Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Mark the time!

Just a few minutes ago, at 6:41pm, J took Cracker to the mall to supervise J as he gets his hair cut!

J had called me from work earlier and asked if I'd take him to get his hair cut tonight. "I'd really like to stay home tonight. (Alone.) Maybe the Cracker could take you?"

Woo hoo! Just this last weekend, a three day weekend for J, I suggested that he run an errand at Ho Bobo (about 3 miles away) and take the Cracker with him. His response? "I just worked all week." Umm, no, you worked last week, but now it's Monday, and you're still off, and I could use 30 minutes to myself. I know that he works really hard, but after constant computer gaming Friday night through Monday, I didn't think this was the most unreasonable request in the world. But, alas, it didn't happen. Do I sound like a royal biotch? Read my Mother's Day post.

And can I also mention that I have not been showering nearly enough lately (which makes me very cranky) even though it's friggin hot here in the desert? Because the Cracker is still going pee on the potty every 10 minutes and needs help getting up and down. And if I get in the shower I will be interrupted a million times, I'll drip water all over the floor, and he will slip and crack his head open.

And that I try to cool the house with ceiling fans and open windows at night? And even at 10pm it's still 84 degrees IN the house? Because once I really start turning on the AC I will become instantly addicted and not turn it off again until it snows? And J is no help because he could care less how much it costs?

Lordy, when did I become a woman with so many issues?

Back to my alone time: So what am I going to do now that they're actually gone? Organize the Cracker's dresser! Woot! Take out all the stuff he's outgrown along with fleece footed jammies that have been out of season for at least 2 months, and make room for all the stuff that's been living in a laundry basket. I actually tried to start this earlier today, but I had too much help from both the Cracker and a naughty cat, and I can't do it when he's sleeping without waking him.

Do I know how to party or what?

UPDATE: They were gone for 2 hours and 7 minutes. It meant a lot. Thank you!

Okay, now back to the heat, because otherwise this would be a short post, and I don't do short posts. I've got too much ranting and raving in me, because I don't do enough of it in real life. Believe it or not, I try to contain it much as possible and be a great listener. Usually, I suceed. I'll be doing my r&r here instead, because I don't want to be that girl.

I am really proud of myself that I've learned to tolerate heat. I grew up near San Francisco in a funky little town that was always in the fog. Anything bordering 80 was miserable. In fact, my mom just e-mailed me that my dad is insisting they turn on the AC tonight because it climbed all the way up to 74 in their house today. That used to be ME.

But here in the desert we have a dry heat. I have been known to wear black long sleeves and jeans when it's above 90. I am not uncomfortable until it reaches 94-5. BUT send me East to the land of humidity and I will complain. A lot.

Ooh! PSA! Don't ever, ever, try out a new deodorant when it's hot, humid, and you're wearing a form fitting, synthetic dress as Matron of Honor in your cousin's wedding, with relatives all around that you haven't seen in years. Because you will stink so bad that all you can do is tell EVERYONE at the reception that you've never smelled this bad before in your life. And I mean EVERYONE. And they will be creeped out.

Why oh why would I ever do this? Because I read the night before in some really random place (probably People Magazine) that there is a preservative used in most deodorants that may be linked to breast cancer. And even at Whole Foods, I was only able to find one that didn't have it.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Whaz dat?


As if the potty training and lack of me time wasn't already sending my dangerously close to the edge on a daily basis, the Cracker has become even more 3 overnight.

"Mommy...whaz dat? Mommymommymommy, whaz dat? Whaz dat? Nd dat? Whaz dat?"

This would be our version of the "why" stage.

And it's not my's those damn Teletubbies, which yes, he still loves at 3.

