"I Have Worms in Me"

*Shiver* That still gives me chills. I keep hearing it over and over in my head.
I was watching some show on TLC and this Dr was talking about a patient he once had who was um... slightly mentally disturbed? She kept saying over and over "I have worms in me". All calm and matter of fact. "I have worms in me."
The Dr prepared to do his thing and just happened to catch a glimpse of her arm. When he pushed up her sleeve he saw that her arm was BLACK FROM THE NASTIEST CUT EVER!! And this is what I was watching before bed? And I wonder why I have the strangest dreams? Her arm was black up to her elbow.
"I have worms in me."
At this point the Dr has pretty much said to hell with the worms, this cut is pretty bad. Gee, ya' think?
He decides to take a look in the cut to see how deep it goes and, wait? Are you eating right now? Because really? You should stop reading. Or eating. Because you know what I'm about to say right?
The Dr nearly fell out of his chair because SHE HAD WORMS IN HER. They were slithering through her cut arm. He started pulling them out with forceps. She named them as he pulled them out ad got upset because she thought he was hurting them. There were 6 or 7 of those earthworms in her arm.
Once he had them all out, he set about to clean up her arm. She looked at him and smiled.
"I have worms in me."
"Yes you did."
"I have worms in me."
And then she pulled up her other sleeve.
I had to stop watching once he began to pull more worms out. I wanted to go to sleep that night without having any more of that image in my head.
Still, her voice replayed in my head all night.
"I have worms in me."
And I wonder what it is that compels a person, even someone who is mentally disabled, to dig into themselves and fill that cut with worms.
Is it loneliness? That would seem like the most logical answer right?
And it makes me sad. It even makes me miss my old job. I used to be an aide for mentally disabled persons who lived on their own. They all had a variety of mental disabilities and many capabilities. Most had jobs. They shared an apartment or home with another disabled person in the program I worked for. The one thing they all had in common was that they had been abandoned. Most did have families, but only one ever saw their child and then only once a month. But they had eachother. And they had us.
But it got to be too much. A few would get violent and if you didn't know how to deflect them, you could get seriously hurt. Some had medical problems that just made you ache to watch them. It seemed to me that with their lot in life the least they could have would be their physical health. I had to leave that job as much as I did love it. Most of the people who worked their burned out. And so did I.
Still, I have moments where I miss it.

************************************************************
Those little stars are just to say I'm done being serious right now. Because I wanted to get back to my original subject. See, I made the mistake of telling Mr X about that show and 'I have worms in me' and now? He's torturing me with it.
This morning he was whispering in my ear as I lay half asleep "I have woorrrrmmmmssss in me".
As he kissed me goodnight tonight "You have worms in you!"
And he's enjoying this way too much!
Especially since now? I have to keep rubbing my arms.

"I have worms in me"

A Visit with The Doctor

And I don't mean me so please don't start e-mailing me any odd medical questions or nasty pictures of some oozing purple cut. *shiver* There's a mental image I didn't want!
I mean the visit Baby X had with his Dr for his one year check up. Ok, maybe slightly less interesting but it wins because there are no disgusting pictures to go with it. (And if any of you smart asses send me anything gross *R!!*, I'm posting it. Keep that in mind).
He was sick, so no shots this time. We have to go back in a few weeks when he is over his ear infection. I'm sure that will be..... fun. Well, maybe for the nurse who turns into a total sadist when she gets that needle in her hand.
They weighed him... Chunk!!! They measured his height... Shorty!
And during all this he squirmed and rolled and did crunches because he does not like being on his back.
When the Dr came in she wanted to poke him, pinch him and otherwise check him over. He? Was not having ANY PART OF THIS CRAZY LADY WITH A STICK!
In desperation to get him to just lay still for a moment, I resorted to something that elicited many a giggle from the Dr and I'm sure the odd look from anyone who managed to hear me.......

"THAT'S IT!! I'M GOING TO EAT THE BABY!!!"

And my little monster? Threw himself down, punched out his stomach, raised his arms and smiled big in anticipation of getting eaten up!
It amazes me what I will resort to just to get this kid to do what needs to be done.
He was rewarded with many a raspberry on his tummy and sides.
And when I left to go to the receptionist to schedule his next appointment, I was met with a few grins and a little old lady who smiled and said "I'd eat him up too if I had any teeth."

He's one!

What a difference a year can make!


He's one! I have to keep reminding myself that a year has already passed. Soon I'll have to stop calling him Baby X and start calling him what? Toddler X maybe? We'll see once he starts walking. Girl X was a late walker too. He likes to hitchhike. He'll grab the pant leg of anyone walking by and toddle along with them.
His party was this weekend and he was sick. He wouldn't touch his cake or ice cream. The cake I could kind of see but ice cream? This kid will appear out of nowhere when you open an ice cream container. He knows exactly how much ice cream is in a pint and just how much he should get before you put it away! But he wanted nothing to do with it at his party.
He did enjoy playing with his cousin. She is 6 months older than him but smaller. She was sitting there quietly playing on the floor when Baby X decided that she needed to be tackled and climbed on. She was crying her little eyes off and Baby X just sat on her and smiled. It's not that he meant to hurt her or make her cry. He only does this with people he really likes. I think Cousin X would just have rather had him not like ehr so much!
Sadly, anytime she saw him after that she would run and try to hide and he, thinking "yay! She wants to play chase with me!" would run afte rher laughing.

My Mother in Law is currently furious with me. I returned the dress she bought Girl X for her birthday. it was 2 sizes too big and nothing she would ever wear. MIL showed up at the party with the same dress in Girl X's size and asked for the other dress back. The misunderstanding was cleared up but she asked to see what I exchanged it for and was furious that I hadn't gotten her another dress. Mr X laughed and told me that she will never forget or forgive me. Not that it really matters since she hates me anyway. It's just one more strike against me.
She also told us that she had to return Baby X's present because she had bought a size 4. For some reason she always buys clothes 2- 3 times too big. Oh, and she argued with me because she thinks Baby X is 2 and we're all lying to her that he's only 1. Methinks she's off the meds again.

Forgotten.........

I was going to Blog about Baby X's first birthday party tonight (*tear*) but I'll save that for when I'm not falling asleep at the keyboard.
Instead, I have to tell you what happened today because seriously? This keeps happening! Maybe not this exact thing (although, yeah) but just being in the right place at the right time I guess?
We have this reward system set up for Girl X. She gets punished for bad behavior, but more importantly, she gets rewarded for outstanding behavior. Good grades, doing good things without being asked, doing something sweet for her brother, etc. She had earned a 'reward' and decided that she wanted us all to go out to lunch together. Nothing really exciting, just a Burger King playland. While there another group joined us. 2 sisters and their kids, husbands, brother and parents. The moms insisted that their kids wear their shoes in the playland whihc you aren't supposed to do. Rebels! The part that made me snort chicken was when one of them said "It's filthy in there so keep your shoes on."
These kids are crawling through the playland. Exactly what will keeping their shoes on protect?
They were loud- like yelling loud. But their kids were so cute!
We just ignored them and carried on. After awhile they got up and left.
We ate and Girl X played.
I went up to get her a sundae pie.
There was this cute little boy pacing back and forth.
He looked kind of familiar.
Right at the moment it hit me, I saw Mr X come up.
He looked at me and pointed to the boy "They left him."
WHAT THE FROG?

Yeah. They left this kid. In Burger King. He was 6 or 7 maybe?
I stopped him from going out and asked the manager for the phone. Thankfully the kid knew his phone number but at this point he was in tears. They left him!!
In their defense, there were 3 cars and lots of kids. I'm sure they thought he was in another car. And I'm equally sure she felt awful realizing her wasn't.
When the mom came back that kid bolted across the parking lot and wrapped his arms around her and she mouthed thank you to me. I could feel her relief from across the parking lot.

I bet that kid gets whatever he wants for Christmas.
We all do stupid things

Guess What I did Today!!

