Showing posts from March, 2008

Hee! closely followed by: Yay!

As I have mentioned in previous posts, my husband says two or three funny things a year. This season's installment came a couple nights ago, at dinner. Now, the kid has been very mercurial lately. One minute she is a sweet little cherub, full of hugs and kisses. The next minute she is screaming and levitating in the time-out corner, using her forked tongue to take our names in vain. So, back to the dinner story . . . She was sitting in her booster seat, glumly poking at her food. I had served her some pasta with mushroom sauce, which she had always liked (usually even asking for seconds). Finally she looked at her father and said, "I don't like this." Him: "Well, can you send out the personality that does like it, because you ate it just fine last week." In other news, my foster girl got adopted today. Yay! Mandy

Further evidence of our exceptional parenting

Why does she always have a ding on her head? We spent lots of "family quality time" today, even though the grown-up members of our little trio are plenty sick. So sick, in fact, that when our lovely daughter took a dump in her potty (in the middle of the living room) a couple hours ago, our clogged nasal passages failed to notice it for quite some time. (I'm not sure why the dogs didn't point it out, because they ALWAYS notice.) Nonetheless, being the good parents that we are (also the generous kind that share their germs with the masses), we took the kid to the library downtown for story time. I kept it somewhat of a secret just in case it got canceled or something tragic like that. The big surprise was that Max (of Max & Ruby fame) was in da house! Holla! For our kid, meeting Max is the equivalent of the average Catholic meeting the Pope. A friendly and mightily pregnant librarian-type lady led the kids in some pre-Max songs, dances, and stories. At one point s

Random Questions

Three random questions that have been on my mind today: 1. Why would a minivan ever ever ever ever have the word "sport" in its name? I see these all the time and become so perplexed I almost drive into the path of oncoming traffic. It just seems so wrong. I mean, I drive a van myself and don't even try to pretend that there's anything vaguely hip about the whole scene. My vehicle is not cool. I am not cool (as evidenced by my use of the word "cool.") Let's face it - that ship has sailed. 2. How come, when you go through the drive-thru at a fast food place and ask for salt, they deposit EXACTLY ONE miniature salt packet in your hand? Isn't salt something like eight hundred million grains for a penny? What is up with the salt rationing???? 3. Why don't Max & Ruby have parents? What happened to them? Did they die a fiery death in some horrific car accident? (The rabbits on the show all wear clothing, so it's not inconceivable that they can

"I DO IT MYSELF!" (Or: The Beginning of the End)

The 6:18 a.m. tantrum, which we enjoy daily from Monday through Friday, has reached new heights. My "sweet little cupcake baked by the devil" has decided to dress herself. You'd think I'd be happy about this sort of progress (as in, "awww, she's growing up!"), but I'm not. Trust me, letting her dress herself will only lead to pure misery - for all of us, even the dogs. I remember my middle sister yelling, "I DO IT BY MESELF!" when she was a wee lass, and now her niece is following in her footsteps. This morning, for the first few seconds after she awoke, we almost thought she was going to be in a good mood. Ha ha! I made a funny! Hoo, I kill myself sometimes. It all started to go downhill when I tried to get her dressed and put a Pull-Up on her (this potty training stuff is still in its early stages so I didn't want to get all cocky and send her off to daycare in her Ariel underwear). "No, I do it!" Fine, be my guest. Then she

He's a pooper, she's a pooper, wouldn't you like to be a pooper, too?

It finally happened. She pooped. In the potty. We've had some pretty big breakthroughs in the housebreaking department this weekend. What seemed to trigger this progress was that I moved her potty into the living room, which I never wanted to do. However, when the kid is watching Max & Ruby and the potty is right there in front of her, she just seems more inclined to use it. She didn't poop for a couple of days and I was getting nervous. I tried to praise her for peeing and not place too much emphasis on the solid output. I've heard of kids freaking out from the stress and then holding it FOR DAYS. So, I didn't want that to happen. But, she pinched a loaf in her little potty . . . and she did it of her own free will. A spent most of the weekend wearing princess panties, which was a big deal, of course. There have been a few accidents, needless to say. She peed on the couch earlier (and she pulled this off even with me saying "Do you need to go potty?" ever

