He Hasn't Amputated Anything Yet

Conversation overheard today in my kitchen.

Sabrina: I have a hangnail. Did you know hangnails feel better when you wrap them really tight with a Band-Aid?

Jamie: You mean like those brown Band-Aids that Daddy uses?

Sabrina: Which ones?

Jamie: You know. The stretchy kind he gets at the doctor's when he cuts his hand and has to go to the hospital.

Sabrina: Do you mean on the glass or the grinder?

Good Thing - Because I Won't Fit In A Lunch Box

Heretofore Meredith has consistently snubbed any food that involves vegetable matter. Unless it is loosely grain based she will not eat it.

Who am I kidding? The kid eats Goldfish and Cheerios.

Oh and she's mildly interested in nursing still. And by mildly I mean 10-12 times a day (and night).

But THIS! THIS is an ACTUAL PIECE OF FRUIT! A strawberry to be precise. And it's not even those little freeze-dried abnormally square pieces of strawberry that we can sometimes convince her are crackers

Since she has been introduced to foods in general she has given fruit the regard one would give to something that contains a particularly nasty sort of poison. Or possibly something one might scrape off the bottom of one's shoe.

And she still won't let me actually see her take a bite of the fruit.

But the tooth doesn't lie.

Four

"Tomorrow's my birthday! I'll be four and then I'll be BIG!"


Don't be big! I want you to always be my little boy.


"Well I'll try to stay little. But not really."

Happy Birthday Boogie-Man!

Snips And Snails And Puppy Dog Tails (And Other Things That Come From Puppy Dogs)

Yesterday as we were getting all the kids ready for bed with baths and showers (bath for Jamie and Meredith, shower for Sabrina), Dave was puttering around picking up wet towels, dirty underwear and the other various items of dirty laundry that seem to just sprout on our floor like mushrooms. One minute the floor is clear and the next thing you know there's a full load of laundry scattered around.

He pulled the garbage from the garbage can in the bathroom and exclaimed "Why is there pee in the garbage can?"

Usually these questions come from the under 5 set so I was a little taken aback but I was game to humor him. Are you sure it's pee honey? Sometimes the kids toss their Dixie cups in with a little water in it.

"Yes it's pee! I know what pee looks like and I especially know what pee SMELLS like!"

We do toss the odd disposable diaper here and there into that garbage can. Meredith wears mostly cloth, but Jamie still needs one at night and we use Huggies for that purpose. Some weird chemical reaction between the pee in the diaper and something that was tossed on top must have allowed a little of the pee to somehow be released and drip into the bottom of the garbage can.

As I'm composing a righteously indignant letter of complaint to the manufacturers of Huggies in my head, and vowing once again to try and get Jamie to sleep without a diaper, Dave shoves the offending can under my nose.

That's no dribble of pee. There's about 2 cups in there.

Just considering anatomy alone, Jamie is the obvious culprit. So I yell into the tub where he is suspiciously quiet.

"Jamie did you pee in the garbage can?"

"No."

"Maybe just once did you pee in the garbage can?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure Mama. It was more than ONCE."

Nobody can utilize semantics for a logical defense argument like a three year old.

Do all little boys do weird and disgusting things or am I just exceptionally blessed?

Maybe I Could Skip Washing Behind My Ears

Dave wants to know why it takes me so long to get a shower. After all it only takes him 15 minutes to do the military routine of shit, shower, and shave.

So let's scrutinize my "routine."

First I have to take the baby upstairs with me. Because Dave thinks that leaving her under the watchful eye of Jamie is sufficient supervision while he does homework in the other room. And since we all know men are hopeless at multi-tasking this means that he will have no clue when she climbs the bookshelves or swings from the curtains. We can count on Jamie to cheer her on. That or give her a chair to help her climb up to the windowsill.

I change her diaper and get her clothes changed since she's wearing more of her breakfast than she ingested.

Next I put her in her crib and perform higher math. I engage in the subtle calculation of exactly how many toys and books I need to put in her crib so that I might complete my shower before she manages to toss every single last one out of her crib.

