We had a big storm here yesterday. Didn't last long, but did some minor damage to trees and we had a couple of significant branches down. By the time we got home the power was on again and the storm was over. Still hot as balls though. Jesus god I dislike using the oven when it is that hot. I thought I was going to die there for a minute, with the kids clamoring for EAT! EAT! OOOD NOW! and the sweatyness and then Chris was LATE getting home from work and I barely lived through being that hot with the oven on and the kids cranky and no back up.
Anyhow, when Chris FINALLY got home, he took Owen on a walk. Owen came back, hurried up to me and, in a voice filled with real concern and surprise said, "Oose a ond."
I flair around in my head for a minute trying to translate and come up with, "Goose fell down?" And I must be better at this than I thought because he responds "YES!" in a yeah-can-you-believe-it! tone of voice.
Apparently on their little walk Chris and Owen had discovered that the plastic goose of Wonder and Amazement that the neighbors keep in their yard had been knocked down in the storm. And that's not the worst. Gentlemen, please make sure the ladies are away, but the goose's head had . . . become detached from the body. Horrors.
At this point, Sam has tuned in and hears this talk. Of a walk. A walk which he did not attend, and he finds this a little UNFAIR. So he says, "Should I go on a walk?" Because that is the way that he asks for things these days. "Should I watch a movie?" "Should I have a marshmallow?" No, you shouldn't watch a movie and eat marshmallows, but whatever, go ahead. Especially if Mommy is hot and tired.
So we go on a family walk and Owen, as if he were a malfunctioning robot, is repeating, over and over. "Oose on. Oose on. Oose on." Goose gone, folks. Goose gone. The whole walk he is trying to swerve in the direction of the fallen goose of Wonder and Amazement, and refuses to be distracted, refuses to speak of anything else. "Oose on. Oose on. Oose on."
Finally we give in and go to gaze in sorrow at the headless goose.
"Oh, God," Sam whispers, then asks, "Can I pat it?"
There is some discussion about whether we should let him wander into a stranger's yard to pat a headless goose, but we decide he should be allowed his moment of mourning. He gets to the goose and pats it, then looks around for the head. He picks the head up and begins to try to reattach it . . . to the goose's butt. He is actually relatively successful and ends up propping the head, with the beak on the ground and the neck attached to the tail. None of this, by the way, is having any impact on Owen's relentless chant. "Oose on. Oose on. Oose on."
When Sam gives the goose a final pat, he dislodges the carefully balanced head and I, seeing the rest of my life flashing before my eyes, finally intervene. I discover that the head actually screws on and I can fix it easy-peasy. The goose of wonder and amazement is fully restored.
But Owen, like the mother of a child who has barely survived a terrible, terrible accident, can not forget. "Oose on. Oose on. Oose on." No, dude, goose FIXED! "Oose on?" "No, goose FIXED!" "Oose on?" "Can we PLEASE let it go?"
No. We cannot. This morning when I go into Owii's room the first thing out of his mouth was,
"MAMA!! Oose on."
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Got a fancy new ear infection detector for my birthday. No Barbies, though. I miss getting Barbies. I loved Barbies. Now I'm just psyched I got an ear infection detector, and crossing my fingers for a temporal thermometer for Christmas.
Got the chance to use it pretty quick when Owen woke up with a fever (which I detected no thanks to my non-existent temporal thermometer) this past Wednesday. I was actually a little excited when the little gadget read, "FLUID DETECTED - SEE DOCTOR" because I wouldn't have to wait around wondering about the validity of my new toy.
So we went to the doctor and Owen DID have an ear infection and I LOVE my detector. So just for fun I was playing with it again. And Sam was . . . resisting. Finally I wrestled him down and did my detecting thing and then he was all cool with it. So he did it to himself, and then me, and then to Owen, and we talked about how it was a Green Light For GOOD for us and a Red Light for . . . having an ear infection (I'm not always so good on the fly) for Owii.
Later I was giving Owen his medicine and Sam got jealous and wanted some delicious pink medicine his own self and I reminded him that Owii got medicine because the detector showed us he had an ear infection, and we didn't need medicine because the detector said we were fine. And he was IRATE. "I DO!" He shouts, "I do has an ear inflection!"
Stupid conversations to have:
"Sam, you do not have an ear infection."
"I DO has an ear inflection."
"Do not."
"I DO. My ear IS inflected."
"IT IS NOT."
Next time I'm just going to pick up some random pink liquid at the same time I'm getting the amoxicillian and avoid the battle because GOD FORBID Owen have something that Sam doesn't get. Strawberry milk? Melted strawberry ice cream? PEPTO?
