV in search of perhaps Sesame Street to occupy him for a minute.
What I got was Little Einsteins. Now, I've had friends tell me LE is kind of like Kiddy Crack, but I'd never experienced the.... oddness that is Little Einsteins. Classical music? Check. Great, we love it around here. Classical artwork? Ok, that's good too, if perhaps a bit of an advanced concept, but art is A Very Good Thing, so I'm down with that.
Characters and story? Okay, we have entered into some sort of preschooler twilight zone. The story appears to center around a Mommy Cello in Italy, who is hatching baby cellos out of five different-colored instrument cases arranged in a nest.
Wha?
And THEN, for drama, one of the baby cellos falls in a RIVER, and the LE kids have to help it find its MOMMY.
Ok, now we had some weird shows when I was a kid, and I never have quite figured out how I felt about Time for Timer on the ABC network but.... Italian cellos hatching out of a nest?
What is IN their sippy cups?? I think it fermented.
Yep. Short Stuff has come down with Nasty Cough and Cold #433 for the year, with a side of Really Green Goop and Occasional Fever. So he and I are home today... I really absolutely needed to toss a load of his clothes into the wash, so as he sat playing, I turned on the TV in search of perhaps Sesame Street to occupy him for a minute.
What I got was Little Einsteins. Now, I've had friends tell me LE is kind of like Kiddy Crack, but I'd never experienced the.... oddness that is Little Einsteins. Classical music? Check. Great, we love it around here. Classical artwork? Ok, that's good too, if perhaps a bit of an advanced concept, but art is A Very Good Thing, so I'm down with that.
Characters and story? Okay, we have entered into some sort of preschooler twilight zone. The story appears to center around a Mommy Cello in Italy, who is hatching baby cellos out of five different-colored instrument cases arranged in a nest.
Wha?
And THEN, for drama, one of the baby cellos falls in a RIVER, and the LE kids have to help it find its MOMMY.
Ok, now we had some weird shows when I was a kid, and I never have quite figured out how I felt about Time for Timer on the ABC network but.... Italian cellos hatching out of a nest?
What is IN their sippy cups?? I think it fermented.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I am having a bad day. A really really bad day.
I was certain that today was going to be kind of amusing but I surprised myself.
This is so bizarre, you just can't make this shit up. Ok, taking a trip in the WayBack machine... you know my grandfather's house? the one I had to evict the scary crazy deerkiller guy from and THEN fend off frozen squirrels in ziploc bags falling on me (really) and an entire befeathered turkey wing -btw do you know how freaking big a whole wing is??? - in the refrigerator (really really) and a nightmare-inducing pile of deer legs that will never be scrubbed from my brain...? That house.
The house my grandfather built - every bit - with his own two hands, on land HIS grandfather gave him, from the farm that has been part of generations going back and back...
There's a family renting it who have a connection, too, through his uncle, who had been my grandfather's best friend for more than 80 years.
And some months back, they approached my sisters, telling us of odd happenings in the house. Footsteps. Voices. Things moving. And they asked permission to have it checked out. And asked permission to take part in a Maury Povich episode if they were careful not to gve any identifying information. Ha-ha, we said, sure, knock yourselves out!
The show aired today. And it wasn't an entertaining story to me, although I was really expecting it to be. They had some photos, they had some EVP recordings.... and really, they covered very little on the show.
It still felt like a solid punch. My grandfather died in that house, in a horrible, stupid accident. And really, if he's still hanging around, i have no doubt its because he wants to. You have no idea how he felt about that place, and how he never, ever wanted to leave it.
This is the view from the back steps... or at least the right half of the view
We were all mildly amused about the house being featured on Maury. We figured we'd giggle like idjits at it, and really, it WAS pretty silly. All the same though, now I don't know what to think. And its really difficult to explain that you're upset because they say your house is haunted by your grandpa after all and... and... seriously!
But... listening to one of those recordings and watching the show was an enormous emotional shock I simply wasn't expecting. It feels just like it did when my mother called to tell me he'd died that Halloween a few years ago. I miss my grandfather terribly. I loved him fiercely. And apparently I'm not nearly as over it as I thought I was.