Go on, you'll never guess.....


I went shopping!! I know, you never saw that coming right? Honestly this really is unusual for me because I rarely go shopping, but it is Christmas. There is something about Christmas that makes my Mastercard hate me.
I had to go to Borders to get a gift card and they had all these bargain kid's books. Harold and the Purple Crayon! 50% off! And then a stationary set for Girl X's teacher.....
I love shopping.
Baby X loves the flirting. I caught him feeling up the nice clerk who was helping me with some books. Just running his hand up and down her leg.
I'm lucky she had a sense of humor.
And I still have nothing for Mr X.
I need some ideas! So I'm going to ask you and I know you're watching....

What are you getting your significant others for the Holidays?

I'm raising an Obsessive Compulsive and Other Random Notes

First? It's snowing! Yay! I love snow. I miss snow. We don't get enough of it here. Like, it snows and we can make a snowman but we have to use every bit of snow in our yard. But now it's snowing and did I tell you? I LOVE snow! I'm doing the snoopy dance right now.
Jumping to a new topic......
I had to go shopping again today. Yes I HAD to. No really, we needed food. And Christmas presents. Again. But I'm wondering what it is about the Holidays that brings out the worst in some people. Because y'all I have met every grumpy grousy (is grousy a word?) sour face today.
There was the guy that yelled at me to watch where I was going when I was standing there, totally not moving, looking at CDs. There was the guy that rammed this poor elderly lady because she couldn't move the motorized cart fast enough and then ran when I yelled at him and yes I SO DID YELL AT HIM even though he was way bigger than me.
And on and on. Seriously? What is it about the Holidays that make everyone turn into such sour snots?

And jumping subjects again because I'm good at it and it's fun and I don't want to make a new post when this one is just fine thank you very much. (See? Run-ons and that part of my brain that makes me stop is sleeping.)

Baby X is turning all OCD on me. He closes doors and cabinets and drawers. If I lift the arm of his car seat he slams it back down and then glares at me. If he sees my hand go anywhere near it he starts YELLING at me! We got him one of those pop up toys with like 5 animals that pop up when you push the button or slide the lever and so on. He hears one come up and he races over to it to slam it back down because he cannot stand to see it open!
The hell people!
And we're so mean because we'll sit there and open those little animals over and over again and watch him close them and then he will throw himself on to the toy to keep us from opening it again and again. It was missing for awhile and then I found it buried under all his other toys. So, being his mom and oh so in love with him, I opened up all the doors and set it in the middle of the room so he can't miss it when he wakes up.

I need help!

2 posts in one day! I mean wow! Really? Because when I started this I was thinking once or twice a week but apparently I have more to say than I thought I would.
So I do need help. Or a life. Something more to occupy my time because, you know what? I am BORED! That is my only explanation. I have to constantly be doing something. I can't just sit there and watch Lost. No. I have to be working on some kind of project in the process.
(Ok a little parenthetical note that has nothing to do with what I was talking about but I thought it was funny. Then again I am really tired so it could just be that. I was looking over at the door as I was typing and you know what I saw when I looked back? ug baek benighan. I have no idea what that's supposed to mean. But I guess that means I really need to pay attention to what I'm doing.)
Tonight I finished the album I was avoiding for my parents Christmas present. And I got out all these special milestone pictures I've been taking for Baby X because I got this sudden 'brilliant' idea that for his birthday party this weekend, I'm going to take a scrapbook page, put his footprints in the center, put 6 of these milestone pictures on each side of the scrapbook page and then have guests sign their names and a wish because I am a giant freak and can't just let well enough alone.
I also made bread for the party to make sandwiches. I know I know. It's bread! But it's not just any bread. I made a loaf of red and one of blue. Tomorrow I'm making purple and green. Because You know what? I am bored!
I've taken up making jewelry because I wanted to see if I could do it and now that I know I can? I keep doing it and this is bad because I don't wear jewelry. Ok, rarely. Certainly not enough to require all the necklaces and matching bracelets I've been making.
And I have a blanket I have been crocheting everytime we watch a movie.
One year I made purses for Girl X, some of her friends and my nieces out of the pocket of old jeans.
And I don't know what my problem is. Why can't I just sit and watch a movie? Why do I do this to myself? Why do I always seem to have 7 projects going at once?
I need to start taking valium or something.

Entitlement

I love Christmas and I love shopping. I like the last minute rush as much as getting it all done early. I know it's pretty sick but I can't help it. There are years where I'm done early, but I'll go out Christmas Eve because I just love that rush of people and the flurry of paper.
But there's that ugly little monster lurking behind the corner. Just waiting to jump out and ruin the mood. It could be dressed in a grandmother or a teen, a yuppie or a soccer mom.
Entitlement.
Perfect example:
I was waiting in line at an arts and crafts store. They only had 2 registers open and the lines were getting really long so they called for another cashier. When she came from the back of the store, she took the first person in the line beside us. The lady behind me started having a fit. She was probably in her late 50's, early 60's and you would think she'd know better but criminy! Convulsions! She sighed and stomped her feet and her face scrunched up. I asked her if she was ok because I thought ambulance maybe? What if she having a stroke?
She glared at me and then leaned over the partition to talk to the cashier in the line next to us.
"You know, the proper thing to do when you open a register is to take who is next not who is closest. I was in line before her and should have been first. You may want to pass that little tidbit onto your friend who does not seem to understand customer service."
Few points before I go on....
1) I was in line in front of this Princess so by her reasoning, I should have gone first.
2) She was in line maybe half a second before the other lady.
3) The other cashier could not have known this for she does not have x-ray vision (as far as I know. I mean she could but she didn't say anything to me and I would guess that having a superpower she wouldn't share it with me, a total stranger) and could not see that from the back of the store.
4) For the other cashier to have taken Princess first, she would have had to cross 2 long lines and pulled her back, making everyone else move out of her way and it wouldn't have been worth it.

Now, to her credit, the cashier smiled and said 'of course'. Because really? If it had been me? She would have gotten this:
"Lady I get paid $7 an hour. I don't give a flaming penny when you got in line."

But the cashiers very polite answer did not satisfy Princess.
She leaned over again and a little bit louder declared that "I have been known to leave stores for that kind of treatment."

The hell?

What did she expect this her to do? Cancel her sale and take Princess first? Offer her a discount? An arm? Her first born child?

And again the cashier politely said "I understand. I'm sorry about your wait. I'm sure your cashier is moving as fast as she can."

Princess huffed and turned red.

This is the part where the smart part of my brain, the one that says 'just shut up and don't say anything you'll only make it worse' goes to sleep. It never fails. Everytime I should shut my trap, it takes a nap or a vacation or whatever it is that those parts of my brain does when I need it most. Like when I'm making run on sentences and the part of my brain that would normally tell me to stop and DAMMIT ALL USE PUNCTUATION ALREADY just disappears and y'all are stuck reading this and thinking 'GAH!! Get her a grammar tutor already!' But that's what happens. And that's what happened here because instead of turning around and just letting it go I looked her straight in the bulging, pulsating eye and said
"Hey Princess, you can go in front of me before you stroke out."

And she huffed and puffed and stomped her way in front of me mumbling about 'rude' and 'insolent'.

The cashier she had been annoying looked at me relieved and also, amused.

Princess threw her stuff on the counter and handed the cashier a coupon. And the cashier looked at the coupon and said "I'm sorry but you can't use this coupon. Wrong product."

Princess stormed out yelling about never coming back. And I think the entire store breathed relief and said "Thank Goodness!"

But this isn't some isolated incident. It happens all the time and I don't get why. Do we forget as we get older all the rules we learned as kids?
*Share
*Take turns
*Patience
*Temper Tantrums will get you sent to the corner

I hope that Princess took a time out.

I suck........