Someday they will take pills.
Got the chance to use it pretty quick when Owen woke up with a fever (which I detected no thanks to my non-existent temporal thermometer) this past Wednesday. I was actually a little excited when the little gadget read, "FLUID DETECTED - SEE DOCTOR" because I wouldn't have to wait around wondering about the validity of my new toy.
So we went to the doctor and Owen DID have an ear infection and I LOVE my detector. So just for fun I was playing with it again. And Sam was . . . resisting. Finally I wrestled him down and did my detecting thing and then he was all cool with it. So he did it to himself, and then me, and then to Owen, and we talked about how it was a Green Light For GOOD for us and a Red Light for . . . having an ear infection (I'm not always so good on the fly) for Owii.
Later I was giving Owen his medicine and Sam got jealous and wanted some delicious pink medicine his own self and I reminded him that Owii got medicine because the detector showed us he had an ear infection, and we didn't need medicine because the detector said we were fine. And he was IRATE. "I DO!" He shouts, "I do has an ear inflection!"
Stupid conversations to have:
"Sam, you do not have an ear infection."
"I DO has an ear inflection."
"Do not."
"I DO. My ear IS inflected."
"IT IS NOT."
Next time I'm just going to pick up some random pink liquid at the same time I'm getting the amoxicillian and avoid the battle because GOD FORBID Owen have something that Sam doesn't get. Strawberry milk? Melted strawberry ice cream? PEPTO?
Someday they will take pills.
I will resist you, penile implants!!!
Junky email. Is there anything more irritating? I guess the thing that gets me is that they just don't give up. I consistently get junk emails about things I'm just never going to be interested in. Penile implants, for example.
It's like they think I'm going to give in. That these emails, in sufficiant volume, will wear me down. That the only thing standing between them and sucess is a few dozen more email attempts. That eventually I will tire of resisting the lure of working from home for $500 an hour and finally sign up so I can be the stay-at-home-mom my kids deserve. I want to email them back and let them know that I am not now, nor will I ever be, interested in answering questionnaires, even at a payment rate of $1000 per.
Especially at the payment rate of $1000 per.
Because I am NOT STUPID.
I think they might actually have a better chance if they were a little less ridiculous. What's that? I've been chosen to receive a $1500 Walmart gift card?! That's awesome! WHAT?! I'm also eligible for a free LAP TOP COMPUTER?! What an amazing day!
"Chosen" is the word that, for me, translates to "this is a complete rip-off." I've never been chosen for anything in my life and I'm pretty sure that it's not going to start with Walmart. If they sent me an email that said, "you and everybody else and their moms can all have this $1.00 off coupon for peanut butter," I might actually believe it.
It would be hilarious if one of these days I did win something legit and I just kept erasing the notification. Have any of you readers ever legitimately been "chosen?" Because I think it would be smart - just to keep us on our toes - to make those preposterous emails true every once in a while.
Apparently, though, enough people fall for them as is.
In other news: NO, we don't give Sam WINE at home.
It's like they think I'm going to give in. That these emails, in sufficiant volume, will wear me down. That the only thing standing between them and sucess is a few dozen more email attempts. That eventually I will tire of resisting the lure of working from home for $500 an hour and finally sign up so I can be the stay-at-home-mom my kids deserve. I want to email them back and let them know that I am not now, nor will I ever be, interested in answering questionnaires, even at a payment rate of $1000 per.
Especially at the payment rate of $1000 per.
Because I am NOT STUPID.
I think they might actually have a better chance if they were a little less ridiculous. What's that? I've been chosen to receive a $1500 Walmart gift card?! That's awesome! WHAT?! I'm also eligible for a free LAP TOP COMPUTER?! What an amazing day!
"Chosen" is the word that, for me, translates to "this is a complete rip-off." I've never been chosen for anything in my life and I'm pretty sure that it's not going to start with Walmart. If they sent me an email that said, "you and everybody else and their moms can all have this $1.00 off coupon for peanut butter," I might actually believe it.
It would be hilarious if one of these days I did win something legit and I just kept erasing the notification. Have any of you readers ever legitimately been "chosen?" Because I think it would be smart - just to keep us on our toes - to make those preposterous emails true every once in a while.
Apparently, though, enough people fall for them as is.
In other news: NO, we don't give Sam WINE at home.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Crap. Ooooh, maybe literally
Oh, man. Not to belabor the colon cleansing point, but this morning I was looking at the ads here and I thought, "That's a good point, Ad Number One, what DO I need to know about colon cleansing?" So I clicked on it.
I clicked on it.
I CLICKED on it.