I realize that most parents dealt with this more than a year ago, probably even 2, but the Cracker has been slow to talk. I know we did, except he didn't use words, just grunt (with intonation) and point. Around his second birthday "professionals" came in and evaluated him to have the receptive language of a 3.5 year old, but expressive language of a 9 month old. He was putting all his energy into understanding and his only word, which he used for everything, was "sblah". So how did they know that he was still smart even if he wasn't talking? Because you could give him 10 pictures and ask "where is the blank?" and he was right every time. Knew all his colors, all his body parts (even the harder ones), and could distinguish 15+ logos of car manufacturers. Is it a Ford? No. Is it a Subaru? No. It is a Pontiac? Yes! Which brings me to another example of how much he didn't talk. My amazing son did not utter the word "NO" until he was more than 2.5 years old. I think I should write Guinness, don't you? And he could sign, not a lot because we were endlessly forgetful about teaching him new ones. But as far as words he said, it was "sblah." And while he didn't say the word "no" he got the point across by vigorously shaking his head. His ability to grunt and point would have put any caveman to shame.

Shortly after the professionals evaluated him he started seeing a Developmental Therapist, because that's how they do it here. The DT works with you as much as possible, even though ST isn't their specialty, and then when you've exhausted them, you finally win an hour once a month with the overbooked ST. The problem? He wouldn't mimic. Not just for us, but even for her. Hell NO. And as I have since learned, that is an important part of learning to talk. Everything was "sblah" until he tired of talking, and then he'd just get defensive.

Another problem compounding it all (though not the sole cause) was that he was severely tongue tied, which runs in J's family. The medical theory du jour is to give kids a lot of time to outgrow it rather than just fix it, which some do. Instead of a simple snip at birth, we had to fight to get it done at 2.5 years. It was obvious rather early that he wasn't going to outgrow it. So that meant general anesthesia, a real OR and a big ordeal. My baby in the OR? I was hysterical.

Gradually he started making animal sounds, which early on, do count as words. But months later he still wasn't adding anything else. Zoom ahead nearly a year and as he did gradually did start adding new words, he just made up his own, and only about vehicles. Every mode of transportation had the root da. A car was a da, a school bus was a dee da, any other bus was a dee da no dee da, an airplane was an airda, and while he said it only for a few months, a Toyota was a dadoyda. At 18 months he could point out the model car that each of my parents drive along with the cars that J and I drive. In any color, from an insane distance away, and in the dark, and he was never wrong. In December J got a new car when an idiot driving a big Ford F150 totaled J's old Saab when he didn't see him or the red light J was stopped at. J got a new Toyota Camry. A month or so later not only was he pointing out every Camry of the same body style, but ones that were 15+ years old that look nothing like ours.

(Yes Netscape users...the text gets screwed up around the pictures, but I don't know how to fix it. But it's pretty in Explorer. And Netscape crashes every time I try to blog. Stupid Netscape.)


And what he points out as daddy's car (how the ??? does he know?)

And the Ford Taurus, which I think would be easy to confuse, but he never does even in the dark (I see nearly the same lights front and back, but what do I know?) I can't find a picture now, but on the road many of them have even had the same silver trim over the plate on the trunk like ours.

Okay, so I know how he knows, it's just freakin scary is all. Even at this age kids start sight reading, which means they can recognize combinations of letters before they can read. But it's freaky none the less.

Anywho, he has spent the last few months catching up by leaps and bounds, which all started when my dad taught him to say pie, LOL. He is still a little behind compared to most of his peers, but he can get his point across with words. He doesn't say dog, but he can woof, and will say "puppy" only when it really is a puppy, not just a small dog. In fact, he went through a phase not too long ago where when he was upset he'd whine/cry like a dog. He calls our 3 cats "titty" but won't say cat. For horses he doesn't just say neigh all the time...he perfectly duplicates that weird noise that horses make. And "orse" is one of the few animal names he says, but I guess it's more fun to make a horse noise. If you've read back you'd also know that he calls the farm an "E-I-E-O" as in Old MacDonald has a farm, which he came up with after seeing a picture of himself at the pumpkin patch last year.

