I don't think the doctor is taking my calls anymore

Chris usually takes the boys to his parents house on Saturday morning. It used to be a chance for me to get some extra sleep but sleep is for the WEAK and there is no TIME for weakness 'round HERE! Anyway, I was pairing socks (weird, I think I've mentioned that before in this blog. You'd think it was something I did a lot. It's not. Hence it being the Project of the Morning) and Chris called and told me that Sam had a rash on his skull. I told him that Sam probably didn't have a rash on his skull. He said, no, his skull is REALLY red. And I said, his SKULL is made of BONE and is covered by his SCALP so how do you know what it looks like? And he said, your child has a horrible rash and you are nitpicking about verbiage? And I said, point taken.

So back to the scalp. I'm pretty calm about it because, well, Sam is prone to rashes. He gets them a lot. It's not like I've never seen a rash on Sam, am I right?! Ha! I suggest a bath and maybe we'll put some ointment and keep an eye on it.

Then the boys come home and I look at Sam's head and GOOD LORD HIS SCALP IS COVERED BY THE MOST HEINOUS RASH I'VE EVER SEEN. I'm not kidding. This is Quick-Intake-of-Breath bad. I quickly review and realize that Sam also has had a bad cough, and threw up the day before. And if those symptoms don't add up to impending death, I don't know what does. I grab the phone and call the doctor and send Chris and Sam off for an emergency appointment in a half-hour. (Shout-out to FAB Dr. Senders and Associates!)

Chris calls about an hour later. Guess what? The rash? It . . . Oh, HA-HA! . . . it washes off. She swabbed it and it CAME OFF. It's like, highlighter or something.

That's not embarrassing AT ALL.

And back to real life

See, that was just ridiculous. If you haven't read the below post, go ahead and read that crap and then come back up here to real life.

There is something about the moments in the life of a parent of two (or, I imagine, more) kids when both (all) the kids are asleep. They make the children seem all innocent and lovable. Totally unlike when they are awake. When the children are asleep your life feels full and rich, instead of full of chaos and rich with poop like when they are awake.

But Sam wanted to remind me so he popped out of his room, said, "I better go to the bathroom." Which, I, unfortunately, took to mean he had to urinate in the toilet so I said, "Okay." Which he understood as, "Sweetie, go ahead and hang out in the bathroom like it is an all night rave." The thought process must have gone like this: I think I'll start by urinating on the floor, my pants and the toilet seat. I'll then unroll an entire roll of toilet paper to "clean it up." The only real way to follow that would be to knock over an open bottle of baby oil and try to help "clean that up," too.

And what the hell good is the scent of roasting marshmallows if I don't get to then EAT them?

Good times, good times

The other day, when it was hot as balls, I deliberately took a mental step back and thought about how freakin' cold it was this past January, aka the Month That Would Not End.

It didn't help. It was still hot as balls, and I was still sweaty and uncomfortable. But it did make me think about how in-the-moment life it.

Chris and I celebrated our five year anniversary yesterday. We went to a really nice restaurant (3 Birds, in Lakewood - try the bacon & blueberry pizza), and we started trying to list our top five memories of the last five years with the stipulation that it couldn't include our kids.

We couldn't come up with much.
-Number one, looking at the stars one night in Hawaii on our honeymoon.
-Number two, watching the entire second season of House on DVD right after Sam was born. Wait. That's not very romantic. Also, it kind of includes our kids. Whatever, moving on.
-Number three, our 2nd anniversary dinner. Have we only gone out five times since getting married?
-Number four, going to Becky and Gil's wedding. Oh. Except then you got wasted and I had to call the lobby and make the receptionist go find you and bring you back to our room. That wasn't cool.

See, it's not that I don't have good times with my husband. It's just that time moves quickly people. More quickly the older I get. And what with the getting older and all, I have more to remember but my brain isn't getting any bigger.

So right now, at this moment, my neck hurts because I pulled a muscle painting (shut up) but everything else is in pretty good working order. The smell of roasting marshmallows is coming through the window. Windows I can keep open because it is summer and my Dad installed new screens. My children are asleep. It's been over two and a half days since somebody has thrown up. I love the new paint in the living room. I have three more days before I have to go back to work. I had fun today, taking Owen and my Dad to the West Side Market.

This is a good moment. I don't know if I'll remember it, but I'm going to try. Because remember what it felt like when it had been below freezing for over a month? Neither do I, really, but remembering that it happened helps me appreciate this short-sleeved shirt I'm wearing.

Advertising tie-in!

Hey, so I was just looking at my blog (well SOMEBODY should) and the advertisement was for Pantene, um, naturals? Something like that. Herbal Pantene. Pantene Botanicals. You get the drift. And it totally reminded me about how irritating men can be sometimes!