But .... I just do not know how to process this Slice O' Weird. How in the EFF does this shit keep on keepin' on?
DAYUM.
Up the attic steps to the "haunted chest of drawers"
.
The day I finished cleaning out the horror from scary guy... this is what I saw.
No words necessary.
I was certain that today was going to be kind of amusing but I surprised myself.
This is so bizarre, you just can't make this shit up. Ok, taking a trip in the WayBack machine... you know my grandfather's house? the one I had to evict the scary crazy deerkiller guy from and THEN fend off frozen squirrels in ziploc bags falling on me (really) and an entire befeathered turkey wing -btw do you know how freaking big a whole wing is??? - in the refrigerator (really really) and a nightmare-inducing pile of deer legs that will never be scrubbed from my brain...? That house.
The house my grandfather built - every bit - with his own two hands, on land HIS grandfather gave him, from the farm that has been part of generations going back and back...
There's a family renting it who have a connection, too, through his uncle, who had been my grandfather's best friend for more than 80 years.
And some months back, they approached my sisters, telling us of odd happenings in the house. Footsteps. Voices. Things moving. And they asked permission to have it checked out. And asked permission to take part in a Maury Povich episode if they were careful not to gve any identifying information. Ha-ha, we said, sure, knock yourselves out!
The show aired today. And it wasn't an entertaining story to me, although I was really expecting it to be. They had some photos, they had some EVP recordings.... and really, they covered very little on the show.
It still felt like a solid punch. My grandfather died in that house, in a horrible, stupid accident. And really, if he's still hanging around, i have no doubt its because he wants to. You have no idea how he felt about that place, and how he never, ever wanted to leave it.
This is the view from the back steps... or at least the right half of the view
We were all mildly amused about the house being featured on Maury. We figured we'd giggle like idjits at it, and really, it WAS pretty silly. All the same though, now I don't know what to think. And its really difficult to explain that you're upset because they say your house is haunted by your grandpa after all and... and... seriously!
But... listening to one of those recordings and watching the show was an enormous emotional shock I simply wasn't expecting. It feels just like it did when my mother called to tell me he'd died that Halloween a few years ago. I miss my grandfather terribly. I loved him fiercely. And apparently I'm not nearly as over it as I thought I was.
But .... I just do not know how to process this Slice O' Weird. How in the EFF does this shit keep on keepin' on?
DAYUM.
Up the attic steps to the "haunted chest of drawers"
.
The day I finished cleaning out the horror from scary guy... this is what I saw.
No words necessary.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Things that make you go hmmmmm.
So I was supposed to begin training at my new second job last night. I dutifully arrived ten minutes early, ready to get started. I could see how busy they were, so I patiently waited. And waited. and waited.
And finally the manager comes to tell me that they're soooo shorthanded this week, gee could I come back Saturday??
Well THAT makes sense, doesn't it? I want to work, you need people, but.... okay then.
Cabbages... the last time my mom went out to her farm, my uncle wasn't doing too well and had to go into the hospital. Mom called Aunt F to tell her and F replied with great concern ''Oh no! DO YOU NEED A CABBAGE????''
Um. Huh? Local color notwithstanding... does anyone understand the cabbage thing? Is there some significance to illness or emergency and cabbage?? We have no clue and alas... we recently lost Aunt F to a stroke, so we may never know.
And what is up with Blogger? I wrote out a post last night (and let me tell you, doing this on a handheld is a special excercise in stupid, i think... ) posted, saw the message that it was complete and then went to bed. This morning? Nada. My thumbs? They were irked, having done all that work for nothing.
And finally the manager comes to tell me that they're soooo shorthanded this week, gee could I come back Saturday??
Well THAT makes sense, doesn't it? I want to work, you need people, but.... okay then.
Cabbages... the last time my mom went out to her farm, my uncle wasn't doing too well and had to go into the hospital. Mom called Aunt F to tell her and F replied with great concern ''Oh no! DO YOU NEED A CABBAGE????''
