Alternative Uses For Bubble Solution

1. Provides an effective non-toxic lubricant for tightening or loosening nuts and bolts or other mechanical fittings.
2. Can be applied to fingers to remove a ring that is too tight or has become stuck due to swelling of the hands.
3. Can be used to detect leaks of inflatable items, such as pool toys or beach balls. Apply solution and bubbles will appear wherever the hole is located allowing air to escape.
4. Can also be used to detect any possible leaks from gas pipes or fittings, such as the type used for a gas grill or a gas clothes dryer. In similar manner as above, apply to fitting and check for bubbles, indicating a gas leak.
5. When given to a four year old to pour all over the front steps, for maximum effect, allow his father (who thinks bubble solution will "dry up") to supervise. One hour later it will create a spectacularly colorful bruise on my ass. But not nearly as large and colorful as the one to my ego as my neighbors watch me fly ungracefully on said posterior for no apparent reason.

Tomorrow we will cover alternative uses for bubble gum, including emergency leak patching, and impromptu hair fixative for the baby.

Like Trying To Put A Bikini On A Pig

We have a small house. No really. It's REALLY REALLY small. Dust mites are moving out because they're feeling a bit cramped.

When Dave and I bought this house a small house was okay. It was just the two of us. And while I had this vague idea that there might be children some day, I think I just figured - kids. Small people. How much room can they take up?

If you already have a child, I'll pause while you finish snorting your beverage out of your nose. If you have no kids (yet) consider this fair warning.

Children.......expand.

It starts in infancy. Who knew baby stuff could take up so much room? As they grow and change, the toys and gear get bigger and more plentiful. And that's only for ONE child.

We have a 1,088 square foot, two bedroom home. Five people live here. Two full grown adults and three small to medium-sized children. You do the math.

But, the housing market being what it is, and our finances being what they are (can you call them finances when they don't exist?) we're stuck here for awhile.

So the obvious temporary solution was bunk beds. Perfect right? I know I always wanted them as a kid. How cool is it to sleep 5 feet in the air?

Bunk beds are a slightly different experience as a Mom. Eventually those sheets need to be changed. Suddenly 5 feet in the air doesn't seem so cool.

If you are at all familiar with me, you know I am gravitationally challenged. In other words, I fall down a lot. Trying to balance on the bottom bunk holding on with one hand to put the sheets on the top bunk, making brief brave attempts to use both hands before tipping backwards just seems like tempting fate.

Then again me, 5 feet in the air trying to do anything, is a bad idea. But of the two this seemed the option most likely to achieve a made bed and an intact skull.

Have you ever tried to make a bed while you're sitting on it? Go ahead. Try it. I'll wait. It's sort of like trying to put your pants on standing up without lifting your feet.

After wrestling and cursing the first corner on I moved to the next corner, at which time the first corner promptly popped off. This involved more cursing and wrestling and trying to hold the next corner on with my foot while stretching across to the far side corner. Screw the top sheet. What is the point of it anyway?

I finally finished the bed after 30 minutes of sweating, teaching Jamie 5 new words he should not, but will, promptly repeat, and only smacking my head once. In my world, we call that success.

While I was up there I noticed the boldly lettered warning label stating "CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF SIX SHOULD NOT BE PERMITTED ON THE TOP BUNK."

I'm off to type my letter of recommendation to the manufacturer for new wording for the label.

PERSONS OVER THE AGE OF THIRTY-FIVE SHOULD NEVER EVER (YES IT SEEMS COOL NOW BUT YOU WILL REGRET BUYING THIS) UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES BE PERMITTED ON THE TOP BUNK.

Just Think What I Can Do To Myself When They Start Selling Home Laser Kits

Every so often I get adventurous in the area of hair removal. What's that saying? "Those who do not remember history are condemned to repeat it." Is there a special quote for those who remember, but are so stupid they do it again?

