Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to 'ho I go

Idaho, that is.

We are going for 10 days and I have been looking forward to this for 6 months. It will give me lots of time to reflect on recent accusations that my blog has been "pedestrian" and "mundane." She also said some other things that I can't remember because I couldn't believe, coming off the tongue post, that either word describes my writing of late.

S: You know, the tongue thing is really no big deal because I am from the south and people from the south eat tongue all the time.
K: Yeah, I don't think you should be verbalizing that with what appears to be pride, if you know what I mean.

She would rather hear salacious gossip or politics gone awry. Since it comes from someone who is almost family (and she just realized at the age of 43 that one person in a relationship is always more in love than the other person at any given time and that maybe her problem in relationships is that she is ALWAYS the person who loves less), I will ponder the possibility of embracing the undercover reporter in me...

Everyone be cool and safe and I'll see "all y'all" when I get back. Peach out! (ok, so I was typing Peace out and peach out appeared but I think it could be signatory).

The "shoes" I got at my pedicure today. I have been wearing them now for 5 hours. Derek proclaimed these the worst flip flops I have worn to date. If he had only seen me when I was 10. 

The words you never think you'll hear out of your husband's mouth

We were talking in bed last night about our impending vacation. Our yearly pilgrimage to our Mecca, aka Idaho. For all those of you who are cringing, don't think I haven't brought it up on occasion how creepy Idaho is.

I asked Derek why his sister is always discussing his digestive problems when we all get together. I mean, I have been with the man for 3 years and I have never really witnessed such problems. I cook stuff as hot as can be and never a complaint or reaction to my knowledge.

He said that every once in a while, something won't hit his stomach right. But doesn't that happen to everyone? He blamed it on his evil father who used to make him eat brain, stomach, tongue, liver, ect. But Evil FIL also was cruel enough to deny his children even the right to make a face when something tasted wicked bad (personally I think this is a good thing because there is nothing worse than a child who scrunches up his face and yells "EEEWWW" when asked to try something at the neighbors house).

We started to discuss how tongue looks when you see it in the supermarket. But this is the point of the conversation when everything went south...

D: You know, after reading the Lewis and Clark journals, where they talk about how much they looked forward to shooting a buffalo so they could eat it's tongue, I'm starting to think I might be missing something. Maybe tongue just needs to be fresh.
K: So what does that mean? If we went out and found a beef (yes, this is what I said) and cut his tongue out while he was still alive and ate it, it would be good?
D: Maybe.
K: I am SO blogging this tomorrow.

Paris is a thief

So I was watching Pretty In Pink this morning when I was on the treadmill with the baby. On the treadmill with the baby because God forbid he just fall asleep in his swing BESIDE the treadmill. So, as I was lugging a 17lb. baby, I came across a startling discovery.

"That's hot" or "It's hot,"Paris Hilton's signature phrases, were stolen.

Molly Ringwald beat her to it. Remember when Blane comes into Trax to pick up Andie and he asks her opinion about a Steve Lawrence album.

Her response..."It's hot. White hot." Same pouty lips, same dropped jaw on the last syllable.

I'm stunned. She was 5 years old when this movie came out. At this moment, Abnormal is thinking that the fact that I am stunned is stunning itself because it is Paris Hilton after all.

Poor Molly Ringwald.

Because a huge celebration for my mother wasn't enough...

we had a big rite of passage tonight at Chateau Cookie.

E finally realized that Zinni will always pay attention to him if he is covered in cereal that is a paste-like consistency and, when dried, makes him look like a breaded baby, ready for a fryer.

And Zinni realized that the baby will let Zinni lick him from head to toe when Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, arguing about the nutritional value of rice vs. oatmeal cereal.

But if the dog eats all the cereal on the baby, then mommy doesn't have to spend as much time cleaning the baby.

It is a good thing.

Far be it from me to question the Big Man

I just can't do it, Amy. It's too embarrassing.

I got tagged by Amy to do a music meme.

Unfortunately my top song I am listening to is Lisa Loeb's "Little Red Caboose." The list gets worse from there (My Bonny Lies Over the Ocean, ect.)

Tag me again in 5 years when I am allowed to listen to my own music on the radio again.

Connor's rules

Now I don't know Connor, but he was in the next aisle over today at the blackberry field and his mother issued the following directives:

1. Don't get the blackberry juice on your shirt or the bees will come (I'm not sure if she was really worried about bees or if she didn't want to OxyClean the white shirt).