I have turned procrastination into an art form. I do this to myself every year and every year I say 'Never again!'
Who am I kidding? Not me! Because I know I'm lying.
Here it is again. Nearly the beginning of December and I have not finished my parents album for Christmas. Every year I make them a scrapbook of things we did the year before. Since they live on the other side of the country, it helps them keep up and the appreciate it.
I actually started in January, I just never bothered to finish it. So, now I'm rushing to complete that and the one for my brother since he also lives so far away. Oh, and the one I was making for a friend. All that I need to have finished by next week so I can still have enough time to finish Girl X's 2 that I planned for Christmas for her.

And am I working on it now while Baby X is sleeping and I could actually get some of it done?
Hell no.
Because? My time is better spent playing TriJong and reading Vietnamese God (under blogs of note!).
And because, as I believe I mentioned, I suck.
And ok, I could really go up and work on it now but then I start coming up with all sorts of reasons why not.
Like I'm sick. Which I am but it's really not a good reason.
Or I'm in a rut and the pages are starting to look the same. And my parents so do not care if they all look the same BECAUSE THEY JUST WANT THE DAMN BOOK!!!
I'm going to go chug a bunch of soda because I hate coffee but caffeine is absolutely essential right now and go force myself to work on this album.


Right after this next 2 or 3 or 8 rounds of TriJong.

Mixed Bag.........

So I had a couple of things to blog about today but my mind is all scattered and I don't really know where I want to go.
There's the fact that tomorrow will mark 6 years since my mother died. I don't know what to feel about it at this point. We had such a difficult relationship and I doubt that it ever would have improved. I hope I'm not like her. I don't seem to be, but those things can sneak up on you.
There's the fact that tomorrow, Ms Ok-love-you-bye-bye will descend and be in her holiday mode. Holiday mode is exhausting. At least to me. I'm going to have to steer her away from my kitchen and away from the clean-up and away from the leftovers and so on.
I still say that having to cook for them last year is the reason I went into labor the following week. A few weeks early. Poor kid. Scared out of the womb.
Or that Christmas is almost here. My favorite season! Mr X and I get way to into it. One year we ripped a piece of red cotton and stuck it in the fireplace. We told Girl X that Santa's suit got ripped when he went up the fireplace. She picked it up and just looked at it like it was gold. It's in her little hope chest. And this year Baby X will actually be able to enjoy all the lights and opening his own presents and pulling down the Christmas tree to get to the lights! Yay!
And then there is just all this other stuff rolling around up there in my head and I don't know. Maybe stuff for another day!

Well, time to check my liquour levels and get things ready for tomorrow.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Random Thoughts for Today

*When I went to return the present my MIL gave Girl X, I realized that she knows nothing about my kid. The clothes were 2 sizes too big and not even remotely like anything Girl X would wear. I know it's the effort and yeah, I appreciate that she is trying. But after 6 years? I think she should at least know how to spell Girl X's name. Seriously, I could see if she had just met us, but 6 years and not even close?

*Macy's rocks.

*I took Baby X to get his one year pictures and Gah!!! Because he? Cut a tooth in the middle of his session. Still got a lot of great shots but for the 2nd time in less than a week he had a bloody mouth.

*In the catergory of 'I can't believe I'm going to admit this'.... Baby X beat me up. Ok, it's not really that bad but ouch! I have this gigantic purple and black bruise on my leg from where he kicked me. I can't count the ones from him pinching me because there are just to many. I could play connect the dots.

*Baby X? LOVES football! Girl X was sitting on the floor talking to Mr X when we heard it. *thumpthumpthumpthump* faster and faster and before Mr X could say 'What the?' Boom! Baby X lunged out of nowhere and knocked Girl X flat on her back! He laughed and climbed on to her tummy and started yelling like "HAHA!! I'm King of the Sister!" and oh my gosh! I lost it. I know it's not nice and really we should put a stop to this but it was just so random and where did he get that?? Thankfully, Girl X thought it was kind of funny too. But now we have to watch out whenever we're sitting on the floor or standing within range of him because he will fly at us and try to tackle us.

*Cat X hates to be tackled. Really hates me now too. I've pretty much guarenteed that I'm getting a lump of cat poo for Christmas if not sooner.

*Nobody notices when you sign the credit slip as Natasha Fatale. And if anyone gets that reference? Bonus points!

Happy Birthday Stinkerbelle....

She is 8. 8!!! I have an 8 year old daughter. I say this every year. Well, not the '8' part, but the basic 'how did that happen?'..... yeah. Because it just always surprises me. She is getting so big and so non-baby like.
Every time I think of her I see this:





That wide-eyed, take your breath away, 'I trust you completely' look. I love this picture. I remember the day she was born and it still makes me stop. I made the nurses let her sleep in my room that night. She kicked her feet out of her swaddle and had them hanging over the bassinet. She still can't sleep with her feet under covers. I remember leaving the next day in absolute horror that these people were letting me take her home. Me! What the hell did I know about babies? But they did. And we were ok.






I made this outfit for her. It was the first thing I ever made. I still have it tucked away in a box of special things that belong solely to her.










Oh Gosh! The way she used to laugh! Deep from the belly and unrestrained. All I had to do was wiggle my fingers as though I were about to tickle her.











Her first birthday.... Shortly after this picture she threw the cake on the floor and started freaking out because her hands were dirty!











My little buckethead. All those amazing toys we ran to buy her and her favorite toy? A bucket.






She is a sweet girl. Empathetic and smart. She loves her brother so much I can't even find the words for it and he? Adores her. She is his favorite 'toy'.
She can be so silly and then so serious.
And somehow, 8 years have gone by. I don't remember what life was really like before she was in it. 8 years and she's not a baby or even a little girl anymore.
I turn around now and see her and think 'wow'. All over again. Wow.
She has so much ahead of her. I want to guard her form her first heartbreak, I know I can't but I certainly want too. I think about her getting her license and wonder how I'm going to ever sleep again. I wonder what she'll do with her life. I wonder who she'll be.
In my head, she's that same little girl who insisted that she could touch the sky if I held her up far enough.
Reality? She's 8.

Oh What The Holy Hell Was That About???

So, life is good. I mean really good. I've never been so out of this world, move-over-Tom-Cruise-you-psycho-couch-killer happy.
So why the hell did I just burst into tears for the second time today???

I was just sitting here playing TriJong (damn addicting games) and then boom! Tears. Everywhere. And for why????

I can't be crazy emotional lady again. I couldn't leave my house for weeks after Girl X was born and during my 2nd trimester because I'd just burst into tears at random moments. Like seriously just be standing there at the deli counter waiting my turn and then I'd just start crying. Not quiet, sniffle-sniffle-quickly-wipe-it-away-no-one-will-notice tears. No. Full on heaving sobs. The kind that make everyone around me stop and turn to look at me in horror because oh wow there is some strange lady having a breakdown in the middle of the deli!
And let me tell you, trying to ask for a pound of roast beef when you can't stop crying? Not fun. At least not for me. Maybe for you reading this story and maybe for the deli guy after I left, but not me. I almost choked trying to talk but I couldn't stop crying.
And then, like now, there was no reason for it.
So here I am. Happily going on my own way and the crying? Again?
Baby X is going to be a year old soon. How long do I have until I can't blame it on hormones anymore?

Grateful.........

Someone e-mailed me about some of my posts. I'm not offended and it's totally ok. So, let me clarify.

I am endlessly grateful for what I have. I wouldn't trade a sleepless night or stained clothing for anything.
I don't have a job. I don't think of raising my kids as a job. It's one of those rare wonders in life. I get rewarded daily with grins, giggles, secrets from Girl X and that awesome little 'wow' from Baby X at each new discovery.
As adults, we tend to take those everyday things for granted. The way the air smells right before it rains in the summer. The bite of that first cold winter day on your nose. The sound of the leaves crunching under little boots. The power of the wind in the trees and the way it can make the grass dance. The feel of that grass under bare feet. The way play dough feels when you squish it in your fingers.
I get to see the world through my kids' eyes and all I can do is echo their 'wows'. My son can watch the grass dance and the caterpillars slowly make their way through the yard and it's just amazing. Suddenly I don't feel so tired and I don't mind that my clothes are wrinkled. I've got the meaning of my life in front of me and he's holding my hand.
My other reason for being is in school learning to read and do math and make friends and sing silly songs and sharing her lunch. Then she comes home and tells me all about it. There is so much she has to teach me and I don't take any of it for granted.
I like to kid about the lack of sleep, the clothing struggles, feeding battles and the normal attitude of an 8 year old want-to-know-it-all. But I love it. Every minute of it.

