On one hand...

Our family went out to Lowes today to get more garden, remodeling, and rocket ship building supplies.  Our cashier only had one arm.  My son has never seen someone missing a limb before (or at least not that he noticed), so he asked me why he had only one arm... this was how I chose to answer it (and then how I forgot he was listening to my answer...)

Me Why does your name tag say "Mixed Drink"? *noticing the drink chip in his tag*

Cashier Oh, a coworker just put that in there today, and I said "Whatever, I'll keep it there!"

Me Nice.  And, my son would like to know why you only have one arm.  (Don't you love my segue?) 

Cashier I was born this way.  Sometimes I say it was a shark attack, just to seem cool.

Me See, kiddo, he was born with one arm.  I guess you need two, but he only needs one.  

Son Oooooooooooh.  You can be born with one arm?

Me *to son* Yes.
       * to cashier*  Have you ever thought about telling people you were hiking and got it caught between two boulders, 127 hours style, and had to chew off your own arm?!  That would be seriously hardcore.

Son *horrified look on his face*

Cashier Oh yes, that movie was all about me.  *to my son*  I'm a movie star!

Son *still horrified and speechless*

Me I think he's still stuck on the chewing off your own arm bit.  I'm a horrible mother.

Identity crisis

I love my dentist and hygienist.  They really have the gift of gab, and they crack me up.  Sometimes, they don't even realize they are making a funny... I just go home and share their little nuggets of unintentional comedic brilliance with my husband who appreciates that I recognized those little gems for what they were worth.  My dentist loves The Big Bang Theory, and (after I dressed as Amy Farrah Fowler for Halloween, next to my husband, who dressed as Sheldon) calls me Amy.  Today, though, my hygienist chimes in... 


Hygienist You know who you remind me of?  Princess Kate.  You look like Princess Kate. 

Me Maybe Kate, Duchess of Chunky Bits!  The real Kate Middleton is teensie tiny, as in "girl needs to eat a sandwich".

Hygienist No!  You aren't chunky, and she looks healthy... it's her sister that's too skinny.

Me I'm pretty sure, if I stood next to Kate, I'd be one of Jared from Subway's "before" pictures.  That girl makes either of the Olsen twins look like they've let themselves go.  I can't compete with that.  But thank you, that was so nice of you to say.  Now I'm going to go home and put on my tiara.  When my husband gives me that funny look of his, I'll tell him that now I know I'm totally pulling it off!

Hygienist (referring back to The Big Bang Halloween Costumes) Does your husband really look like Sheldon?

Me You've seen him.  All I had to do was comb his spikey hair down flat, and buy him a superhero t-shirt to wear over a striped shirt.  Ta-da!  Dr. Sheldon Cooper!  He's a hardcore nerd.  Princess Kate over here loves her some geek.


Dentist He really didn't have a superhero t-shirt?  Wow.  That is really shocking.  Of all my patients...

Oh my girls at the dentist office!  They fixed (at least so far) my raging tooth ache, and managed to make a visit to the dentist (which I otherwise consider my own personal Hell) a fun day out with the girls.  Not too shabby!

Bonus kid-ism of the day:

My oldest was singing along to Amy Winehouse, "Valerie"

Won't you come on over
Stop makin' a fool out of me...
Why don't you come on over Celery?

  

Good news, good shoes!

Before I write anything else... the baby does NOT need tubes in his ears!  Woot!  After 4 antibiotics, 2 steriods, and steaming his ears with onions, he was cleared by the ENT who originally told us he needed the tubes.  I'm so glad that I refused them, initially.  I asked for one last chance with steroids, and got to work finding homeopathic remedies.  Sometimes, Mother does know best. 

So, now that the kids have been healthy for a few weeks (thank GOODNESS!!!), I have been sick.  Hence, I haven't been feeling very inspired to write.  I've been more inspired to acquire throat lozenges and keep up with the cough medicine.  Spring fever... literally.

I did find something to cheer me up today...  purple converse shoes.  They were just too awesome to pass up.  Note to manufacturers... make it purple and I will buy it. 

I didn't just shoe shop today, I also set up my kid's teacher.  My oldest asked me what the biggest city in the world was.  Well, we were on the way to school, so I couldn't look it up.  I suggested he ask his teacher if she knew.  He said "What if she says she doesn't know."  I said "Then tell her, 'Then we should look it up!'  She would TOTALLY love to drop everything and look that up with you.  She'll be so happy that Mommy thought of that."  I have no idea what possessed me to disrupt her day with my relentlessly curious child, and his desire to acquire answers for future trivia games, but it felt good to pass the buck to someone else.

And, just for fun...

Kid-ism of the day:

4 year old 

Me "These chips?  I suppose we can get them this time."

4YO "Thank you!  I love Dingles!"

Me "You're welcome.  You mean Pringles?"

4YO "Dingles."

Me "Even better."