Um. Huh? Local color notwithstanding... does anyone understand the cabbage thing? Is there some significance to illness or emergency and cabbage?? We have no clue and alas... we recently lost Aunt F to a stroke, so we may never know.
And what is up with Blogger? I wrote out a post last night (and let me tell you, doing this on a handheld is a special excercise in stupid, i think... ) posted, saw the message that it was complete and then went to bed. This morning? Nada. My thumbs? They were irked, having done all that work for nothing.
Monday, March 17, 2008
A Sign of Things to Come
So I was giving Short Stuff his bath, and when he'd finally shriveled into a prune-like state, I lifted him out and wrapped him in a towel. Bathtime is his Best Thing and it puts him in a faaaaaaabulous mood, tonight being no exception. Beaming, he threw his little arms around my neck for a big hug.
Before I had a chance to get all mushy from the concentrated dose of cuteness, though, he pivoted and threw his arms around the TOILET and gave IT an even bigger hug, laying his cheek against it and crooning ''awwwwwww''
Dude.
I figure either toilet training's gonna be a snap, or he's practicing for college frat parties.
Before I had a chance to get all mushy from the concentrated dose of cuteness, though, he pivoted and threw his arms around the TOILET and gave IT an even bigger hug, laying his cheek against it and crooning ''awwwwwww''
Dude.
I figure either toilet training's gonna be a snap, or he's practicing for college frat parties.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Your momma don't dance
... and apparently she doesn't pay attention to the laws of gravity and physics, either. And if she'd put things away, this wouldn't have happened.
I fell off the toilet. Yes, you read that correctly, I FELL OFF A TOILET. Stone cold sober, too.
Men gots it easy. They can just shake things and go on with their lives. Except some of them are convinced there is a Toilet Paper Fairy and if you leave an empty cardboard tube, the Toilet Paper Fairy will replace it with a fresh, spongy roll of that heaven-sent stuff, and therein lies part of my problem.
Second, we all know one merely RENTS coffee and at some point, you're going to be finished with it. Sooner rather than later if you happen to drink um... 5 cups?
And well. I sort of kind of forgot to restock the cabinets although I had the foresight to cart the resupply upstairs and leave it outside the door.
I know, I know, I know.
And I was SURE I could reach it if I just stretched a little more.... just... one... more.... inch....
Do the math. Hit the door frame with the top of my forehead. Rock ON with my graceful self.
I fell off the toilet. Yes, you read that correctly, I FELL OFF A TOILET. Stone cold sober, too.
Men gots it easy. They can just shake things and go on with their lives. Except some of them are convinced there is a Toilet Paper Fairy and if you leave an empty cardboard tube, the Toilet Paper Fairy will replace it with a fresh, spongy roll of that heaven-sent stuff, and therein lies part of my problem.
Second, we all know one merely RENTS coffee and at some point, you're going to be finished with it. Sooner rather than later if you happen to drink um... 5 cups?
And well. I sort of kind of forgot to restock the cabinets although I had the foresight to cart the resupply upstairs and leave it outside the door.
I know, I know, I know.
And I was SURE I could reach it if I just stretched a little more.... just... one... more.... inch....
Do the math. Hit the door frame with the top of my forehead. Rock ON with my graceful self.
Saturday, March 15, 2008
We came, we saw, we blog partied.... and other random thoughts
1,489 participants in the Ultimate Blog Party this year. It was pretty fun; I found some really interesting blogs and according to my site meter, I appear to have run off quite a few people. Heh. Sorry 'bout that folks, hope you won't need extensive therapy to recover. I really do need a warning sticker.
At any rate, I found some great new blogs to add to my reading list... if I missed yours, forgive me... Momnesia. What can I say? At any rate, just drop me a note and I'll fix it.
* * *
Optimism and Google
Ok, you. The google searcher who asked about "Bailiff Whack his Peepee" (I'm Number 1 with a Bullet on Google, folks! SO proud) at 10:48pm, 12:57am and 2:14am and clicked on the link to my blog EACH time... is that optimism, or do you need a sign? (Here's yer sign...)