Another fiery redhead, comin' right up

I’m going to be an auntie again – my wee baby sister is with child.* It's fun to come up with synonyms for "pregnant," isn't it? Knocked up. Bun in the oven. In a family way. Eating for two. In my mind, my sister is still in the first grade but in actuality, she is 26. We (the whole fam damily) are all very happy for her, because what’s not to like about a baby? Particularly a redheaded one? She would tell you herself that the pregnancy was unplanned, but I figure that if we all waited until the time was right to have a baby, the population would surely plummet. After my nephew was born, she told me that she was going to have her second baby when the first kid reaches kindergarten. My nephew is nine months old so . . . well, hey, she only missed the mark by four years, give or take. Redheaded Nephew #1 The first time around, my sister’s pregnancy was definitely a big surprise. She called me sometime around the holidays to tell me the news. She and her husband had move

Dear Future Boy Who Dates My Daughter,

Dear slack-jawed teenager who will someday slouch up to my front door to pick up my daughter, You probably like my daughter because she is pretty and smart and funny. She is outgoing, a life-of-the-party sort of girl. When you pick her up she is probably wearing an outfit that cost me about a week's pay. However, at the age of almost three, this is what she wore: Yes, those are black socks. And a dark purple sweater from H&M. And a leotard and tutu that her Meemaw sent her. The tutu has roses inside it, which she loves. If you look closely, the sweater has some icing smeared across the front (from a Dora the Explorer cookie that she had eaten earlier). So yes, in addition to taking well over 1,000 photos of A since her birth, I am also collecting a few "first date" photos just to keep her humble. So anyway, have a nice time with my daughter. Her dad and I will be sitting right behind you at the movie theater, but don't mind us.

The Ectr Bune is Coming!

Easter snuck up on me this year. It falls way too early on the calendar, for starters. It's still cold here and even though I did buy the kid a dress to wear on Sunday, she'll be wearing it under a sweater and her winter coat. And she'll be clomping through the snow in white shoes. It's all good. We'll go to church and then go out to brunch. We don't celebrate Easter in the traditional sense, I suppose, because we are UUs . We (our little family) treat it as a celebration of spring and rebirth. And chocolate. All week long I've been tossing out various threats and linking them directly to the Easter Bunny. "Oh, it's too bad the Easter Bunny won't be bringing you anything, since you decided not to pick up your toys." When one of my sisters was little, she wrote an essay at school about Easter. She was at that age where teachers tell the kids just to sound it out each word and then spell it like it sounds. So my sister (I can never remember w

What you get when you Google your dad

Don't ask me why, but I decided to Google my parents yesterday. I don't know what I was looking for, but I figured maybe I'd find evidence of the sordid life they've been leading since all the kids moved out. (My sisters and I have been replaced by several cantankerous cats, I can tell you that.) I didn't find much (my parents have an insanely common last name), but I did find this article featuring my dad, who manages and tends bar at an Irish pub: (if someone is reading this six months from now and the article is featuring someone other than a man named Greg, then it's not my dad, 'kay?) If you're looking at the photo of my dad and thinking he's too young to be my dad, you're right. He's actually my stad and he is 13 years older than I am (my mom found him shortly after her marriage to my father fell apart). I've known him since I was around 8 years old. My kid calls him "My Friend Granddadd

That's a mighty big spirit you've got there

"You're always dancing down the street, with your suede blue eyes." Today, a lady at church said: "Claudia, that child has a huge spirit. I hope you know that." Another time the same lady remarked that A "is a large presence." I smiled and thought to myself, "Yes, that's one of the names we call her . . . " I hoped that she wasn't telling me, in some roundabout way, that my kid is a pill. I don't think so, though. For starters, this fellow church member is very nice and I think she genuinely likes my daughter. My mom used to have a friend who referred to her own children as "high-spirited." My mom always said, "High-spirited, huh? Is that just another word for 'horrible brat?'" It goes without saying that it is my job to think that my daughter is adorable beyond all definition and, of course, borderline genius. She has impeccable comedic timing and makes me laugh every day. (Just to prove that I don

Party Pooper

Every party needs a pooper, that's why we invited you, party pooper, party pooper! Actually, I'm the party pooper. I've decided not to throw a party for my kid on her birthday this year. Is that terrible? Will my child be in therapy someday? I picture her sitting in some therapist's office and saying, "It allllll started with my third birthday . . . " (and then she'll go on to talk about the innumerable ways in which I've ruined her life) A's birthday is coming up on May 3rd. I suspect that the actual day will be somewhat anti-climactic for her, in as much as she believes that every day is her birthday. "It's my birthday!" she says, and then waits for some sort of fanfare. So, the other day I hoisted her up on my hip, and showed her the calendar on the refrigerator. I flipped to May and pointed to the 3rd. "THAT is your birthday. May 3rd. Learn it, live it, know it." Then I told her that instead of having a party this year,