2. Don't reach up to pick the blackberries. All the good ones are down low, like you are.

3. Don't pick the red ones. I know you think they look like raspberries, but they aren't.

4. Don't eat more than two blackberries, or you will get sick.

5. Don't just stand there in front of that bush. Look at all the blackberries down the row.

6. CONNOR, WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN THE ROW? COME BACK HERE. COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW. CONNOR, I'M SERIOUS.

7. Don't squeeze the blackberries or they will get crushed. Be gentle.

8. Don't throw the blackberries into the basket or they will get crushed. Be gentle.

9. Connor, I said, "DON'T THROW THE BLACKBERRIES IN THE BASKET OR YOU WILL RUIN THEM."

Am I the only person to realize that these were far too many rules for little Connor to follow? I think it worked out for him because it appears that he didn't follow even one of the rules.

When I turned around, Boo Boo Kitty had managed to find the ONLY BRANCH within 5 feet and had it in his mouth. I was pulling leaves out of his mouth for about 30 minutes.

We are now up to a carrot in the supermarket, pizza crust, beer, rice cereal and blackberry branch for food. This kid is screwed.

Be careful what you ask for

Jaime asked me to give her baby-2-b a nickname. Full well knowing that the first name we gave E (Dunk) came from the Urban Baby Name Book and a scary game of Baby Name Roulette. I may have neglected to mention in the earlier post that when we did it for a girl's name, we came up with JaLit. Jaime probably wouldn't have asked if she had known this.

She indicated that she is having a girl, so I went scrounging for the book. With a laser pointer to guide me in the baby's bedroom. It is only a matter of time before Jaime realizes that one would rather try to read 45 book titles with a laser pointer than awaken a baby that has been moaning for the past 12 hours and has finally gotten to sleep by some method only known to his father.

So what was the name as we closed our eyes and flipped through the pages? Constantina--which means Loyal. I think we should call Jaime's precious girl "CC" until she can come up with a name for her. I wanted to flip again, but D said that was against the spirit of Baby Name Roulette. Sorry Jaime.

Christina also asked for a nickname, but D and I have yet to create a name/symbol for her in the spirit of Prince. She will be known as (still unknown), formerly known as Christina. LOL

Let's say it together, folks..."Wicked bad karma"

After the baby cried off and on for 4 hours today (beating the total sum of crying he has done in his 5 1/2 month life), I then went to the dentist.

D and I went together and Dina, the Dentist, went on and on about how beautiful my teeth are and how I take such good care of them. I felt slightly puffed up and frankly couldn't wait to rub it into my husband in the little room next door. He drinks coffee, drinks soda, blah, blah, blah.

Dina said, "We'll just take x-rays since you haven't had any in over a year. Just a formality." Translation--anything to jack up the price of this visit since the insurance company is only paying around 25 cents.

She came back shocked.

"You have two cavities. In between your teeth."

Oops.

K: "Would it have helped if I drank tap water because you know I am a bit of a water snob and I cringe just using it to brush my teeth?"
Dina, the Dentist: "Nope."
K: "Is this my punishment for not flossing?"
Dina, the Dentist: "Yep."

And then I had to go out and face "Mr.-I-Floss-Twice-A-Day-Because-Flossing-Is-So-Important."

Sometimes life is SO. NOT. FAIR.

Is it time for the vacation yet?

Because I went to the movies to see Must Love Dogs, AND went to Costco AND went to IKEA all in one day, I will forgive that mean man in the parking lot who jumped in front of my car because he thought I was going too fast through his truck dealership parking lot. You must believe in God, mean man, because you had lots of faith to believe that I wouldn't spraul your middle-aged skanky used car salesman ass all over the hood of my sedan. I just didn't want to get blood on the car and I didn't want to get arrested. It was in a warehouse district, for heaven's sake. I was only doing 15 mph and you were the only person in the lot. A little baby part of my wicked heart wishes that I had not been rational during my verbal exchange with you and I had just made your wife a widow. Somehow I think she would have been thankful for the favor.

Did I mention that I got to park in the Family Parking spot in front of IKEA?

Birth control and highway robbery

What do these two things have in common? (I'm starting to sound like Freakonomics. LOL)

I understand that birth control is a VERY personal matter, but this is my avenue for venting, so you might want to skip this post if you find the discussion of family (or anti-family) planning distasteful.

I lost my birth control pills. They are somewhere in this house but I can't find them. If my mother had been here since they were missing, I would have thought something fishy was going on, but she hasn't been here in months. Come to think of it, my husband is probably suspect as well. But let me explain something. I will be living in a different state than my husband rather than getting knocked up at this point of my life.

The other night I sent him looking for the pills. The man who cannot find his ass with both hands. The man would could not pour beer out of a boot if the directions were on the heel. After ten minutes I heard furniture moving in the baby's room, a loud crash, and then a wailing infant. Did he honestly believe that I had put the pills behind the dresser??? WTF?

