Stolen

I stole this from my friend Mary's blog.  It's supposed to be an award but I guess she didn't think I was bored special enough to fill it out.  (Apparently no one is, though, because she didn't pass it on.  So we can all be insulted together.  Okay?)  Hee hee.

Rules

1. You Can Only Use One Word
2. Pass this along to 6 of your favorite bloggers
3. Alert them that you have given them this award
4. Have Fun!

The Fun Part:

1. Where is your cell phone? Desk

2. Your hair? Frustrating

3. Your mother? Fun

4. Your father? Wise

5. Your favorite food? Chinese Indian Thai Sushi Asian

6. Your dream last night? Weird

7. Your favorite drink? Pumpkinspicelatte

8. Your dream/goal? Writer

9. What room are you in? Closet Office

10. Your hobby? Writing

11. Your fear? Spiders Roaches bugs

12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Home

13. Where were you last night? Sleeping

14. Something that you aren’t? Organized

15. Muffins? Please.

16. Wish list item? Patience

17. Where did you grow up? Paris

18. Last thing you did? Sneezed

19. What are you wearing? Black

20. Your TV? Overused

21. Your pets? hairy

22. Friends? Good

23. Your life? Hectic

24. Your mood? Content

25. Missing someone? Yes

26. Vehicle? Broken

27. Something you’re not wearing? underwear glasses

28. Your favorite store? Kohl's

29. Your favorite color? Purple

30. When was the last time you laughed? Today

31. Last time you cried? Dunno

32. Your best friend? PIC

33. One place that I go to over and over? Bed

34. One person who emails me regularly? Dilbert

35. Favorite place to eat? Out

Tagged:
Incidentally, I am glad Mary didn't tag anyone, because she would have tagged most of the following people, which would have meant I couldn't!

• Craig
• Ashley
• Jill
• Kristi
• Reid
• Jaime

Weekly Weird

During your morning commute, there is nothing worse than that first drop of rain.  Why, you ask?  Well, if you are asking that question, I will assume you either a) are a stay-at-home-parent or b) live and work in a small, interstate-free town.  Or village.

Why?  Because the moment it starts to rain, no, sprinkle, no produce a light mist, all traffic on the interstate comes to an instant, complete standstill.  Instant.  Complete.

So (and here is the "weird" part) when that happens, do you ever imagine one person at the very front of the line of traffic suddenly throwing their hands up in the air, screaming, "OH MY GOSH A DROP OF RAIN WHAT DO I DO NOW?" and slamming on their brakes?

I do.  And somehow, despite the potential comic value of such a vision, I seldom laugh.

Or maybe...no.  Never.

The Mind of a Toddler

You just never know what is going through the mind of a toddler.  Until they open their oh-so-innocent little mouths, that is.

My Birdie was in rare form this past weekend.

I did not personally witness the first event, and I think I may be glad of that.  My mother-in-law recounted it to me over the phone later that evening, Saturday evening.  We went to a restaurant with my mother- and father-in-law as well as some good friends of ours and their daughter (who is, of course, also a good friend of ours, but you get the point).

For whatever reason, my father-in-law got to be the one in charge of leading my daughter out of the restaurant, and as they walked out, they were stopped by a lady sitting at another table.  I saw them in there talking, but was already outside putting the Baby Guy in the car.

As my mother-in-law told the story, at one point, my precious little daughter turned to the lady and asked, so sweetly, I am sure, "Are you a girl?"

As I said, I think I may be glad to have gotten that story later rather than having been in a position to bask in the embarrassment first hand.  My father-in-law had that pleasure.

The very next day, the next evening, to be exact, she did it again, although this time it was not embarrassing, just funny.

The evening started with a fun trip to the Louisville Zoo, where we attended their Halloween party.  It was followed by dinner at a restaurant that was new to us, the "Hall of Fame Cafe," located conveniently close to both the University of Louisville and the KY Fair and Exposition Center.

I'll keep things mysterious and let you guess what their main attraction is.

It turned out to be really good (I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, right?) and we plan to go back sometime.  To that end, we quizzed our waiter on when their busy (and, by extension, less busy) times tend to be.

He surprised us by informing us that basketball/football games are not as great a driver of traffic for them (oops, I guess I just gave away their main attraction) as are conventions at the Fair and Expo Center.  For example, the prior Monday, there had been some sort of carpenters' convention going on. "We were slammed," he told us.  "I could barely find the time to take a break."

At this point, he was interrupted by my crazy daughter, who was looking around the table at the rest of us, excited and shocked and, above all, hyper. "Ohhhh noooooooo!" she exclaimed. "Ohh NO!"