Can somebody please back me up on this? We bought a Costco size Dove shampoo and conditioner and I really liked it. My hair was soft and shiny and good for twirling. But I've been using this same COSTCO SIZED Dove shampoo every day for about three months and I feel like my hair is getting tired of it and there is no end in sight. I keep picking it up to see if it feels like it weighs less, but this is the never-ending bottle of shampoo.

Am I alone in believing that using the same shampoo day in and day out leads to more grosser hair, less twirlable hair? After about three weeks of hating my hair I gave in and bought the aforementioned Pantene Natural and I feel like my hair is breathing a sigh of relief.

But I totally held off because I KNEW Chris was going to sass me about it. He HATES soapy products. If he were in charge we would have skipped the Costco Dove, and gone straight for a barrel of the Costco brand dish soap and used it for our dishes, hands, clothes, hair, and faces. He is personally affronted by my fickle hair. BUT I CAN'T HELP IT. Oddly, he feels quite differently about cleaning products. I don't even know how many bottles of pine-sol and Lysol and toilet-sol we have. Maybe he's just a sucker for the spray bottle? Or believes that if I actually trip over some Clorox wipes that I will use them to clean something? WELL, IT'S NOT WORKING, BUDDY!

Anyway, he spied the new shampoo in the shower this morning (thought about hiding it, but where??) and was all,

"Did you BUY NEW SHAMPOO?!?!"

And I was all, "Yeah, it's not good for your hair to use only one kind of shampoo for too long."

And he was all (you will have to say this all exasperated and demeaning in you head), "You are just incapable of using one kind of shampoo."

And I was all, "Suck on my balls."

Because that doesn't even make any sense. I mean, that's not even responsive to my point, is it? And if it is, doesn't it agree with my point? I'm not sure, but I think it was just designed to make me feel bad for willy-nilly flinging wads of cash around without thought. Does he KNOW how much poorer we would be if I actually wore MAKE-UP? Clearly this man has never read a women's magazine if he is complaining about DOUBLE SHAMPOO BOTTLEAGE. I didn't even buy the MATCHING CONDITIONER. Can I get some financial credit for the fact that my beauty purchases of the year totaled one tube of mascara and some chap stick?

HONESTLY.

Men are so irritating sometimes. But my hair . . . it is gorgeous.

Oh for Chris' sake

There has been some debate about whether the title of yesterday’s entry was an accident.

Let’s go with nooooo. Of course I wrote Jesus Chris on purpose. That’s what I always say to express shock and surprise.

I like my husband, and I actually even like his name, but it does bother my typing fingers that his name is so close to accidentally taking the lord’s name in vain. I mean, I'm cool with taking the lord's name in vain, but I like to do it on purpose. Conversely, when I DO aim to blaspheme, I’d like to be successful and not just ALL CAPS my husband's name.

At least his name isn’t Christian. Really, it’s a beautiful noun (is it? I think I was asleep when they went over that in English class), but I just don’t understand how it is also a name. Especially when other religions haven’t done so well at the crossover. Can you imagine?

“These are my sons, Christian and Orthodox Jew.”

“So, nice to meet you! And this is my daughter, Seventh Day Baptist.”

Jesus Chris I just had a heart attack

There are these shelves over my desk at work and they are jam-packed full of binders and books. A few minutes ago, I was typing away and then I heard a sliding sound followed by a heavy wooden bang and the sound was coming from my selves and for a second I was SURE the whole business was coming down on my head. You know? Like I was just preparing myself for a cascade of junk on my head. Junk with corners.

Turned out that it was just some stuff falling over onto the actual shelf itself.

But it must have been funny to see me assume my karate chopping position in anticipation of the marauding books.

That’s a lie. I just winced and put my hands over my eyes.

But, man, I felt stupid when I finally raised my head and realized that the sky wasn't falling. I'm sitting there, my heart is racing, my whole body is braced for impact and it was a BOOK. Just falling over. Not attacking.

I'm sure glad nobody knows about this!

Dinner one night

The other day I made a quick ham and egg scramble for the boys to eat for dinner. Usually I just make plain scrambled eggs so my eldest, Sam, looks at me suspiciously and asks, “Mama, what’s dees pieces?”

“Those are eggs, buddy.”

“No, what’s INNA eggs?”

“Oh, well, I put some ham in your eggs.”

“What DO ham?” he asks (that is his standard question when he doesn’t understand the purpose of something. Difficult question sometimes. What DO rocks? Well, I don’t know. But NOT FOR THROWING)

“I just thought you might like it, Sam.”

And Sam looks at the eggs and looks at me and looks at the eggs, pokes the ham with a finger and says to me (and I swear to god I’m telling the truth),

“I do not like these eggs with ham.”

And boy did I laugh. And then I asked him, “Do you like them on a box? Do you like them with a fox?”

And then he said, “I WANT CHICKEN NUGGETS WITH KETCHUP.”