Anyway, so here I am 2 days later, sweating it out and wondering if they will ever show up. I broke down and ordered more at CVS knowing that this would be coming directly out of my pocket, without benefit of Blue Cross/Blue Shield picking up the tab. I spoke to the pharmacist and requested that he give me generics. Normally I am too good for generics, but when I'm paying, I AIN'T paying, if you know what I mean.

I showed up and found out that my doctor had not "authorized" generics so I had to pay $59.59 for one month of pills (unless we got her on the phone at 11:27 pm). That's right, folks. $59.59 for the MINI PILL. It's not even a whole pill, but a fraction of a pill! They don't even really work, for God's sake. If you don't take them every day at the EXACT SAME TIME, you will probably get pregnant if you are in the same room with sperm.

I came home and told D all of this. He was mortified by the cost and then by the "generic excuse" given by the pharmacist. He is threatening anti-trust lawsuits and to sue CVS. I would rather he just spend that time cleaning the living room.

Alarm Clocks

When I was in junior high and my sister was in high school, we shared a very small room. We slept in a double bed, kind of like Mary and Laura in Little House on the Prairie (except our bed was from Mattress Discounters instead of made with straw). We started out with two twin beds but that left us with about 8 inches of room in between the beds. Thus having to share a bed.

She used to do all manner of cruel things to me. Turn the light on in the bathroom and then crack the door open so the light shined in my eyes when I was trying to go to bed. Or on Saturday mornings I would open my eyes and there she would be, 3 inches from my face, making the biggest bug eyes. Invariably I would shriek and go careening off the other side of the bed to get away from her.

But her biggest sin was setting the alarm clock for 2 1/2 hours before she had to get up and then hitting snooze every 9 minutes. That would be a minimum of 16 times that the alarm clock would go off. The problem was that I would wake up when it went off the first time at 4:30 a.m. and lie in bed cursing the day she was born, for the next 150 minutes. I would poke her and prod her to just Turn The Damn Thing Off, but to no avail. Maybe if she would just turn it off before I really woke up, I could get back to sleep.

I'm much better now. D's alarm goes off and I go back to sleep. If he hits the snooze and then gets up, I don't fare as well.

E's new habit is to play in bed when he wakes up. Laughing and cooing and talking to God only knows what, I don't get him (who am I kidding--D doesn't get him) until he cries.

Well last night in bed, this was the conversation.

D: What happened to the monitor this morning?
K: What do you mean?
D: I didn't hear the baby until he was screaming this morning and that was through the bedroom wall.
K: I guess I turned the monitor off.
D: What???
K: I must have turned the monitor off because he was waking me up.
D: You turned the baby monitor off so you could sleep?

Kind of defeats the purpose of the monitor, huh?

I should probably clean the house

After a day spent picking blackberries with E, Renee and Alex, I came home to the same mess I left in the morning.

Derek was looking for his knife sharpener and the following conversation ensued:

D: You know the one place I haven't looked for it?
K: In the couch?
D: Are you serious?

I'm totally going to clean one of these days.

What's in a name?

My little sister called me last week to tell me that she had read my blog and that she was sorry but there was no way she was going to be able to call E Toofus because his name is Boo Boo Kitty.

My friend Sandie followed this theme a few days later when she suggested that if we had a girl the next time around, we could call her Hello Kitty.

Perhaps I should explain how this whole thing happened. I am the queen of the nickname. It's true. No one I know gets called by their parental-given name. And my nicknames seem to always stick. You guys didn't really think her mom named her Marel, did you? Then there is B. Of her 20 letter entire name, I managed to find one letter and call her that. For heaven's sake, my cousins ask how "B" is when they see me. At my wedding I was introducing her as "B" and she was following up with, "Actually my name is Jennifer." But back to the original story.

When we found out that we were pregnant (when we realized that the pink line on the second test means the same thing it meant on the first test if you morons had read the instructions--pregnant) , we paused the TIVO of Reagan's body lying in state in the Capitol and ran out to B&N to buy a baby book. Barely back in the parking lot, I suggested that we come up with a temporary name to call this sexless baby. I said that we should play a game of Baby Book Roulette. I flipped the pages and Derek slammed his finger down on the name Dunk. You read right. Dunk. Not Duncan but Dunk. We had apparently purchased the Urban Baby Name Book without knowing it. But Dunk it was. It wasn't like we could pick another name.

We called him Dunk until my mother had had enough. On Thanksgiving, he became Ethan.