Like most girls my introduction to hair removal was your standard disposable razor. Back then if you were a teenaged girl it was a requirement to own a Flicker razor (inspired by......birth control dispensers?). Its cute pink design went perfectly with the Tickle Deodorant.***

Nair was another popular option for hair removal. I'm pretty sure that Nair is simply tear gas in cream form. Apply the foul smelling glop to your legs, don't breathe for ten minutes, ignore the tears streaming from your eyes, and you'll be hair free in no time. I used Nair for the first time an hour before a Very Big Swimming Party. There were boys involved and bottles of the spinning variety.

My legs were smooth but the harsh chemicals in the Nair reacted with my skin in such a way that I looked like I had developed a nasty case of smallpox. Being a teenager, this ensured that I did not attend the party, therefore staying very far away from several boys I wanted to get to know better.

Or my Dad tampered with the Nair. It's a toss-up.

My second adventure into the realm of exotic depilation was a wax kit. It was a self contained unit that heated the wax in its own roll-on applicator making application simple and mess-free!

In my wisdom, I decided to try it out on my underarms. Both of them. At the same time.

My armpits emerged looking like red raw meat.

To add insult to injury, they looked like hairy red raw meat. Apparently that particular wax kit was only effective at removing skin.

A few days ago I bought a product called "Veet". It's a variation on Nair, also being a depilatory cream. It comes with a bladeless razor-like scraper that is supposed to aid in the removal of the hair.

The directions read, "After three minutes check a small section. If hair is not easily removed, leave on a few more minutes. DO NOT LEAVE ON LONGER THAN SIX MINUTES."

Is this six minutes from initial application? Because it took me at least six minutes to apply it to one leg. Are we meant to do one leg at a time? It's all so confusing.

So I'm frantically trying to bladelessly razor off all this cream that is now beginning to burn, kicking myself for the fact that there is just so much sheer ACREAGE on my thighs.

And wondering when the hell will I learn.

When do we get to quit worrying about this crap? Or will I be 70 years old someday trying to figure out how the hell to get my legs covered in wax unstuck from my walker?


***My apologies to those who missed the exciting experience of the 80's (or who quite possibly weren't even born yet) and have no idea what these products are. They, along with Bonne Bell lip gloss, Sea Breeze, Love's Baby Soft and copious amounts of hairspray were a requirement for participating in the 1980's.

There's Plenty More Where That Came From

If you know me, you know I've recently been suffering from a long string of self-inflicted klutz injuries.

First I walked into a door and gave myself a shiner. You know how when women are being abused they always say they walked into a door and nobody ever believes them because Seriously??? Who really walks into a door? Well, that would be me. So I'm trying to think up a good cover for walking into the door cause I can't admit I walked into a door, people will think he's smacking me around.

Then the next day I tripped on my own pants leg and went flying across the room, giving myself a serious case of rug rash and temporarily dislocating my big toe.

Then I pulled a muscle in my neck IN MY SLEEP! I knew I was talented, but I think hurting oneself in one's sleep deserves a special klutz award.

I was sure I was done being stupid, but alas, I have plenty more stupid in me.

Yesterday evening after having just changed a diaper and needing to scrape the contents of said diaper into a little container that was currently downstairs (yeah you read that right - if you're REALLY lucky I might explain WHY I am collecting diaper droppings), I proceeded down the steps carrying Meredith and poopy diaper in question. In separate hands of course as Meredith is prone to sticking things in her mouth regardless of fragrance.

So this left no hands to hold the handrail. I'm sure you see where I'm going with this by now.

In an amazing act of maternal protection I managed to contort my falling body, not unlike a cat falling from a second story window, to land, if not on my feet, at least on a well-cushioned area of my anatomy. In doing so I managed to twist my ankle and injure the above mentioned posterior. And of course the diaper went flying and landed business side down, draped over the baby gate at the bottom of the steps.

Luckily Meredith just thought it was a new and exciting way to go downstairs and was completely unfazed by the whole performance.

Merry Christmas everyone! I have to go disinfect my baby gate.....