Sleep?

It's official.

We have lost our minds.

We've spent nearly a year trying to teach Baby X to sleep through the night and every time he does? We wake up throughout the night to check on him because he hasn't woken up.
It had been awhile since Baby X slept through the night. He was working on popping out all of his teeth. He never got cranky during the day. He just wouldn't sleep all night.
So when he started doing it again last week, it was strange. I kept waking up and checking on him. I finally fell sound asleep at 3 am only to jump out of bed at 6:30 when I realized that I still hadn't heard from the little bugger.
Did you know that if you go running into a baby's room screaming their name they wake up?
Well, let me tell you, they do. And they get mighty pissed off at you for daring to disturb their sleep! Forget about going back to sleep after that. You are now doomed to a day of Sesame Street and patty cake.
This is insane! I slept better when he was waking me up at least once a night.
I vaguely remember something about this when Girl X was a baby. I think she was 4 before I started sleeping through the night again.
We're pathetic.
Mr X went to check on him before he left for work the other day since Baby X used to get up when Mr X did. At 4 am. Yeah. I'm not at my best at 4 am.
"Mrs X, baby is awake"
"Take him outside."
"Take the baby outside?"
"Take that whiny ass dog outside and quit bugging me."
"No, the baby is awake not the dog."
"Tell him to quit bugging me too."

I am so not a morning person. I thought it would be great when Baby X started sleeping through the night because hey! Sleep! I remember what it feels like to get a good night's sleep! I remember what it's like to not feel like crawling back into bed at 9 am to sleep until 2.
I guess I just didn't expect to have to train myself to sleep through the night now that Baby X is.

Do you smell smoke?

Flashback time!

It was about 1985 and my parents went out for the evening and left my sister in charge for the very first time. It had taken much begging and the fact that no decent babysitter within a 20 mile radius would would stay on the phone the moment they said our names (a point which filled us with great pride). We were infamous!
Our house was old, built in the later end of the 1800's. There weren't many cabinets in the kitchen and very few places to keep the amount of snacks we savages went through in a week. Out of desperation, our parents kept a lot of our stash in the oven.
My parents left for the evening and we promptly ignored my sister's pleas to be good and began plotting what to destroy first. We had settled on boiling some old 8 tracks when my sister suggested dinner first.
It started off ok. Frozen pizza..... how bad could it be?
We sat around the table waiting for our pizza and debating on whether boiling the 8 tracks would work or if we'd have to stick them in the oven when the pizza was done.
"Do you smell smoke?"
I thought we were just burning the pizza but when we opened the oven a few small flames jumped out. My sister had missed a cellophane wrapped bag of chocolate covered pretzels in the back of the oven.
I screamed, my brothers both ran for the fire extinguisher and my sister ran to her room.
My brothers fought over who got to put out the fire and I ran next door to tell our neighbors that our house was on fire.
My younger brother won the argument when he agreed to let my older brother get first pick on in his Christmas presents.
The little bit of fire that was there could have been put out with just a squirt but being the little hellions that we were, one squirt was not going to cut it. Fire extinguishers smell awful! Emptying a fire extinguisher on a tiny fire? Really awful!
I wonder what my parents first thought when they pulled up and saw the fire department outside their house. I wonder what they thought when I came up and said 'It wasn't me' or when my younger brother came up and said 'There isn't any real damage!'
I wonder what they were thinking when they left us alone again!

Heavy

Girl X has been asking a lot of questions about death lately. We had gotten her off the subject for sometime, but it's back.
She will be turning 8 (8! when the hell did that happen??) next week.
Isn't this a little heavy for an 8 year old??? When I was 8 I was thinking about how to get back at my brother for blowing the head off my barbie doll with his bb gun. (Little bastard!) Girl X? She wants to discuss where Heaven is and how did G-d make the world? And why do things have to age? Why do years pass? Why do we get old? Why doesn't G-d want us to stay young? What happens to my body when I die?
And being that sort of parent who wants to do things just the opposite of mine, meaning tell her the truth, I am trying. But it's really hard and I don't want her to dwell on it. I don't want her to get so wrapped up in worrying about what comes next that she forgets about this lifetime because hey. It can be pretty damn great.
I blame Mr X a little bit for this.
He took her to the park one day and to get there, he had to pass a cemetary. She asked what it was. She was maybe 4. All he had to do was say a cemetary. If she asked further, ok, a little explanation. But damn! What he told her? I had nightmares. And she didn't get it. All she got was that there would be no more mom and dad and friends and toys and M&M's? Nope.
Personally, I think there must be M&M's in Heaven because there is no more perfect food that M&M's.
He meant well, he just forgot that she was 4. And easily scared.
So, when they came home and she was crying I had to sit with her and talk about G-d and why it wasn't bad. No, we weren't in a hurry to get there but it was ok.
She accepted this and for the most part, it's ok.
But every now and then she slips one of those questions in on me and it throws me for a loop.
I wish she'd give me more of those goofy questions. Like whether or not fish fart (they do, sort of). Or if cows speak human when we're not around to listen.
When she had her tooth pulled the other week? I said how cool it would be when the tooth fairy came and gave her a surprise. She said she thought fairies weren't real. Then she asked if they were. What could I do? I told her the truth (which, really? getting harder and harder the older she gets). That it's fun to pretend the tooth fairy is real and don't spoil it for the other kids. She wasn't upset. She asked if we could keep pretending too and we did.

Next she's going to ask me if Santa is real. I don't want to answer that yet! Let her have one more year believing in Santa before that childhood magic is gone too! We have always made such a big deal about Christmas. One year we stuck a piece of red cloth in the fire place grate and told her Santa's suit got caught in it. Her eyes were huge! She held that piece of cloth as if it were gold. She whispered 'wow' in total awe. It was amazing and one of my favorite moments. I'll never forget that 'wow'. That wonder.

My girl is getting older and soon, I'm going to have to face it. For today, I'm going to hold her in my lap one more moment. One more moment before she's too big or tells me how uncool that would be.

You Fool!!!

I had a physical therapy appointment today for my hand. I've been going for about 2 months now and it's slowly getting better. Meaning I can bend my wrist without screaming my head off. Baby X has to come with me because everyone I know either works or is my mother-in-law and anything left with my mother-in-law? Never seen again. And I've become pretty attached to Baby X. He's cute, he seems to like me and I have that whole room set up for him so yeah. I don't want to lose him amid Miss ok-love-you-bye-bye's massive pile-oh-crap.
Anyway, since I'm getting off track and did you notice that I do that a lot? Because I do. Like right now? I forgot what I was going to tell you. Oh right, physical therapy.
So, Baby X goes with me and it's lovely. He is such an easy going little squirt. He's one of those babies where you hate the mom because he rarely cries. It's not uncommon for him to go an entire day without a fuss. Yeah, ok. You can hate me now too.
He sits in his stroller and plays and flirts and eats those Gerber Fruit puffs and talks to his pointy finger (and I think the pointy finger talks back) and all is well. Since my appointments take an hour, this is really cool. And I get to talk to a real live human adult. And she actually talks back and does not ask me for things like Bratz dolls (so damn ugly) or diaper changes. She did ask though that I stop offering her Fruit Puffs and talking to her in that higher toned baby speak. And she's nice! Did I mention I get to talk to another living breathing Adult???? Yeah. So nice.
Today before I left I thought it would be nice if I actually wore clothes that did not say maternity on them or had spit up on them or marker. Or mashed fruit puffs. I thought I'd leave the house looking like I'd actually taken time to put on something I hadn't been sleeping in.
Ok, it was just jeans and a nice shirt (read clean and unstained) but wow! I felt human. There was no maternity label on the pants or shirt. No holes. It matched.
I was all pleased with myself. I packed up the diaper bag and picked up Baby X. I had just enough time to get to my appointment. I ran out to my car to strap in Baby X.
And then the inevitable happened.
Baby X spit up on me. All over my nice (read clean and previously unstained) shirt.