And then I GASPED. Because I have have signed an agreement NOT to click on any of the links. But I just DID. I broke the LAW. And what's worse, now my word means nothing. I promise something, SIGN MY NAME to it (or click on the equivalent box) and then, oooooo, SPARKLY THING. Do not trust me. I am easily distracted.
But I figured once I had done the damage to my reputation by clicking I might as well read about it. And did you know that cleansing you colon can help you lose up to 10 pounds? I didn't. But while that sounds attractive in theory, I guess I'm more interested in losing actual fat. Still, this thing is supposed to help your tummy be flatter (that word is surprising close to fatter), increase your energy and decrease your chances of colon cancer. Did you know that Katie Couric had a colonoscopy on national TV? Apparently her husband died of colon cancer when their children were 2 and 4 and she's made it her mission to lesson the fear and stigma that surrounds colonoscopies.
1. Mad props to her, because I was still like, really? You did, um, THAT on national TV? But in response to her doing that there has been what is now known as the Couric effect (how awesome would that be?) where screenings went up twenty percent after she did that. She's SAVING LIVES MAN.
2. Chris apparently has some 6 months left before I make him go in for a colonoscopy because no way in hell is he going to leave me with a four year old and a two year old.
3. That was totally not Katie's point. She made a real effort to say that women are just as likely to be diagnosed with colon cancer. But I still don't want to get one. I am IMMUNE to the Couric Effect!
Learn something new everyday, doncha?
So, the party last night was okay after all. The children kept it together relatively well, considering. Until about 7:45 when Owen FELL APART. You know, I'm going to try really hard not to get mad at the kids anymore when they don't learn some rule even after endless repetition. So what if Sam can't remember to say please after nearly three days of constant reminders? We can't remember that Owen needs to be in bed on time and he's been reminding us his WHOLE LIFE.
But other than that, and Owen's freakish obsession with the water fountain, which would be one thing if he was tall enough to reach it himself, but he can't so you have to help, it was pretty fun. It was at the metro parks. Sam swung on the swings, and found a frog, and ate a hot dog and got to have HIS OWN CAN OF SODA. Owen mostly wandered around shrieking when a dog looked at him (which was relatively often given this is a PET INSURANCE COMPANY).
When we first got there, Chris's boss came up to me and Sam. She pointed out the drinks area, educating me about the beer that I would need to put in a plastic cup, and that there were plenty of drinks for kids, too. I said to Sam, "Hey, do you want to go check out the drinks?" And he said,
"Yeah. I think I would like some wine."
I clicked on it.
I CLICKED on it.
And then I GASPED. Because I have have signed an agreement NOT to click on any of the links. But I just DID. I broke the LAW. And what's worse, now my word means nothing. I promise something, SIGN MY NAME to it (or click on the equivalent box) and then, oooooo, SPARKLY THING. Do not trust me. I am easily distracted.
But I figured once I had done the damage to my reputation by clicking I might as well read about it. And did you know that cleansing you colon can help you lose up to 10 pounds? I didn't. But while that sounds attractive in theory, I guess I'm more interested in losing actual fat. Still, this thing is supposed to help your tummy be flatter (that word is surprising close to fatter), increase your energy and decrease your chances of colon cancer. Did you know that Katie Couric had a colonoscopy on national TV? Apparently her husband died of colon cancer when their children were 2 and 4 and she's made it her mission to lesson the fear and stigma that surrounds colonoscopies.
1. Mad props to her, because I was still like, really? You did, um, THAT on national TV? But in response to her doing that there has been what is now known as the Couric effect (how awesome would that be?) where screenings went up twenty percent after she did that. She's SAVING LIVES MAN.
2. Chris apparently has some 6 months left before I make him go in for a colonoscopy because no way in hell is he going to leave me with a four year old and a two year old.
3. That was totally not Katie's point. She made a real effort to say that women are just as likely to be diagnosed with colon cancer. But I still don't want to get one. I am IMMUNE to the Couric Effect!
Learn something new everyday, doncha?
So, the party last night was okay after all. The children kept it together relatively well, considering. Until about 7:45 when Owen FELL APART. You know, I'm going to try really hard not to get mad at the kids anymore when they don't learn some rule even after endless repetition. So what if Sam can't remember to say please after nearly three days of constant reminders? We can't remember that Owen needs to be in bed on time and he's been reminding us his WHOLE LIFE.
But other than that, and Owen's freakish obsession with the water fountain, which would be one thing if he was tall enough to reach it himself, but he can't so you have to help, it was pretty fun. It was at the metro parks. Sam swung on the swings, and found a frog, and ate a hot dog and got to have HIS OWN CAN OF SODA. Owen mostly wandered around shrieking when a dog looked at him (which was relatively often given this is a PET INSURANCE COMPANY).