And we've gotten to see all along that there is more in that little head than he lets on. His DT is insanely impressed by his ability to work around a word than rather than just say it. A garbage truck? An eew guck. A zebra is a neigh no neigh. Mommy, with plenty of money but who wasn't going to succumb to candy at the check stand, told him that she was broke. His solution? "Go Nana work." Nana, you see works in a bank. She lives a 1K miles away, and he's never seen her work. And daddy has direct deposit, so we only go to the bank every few months when we get a random tax return. I need cash? Cash back at Target. But he knew...that's where the money is.

He now chats incessantly, even if his expressive language still has a way to go. In the car he chants "go eat out go eat out go eat out" or "no go home no go home". And if we're on the highway where there are always lots of trucks it's "ook! Ook! Guck! Ook ooh car! Ook mommy ook!" When we're in our own neighborhood it's "no my home, no my home, no my home, yes my home!" And while he'd rather give up all his toys than let us know it, I've heard him say the entire alphabet (minus J) in order over the baby monitor when he's supposed to be napping. But say it in front of us? When hell freezes over!

Friday, May 26, 2006

The Eternal Democrat

After my most recent all time low, now the good stuff just keeps pouring in.

Last night my parents called. We'd been discussing a visit for some time, but this was the actual "how are these dates and can we go ahead and book tickets?" call. And they did.

Since the day he was born, they've been offering to take him off our hands for a night. All night. Stupid me has always said no. First it was breastfeeding, then it that I'd miss him too much. Then he was in that clingy phase forever where if I even disappeared from sight for a split second to go to the bathroom (but Dad and everyone else was still there) he'd have the biggest freak attack. Then I just got used to saying no thanks even though I didn't know why anymore.

So before they could even offer for the millionth time, I quickly rushed in with "and you can have him for a whole night! He's yours!" And this isn't under my roof...they are getting a hotel room 10 miles away.

My mom, rightfully taken aback, asked if I was sure.
"Yes, he's yours!"
"But...err...what about the potty thing?"
"But do you think he will he sleep okay?"
"Oh yeah! He can even sleep in a big boy bed!" (Liar! I think he will sleep, but suddenly he’s this child I don’t recognize as my own, so really it could go either way.)
"Well, that would make me nervous. Do you still have that play yar…"
"Play yard? YES! YES! I HAVE ONE OF THOSE!" (And if you don’t believe just give me a sec to pull out the digi cam and I will send you a picture of it!)

"And it's not that you can't come if you don't agree to take him for the night...but if you do come you are going to."

Talk about democracy!

After she got over the initial shock, my wonderful mother got excited and offered to take him for THE WHOLE WEEK.

Before you decide that I am the worst parent ever, in my defense: we don't have family in town, and so far he's only been left with my parents for a handful of dates, even though they are the best babysitters EVER, and he is 3.

I take him to visit my parents 4-5x/year for 2 weeks/time and leave J all alone. My mom has been excellent about letting me go to Starbucks all by myself each morning for a few hours and shopping while she tries to get him to nap. And my dad will always take him on at least one toddler dream date: they ride the ferries, hop on the subway, visit a hardware store and go to a football or baseball game. A whole day where my dad devotes himself entirely to making the Cracker's day all about him.

My parents are the best grandparents ever.

Even so, I have never been away for him for more than 12 hours, and that was 2 years ago when we were visiting them and I dragged J all around the Bay Area to places like Ikea. Great day for me because I ignored his whining, and I was at IKEA!

Finally getting to my point now...J doesn't like to leave the house, so since we moved in a year ago next week, I've had only 3 hours of alone time in my own house. He won't even take the Cracker into the backyard to play ball while I try to finish getting dinner ready. And that's what I need...time, alone, in my own house. A little time off where I know that the Cracker is happy and safe and I can just unwind by cleaning my pigsty and finally tackling the last few boxes still in the garage. And then maybe dinner out with J. Sad, but true. And yes, J will still be there, but at least I won't be tripping over toys and endless questions from a 3 year old.