But two weeks after he was born, he became Boo Boo Kitty. Boo being the origin of his nourishment and Kitty, well I don't know where the hell that came from. I HATE CATS WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING COULD I HAVE BEEN A LITTLE MORE CREATIVE?

So I have been getting a little worried that maybe Boo Boo Kitty might be sticking too much. I mentioned it to Derek and this is what happened...

D: Ethan?
E: (staring intently at his chew toy)
D: Ethan?
E: (wondering how far he can get the chew toy in his mouth without gagging)
D: Ethan?
E: (wondering if it would be more fun to throw the toy or to keep eating the toy)
D: Boo Boo Kitty?
E: (turning with a HUGE smile and a laugh to look at D)

Oops, I did it again....

Freakonomics, or "how-to-throw-an-economist's-study"

I, like many Americans who are not knee deep in the latest Harry Potter book, am reading Freakonomics (don't worry, Marelle, your copy will be on its way soon). If you knew my husband, you would understand why this book is mandatory reading in my house. But the disturbing part is the conversation I had with him the other night about how he managed to throw one of the studies in the book.

No, not the Sumo wrestler study.

Here goes...

D: You know the bagel study that the economist did in the book was at .... where I used to work. That's where he first started selling his bagels.
K: Yeah?
D: I used to buy bagels from him.
K: Yeah? So did you cheat him on rainy days and pay for your bagels on sunny days, like his study determined?
D: Not really.
K: (starting to get nervous because I could see that there was SOME sort of cheating that had occurred based on the look on his face) Not really?
D: Well, you see (imagine someone doing that dance he does when he is trying to NOT say what he is about to say), the bagel costs some crazy amount like 85 cents. I mean, who has 85 cents? You either have a dollar or a few quarters. Never 85 cents.
K: I'M SORRY! You have 85 cents if you want a bagel.
D: Well, (hemming and hawing) I just kept track. If I put in a dollar one week, I would make it up the next week and put in less.
K: You were running a bagel tab?
D: I guess.
K: So some Fridays he took home less money because you were evening out your account?
D: It all came out in the wash.
K: The man did a 20 YEAR STUDY and you managed to throw 8 years of it by keeping a running tab only known to you?
D: I guess. I was just the noise* in the study.
K: So how many other people were noise in the study as well? Do you think you were the only person doing that?

Good gracious. Where the hell did I find this man? My apologies to Paul Feldman.

*Random market fluctuations that make it difficult to forecast the market's direction.

Why YOU gotta be so determined too?

Murphy's law: If you go to sleep at 12:15 am, the baby will invariably wake up at 5:45 a.m.

There was howling off in the distance. It got closer and closer. Until my dream about my impending vacation was rudely interrupted by the wailing and gnashing of teeth. Or Toofuses, to be exact.

I laid there for a sec, wondering if Derek was going to get up but he was playing dead. FINE, I'll do it myself.

I went to get E and put him on the changing table. If I don't change him, he pees all over me and all over my nice bed.

Apparently he decided that if he did not eat THAT VERY SECOND HE WOULD DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH. You would have thought he had gotten his hand caught in the car door, he was screaming so loud.

D: What are you doing to the baby?
K: Pinching him????

The birth of my own little drama king.

Why you gotta be so determined?

Derek decided today that he was going to take the Oriental rug outside and shake it out because it is downright nasty. Today. You know. The day it was 96 degrees. The mosquitos are swarming like the cicadas last year except not so loud but oh so more annoying and painful.

K: Let's do it on Thursday, when the high will be 79.
D: fine, I'll do it myself.

Baby, baby, baby. So off he goes, knowing that my whiny self will follow.

But I brought a broom. I figured I could clean the rug Jane Austin style. Beat the crap out of it. As Derek held it.

That'll teach him to just poke, poke, poke until he gets his way.

Oops there goes another one

So much for getting the picture of Toofus with the one stubby tooth in his mouth. Cause that tooth got a brother today. Do we call him Toofus Squared? Toofuses?

Someone in the house smells like wet dog

Zinni,

Now it isn't like me to point fingers, but if you want to loved and adored, you probably shouldn't have rolled in the dead animal on your way back in from the middle of the lake. So now you have managed to take that wet dog smell and up the ante with a foul dead smell. We'll call it the "double word score" of bad dog behavior. Lounging on your back in the middle of the dog bed and refusing to look at me directly does not in any way, shape or form make you any less guilty of your crime of stinking up my house. And if you walk past me one more time with the full-contact rub, leaving streaks of wet dog/dead animal along the length of my leg, I will have to ship you off to Nana Jane's house, where she will love you unconditionally. I don't do unconditional.

Love,
The Head Bitch