Monday, Monday

Since I am still reeling from the party extravaganza of my father’s 70th birthday party, I have not much to say. Or actually, I don’t have the brain power to really form much of a sentence. You see, it is almost 7:00 pm, I have not eaten dinner yet, I have drank one glass of wine (and feel’n it, I am such a cheap lay), the baby is in bed, the others are watching TV, and we did go to swimming lessons this afternoon. Good god, three small children in a large pool area, swimming…it is enough to give even the most hard-asses of mothers a rung out, need to have a drink, help me please sort of feeling.

So, what I have for all my homies today are two funny links.

Thanks to my husband for sharing this funny little link about being fugly. I like these girls!

Thanks to the Fugly girls for letting me find this movie link. I love the add…Pajiba (rhymes with vagina): worth a link just because of that.

You gotta love the internet.

Table talk

The following is a conversation that ran around our table during last night’s dinner.

PJ: My bottom stingus.

Adam: Your bottom stinks?

PJ: Becoming irritated by her ignorant parents, voice rising… MY BOTTOM SSSTINNNNNNNNNGGGUUUZZZZZAAAAAA!

Mary: Her bottom stings, she has pruritus.

Adam: Oh honey, welcome to the family.

Cup of joe

Erik,
I have a fresh pot of Vanilla flavored coffee on this morning just for you. I’ll save you a cup.
M

Ode to Coffee

Oh sweet coffee
You are my morning
My afternoon too
Without you I am a hollow shell
You bring me to life
I feel your warmth inside me
Ye brown enticing water
Oh, how I love you

Dad

Happy 70th Birthday! Wow, 70…that’s old.
Love,
Your one and only daughter

Calling all biters

If you have a child who bites, live in the Twin Cities area and want to give your biter a taste of their own medicine, please call me at
1-800-BITEBACK. I would love to set-up a playdate with you.

All forms must be completed before the playdate starts, especially the one that releases me from any damages due to broken skin and bruising that my child will most likely inflict on your child while the playdate is in session.

She is cute and knows how to have fun, but may be potentially dangerous!

Rip my heart out already

CT had his 5 year old check-up with his pediatrician today. We have been talking about this day for weeks. He has a great amount of anxiety associated with shots and will not even watch his siblings get their shots. He will excuse himself from the examination room and wait outside the door until it is all over. The last time he got a shot, I had to physically restrain him. I wrapped all four of my appendages around his little thrashing body, all the while he was screaming hysterically. It was great.

This year we have read books about shots, drawn pictures of how he feels and talked and talked and talked some more about shots: why we need them, how they work and that they may hurt but only a little bit and that they are really necessary. I even pulled the, “They won’t let you go to Kindergarten” card. Umm, that didn’t work either.

This morning he woke up with a headache, wouldn’t eat breakfast, told PJ & KP that he wasn’t going to get a shot and then ran away from me and hid when I told him it was time to go.

We got out the door. We went through all the hoops of the 5 year old check-up, discussed at great length with the pediatrician why he was nervous. She too tried to reassure him. He had all sorts of wonderful ideas of how to get out of getting the shots, but she wasn’t biting on any of them.

The nurse came in, fully apprised of the terror he was feeling, and got the job done. One finger poke and three shots later, it was all over. She even told him he was so brave he could have three suckers on his way out the door…and then he smiled.

Blame it on Rio

I was cutting my toe cuticles in the gym bathroom this morning and felt really weird about it. I started thinking, should I really be clipping in the gym bathroom? Is that gross? I am pretty sure I wouldn’t like to watch someone else clipping their toes there. So, I tried to find an out-of-the-way place to get the job done. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was just clipping and leaving them lay on the floor for bare-footed, freshly showered folks to walk upon.

I found a nice little bench to sit on, in a little room that contained a scale and a few hooks. Shortly afterward, another woman came waltzing in, dropped her towel, stepped on the scale and there I was, standing face-to-face with her very stylish coochy snort.

Firstly, I felt very uncomfortable about being so close to a woman’s you know what. I started to sweat and could barely get out the “excuse me” as I ducked my head to get up and leave.

Secondly, I felt like I was in a really bad porn film, I could almost hear the music in the background, bum bumbumm boww wwwwoooowwww.

Thirdly, I knew I had to write about this and was going to title the post, “Can you feel the Brazilian heat?” However, I decided I better check to see if I was calling “it” the right thing. Well, I wasn’t. This woman did not have a Brazilian. Having a Brazilian, means you have taken it ALL off. She had something else, which I think may be called a Landing Strip or the Gucci Coochy or something like that. I’m not actually sure, it all got a bit foggy there at the end. However, what I do know for sure is that I don’t want to know how my fellow 5:00am gym-goers express themselves through their pubic hair.

I won’t be clipping there again!

11 months old

Dear KP,
You are on the verge of so many things these days. You are so busy with moving around and figuring things out and playing with toys that only 5 year olds should be playing with and eating three squares and two snacks and still breastfeeding and trying to get up on your knees and interacting with people and understanding simple commands and using sign language to tell us you want more and playing coy with people you don’t know and crying when I walk out of site (but only sometimes) and being so enthralled with the cat that it bites you and finding so many extra snacks on the floor that I don’t even need to vacuum some days and trying to figure out if you need two naps or one and biting objects when you don’t get what you want and jabbering non-sense that is starting to sound like real words and when all that is done you do it all over again and again and again. My little man, you are getting so big!

I love you.

How high is too high?

PJ loves to swing high. High enough so she catches air on the back end and front if luck is on her side. I am happy to push her that high; it evokes such wonderful laughter I just can’t resist. So, I am not one to judge other parents pushing techniques, or how high they push their kids, because mine looks as though she may be the next kid at the park to go to the ER due to a swing related injury. However, when I saw this guy (he stood about 6 ½ feet tall) at the park with his kids, I thought to myself…now that just might be a touch too high.