Now, I am not ready to leave town without him, and I don't think I'm ready to give him up in town for a week either, but we'll see. For now, I am just really excited about one night.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Ta Da!


It appears that the Cracker has decided that he wants to be potty trained, and so I've been spending all my time in the bathroom. I mean EVERY 10 minutes ALL DAY for 4 days now. Even with a step stool he can't get on and off the big potty by himself, and the little potty is impossible to keep clean when you go every 10 minutes. Occasionally I get a 30-45 minute break, but with stickers or M&Ms as rewards he'd rather go hundreds of time/day. So my house is trashed, except for the bathroom, which is very clean since it's the only room I've gotten to spend any quality time in. I'm trying not to get excited, since he's been using the potty on and off since October (starting out at once a few times a month) and last month we had two days in a row where we made it 75% of the time, only then to be followed by a 100% failure rate for the next week. But he seems to finally be excited by t.p., flushing a big boy under pants.

And only two days in I did the thing I never swore I'd do: I bought disposable Pull-ups. The shock! The horror!

I am a wanna be environmentalist. After dealing with cloth diapers as 12 year old babysitter, as much as I wanted to I just couldn't go cloth. I was young, I didn't know what I was doing, the parents hated children (but it was good for HIS career) and it was miserable. It scared me for life. So I research it all, do what I can, know all the facts by heart as to what happens when you throw something away to the evil landfill, and I sound like the biggest recycling nut you've ever met. And then I use disposable diapers.

But I do try! Since we moved into our house, I've started composting, and I tell everyone who expresses any interest why it's so great. I know all the facts. OhmyGod, you can't throw a tea bag or coffee filter in the trash! They will stay there FOREVER! Things that would normally rot WON'T unless you compost them! Join my crusade!

Do I know what I'm doing? Heck no! I just take every scrap and seed I can and toss it into a no longer shallow hole I dug in the back yard, as far from the house as possible and pray that bugs won't come into my living space. (Because then I will freak.) And now for my PSA: one composting freak I met informed me that you should NEVER EVER put anything that isn't raw in the pile, because you will get roaches. No toast, no egg, no steamed broccoli. Just the fresh stuff. Thank God I met her.

Anyway, so while I never attempted cloth diapers, though I know some amazing women who are better than I am and swear by them, I figured I'd do the cloth training pants thing and redeem myself at least partially. And I did all these months while we did the on-again-off-again potty training. But now that we're there, and it seems to be serious, I've already broken that rule. Ugh. Guilt, guilt, guilt.

But my kid pees, a lot. He drinks insane amounts of water (no juice, almost no milk) and even my friends are amazed by the amount he pees, and their kids are the same age. Back to Pull-ups, it's a friggin diaper. The Cracker isn't going understand that this isn't a diaper just like the ones he's always knowN, that you aren't supposed to pee/poo in it unless it's the most unfrikinbelieveable emergency of all time. Special diaper my ass.

AND back to the my kids pees a lot argument: he holds it. When he's not in the mood he holds it until he can't hold it anymore, and then we have a flood. I put him in two, yes two pairs of thick cloth training pants, followed by a pair of absorbent water proof pants (not the skimpy shell ones) and then pants. And every single time it's still streaming down his legs, soaking his socks and finally puddling up in his shoes. Every time. Here we go with more laundry and a bath.

AND then there's the cost. Pull-ups are cheaper than size 6 diapers. Why? Because Huggies has this big conspiracy that they not only sell them at Costco, but paper the world with $2 off coupons to use everywhere else. They make it irresistable, the bastards. But with regular old 6s, even a $1 off coupon is so rare that my budget minded self has an orgasm should my mom or I actually find one. And they don't sell 6s in quantity except if you're willing to trek all the way to Toys R Us, and then it's still not enough to get me hot. And why would you ever take your 3 year old to TRU unless you're having the best friggin day ever? So I end up at Walmart or Target buying packs of 52 because it's the largest quantity you can buy, and they get you for it. "Ha ha, your kid isn't potty trained! What's wrong with you? Jesus, what's wrong with your kid! Remember when you used to be able to buy 200 diapers for this price? Those days are SO over!"