The differences between the Tooth Fairy and the Dirty Towel Fairy

I'm going to go out on a limb here, and assume my husband isn't the only grown man to believe in the Wet Towel Fairy... or the Dirty Clothes Fairy or Dirty Dishes Fairy or Dirty Baby Diaper Fairy.  I know he must believe in them.  Why else would I find socks all over the house, wet towels on the floor, or dirty diapers sitting on the changing table long after the baby's been changed?  I thought it would be helpful for all the guys out there who believe in these, obviously stunningly beautiful, fairies to explain to them how these angelic beings work. 

The first thing you must understand is, these are not your child's Tooth Fairy who just flies in once in a while when a tooth should fall out and be placed, neatly, under the pillow... where it belongs.  These are hardworking, domestic goddesses, who (quite frankly), have better and more important things to do than go around collecting the items you leave in unpredictable places around the house.  The Tooth Fairy may leave a quarter behind, in exchange for the pearly white she swipes from under a sleeping child's pillow because she has some strange, and super creepy, castle made of children's teeth to maintain.  Really, you're helping her out, so she gives you a little something for the trouble of having a spot in your mouth that, temporarily, cannot do it's job of chewing your food.  It's like Tooth Unemployment Compensation.  A little something to hold you over until the new tooth grows in.  This is NOT how the Wet Towel Fairy, or any of the other "Picking your discarded shit up" fairies work.  If you want these unbelievably gorgeous and super intelligent fairies to follow you around, picking up after your adult self, you'll have to adhere to a reverse payment policy.  Since she is just relocating your junk to somewhere else it belongs in your own house, you are the one who should be leaving behind some crisp bills.... a $20 bill might be sufficient, but the price goes up as the places you hide your items get more incredulous, and the longer the dirty items sit in hard to find places collecting new levels of stink.  If you wish to keep your ethereal fairy happy and wish for your items to still be collected and turned in to their proper locations, you should remember to tip your fairy with jewelry, vacations, spa vouchers, and nice dinners with appropriately matched wines as often as possible.  (Please don't leave booze for the Tooth Fairy... it's well understood in the fairy world that she is a mean drunk... no one wants a mean drunk armed with extra teeth around their house.)

Of course, it might be easier to pick up after yourself, but the next time you toss your dirty socks on the ground, leave some cash.  Drop a towel?  Drop a Jackson with it.  If you don't have the money to do this, talk to the Tooth Fairy.  She might be able to work out a deal so that you can keep your far more beautiful, and non-drunk cleaning fairy.  You're very welcome for all of this advice.  I always love to help.

Hair today, still there tomorrow

I'm not ready to cut the baby's hair.  He has these golden curls that stick out kind of crazy, and it suits him, and I love it.  I snug into his hair, and the smell is Heaven, and the silky curls are too sweet.  I have tried to go get it cut, and I have talked about it (even with an actual hairstylist), but I get too anxious to follow through.  It's not perfectly even, it's Einstein-esque as it just sticks out wherever it wants to, and it's long.  It matches his quirky personality so well, but it leads to one big misunderstanding... everyone thinks he's a girl. 

I'm not at all exaggerating.  He has 2 blue coats, and I dress him almost never in a dress.  By almost never, of course, I mean always jeans or sweatpants and some type of macho shirt like baby dinosaurs or guitars or something that is most likely blue.  Not that I mind him not looking ultra-boy, but I find it's very hard to find great boys' clothes, so I enjoy the hunt.  I feel a sense of victory when I find the perfect choo-choo train shirt that isn't too hokey.  It's okay if you don't understand what I'm talking about, I'm picky beyond what most normal humans consider to be necessary.  Anyway, I go to great lengths to pick out cute, cool-dude clothes. 

Still, with everything around him screaming "I'm a boy!", nearly every single person who speaks to me or to him refers to him as a girl.  I even had a little boy say "Look, Mom!  He smiled at me!" and the mother corrected her son and said "Oh, that is a little girl!"  Yikes.  Mom-zero, son-winner winner chicken dinner.  Usually I just smile, then avoid pronouns.  Sometimes I just drop "he" "him" and "his" in, as if I didn't hear them and nothing is amiss.  Once in awhile, I give the "Oh I'm so sorry I'm about to tell you that you screwed up, and I know you'll feel a little embarrassed, and since your intentions were good I hate to do it... BUT..." look and say "Awe, well, actually, he's a boy.  I know, it's the hair.  I just can't cut it!", and then give the "I know, I'm a crazy lady." look. 

I just can't do it.  I can't cut his hair.  I haven't even cut my hair in a loooooong time.  I'm hoarding our hair, apparently.  It does cause me great anxiety to think about cutting it.  I never had that with my other son, but then again, he had very thick, fast growing, straight hair, so he looks GREAT with spiked hair... just like it was when he was born. 

For now, I think I'll just hang a sign on his stroller that says "I'm a boy."  Then I can give noogies to whomever calls him a girl.  It will be interesting to see how many people still do it!  I bet the answer will not be "zero". 