We all stopped listening to focus on our little drama queen. "What? What is it?" I thought it was going to be something traumatic and unrelated like her Minnie Mouse shoes had just fallen off - oh the horror. I had no idea she was following the conversation, but, with a shocked, worried, hyper little gasp, she announced, "He bwoke!"

Everyone stared for a moment, then we all cracked up. She laughed too, and wasn't upset, but she was fairly concerned that our poor waiter had been broken. We reassured her that he had been fixed and he was just fine.

I can't wait to see what she will come up with next.

Weekly Weird

Do you ever see a paper bag in the road, and swerve to miss it because who knows, it just might be full of kittens?

Do you ever see a garbage bag full of something on the side of the road and think, What if there's a body in there?

I didn't think so.

Night Three

He slept all night! Woo hoo!!

Now if we can only figure out how to get my daughter back to sleeping all night, we'll be in business.

Naked, Loaded and Dangerous

My husband wasn't home, so I was bathing the toddlers by myself. I got them undressed, put the Birdie in the tub, and the Baby Guy ran off. Naked. He gets antsy in the tub, so I figured I'd let him run around a little and I'd try to get the Birdie mostly washed before I put him in. I just hoped he wouldn't pee on anything. Knew he might, but...hoped he wouldn't.

Well, he didn't pee on anything.

As I was sitting in the bathroom washing the Bitty Girl, the Baby Guy ran back and forth like a naked little maniac...into the living room...back to the entry of the bathroom...back off into the living room...back to stand at the bathroom door...and I noticed...something...on his legs.

And I thought, surely not. I must be mistaken. I must. Please. Please please PLEASE let me be mistaken.

But I wasn't.

I ran him down as he darted away from me, laughing his naughty little head off. I grabbed him...and sure enough: poop...all down his legs...on his arms...on his belly...fortunately NOT on his hands, toys, or face. But, ew. So I snatched him up - gingerly, of course, taking care not to spread the nastiness. I put him on the changing pad, reached for a baby wipe...a baby...a...wipe? No wipes. No wipes?! I had a naked baby with poop all over him and there were no freaking baby wipes! And by this time he was starting to get all, "What am I doing up here? I don't want to be up here! Get me down!" And then of course, of course, he rolled over and sat up. On his naked bottom. His naked, poopy bottom. YUCK YUCK YUCK!!! So I frantically searched for wipes, hoping all the time he wouldn't touch anything, and by then it was all up his arm and oh yeah, now there's a spot on the wall, too, and is that some on my shirt? And finally I found a new package of wipes in a drawer, opened the package, open, dangit, OPEN YOU STUPID THING!!! - and got him wiped up.

Next, I carried him, kicking and screaming, and put him in the tub, where his sister was playing cheefully and noisily enough that I was able to keep an "ear" on her the whole time even though I couldn't actually see her because did I mention I don't like leaving them in the tub alone? Yeah. But she was fine. Anyway, the Baby Guy stiffened up as usual as I tried to put him in the tub, and wouldn't sit down. So I picked him up and did a little swipe thing, trying to knock his feet out from under him while holding him, of course, so I could get him into a sitting position in the tub, and he's all stagger-stagger-stand. NO DANGIT SIT! SIT!!! I finally got him sitting and immediately soaped him up and got the poop residue washed off. Popped a toy in his hands and he was happy. For the time being.

But then I knew I had baby crap somewhere on my floor and I couldn't go clean it up because I had two babies in the tub and I couldn't leave them alone. So I tried to ignore the little voice in the back of my head whispering, Baby poop on your floor. Baby poop on your floor. The cats might step in it and track it around. Baby poop everywhere. Baby poop everywhere! I got them all washed up (if only it were as easy as that makes it sound, but I won't go into all of the gory bathtime battle details, at least the Birdie didn't act up, but it did include the Baby Guy standing and falling once in the tub, thank goodness he didn't hit his head) and got the Baby Guy out and turned the drain on on the tub while the Birdie was still sitting in it. Got him dried and in a diaper - IN A DIAPER!!! - and went back and got the Birdie out. By now, the Baby Guy was throwing a fit, I guess it was all just too traumatic for him. Yeah. For him. Got the Birdie dried...gave her a pull up to put on herself (she has to put them on herself, now) and went out and finally cleaned up the poop.

No more naked Baby Guys running around for a while. As cute as he is when he does it.

Public Service Announcement

I've just read a couple of instances where people have had their e-mail accounts or Facebook pages hacked and hijacked, with the pirate asking the victim's friends and family for money. The story they send is that the victim, whose e-mail they have hijacked - the friend/family member/acquaintance of the person from whom people are receiving an e-mail - has been stranded in another country (the two examples I've just heard are Scotland and England) and needs money to get home.

So if you receive an e-mailed requests for help in this way, please be sure to verify it before you send any money to anyone! (It is always wise to confirm pretty much anything you receive on the internet!)