* * *
My husband has recently discovered Facebook. His entire family has joined this interest and the other night I heard him talking really loudly. I thought he was yelling at a basketball game but when I listened more closely, the context was really out of place. So, I wandered downstairs to check it out.
He and his whole family were all on Skype and Facebook, having a high old time. Did I mention his parents are in their mid-eighties? My MIL burst into song, my FIl and my husband were having an argum... er, lively debate about IMing and other people were chatting about who knows what. It was cute. I get a kick out of my inlaws.
* * *
Commercials that Drive Me Insane
the Crayola toddler marker commercial. Is this woman crazy? Lets put a piece of paper on a WHITE carpet and hand a marker to a two year old. Is this commercial underwritten by Rug Doctor? Inquiring Gerbils Want to Know.
Also? This made me snort.
At any rate, I found some great new blogs to add to my reading list... if I missed yours, forgive me... Momnesia. What can I say? At any rate, just drop me a note and I'll fix it.
* * *
Optimism and Google
Ok, you. The google searcher who asked about "Bailiff Whack his Peepee" (I'm Number 1 with a Bullet on Google, folks! SO proud) at 10:48pm, 12:57am and 2:14am and clicked on the link to my blog EACH time... is that optimism, or do you need a sign? (Here's yer sign...)
* * *
My husband has recently discovered Facebook. His entire family has joined this interest and the other night I heard him talking really loudly. I thought he was yelling at a basketball game but when I listened more closely, the context was really out of place. So, I wandered downstairs to check it out.
He and his whole family were all on Skype and Facebook, having a high old time. Did I mention his parents are in their mid-eighties? My MIL burst into song, my FIl and my husband were having an argum... er, lively debate about IMing and other people were chatting about who knows what. It was cute. I get a kick out of my inlaws.
* * *
Commercials that Drive Me Insane
the Crayola toddler marker commercial. Is this woman crazy? Lets put a piece of paper on a WHITE carpet and hand a marker to a two year old. Is this commercial underwritten by Rug Doctor? Inquiring Gerbils Want to Know.
Also? This made me snort.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Who's Your Daddy??
My husband and i have a routine worked out with Short Stuff... Daddy drops him at the sitters in the morning and I pick him up in the afternoon.
Lately he's been QUITE the daddy's boy, but never as much as today.
I knock on the sitter's door and i hear her exclaim ''Jacob! Jacob, your mommy's here'' and as she opens the door, Jacob rushes forward, excitedly squealing "Daddy! Daddy!" He stopped dead when he saw me and frowned. "No momma, nooooo momma!"
And flung himself down on his face, shrieking and kicking his little legs. My sitter was watching, her mouth agape. "Jacob! Don't you want to see your mommy?"
And my little imp stopped shrieking, sat up and looked at her. "No," he said, matter of factly, "My DADDY."
All the way home he asked "My daddy?" in this hopeful voice, and if I asked "What about mommy?", he'd growl like a pissed-off rottweiler. This went on all night.
Needless to say, my husband thinks this is very funny. That's all right, the tide will turn and in the meantime? I know something he doesn't.
Jacob had grapes, broccoli and apple juice today. And that means he's working up something really.... special.
Just for Daddy.
Lately he's been QUITE the daddy's boy, but never as much as today.
I knock on the sitter's door and i hear her exclaim ''Jacob! Jacob, your mommy's here'' and as she opens the door, Jacob rushes forward, excitedly squealing "Daddy! Daddy!" He stopped dead when he saw me and frowned. "No momma, nooooo momma!"
And flung himself down on his face, shrieking and kicking his little legs. My sitter was watching, her mouth agape. "Jacob! Don't you want to see your mommy?"
And my little imp stopped shrieking, sat up and looked at her. "No," he said, matter of factly, "My DADDY."
All the way home he asked "My daddy?" in this hopeful voice, and if I asked "What about mommy?", he'd growl like a pissed-off rottweiler. This went on all night.
Needless to say, my husband thinks this is very funny. That's all right, the tide will turn and in the meantime? I know something he doesn't.
Jacob had grapes, broccoli and apple juice today. And that means he's working up something really.... special.
Just for Daddy.
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