What happens during a single vacation day

My husband took off work today so that I could get some dental work done.  Most of you know that I do require taking an anxiolytic in order to agree to any painful dental procedures.  It was nice to have him around in the middle of the week.  He even went grocery shopping and cooked dinner!  It was great.  :)

While my husband was out at the market, I took the time to whip up some icing to go with the "chocolate chip cookie cupcakes" I created last night at my 4 year old's request.  We rarely let him eat sweets, so he got to have one of the cupcakes, so I had a bunch left over.  I figured I'd experiment with a new icing flavor to go with the cupcake creation.  Of course I had to taste test a cupcake when I was finished.  I got halfway through the cupcake, and the sugar had me in a near coma.  (Sweets and I have a love/coma relationship.)  I quickly abandoned half the cupcake at the table, icing making equipment and ingredients all over the kitchen counter, and crashed on the sofa.  My husband came home, and took one look at the scene and started laughing.

Me What?

Husband It's like a cupcake crime scene in here!  Dirty mixer, sugar spilled on the counter.  Drips of vanilla.  A half eaten cupcake.  And my wife passed out on the couch.  What is going on in here?!

Me Perhaps the spawn of a chocolate chip cookie and a cupcake is a bit much for me.  Another bite would have been lethal.  Don't throw it out.  I'll be back for the other half as soon as I can get off of this couch.

Husband Of course.  That's reasonable.

My son had come into the room, and was eager to tell me all about their shopping trip.  He was very upset that my husband had put the free cookie club cookie in his pocket, and it broke.

Me Why did you have a cookie in your pocket?

Husband Well, he wasn't ready to eat it, so I had to put it somewhere.  Don't worry, I explained we do not put things in our pocket at the store that are for sale.  I told him this was like the free piece of cheese they give the kids.  It's a free sample, and that is different.  We only put the free cookies or free cheese in our pockets.

Me Actually, I prefer he doesn't put any food in his pocket.  ESPECIALLY the free cheese.

Husband Why not?  Pocket cheese is the best.  Especially when Mommy finds in in your pocket days later when she's pulling clothes out of the washer.  Mommy loves that!

Me No, nope.  Mommy never loves that.  Just eat the free cheese, and be done with it.  No cheese pockets.

This really could be another example of "When Daddy's in charge."  I haven't even mentioned that he gave the baby animal cookies and sausage for lunch the other day.  You did not read that wrong.  Blech....

After the whole pocket cheese incident, I decided to have my revenge through Dora.  My son was insisting on watching Dora, and we hate this show.  Mostly because it's simple, boring, and she screams at you the whole time. 

Me Hey, kiddo.  Daddy saved that for you?

Son Yeah, I wanted him to record it.

Me Awe, that was nice.  Daddy LOVES Dora.

Husband See, son, that is called "sarcasm".  Mommy was taking moment to teach a lesson about sarcasm, and give you a good example.  Daddy really does NOT love Dora.  He doesn't like it at all... If he did like it, he would like it ironically.  Mommy thinks she's being funny.

Me See, kiddo, he really does like Dora.  He probably wants to watch it with you every day.  When he says he'd like it ironically... that means it's his very favorite show.

At this point, my husband was just rolling his eyes and walking away.  It was probably for the best.  He did start making dinner, though, so maybe he found inspiration in Dora to be a better person.  


In other news, Happy 200th blog post! 

It's official, I can build stuff!

Our favorite Friday night show (maybe overall show, actually) was not on tonight, so my husband and I decided to put up a frame for part of one wall in our basement.  We are finishing off half of the basement as a family room.  (The other half contains an office and storage already.)  Well, we did it!  It's level, too!  I know, hold your applause.  We did use a chalk line at one point, and my husband read off the warnings on the package before we used the doo-hicky thing to make the chalk line.  I only noticed he was speaking, but didn't hear what he was saying.  After we snapped the line I tasted chalk, and realized it was on my hands, too... probably also in my hair and eyes.

Me Honey, what did that package say about breathing in that chalk, or getting it in your eyes.  Oh, and also getting it on your skin.  Should I be wearing gloves?

Husband It says "For super duper good health, breathe in chalk very deeply.  Also, apply to skin liberally, then touch your eyes."

Me We should probably do it again, in that case.

I'm so glad you can get a straight answer around here.  Anywho, the frame is up, and I believe our house is now officially worth two dollars and fifty cents more than it was before we started the project a week ago.  As my husband said:

Husband We're exactly like Mr. and Mrs. Viva.

Me What do paper towels have to do with this?  We are paper towels, or the inventors of paper towels?

Husband What are you talking about?

Me What are YOU talking about?

Husband Like Bob Viva.

Me Vila... Bob Vila.  Yes, exactly like him.  Maybe you should lay off breathing in that chalk.


One more thing for the night... I miss you D!  I'd say I wish everyone could have you as a friend, and be as blessed as I am... but that's not true.  I want to hog you all to myself.  That is probably why we had to be moved to opposite ends of the country... anytime you have something you want to keep to yourself, eventually you do have to share.  I hope the west can recognize how awesome you are, and that they appreciate you... otherwise I'll be super pissed that I had to share.