When we first got there, Chris's boss came up to me and Sam. She pointed out the drinks area, educating me about the beer that I would need to put in a plastic cup, and that there were plenty of drinks for kids, too. I said to Sam, "Hey, do you want to go check out the drinks?" And he said,
"Yeah. I think I would like some wine."
Friday, August 7, 2009
Not sure that's an improvement
So apparently the colon cleansing ads morphed into detox ads. You know, alcohol detox, colon detox. For a minute it changed into ads about pregnancy but now it seems we're back to detox. I'm starting to think that my ads say more about my readers and less about my subject content. Because I'm neither pregnant nor in detox. So somebody out there needs to fess up!
Thought for the day.
It's cute when kids start talking. Makes you really pay attention to language and the way words actually sound. The problem is when you start to think it is also cute to imitate it. Then you are telling grown ass adults that your fly-day night plans are to watch a DVDV and eat nacker cheese.
Except my Friday night plans are not nearly that delightful. We are going to a picnic-party thing for Chris' work tonight. Sounds fun, right? But the children are little monsters and that's just embarrassing to stand next to. "That kid? No idea. I'm not sure but I think he wandered out from the woods there. Looks feral, doesn't he?"
Okay, they are not actually little monsters. They are actually BIG SCREECHING monsters. Especially when they are tired. And like I said, that's cool around the house, but I don't like the look that other people give me when Owen is screaming his Super-Sonic Scream of Thwartedness. He should have to wear a sign: WARNING - Do Not Thwart the Baby. Because good lord you will pay with your eardrums. Also watch for Flailing Feet of Fury.
Well, I guess I will do what I always do in these situations. Cross my fingers, pack fruit snacks (FOUT NAX) and leave quickly.
In other news, Amanda, one of my favorite from work - and recent reader - had her last day of work today. How dare she? What is with young people these days? Trying to better themselves and whatnot. Trying to IMPROVE their lives. Jeez. In my day, you found something you didn't hate and settled in to have kids until you were too poor to risk losing anything.
Have a nice weekend!
Thought for the day.
It's cute when kids start talking. Makes you really pay attention to language and the way words actually sound. The problem is when you start to think it is also cute to imitate it. Then you are telling grown ass adults that your fly-day night plans are to watch a DVDV and eat nacker cheese.
Except my Friday night plans are not nearly that delightful. We are going to a picnic-party thing for Chris' work tonight. Sounds fun, right? But the children are little monsters and that's just embarrassing to stand next to. "That kid? No idea. I'm not sure but I think he wandered out from the woods there. Looks feral, doesn't he?"
Okay, they are not actually little monsters. They are actually BIG SCREECHING monsters. Especially when they are tired. And like I said, that's cool around the house, but I don't like the look that other people give me when Owen is screaming his Super-Sonic Scream of Thwartedness. He should have to wear a sign: WARNING - Do Not Thwart the Baby. Because good lord you will pay with your eardrums. Also watch for Flailing Feet of Fury.
Well, I guess I will do what I always do in these situations. Cross my fingers, pack fruit snacks (FOUT NAX) and leave quickly.
In other news, Amanda, one of my favorite from work - and recent reader - had her last day of work today. How dare she? What is with young people these days? Trying to better themselves and whatnot. Trying to IMPROVE their lives. Jeez. In my day, you found something you didn't hate and settled in to have kids until you were too poor to risk losing anything.
Have a nice weekend!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
How DARE he?!
Chris just accused me of making up the fried chicken story at the bottom of my last post.
First of all, I resent the implication that I am a liar, or that I would EVER LIE in this blog. This is just you and me here, guys. If we can't trust each other, we have nothing.
Second, what kind of crazy person makes up cute stories about their kids? People who don't actually have kids and are about the steal the fetus from your womb, that's who. Seriously, anyone who has kids knows you couldn't make this shit up.
Except for Chris.
Guess I shouldn't tell him that I'm actually copying this blog whole-cloth from the blog of this lady from Virgina.
First of all, I resent the implication that I am a liar, or that I would EVER LIE in this blog. This is just you and me here, guys. If we can't trust each other, we have nothing.
Second, what kind of crazy person makes up cute stories about their kids? People who don't actually have kids and are about the steal the fetus from your womb, that's who. Seriously, anyone who has kids knows you couldn't make this shit up.
Except for Chris.
Guess I shouldn't tell him that I'm actually copying this blog whole-cloth from the blog of this lady from Virgina.