What was I thinking?

I'm a Genious!!

Ok, so I know I'm totally not a genious, but hey... I'm feeling like it right now. Why? Because look over on the right! See that? There are links! Links to other blogs I procrastinate with! Links that I put there All By Myself!!
Woo-hoo!

Ick! I Forever Don't..........

There are some commercials that are just so damn annoying they make your skin crawl everytime they air.
Even Dog X has a few that make him howl- literally. Sleep Country USA never fails to turn him into a raging Haller Monkey.
For me, ok there are a lot, but the one that's really annoying me right now is that one stupid jeweler commercial where the guy has his wife in some courtyard and tells her he'd marry her all over again and then she realizes that oh!, her whole family is there and wow he really means it. Awww..... how sweet, right? Yack! And the tagline? This year, tell her you forever do. Because really, the first time you said 'I do' you added 'for the next 3-5 years or until I get really bored' right?
Telling her that you weren't serious before but now that you've had a couple kids and you see nothing else is coming along? Ahh, what the hell honey, "I forever do!"
Couldn't they come up with something better?
Like.........
This year, tell her you're even for using her irish linen she inherited from her great-grandmother to clean your greasy tools at work.
Or.....
This year, make up for shrinking all her best clothes because you can't read labels.
*side note* I've pretty much forgiven Mr X by now for the above and he's vowed to never touch my wash again.*

I do love that Diet cherry vanilla Dr pepper commercial though. Where the woman is on a date and he's rambling on and she just starts singing that Manamana song. Love that. I wander through my day singing that in my head and only occasionally out loud.

It's a BOY!!

Every day the sun will rise and set, the tide will ebb and flow, some politician somewhere will say something stupid. And without fail, each week I will have the following conversation...........

Some random stranger- "What a beautiful little girl you have!"

Me- "Boy"

SRS- "Boy what?"

Me- "He's a boy."

SRS- "Really?"

What the hell is that?? Like, maybe I've been mistaken for the past 11 months and that's not a penis? Am I now supposed to take off his diaper to prove it to you? Because that's not going to happen.
I don't really care that they think he's a girl (Even though he's dressed in blue covered in airplanes and I'm calling him by his very boy-only name), it's that they argue with me about it.













Does he really look like a girl to you???

November is a special month

I'd like to interupt my usual posting to take a moment and explain why November is so special to me.
November is Prematurity Awareness month.
Prematurity is the #1 killer of newborns. Each year nearly half a million babies must struggle for survival because they were born too soon.
It can happen to anyone. There is no rhyme or reason. The costs, both financially and emotionally, are extraordinary.
So what can you do?
Visit www.marchofdimes.com . Right on the front page is a little notice that medimmune will donate $1 everytime someone clicks on the link. It will only take you a moment. It won't cost you a thing. If you feel brave, read some of the information they have, or even more brave, some of the stories.
If you're really feeling generous, donate to one the many bands on the site made in honor of or in memory of a very special baby. Or make one of your own. http://www.marchofdimes.com/prematurity/how_help_srch_res.asp

How to Bathe your Mobile Baby

It's time for another episode of "what the hell have I gotten myself in too?"
Bath time. Ah yes, good times. Good times.
We haven't really done bath time since Baby X was 6 weeks old and I thought, 'Hey bath time! That's fun! Let's do it.' The instant the water touched his skin he screamed so loud and shrilly the dogs on our block began to howl! Yeah. So. Bath time was just not going to happen like that again, because really, I love to be able to hear. And by that I mean hear something other than the ringing that lasted for several hours after the bath.
Why don't I remember this from when Girl X was a baby? Because when she was that small I made her take showers with me because even then, I liked to be able to hear. By the time she was to big to hold in the shower, she was cubby enough not to feel arctic during baths.
So, for 11 months Baby x has taken a shower, and loved it. At first it was with me because he was tiny and Mr X was terrified of holding anyone so tiny and breakable. The first time in the shower, he fell asleep. I'm washing his hair, and he fell asleep. Awwwww..... At least it was 'Awwww' until I took him out of the shower and wrapped him in a towel.
When he got to big for me to hold, Mr X took him in with him. It worked well for us. Baby X got clean and we kept our hearing.
But he is nearly 11 months old. So..... bath time. Right?
Uh-huh.

Step 1- Gather all bathing supplies. Tub, washcloth, towel, hand towel (for your knees when you're kneeling on the floor begging baby to please not throw the ducky at you again), baby wash and toys.
Step 2- after sticking baby tub to bottom of big tub, fill with mildly warm water and toys. Announce to Baby X that it's bath time.
Step 3- Pull Baby X out from underneath your bed where he went to hide upon hearing the words 'bath' and 'time' spoken in reference to him. See Cat laughing at you. Remind yourself to set Baby X loose on him later.
Step 4- attempt to undress Baby X. *Refer to How To Dress Your Mobile Baby- and imagine it in reverse. October archives, 'shake it off'*
Step 5- Call for help from Mr X.
Step 6- 20 minutes have passed before you can get Baby X undressed and the water is now cold. Empty tub and refill with warm water.
Step 7- track down Baby X in your room. Grin evilly when you notice he is sitting on Cat. Payback is a bare baby butt on your head.
Step 8- After placing Baby in the tub, sitting upright in the seat, hand him a rubber ducky which he promptly throws at your head. And then laughs hysterically.
Step 9- After foolishly giving back the ducky, 9 times, realize you aren't going to win and remove the ducky from his reach.
Step 10- Wet Baby's hair with a cup. Tell him to stop trying to drink the bath water. Giggle when he manages to lift one eyebrow at you ala The Rock.
Step 11- Wash hair. Work up such a good lather that it becomes imperative to shape Baby X's hair into various hair-dos. Horns, spikes, side waves and a mohawk. Rock on little dude!
Step 12- Take washcloth and begin to try to wash Baby.
Step 13- Pry washcloth from baby X's hand and wash arm.
Step 14- Repeat step 13 until all parts have been washed.
Step 15- Sputter as baby X figures out that slamming his hands down makes the water go everywhere. Like in your face and mouth.
Step 16- In a desperate attempt to get Baby X to stop splashing, return rubber ducky.
Step 17- Quickly begin to rinse Baby X, dodging the flying duck as you go.
Step 18- Sigh and resign yourself to getting soaked when Baby X learns it's fun to slam the Ducky into the water and really make mommy wet.
Step 19- Lift Baby X from the water and wrap up into a big fluffy towel.
Step 20- Giggle at his monster face and grab a towel to dry yourself off a bit as well.
Step 21- Refer to *How to Change/Dress Your Mobile Baby*
Step 22- Pass Baby X to Mr X and pass out from sheer exhaustion and swear that you are never doing that again.


30 minutes prep time (includes undressing the monster), 30 minutes to dry both of you and get him dressed, 10 minutes to clean up. All for the 2 minutes it actually took me to wash him.

Because he can........