While I'm soaping my hair I hear Jamie approaching while he announces "I have to poop."

I spend the next five minutes washing myself as quickly as possible while I try to convince him to wait for me to wipe him so I don't also have to clean poo off of the toilet seat.

I get nowhere near a razor. Dreadlocks on legs are in fashion aren't they?

I get out of the shower and simultaneously dry myself while attending to Jamie's bottom, while being interrogated on penises and vaginas and where pee comes from and why boys and girls are different.

What? Doesn't everyone have this discussion before 8:00 am?

Since I didn't account for the additional time to attend to Jamie's hygiene, Meredith has long since emptied her crib, is bored, and shrieking angrily. I turn on the hair dryer to drown out the shrieks.

When I enter the room to get dressed the fragrance emanating from her nether-region tells me that her diaper is no longer clean. I manage to get her cleaned up and dressed again as well as dressing myself and convincing Jamie that he cannot wear his Lightning McQueen shirt that he spilled juice on even if the juice is dry.

Finally I arrive downstairs only to be asked, "What were you doing up there for so long?"

Oh honey! You know us high maintenance girls!

It takes time to look this frumpy.

Too Much Information Ahead

Don't you hate it when you get out of the shower and you have to poop?

(With an opening line like that I'm pretty sure this entry can only go up but I've been known to be wrong)

This morning no sooner had I stepped out and toweled off than I needed to use the facility. It's like it pretty much destroys the whole purpose of the shower.

Because I don't care how well you wipe, there's going to be microscopic poop remnants. For some reason if this occurs later in the day this doesn't bother me as much. But straight out of the shower?

Man it's enough to ruin my whole day.

It ranks right up there with brushing your teeth and throwing up. Which I did regularly while pregnant.

And that's maybe even worse than a fresh out of the shower poop. Because if you throw up when you brush your teeth you've got to brush your teeth again.

Can we see the vicious cycle forming here people?

And while we're on the subject of poop - (no don't go changing the subject on me people. It's MY blog and I can talk about poop if I want to. It's been done before.)

What's up with babies pooping just as soon as you've put a fresh clean diaper on them?

These are just a few of the important things I ponder sometimes while I'm sitting on the......

Well, we won't go there.

Can I Get A Set Of Steak Knives Like This?

I've used emery boards. I've used diamond dust files. I've even used my teeth on them.

Last night I trimmed them so short the clippers didn't have anything left to clip.

And it still feels like she has razor blades on the ends of her fingers every time she grabs my skin.

Ginsu has nothing on this girl.

As Opposed To Morning Breath

"Taffy licks her butt."

"I don't lick butts cause then you get butt-breath."

The More Things Change The More They Stay The Same

I have become an official member of the minivan set. Oh I know it's not so shameful. It's almost a requirement these days to own one. But I remember a day long ago when I told my best friend "If I ever buy a minivan just kill me and put me out of my misery."

Go ahead and shoot me now because not only do I pick up the new (to us) minivan today, I'm actually looking forward to it.

This is how I imagine a conversation between a couple from our parents' generation upon buying the old tried and true family car.

(All names have been changed to protect the guilty. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidentally on purpose.)

"You know honey, that wood paneling on the side looks like real wood if you don't look too closely."

"And the vinyl seats! What a dream. So easy to clean. And the kids won't need to go outside to get a nice tan. They can nicely brown the backs of their legs on the seats!"

"And oh look honey! Ashtrays in all the doors. And a big one in the backseat everyone can reach! Now we can take Grandpap or Aunt Agnes along with us without having to open the windows so she can flick her ashes."

"And kids! Those ashtrays are for cigarettes! Do not put your gum or candy wrappers in them. They are not garbage cans. This car cost your Dad and I THREE THOUSAND DOLLARS! It's just ridiculous what everything costs these days. And gas is up to 57 cents a gallon. I just hope we can afford to run this car!"

"Ok everyone pile in the new station wagon! Yes you can all sit in the back behind the seat. Billy! Do not sit on top of your brother! It's dangerous."

Supreme Lord And Master Of All He Surveys