Fun for the whole family!
I thought it was time for a new blog posting. Mostly because the advertising had become disturbing. Apparently, these fancy advertising programs scanned my last post and honed in on the sentence about not pooping for days. Suddenly, I was learning more about colon cleansings than I ever wanted to. Including that you can get them for your kids. You know, make it family bonding time. But really? Out of the whole thing, they thought that was most relevant? Is that what you guys got out of it? "Blah blah blah, oh gross she's talking about poop"? Because that was not my point.
Oh, man. Now I've mentioned poop twice. Well, three times including that last one there. They are going to have a field day with that. Now there will be advertisement for adult diapers and Imodium AD and Ex lax. BLAST! I'm only encouraging them with my words!! Butterflies! Fairies! Rainbows! Stardust and Barbies and Ballerinas!
Anywho . . .
Jury duty. Man. Not cut out for that shit. We found the guy guilty, and there was pretty strong agreement in the jury so it certainly wasn't as bad as it could have been, but I DWELLED. Or DWELT. Whichever. Getting back into the routine of my regular life helped ease the crazy stuck-in-a-movie feeling I'd been having. Because, you know, in my regular life, I don't see pictures of dead, shot-up, people. I don't look at guns. I don't hear forensic testimony. I don't actually hear testimony at all. Mostly I'm used to mailing letters and filing papers. This was a stretch and was causing my brain some problems. Confusing in the same way that I imagine it would be if a pixie rode up on a unicorn, suggesting we go on a quest for the lost marble of Zemo. Seriously, I was living the kind of thing I'd only ever seen on TV and it felt REALLY WEIRD. Remind me never to be friends with a criminal defense attorney because they see some fucked up things in the normal course of their day. That has to have an effect on you.
When I got back to work I asked what I'd missed. Everybody was all, "oh, nothing." Which is exhibit A (weird. In the trial exhibits were numbered, not lettered, but exhibit 1 just sounds wrong) for why you should not trust people to remember anything. I missed a party where we gave the guest of honor tuna (what's that about? I don't know. I wasn't there.). I missed a coworker going through the nightmare of having a child in the hospital, in agonizing pain, undiagnosed - then finally diagnosed with meningitis. I also missed harvesting my potato crop in Facebook Farm Town. Jury duty was very isolating.
Last night, my sister invited us over for homemade fried chicken. Sam usually LOVES to visit them so I thought it was a little weird that when I told him our plans he just got really quiet. A few minutes later he said, "Mama?"
"What's up Sam?"
"But I don't want flies on my chicken."
Oh, man. Now I've mentioned poop twice. Well, three times including that last one there. They are going to have a field day with that. Now there will be advertisement for adult diapers and Imodium AD and Ex lax. BLAST! I'm only encouraging them with my words!! Butterflies! Fairies! Rainbows! Stardust and Barbies and Ballerinas!
Anywho . . .
Jury duty. Man. Not cut out for that shit. We found the guy guilty, and there was pretty strong agreement in the jury so it certainly wasn't as bad as it could have been, but I DWELLED. Or DWELT. Whichever. Getting back into the routine of my regular life helped ease the crazy stuck-in-a-movie feeling I'd been having. Because, you know, in my regular life, I don't see pictures of dead, shot-up, people. I don't look at guns. I don't hear forensic testimony. I don't actually hear testimony at all. Mostly I'm used to mailing letters and filing papers. This was a stretch and was causing my brain some problems. Confusing in the same way that I imagine it would be if a pixie rode up on a unicorn, suggesting we go on a quest for the lost marble of Zemo. Seriously, I was living the kind of thing I'd only ever seen on TV and it felt REALLY WEIRD. Remind me never to be friends with a criminal defense attorney because they see some fucked up things in the normal course of their day. That has to have an effect on you.
When I got back to work I asked what I'd missed. Everybody was all, "oh, nothing." Which is exhibit A (weird. In the trial exhibits were numbered, not lettered, but exhibit 1 just sounds wrong) for why you should not trust people to remember anything. I missed a party where we gave the guest of honor tuna (what's that about? I don't know. I wasn't there.). I missed a coworker going through the nightmare of having a child in the hospital, in agonizing pain, undiagnosed - then finally diagnosed with meningitis. I also missed harvesting my potato crop in Facebook Farm Town. Jury duty was very isolating.
Last night, my sister invited us over for homemade fried chicken. Sam usually LOVES to visit them so I thought it was a little weird that when I told him our plans he just got really quiet. A few minutes later he said, "Mama?"
"What's up Sam?"
"But I don't want flies on my chicken."
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