It's been a busy weekend/ first half of the week. And it's only going to bet busier.
We had a Halloween party for the kids and some of the Girl's friends. We had a blast. I already made a post about it but I guess Blogger was hungry because *poof* it's gone. Damn Blogger. Anyway, the party just reminded me I'm lucky. I married the kind of guy I'd always hoped to find. He dressed up like Dr I.B. Wicked and let the kids smell and touch some monsters parts. Ex: Mouse breath (parmesan cheese) and intestines (oily spaghetti).
Then Sunday Girl X fell out of bed. Well, she says fell. I think she must have been catapulted out of a dead sleep and landed on the giant IKEA cubby shelving thing we use for her toys. Don't worry, her face broke her fall. She was actually not to bad for most of the day. A little swollen but she could eat and still wanted to go to build-a-bear. She had been waiting all summer to go and had finally saved up enough money from chores to get exactly what she wanted.
Monday morning she came out and her upper lip was hanging over her bottom one. She couldn't eat and when she talked it was out of the corner of her mouth with her teeth clenched. Ouch.
Emergency dentist to the rescue. After assurances from Girl X that we hadn't in fact been beating her senseless with our copy of War and Peace, they took x-rays. She had knocked one of teeth so far back they had to pull it because it wasn't coming out on it's own. She also has extensive and severe tissue trauma. Ouch. She only cried a little at the novacaine and I know it must have burned so bad! She's one tough cookie. Good thing too. She's going to need that. Once the appointment was over she demanded that I take her to school. She wasn't missing her Halloween party for anything.
So if you made it this far, congratulations. Or thank you.
Oh, and the title of this post. Yeah.
It's over for me. I'm done. Might as well hand over what little pieces of sanity I had left.
Baby X has learned the magic word. 'No'.
"Baby X, don't bite the cat!" "Nooooo!"
"Baby X, get away from the cat with mommy's knitting needles." "No"
"Baby X, don't eat the dog food" "NOOOO"
"Baby X, it's time for a nap" "NNOOOOO"
"Baby X, can I have a kiss?" "NNNNOOOOO!!! Dada!"

Yeah, like Dada is going to rescue him. And pardon me bubba, but as the one who let you borrow my body for 9 months (and no vacating it a few weeks early doesn't make us even) I get to kiss you any time I please.

His answer to everything now is 'no'. Not because he always actually means 'no'. It's just because he can. And as with every new thing he learns, he must do it frequently and at persistently louder levels.

And at 3 am.

Oh. My. Well then.........

I got this from another blog..... Spinning girl's I think.

It's funny and sad and strange and it kind of goes along with that 'freak magnet' thing and well.........

Go see for yourself.

http://www.planetdan.net/pics/babies/index.htm

I am a Freak Magnet

I don't know if it's the way I look, if I'm broadcasting 'All Freaks Welcome Here', or if it's some odd pheromone I'm giving off but if there is an oddball within a 50 mile radius of me, that person will find me. And talk to me. About strange things that I didn't want to know about. Or I will happen to see someone doing something strange. Something I didn't want to see. Like the other day that lady in Target who lifted up her shirt to fix her belt and let her boobs get a lot of fresh air. No, she wasn't wearing a bra and yes, she knew it.
When you're pregnant, it's expected that you will run into some very strange people. Because normal people would not just come up and start touching your belly. I used to touch theirs back. Or tell them that Damien didn't like that. Or tell them I bite. You get the picture.
After the baby is born and you think it's safe to go out in public, you get the weirdos who want to touch your baby and offer you all kinds of advice. My favorite advice to offer back is "You shouldn't touch a baby you don't know. You don't know where he's been".
That's expected. It's inevitable.
I seem to attract them even when I'm by myself.
Today it was the clerk at the store who told me about her Pekinese's Hershey squirts. In full, colorful, detail.
Or the time I was waiting to meet a friend at the mall and this guy walked up to me and started telling me about how his best friend's wife left him for another man and his best friend didn't know that the other man was him and did I think he should tell him? Because if I did he guessed maybe he should but he didn't want his best friend to be mad at him because he was kind of hoping that his best friend would be his best man.
Or that time I went to get my hair cut and that stylist couldn't stop talking about her sister's husbands penis which she accidentally saw when she accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom but is wasn't really an accident because she thinks that subconsciously she wanted to do it because he is hot and OH. MY. GOSH!! It was huge and then she felt bad but he didn't say anything to her sister his wife because her sister would have been ticked but she can't decide if that counts as cheating and wait! That bastard! How could he cheat on her sister!
Or the lady at grocery store who had to tell me all about her husbands colonic and the diet he's on now and really it's not so bad but wow does she miss chocolate.
I could go on for pages. Lots of pages.

I don't know. Maybe I am a freak magnet. Or maybe people are just getting freakier!

The Hunt for a Red Shower Curtain

This is completely absurd. I've been searching for a red shower curtain for 2 weeks now. Yes. 2 WEEKS PEOPLE! And I'm tired.
Mr X finally finished the downstairs bathroom and I thought 'Red would be a great accent to the caramel.' Because it would, but also because I am always the one to pick something that cannot be found. And no other color will do now. It has to be red.
Mr X wants it to be vinyl. I don't really care. Personally, I would have gone with fabric but whatever. Of course, if we had just gone with the fabric, this hunt would have been over with 2 weeks ago.
Actually, this is going into week 3 now.
I've hit every store. Linens n' things, Penney's, Sears, Mervyn's, Macy's, WalMart, KMart, Target......... etc. Today it was Bed Bath and Beyond.
They had 2 red vinyl shower curtains. The first was so butt ugly only Ms Ok love you bye bye would have wanted it. The other was plain. Simple red. Would have been fine but for the price I could go get the fabric one I fell in love with at Target.
Mr X tried to be helpful. He went to Fred Meyers and bought a shower curtain. "Look! Red, shiny, perfect!"

On what planet would hot pink ever pass for red?

I think he may be color blind.

Why is that the one thing you want to find is impossible to find?

I'm going to buy the fabric one from Target. Mr X will just have to deal.
Of course, that also means that a month from now we will find the perfect red vinyl shower curtain. Because that's just the way it works.

Why I need to be padded at all times.....

I am a klutz.
Scratch that.

I am the Queen of all That is embarrassingly Clumsy. All Hail Queen Klutz.
Some days, it is all I can do to walk upright 2 feet without tripping on the air in front of my feet. And I have always been like this.
I've tried to improve my balance and gracefulness. I've taken ballet. I was told I looked like an Orangutan having a seizure. I've tried Yoga. Mr X nearly called 911 because he thought I was having a stroke. I do pilates. Notice that I said do and not did. It's not that I don't look ridiculous because I do. It's just that I do it in my living room when no one else is home so no one minds that I look like I have been possessed.
Girl X has inherited my, um..... gracefulness? Yeah. Because I have so much of that. How about my need to always be wearing a helmet and shin guards because the Earth might spin today and that means I will fall. And fall often.
Yup. That about sums that up.
I know what it feels like to lose a pencil in a cast because the itching is making you crazy. When the Dr cut my foot cast off after 6 weeks I had 5 pencils, 3 pens, a pixi stick, and my brother's Darth Vader action figure Light Saber thing in there. The Dr just looked at me like I had 3 heads.
My pinky will never again go straight on it's own. I got it caught in a drill press while I was wearing gloves. It was bent so far back my entire finger turned a lovely shade of eggplant.
Scars? Yup. Got plenty of those. There's the one on my knee from when I thought I could cut an apple in half in one chop. While it sat on my knee. With a very sharp knife. I was 7. Remember when I said we weren't the smartest kids in the neighborhood? Yeah. I meant me too.
Girl X hasn't had a cast yet but give her time. My first wasn't until I was 12. We have had to make a few trips to the ER for her. Like the year she went backwards on her tummy down the never-ending slide. In the rain. In a skirt. She was 5. She ripped her skin off from her chest to her tummy and didn't say a word until she got home from school 3 hours later. It was ugly. I cried. So, naturally, she started crying.
She's fallen off the monkey bars. Once a week for a few months before I finally said "no more monkey bars". Now she just doesn't tell me when she falls off them.
I hope Baby X takes after his dad. We're lucky we have insurance but I think it's supposed to be a bad thing when the ER Dr's know you by name.
They see me and mutter to each other "I can't believe she's still alive!" and "Haven't they learned to keep her away from all things sharp?"