(Oh, and I also used to secretly make fun of everyone who complained about the cost of diapers. $20/month? Really people! Why is $20/month so terrible? Okay, well, insert foot in mouth here. Now it's $20 a week and my favorite subject.)

AND one day we will need to leave the house. We can't stay in the bathroom forever, even if I am raising a man. And do I really want to be dealing with pee in his shoes or all over his car seat when we do? Because I know he'll never have to go when we are anywhere near a potty. And if I encourage him to pee on the side of the road will he have to register as a sex offender when we get caught? "Yeah, my mom ruined my life. I was only 3, but she made me whip it out in public. Now I can't get a job or even a place to live. God I hate her."

So I'm *hoping* that if you count all the water from laundry and a bath, not to mention my aggravation, it's better for the world if I just do Pull-ups for now.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Adult Girlfriend Laugh

If my parents are reading this, because I know I mentioned this blog to you before, I beg of you...PLEASE DON'T READ THIS! Just don't.

I belong to a group of Mommy posters on a message board, and it's one of my only real escapes into adult life. I spend way too much time there reading and posting. Occasionally, we get a little silly.

The other day one woman asked the group something to the effect of: In case of emergency or death, do you have a deal with your friends to hide your adult stuff? So that your children or relatives wouldn't find it? Apparently, many people have this deal. Should something happen, their friends will go and dispose of everything. And they know exactly where to find it all. People really do this!

Uh no, we don't have this deal with anyone. Making such a deal never even crossed our minds. If J and I were to die together, my mom will probably have a heart attack when she comes to clean out our house, and it will be all my fault.

The only "toy" in the house is mine, though I know J has some "visual" stuff somewhere. My friends and I are all pretty left winged liberals, we all love Sex and the City, but I found out about a year ago from one friend complaining to the group about some one else that the subject of vibrators is off limits. It was "eew...I don't want to know dare she tell me!" and from what I understand, this was at a bachelorette party. I think the rest of the women hearing this were just going along, but I've kept my mouth shut since then. But that's okay, because one particular girlfriend I've known since high school and I have long talks all about it on the phone. So I get to share.

Now for too much sharing...I often leave IT out in plain sight in the bedroom. I worry more about the Police or Fire Fighters seeing it than anyone I know, because our bedroom is where we pile things we don't know what to do with, and we never let anyone see it. BUT HERE'S WHAT WOULD BE THE MOST EMBARASSING PART...the dozen half-dead batteries sitting next to IT on my nightstand that I am too lazy to throw away! I, um, like a fresh battery, and I don't know what to do with the partially used ones!

(Yes, I know they make corded ones. However, no where near me sells them. So I then took my search online. I googled IT. And Netscape crashed! ROFLMAO! Not that I would ever dare give my account information to anything that would have popped up anyway. Besides, batteries at Costco are really cheap, 30 cents each, and IT takes 3, which even for only an hour or two of use is still cheaper than a Therapist or even Starbucks.)

And since I'm already sharing too much, here's my new favorite motto, which I heard Dr. Drew say on Love Line one night while driving home from Walmart. "What (young) men don't understand is that a vagina is not an inside out penis." Wow! So simple, but I could never have come up with it. Where was this man when I was dating?

Spread the word ladies!

(Be sure to click here if you weren't offended in any way by this post.)

Saturday, May 20, 2006

I love fugly shoes

Okay, I'm really bummed out. Why? Because Crocs have become popular.