I Love You in Spanish

The crabby winery lady agreed to take our photo. "You may have six tastes each," she told us. And by "taste" she meant a droplet that could only be seen under a microscope. I had a fabulous weekend with my friends. We ate, drank, shopped, and ran our mouths. We sat in the whirlpool and ran our mouths some more. It was funny how excited we all were to sleep in beds without dogs in them (we all volunteer for Boxer Rescue). I think I actually slept for nine hours last night. You will not be surprised to learn that the potty-training experiment (conducted in my absence) was a dismal failure. P put A in her Little Mermaid underwear on Saturday morning and she peed in them .0002 seconds later. He put a Pull-Up on her and she pooped in them. He gave up and put a diaper on her. The Pull-Ups are such a freaking racket. Sooo expensive. She was back in diapers completely by the time I got home today. Speaking of The Little Mermaid, A likes to pretend she is Ariel when she is

I'm off like a prom dress

I'm going to slave over a hot PC for five hours at work today, and then head out for the weekend. I'm joining five of my friends for a ladies' weekend up north (calling us "ladies" is a bit of a stretch, but work with me here). We are staying at a resort, three to a suite. We don't have any specific plans other than drinking, eating, shopping, and whirlpooling. Needless to say, I will NOT be weighing in at Weight Watchers this week. P says he will work on housebreaking the kid while I am gone this weekend. If he pulls it off, I will certainly give him full credit. He has more patience than I do so who knows, maybe he *is* the man for the job. We have made some progress this week. She wore her Dora panties quite a bit each evening without soiling them (the panties or the evenings). I bought her some Little Mermaid underwear as an incentive, too (don't get me started on one of my anti-Disney tirades again!). So far nothing seems to be incentive eno

Tag, I'm It

My friend Melinda tagged me and well, I find it easiest just to do whatever Melinda tells me to do. She has a May 05 kid as well, and I know her from Babycenter. 10 years ago: We were in the process of buying our home and packing up to move. I am still so traumatized by the move that I would rather live with too-small closets and a yard the size of a postage stamp than to consider moving ever again. You can give your friends all the pizza and beer you want, but I am here to tell you that they don't care if your shit gets dinged up. 5 Things on my to do list today were: This is an easy one, because I am a chronic list-maker and can't stop doing it even when I try. Clean the bathtub. Clean the litter boxes (we have one cat and two litter boxes, but she uses them both so I don't dare get rid of one). Laundry. Work on some adoption packets for the rescue. Work on the website for the American Boxer Rescue Association . Things I would do if I were suddenly a Billionaire: Flaunt

Just a little longer

Yesterday This morning As I have mentioned in previous entries, our little family seems to be caught in some endless loop where the kid stays up too late, wakes up crabby and tired, doesn't nap, stays up too late, wakes up crabby again, etc. Lather rinse repeat. Every so often, the lack of sleep catches up with her and she'll sleep for 12 hours straight. This happened on Saturday night. She rolled out of bed at around 9:00 on Sunday morning. I guess I could have woken her up earlier but . . . that just seemed like pure craziness. So on Sunday night, P was working and the kid was wiiiiiiide awake. I, on the other hand, was tired. I climbed into bed, arranged everything thus and so, and closed my eyes. "Mama, I wanna come in your bed." Figuring that having her in my bed was better than not knowing what she was up to in other parts of the house, I pulled her into bed. This is new for her, because we never brought her into our bed when she was a baby. We felt it was bet

Not That There's Anything Wrong With That!

At Sunday School today, I'm assuming that the Pre-K class must have been covering the topic of "family." When I went to pick up my kid after the service, she handed me this family picture she had created from cut-outs. This is our family. A is represented by an adorable little girl holding a teddy bear (and she does carry a bear everywhere!) Her father and I are represented . . . ah, let's see. We both, um, have breasts. I guess I'll just leave it at that.


Last night I watched a documentary that I had ordered from Netflix (it was called Murder on a Sunday Morning , as recommended by my friend Miss Leslie , and it was very good). So this morning I started hunting around for the envelope so that I could return it. On the rare occasion that something *I* ordered from Netflix arrives, I'm expected to watch it and return it within .008 seconds so that the next piece of crap P ordered can arrive. ME: I can't find the Netflix envelopes. Weren't they on top of the TV? HIM: Well, the kid can't get up there. ME: Awwww, it's cute that you think there are limits to her powers. In other news, I did make it to Weight Watchers this morning. I gained 1/2 pound this week without even trying. Sa-weet! Then I headed to Younkers because I had a $10.00 coupon and thought I could pick up a couple of spring/summer items for the kid. It turns out there are only eight items in the entire department store that are not excluded from this coupon