Last night I made a beautiful dinner. Roast beef, Mashed red potatoes, Mushroom gravy (and I hate gravy but love this stuff!), veggies. I did it all without hurting myself.
Until I tried to take the roast out of the dish.
It slipped right off my fork and splashed back into the baking dish. Grease. Everywhere.
Then I started to burn. I had managed to burn my boob. It hurt. I yelped.
Sadly, this is not the first time I have done something so stupid. Even more sad..........


It won't be the last.

Why?

Why does my saying 'Get back here!' make Baby X crawl faster towards whatever it is that he isn't supposed to be getting into? Why is he fascinated with eating paper? Especially important papers like say, his sister's homework? I wonder how that excuse worked at school! Why is Baby X fascinated by the trash can?
It's Karma people.
It's payback for all the things I used to do to my parents. I didn't get to experience a lot of this with Girl X because I was working a lot.
Today I have pulled Baby X out of the trash can twice because Girl X keeps forgetting to close the closet door that we hid the trash can in. I've turned the ceiling fan light on and off 565 times and set the ceiling fan on low to keep up with his fascination of all things spinning and flashy. What is that about anyway? I could stand at the light switch for an hour and he wouldn't get bored. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. Meanwhile, I'm dying for some adult conversation because Mr X has been buried in remodel hell and I've been sick.
I almost forgot that there are no sick days for moms. I tried convincing Baby X that it was my day off but even hugging the toilet didn't deter him from happily chewing on Cat's tail, much to Dog's amusement.
And of course Baby X had to go and get sick to despite the fact that I said 'No'. I think telling him 'No' makes him more determined to do it.
And while crawling around with a snot bubble the size of Cleveland may seem like fun to him, I cannot resist the urge to wipe it away. This, naturally, makes him furious. I took his new toy away.
And after spending the second morning in a row hugging the toilet and waking up at 3 am starving for the 3rd night in a row (nevermind that I can't eat during the day) I'd like to take a moment and pray that the rabbit is still alive.

I'm sorry Erik Estrada

Yes. It's that guy from CHIPS.














And something more recent.








So why am I showing you pictures of Erik Estrada?
Because I have a problem. Or I need to stop sleeping with my t.v. on at night. (I need noise to sleep).
Because last night Erik Estrada invaded my dreams. I told Mr X about it and he was jealous for all of 2 seconds until I told him what happened. Then I got the Look. The Look is this thing he does to tell me I'm crazy.

See, in my dream, we were hanging out with a bunch of my friends. By 'we' I mean Erik Estrada and myself. It was some sort of group therapy thing. At first he was the modern Erik Estrada. Then suddenly he was the CHIPS era Erik Estrada with the uniform and everything. We were joking around and I started making fun of his hair. I told him he had old man hair.
Erik Estrada began to cry. He also returned to the more modern Erik Estrada, who has much nicer hair.
I felt terrible! I made Erik Estrada cry! I'm a horrible person.

So, Erik Estrada, I'm so sorry! You have very nice hair and not old manish at all.

Dad X vs the Chipmunk

In case you've ever wondered how I ended up as crazy as I am, it's genetic. Ok, partly genetic and partly environmental because hey, you know what I do all day. Rescue Cat from Baby X; remove various non-edible items from Baby X's mouth; beg Girl X to not become a teenager and thereby destroy any last shred of sanity I may be holding onto; avoid any and all calls from Ms. Ok-love-you-bye-bye; etc.
But today it's all about the genetic part. My dad. I love him. He's funny, he's fairly mellow, he decided it was better to pretend not to see that I had died my hair pink as a teenager (yes. pink.), and so on. Maybe that's why he's insane now. But, no. I think he's always been crazy, just maybe not so obvious about it. Or maybe because I was a kid and then, you know, a teen, I just didn't notice. Because when you're a teen (please Girl X don't ever become a teen!) your parents just don't exist. Right? So, anyway. The Chipmunk. I think the Chipmunk must be related to the Mutant Squirrels. It has issues. Unfortunately for this Chipmunk, so does my dad. His yard being one of them.
When I called this past weekend, I was treated to the whole story of the Chipmunk.
It started when they (my parents) moved into their new house three years ago. There was a hole in the middle of the yard. Not big. Just, well, Chipmunk sized. They filled it. It mysteriously reappeared. They filled it again and put a bird feeder on it. The end.
Until they moved the bird feeder to another spot.

The hole is back. In the same spot as three years ago. I guess Chipmunks have a long memory? That could be scary. Because if Chipmunk is related to the Mutant Squirrels, and Chipmunk has a long memory then Mutant Squirrels probably do to right? Eeep!
So, back to the hole. They watched Chipmunk dig the hole. They waited. They refilled it. An hour later, it's back. Dad X refilled the hole with compost. "Ha! Take that Chipmunk. Your hole is now full of trash that is good for the environment! Ha ha ha!"
Chipmunk dug all the compost out. "Ha! Take that puny human!"
Dad X shoved an apple down the hole and refilled the rest with dirt. "Ha! Take that freak Chipmunk! It's got to be too heavy for you!"
Next day. An apple in the middle of the yard. Attached was a note. "Ha! Foolish human! I take steroids and therefore am Superman strong!"
Ok not really but at this point my dad is seriously losing it.
He filled the hole with marbles and bird seed and then put the grass down on top of it.
His yard is now full of marbles and he swears there are more now than what he started with. I suggested that perhaps he should no longer screw with the Chipmunk.
No. Because, people, that would be what any normal sane person would do.
No. My dad decides to shove a stuffed chipmunk in the hole.
Why?
Because I told you. He's insane.
Chipmunk does not appreciate having his hole crammed full of various things. Stuffed chipmunk didn't last very long.
I can picture my dad now in the yard with a cement mixer laughing hysterically.
And Chipmunk will be right behind him with a jack hammer.

Who needs what now?

This looked potentially funny so I'm accepting the Tag.
Everybody Needs; Here's what you do...go to google.com and type "(your name or screen/blog name) needs", The pick the 5 funniest ones there. Post them in the comments section here for all to read!


Mrs. X needs someone accommodating. Damn skippy I do!
Mrs X needs $500000 to pay her gambling debts. So I don't gamble, I'll still take it!
when agitated – Mrs X needs to be calmed’, Meh.... calm for what? Agitation is fun.
Mrs X needs a neck rub after the garage door fell on her and her car
Sounds like something I would do.
Mrs X needs witnesses to make her case stronger I asked for that yesterday and it got me in trouble.

I think I was expecting something different. Most of what popped up had to do with elderly care. The one about Mrs X needs 2 people to assist her on the toilet was just creepy for me.

Consider yourself tagged. I hope yours come out funnier.

Times My Big Mouth Has Gotten Me In Trouble

Oh boy there are a lot of these. Um, how about 'Times my big mouth has gotten me in trouble lately'? Because otherwise we could be here all year.

1) Calling the sales clerks at Bath and Body Works 'Soap Nazis'. They didn't find it nearly as funny as I did. In my defense, I can't walk in there without at least 2 of them swarming me and throwing gobs of lotion and/or soap at me.

2) Running into an aquaintance I don't particularly care for and haven't seen in quite some time. She says "Oh, you had a baby!" To which I reply with "No, actually I just stole him from some lady at Sears. Shhhh, don't tell. Hey, would you like to be my alibi?" Some people have no sense of humor.

3) Suggesting to another customer at Gap Kids that perhaps she should invest in some type of child restraint system for her kids. "Hey I hear they make straight jackets for kids. They're not just for the crazies anymore." I like kids, I really do, I just don't like parents who let their kids run wild because to teach them any manners might harm their fragile little egos. Well, I might harm their fragile little egos if they kick me or throw that damn ball at me one more time. And thanks sales clerk, but that wasn't your fault. I walked by 30 minutes later and those little hellions were swinging from those little security detectors by the doors.

4) In response to the cop asking me if I knew why he pulled me over........
"Because you couldn't catch up with the other guy?"
At least he had a sense of humor and didn't give me a ticket.