I have what I like to call my mommy uniform. Nine times out of ten, no matter what the weather, I am wearing capri pants and the same shirt. Assuming I've done the laundry (and that's a big IF) my only shirt decision is long sleeve or short, and color. Yes, I have like 1000 of the same shirt, and from Target. And do I mix it up with the color? Nooooo. I have 75% black, 20% white, and one each of red, light blue, brown, gray and eggplant. And the pants aren't much better. If I'm not wearing capris, I'm wearing jeans. But really what's the fun of shopping anymore when I'm going to be covered in something sticky an hour after getting dressed? And in winter I just top it off with any of my numerous black fleeces. I only wear makeup to weddings and don't get excited by jewelry. I never style my hair. But I'm still a girl, I swear!

Who have I become?

I'm not a totally lost cause though, because I express myself through shoes instead. Crazy colorful shoes! Comfy, hideously ugly shoes!

Back in Spring of 2003, the Cracker and I went to Boulder, Colorado for a friend's funeral. (That's where J and I were living when we met.) And, yes, back in early 2003 Cros were already out there. They started in a little town just outside of Boulder.

So an itty bitty Cracker and I were out walking on Pearl Street, and I see this woman walk by with pink Crocs on. "What the hell are those on her feet? Those are the ugliest shoes ever!"


Luckily we're already on Pearl Street, so I run as fast as I can to the Pedestrian Shop. And they have them! And they're only $40, which in my ugly shoe world is cheap-a-roni.

So I come back home and amaze my friends. Then I do a little traveling over the next year and amaze even more people. I even dare to take them with me to New England and Pennsylvania summer of 2004. My very proper East Coast relatives try to find the bright side. "Oh, they're like gardening clogs" that's she wearing outside in public. Nope, not gonna find these babies at Smith & Hawken! I don't see another pair on anyone until I leave the mainland for Hawaii in March of 2005. Then by the end of that summer, they start creeping into the stores. And you can find them more easily on the internet. But it's still okay, because now I've been able to snag a pair of the hard to get purple ones previously only available in children's sizes. Yippie!

But now...well, you know. Sigh. I start ugly shoe trends.

The Cracker even has a pair. And on him it's still cute, because at least where I live there aren't a lot of little boys wearing them. We started off with knock-off pair in dark blue, because I wasn't sure if he would like them AND I wasn't about to spend 30 bucks on a pair of shoes he might not be able to walk in. But he LOVES them. So then a few months ago I scored a "chocolate" pair of real ones. As of yesterday though he wants to wear one blue and one brown at the same time. And only the left ones. You know, two left shoes. My control freak self is having a hard time with this not because of the two colors or even his preference for the left shoe being on his right foot, but because the blue ones are fake and the brown ones aren't and they look ever so slightly different! I swear...

Another ugly shoe trend I started? Not as big, but I did start it. Keens. Mary Janes ones, first in black, then red.

"What's next?" you ask. How can you too stay ahead of the fugly shoe trends along with me?

I have these, purchased early last year. Waterproof scores big with me, because we never know when we're going to find a puddle to jump in. I found them at Nordstroms in the kiddie department, but was able to get my size by going directly to Birkenstock.

Honestly, I wish I'd seen these first, even if they aren't waterproof. Much better use of the print.

Drumroll please... This is my absolute favorite pair of all time. The picture doesn't do them justice. They are by El Natura Lista from the Iggdrasil line. I bought them back in 2004, so they should be popular any day now. And my name is Heidi, so of course I'm totally drawn to them. You can't see it, but there is a little frog on the toe.

And probably the funnest thing about these shoes? They're green, as in environmentally friendly. Except for the leather, I think everything about them is recycled, and while they are leather, most stores carrying them advertize them as "vegetarian." The recycled rubber soles smell like peppermint (or something) to help fight odor. LOL And then if that isn't enough, here's a description from their web site:

"(The leather) is tanned using vegetable extracts and ground tree bark. It is greased in a slow delicate process, by expert hands in an entirely artisan fashion, using animal fat and olive and sunflower oils. Once it is dry, the outer coat of the leather is minutely IMPREGNATED with olive oil."

I love it! them! whatever!

Besides fugly shoes, I love fugly purses. However, they are harder to find in my price range and I kinda stopped buying them when I switch-a-roni'd to a diaper bag. And while any fugly shoe goes with any of my Target shirts and capris, it's harder to match a bag, if ya KWIM.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Not even in Kindergarten yet


The Cracker is starting preschool in the fall, and since we're kinda on the edge of civilization, I'll be driving 22-25 minutes each way 2x/week, but it's close to Costco, Target, etc, so I'll be able to do my errands while he's there. Living where we do already meant that there weren't any preschools closer than 15 minutes away, and driving the extra few minutes seems worth it because it's the PERFECT school. I know this because I spent 3 months visiting every darn school and none of the others were even kind of a good fit. And really, it's only for 2 years, and his elementary school is less than a mile away, so we'll be able to walk then.

Now that you have the lengthy background...where we live everyone separates location by which side of the river you're on. Well, we are Westsiders, and this East side school only has one other Westside family. The Cracker and I have been going to school every week for the last two months (for free!) and I stay so that the transition will be easier this fall. (No other preschool offers that, and the teachers even make home visits in summer...that's how cool it is. Talk about dedication!) Anyway, so it was suggested when I met this other family that we carpool. Cool, sounds good, though I would be a little nervous, but I would probably get over it. Well, the other family lives 35 minutes away in the wrong direction. Ummm...okay, that doesn't help. School is only 22 minutes if I hit the lights right. If we carpool, it's going to be 50+ minutes each way, and there is no where to meet in between because there are no river crossings close by. Remember the river? So yes, we live on the same side, but carpooling is crazy. Anyway, I cannot convince her. I've tried and tried to explain where we live, but she just doesn't get it. So today we go to school and the teachers who don't know the logistics tell me "Good news! It was crazy trying to figure it all out, but she's switched days with other parents so that your kids will be here the same days and you can carpool!" Ahh! I don't want to be a bitch, but no way. I am not a morning person, and we have to leave early to get there in time as it is. And then taking car seats out of one car and putting them in another...nuh uh. I also thought that after our last discussion 2 weeks ago that she'd finally gotten the point, but I guess not.


Tuesday, May 16, 2006

True love is

when your dear husband spends more than an hour trying to fix your vibrator with a soldering iron and then tells you "Honey, it's too far gone. Go buy yourself that new one you've been wanting. Don't worry about the're worth it!"

Monday, May 15, 2006

Happy Mother's Day


Mother's Day was bad. J slept in, and I started my day off just like any other. No gift, which would have been fine, but no nothing. No card, no plans. He knows how much things like this mean to me, as stupid as it is, and all he had to do was hand the Cracker a pen and a piece of paper, which are all over the house, and I would have had a picture. He's always happy to draw. But no. And I'd told him before that that was all that was hoped for. Then, just in case there weren't any plans for dinner, I had a dinner ready to go. BBQ, so that while I would still do all the prep, at least he could grill it. But alas J decided it was too windy. I never really watched West Wing, maybe 5 episodes total, but I was interested in seeing the series finale. It's down to the last few minutes, J has just announced that he won't grill due to wind, which if he'd gotten on it at a reasonable hour would not have been windy, the Cracker is whining about being hungry, and J is telling him "we can't eat until mom gets up and makes us something." I was too angry at the time so I kept my mouth shut, but I told him later as nicely as I could, "Hey, it was Mother's Day. How bout a break?"

Monday, May 08, 2006

Not really that funny

but in my current state of mind it is.

From my dad:

A woman calls her boss one morning and tells him that
she is staying home because she is not feeling well.

"What's the matter?" he asks.

"I have a case of anal glaucoma," she says in a weak

"What the hell is anal glaucoma," he asks?

She answers, "I can't see my ass coming in to work today."