Well, that's from this week and look! It's only Monday.

I guess I just don't think before I speak sometimes. Usually when I'm really annoyed. Sometimes it works for me (no speeding ticket!) sometimes it doesn't (I guess it's the body shop for me from now on!).

How to feed a Mobile Baby

As promised, and for your amusement.

Step one: Make the sign for eat. Watch as Baby X takes that as permission to eat Cat. Get dirty look from Cat.

Step two: Pry Baby X from Cat and put in highchair.

Step three: Quickly, and after extensive training from the pit crew of a Nascar driver, strap Baby X into seat. Use the attached buckles and three rolls of duct tape. Pray that it holds. Important to note: Hands must be free for finger foods.

Step four: grab baby food, preferably something with fruit or sweet potatoes because anything else will be promplty thrown at you or spit back at you.

Step five: Foolishly believe that today would be a good day to allow Baby X to self feed some of the baby food. Distinctly hear Cat snicker before running away after announcing this to Baby X.

Step six: Mistake Baby X's smile and eagerness as good signs. Will now know for next time that these are signs of impending mess that will rival the http://thediaryofmrsx.blogspot.com/2005/08/great-mustard-vs-ketchup-battle-of.html (forgive the messy link. I'm a computer idiot).

Step seven: Hand Baby X a little dipper and a small bowl. Sign for eat. Baby X looks at dipper, throws it at you and grabs bowl. Reapeat 5 times.

Step eight: Pick up bowl from floor. Realize the carpet is a lost cause. Hope that pureed blueberries will not ruin new shirt. Call yourself an idiot for wearing new shirt during feeding times.

Step nine: Give up on self-feeding for the day. Go to kitchen and grab a new jar of food as the other is currently staining your carpet.

Step ten: Attempt to feed Baby X. For a few minutes it goes well. Sign in relief.

Step eleven: Realize sighing, and therefore signaling that you've relaxed in the presence of Baby X was a huge mistake as Baby X monsters. Attempt to dodge the food being blown out of Baby X's mouth.

Step twelve: Baby X decides he really is hungry so feeding may resume. I realize Baby X has the attention span of a gnat. Scratch that. A gnat's baby. Be amazed as Baby X, though strapped in with 3 rolls of duct tape and buckled, manages to contort himself enough to face the opposite direction.

Step thirteen: Walk around to the other side of the high chair in order to give Baby X a bite. As soon as you get there, Baby X turns in the opposite direction. Repeat 50 times while occasionally getting a bite in.

Step fourteen: Give Baby X some gerber fruit puffs.

Step fifteen: Yelp as Baby X bites you as you attempt to pull out 14 of the 15 fruit puffs he just shoved in his mouth.

Step sixteen: Bandage fingers and wonder if human bites are as bite as animal ones.

Step seventeen: remove duct tape and set Baby X free to chase Cat.

Step eighteen: Thank all that is good and right that dinner is still four hours away.

Shake it off

In an effort to lighten the mood here, I'm going to post something I learned this past week. Feel free to laugh at me. I did. Eventually.

How To Dress A Moving Baby

Baby X has become quite mobile. Now more commando style crawling. He is up on his knees tearing through the house at lightening speed. He's also very adept at pulling his happy little butt to stand up on, well, everything. This has made diaper changes and dressing an effort in futility. At first it wasn't so bad because I could hand him a toy and he'd be "Oh wow! A toy! What does it do? What does it taste like? If I throw it at Mom will it make noise. No, she made noise though. Throw it again. Throw it again. Throw it again. Oh what? I'm done? I can go now? Great!"
But now, throwing things at me has lost some of it's novelty. I don't make that funny squeaky noise like the cat does.
Here is our typical morning:
Step one: Pull Baby X out from underneath the bed and assure cat that fur will in fact grow back. Dodge sharp teeth. Close gate after Dog so Dog does not get same treatment. Pry fur from Baby X's hand. Enter Baby X's room.

Step two: gather diapers, lotion, wipes, clothes and socks. Stop Baby X from eating nightlight. Tell Girl X she better go eat before the bus gets here.

Step three: Smile at Baby X as he smiles back. Baby X notices clothes and diaper and lotion and socks. Chase Baby X down the hall with above stated necessities. Stop Baby X from eating a shoe left on the floor.

Step four: Return from nailing shoe to the ceiling out of Baby X's reach to find Baby X gleefully emptying the recycle bin. Ask Girl X why she didn't stop him. Glare as she laughs "He was having fun." Mutter "Someday you'll have kids just like you". Cry when you realize your dad said the same thing to you.

Step five: After putting recyclables back in bin, bring Baby X into the living room where you put the stash of necessities. Realize you forgot the wipes. Send Girl X for them because you know if you don't, you will return to find Baby X chewing on the Cat's tail.

Step six: Smile at Baby X and begin to remove pajamas. Know that you are in for it when he just smiles back.

Step 7: Lay Baby X down and hand him a toy. Prepare diaper and wipes. Announce that you are 'going in'. Snicker when Girl X says "That's gross!"
Open the diaper and quickly agree with Girl X.

Step 8: Put one hand on Baby X and beg him not to move. He smiles at you and then Monsters.

Step 9: After scrubbing your hands with hot hot water and industrial strength soap, grab the carpet cleaner and hope that it works. Toss dirty diaper and the rag used to scrub the carpet in the trash.

Step 10: Wrestle Cat's tail out of Baby X's mouth. Attempt to remove cat hair from Baby X's mouth.

Step 11: Lay Baby X down and hand him a toy. Watch as toy flies out of Baby X's hand and nails Cat in the head. Make a mental note to give extra treat to Cat. Begin to apply lotion. While applying lotion, continuously flip Baby X back over on his back and sing songs as he tries to get away.

Step 12: Lotion has been applied to one leg and the opposite foot. Give up because it's just not going to happen.

Step 13: Grab Baby X's leg and begin to fit through pant leg. Grab other leg and try to put through other pant leg. Repeat 6 times.

Step 14: Quickly stand Baby X up and bounce him into his pants as he rips out chunks of your hair. (What does this kind have against hair??)

Step 15: Lay Baby X down to snap his pants. Repeat 4 times.

Step 16: Grab shirt and chase after Baby X. Attempt to put shirt on Baby X as Baby X plays with the buttons on the TV.

Step 17: Attempt to put shirt on Baby X as he vaults after his sister.

Step 18: Shirt is half on. Call it a compromise and pick up the socks. Get them on as Baby X crawls down the hall.

Step 19: 2 minutes later, see that Baby X has pulled both socks off and is eating them. Shrug shoulders and let it go.


It amazes me that this kid isn't naked, like, always. I must be inept or something right? People, really, this kid hates clothes. Clothes, socks, shoes, hats. Just doesn't want to wear them. He figured out how to take his pants off now too. Once he can get his shirt off, forget it. I hope he grows out of it. Secretly, I have this fear that he will be going to school in his batman underroos and nothing else because I just can't get him to stay fully dressed.

Next time: How to Feed A Mobile Baby

Till then, wave if you see me. I'm easy to spot. I'm the half bald woman with the naked baby.

Still on a Rampage

Maybe just a funk. I should amend yesterdays post to read that two people I care about are now wearing shoes that shouldn't fit. I hate that.
Normally, I talk to Mr X at night. Even nights he's been working on the downstairs rooms, he still takes time to listen. But I couldn't. I couldn't open my mouth.
It's not him. I know he'll listen and understand. I just couldn't do it.
I felt drained and tired. Then guilty because I don't know why. I do and I don't really.
I hate feeling helpless. I feel that way so often lately. Like I want so badly to do something positive but just can't.
I know what I really want to do and I will. I just have to find the courage to bring it up to her. I also need to find the right words. It can't be too long if she says it's ok.
I know, this is scattered and I'm not making much sense.
I'll get back to my normal self, whatever that is, eventually.