Off-List

When I go to the grocery store, I do things...
not dumb things...
not smart things...
nice things...
but not quite smart things.

I go with a List, a very specific List.  It tells me we need milk, juice, fruit snacks (for bribery missions), and some snacks for Aaron to take to work.

The grocery List is not Gospel - it's not always right.  Like the other day, I was at the store and I realized we had forgotten to put butter on the List.  I bought butter.  No worries.

What I'm saying is, there is some flexibility to the List. (discount Valentine's chocolates, I'm looking at you).

My husband knows this.  He knows that if I'm sent to the store to buy only the dinner ingredients, I'm going to come back with something else.  It might be milk that we forgot we needed.  It might be the ice cream he eats that night.  It might be rice pilaf he eats three days later.  It might be the quinoa that we kept in the pantry for about a year before we threw it out because we never eat quinoa.

No worries, there is flexibility to the List.

Tonight was an ad hoc grocery store run, to get the essentials we didn't buy two days ago.  I had a very specific List but this was, after all, the evening I had inflated the Big Red Exercise Ball I bought on a grocery run in early January - the ball that the kids promptly confiscated.  I'd like to use that ball before someone takes a ballpoint pen to it, like my last Big Red Exercise Ball   As I recall, that was not on the List either, a year and a half ago, but I bought it anyway and we enjoyed having it for the week before Sebastian found that ballpoint pen.  Life is full of little ironies.

Well, imagine my surprise when I walked into the grocery store and saw a big basket of balls for sale, with Avengers and Disney Fairies on them, built for actual toddlers to actually play with - I think Grocery List Flexibility is built for moments of serendipity like this.  Let's ignore the fact that I always feel that way when I walk into the store and I see something that wasn't on the List.   I put it in my basket, do the rest of the actual List shopping, and then, as I unload it at the register, the unwarranted purchase eats away at my insides and I debate whether to leave the merchandise with the cashier.  I don't think I've ever done that - I'm stronger than my gut instincts, you see.

Tonight, that gut instinct was quickly over-ridden because I would like my Big Red Exercise Ball, and I would like to keep the kids distracted enough that they will not write on it with a ballpoint pen.  These Avengers and Fairies balls were just the thing, I knew, as the cashier rang them up.  And they would go perfectly in my house and were big enough that my kids would feel like we all just had an exercise ball.  See this picture of my dog and the ball, for size comparison and to prove that each ball was a perfect purchase for my house:

It took three shots to get it right.  Madigan was not amused.   We also have assigned all the major Avenger characters to others in the family, so she has to be Nick Fury and we haven't bought her an eyepatch yet.  I think that's why she doesn't look so happy.  Nick Fury is not on this particular ball.

As I drove home, I debated what I would say to Aaron when he came out to help unload the groceries.  This was maybe a bit more impulsive than normal off-List purchases, and we have been talking recently about not adding to toys or spoiling the kids.  I knew I could try to be a hero with my first load - six bags of groceries - and he would find these in the car without my explanation, after note realizing what a hero I had been with those six other non-Avengers/Disney Fairies ball loads.  What would I say?  How could I avoid that?

I pulled into the driveway, grabbed my first load of groceries, then opened the front door like I was arriving in the middle of a stormy night in a mystery movie.  The door gave a somewhat satisfying bang and I saw the back of Aaron's head.  He was sitting in the living room.  I threw each of the balls into the living room, one at a time, without saying a word - Disney Fairies first, followed by the Avengers.  He looked at them for a moment, then went back to his business.  I took the rest of the groceries into the kitchen.

He hasn't said anything yet, but I know that he's silently amazed at my awesome Off-List grocery shopping skills, because both of the balls that bounced into the living room should have been on our list of basic grocery necessities.

When I go to the grocery store, I do things.  My husband thinks they're brilliant.

Lessons in Interspecies Friendship

Our cats have dealt with a lot in their six years: four moves, a new dog, and, of course, two children.  The first child was not so much a problem until the second showed up and proved to be prodigy in the fine art of chasing small animals, instructing her older brother on everything he had been missing.

The kids are not cruel by any means.  Audrey loves the running part of chasing, and allowing another creature to determine direction and speed is a great adventure.  Sebastian loves the hugging and holding part of chasing the cat which, in his case, normally happens first.  Though sometimes he's disappointed when the feline object of his smothering runs away, most often he just joins in the chase.  When the cat disappears into an unreachable crevice, he pouts.

We're trying to teach our kids basic appropriate affection with the cats.  Simple rules like:
1. You don't need to hold the cat so tightly while you pet her.
2. Don't corner her in a box, drawer, end table, etc to pet her.
3. If you try to lock her in your room and she runs away, don't run after her.
4. Get out of her face.
5. Don't move or try to carry the cat's bed while she is on it.

Eventually we will let the children learn probably the most effective rule, which is "Cats have claws and they hurt."  The kids are gentle and the cats have the patience of Job, so we haven't had to pull that one out.

I was hanging out in the living room, enjoying a few kid-free moments, when both children arrived to tell me that they needed juice, a request that was interrupted when Sebastian found Forte resting on the recliner with me.  He ran up to her, covering her body with his hugging arms and went in to kiss her head.  She leaned back and narrowed her eyes, poising herself to run.

"Heeeeeeyyyyy Bud, we need to be careful with Forte!"
"Okay Mom!  I'm just giving her a hug!"
"Well, we need to make sure we just pet her gently, see?  Did you know Forte used to be afraid of people?"
"Like when we chase her?"
"Not really, she was shy..."
"Or when we put pillows on her?"
"Huh?"
"Or when we throw our toys at her?"
"WHAT?  When did you do that?"
"Yesterday... Look, she loves when I - HEY!  She ranned away!"
"Do you blame her?" <silence> "How about that juice?"

Let me explain that my kid has a messed up sense of time - everything that's happened is "Yesterday," everything that should happen is "Tomorrow" - so I know he didn't do all that yesterday.  But he's thought about it, and it's only a matter of time before Audrey tries it.

There is only one option here.  The kids are obviously not taking to my basic affection lessons.  I don't know how to begin teaching these new lessons without giving the kids new ideas.  It's come to this.  I'll have to conference with my cats, the patient creatures with claws.

I'll give the cats the first option of where they want to live, and then I'll just have to keep the kids locked away in a different part of the house.  

Or see if a nice old lady wants to take in two crazy kids who are not good with other pets.

Nap of Luxury

Taking a nap in Mommy's bed is a really big treat.  Mommy's bed is far more luxurious than Audrey's bed, plus there are pillows to play with.  Today Audrey discovered that there is a bed in the house that is a step up in luxury, right there on the floor next to Mommy's bed.  This is how she spent today's nap.

Awesome.

Dry-Erase Dishwasher

We bought Sebastian a dry-erase book to practice writing his letters and numbers, but we didn't get anything for Audrey.  That was not smart.  Fortunately, there were extra washable dry-erase markers, so all I needed to do was find a dry-erase surface that was within her reach.  Ah, the dishwasher!  How convenient!

And here is the finished product and a naked abandoned baby doll:

For the record, dishwashers are not dry-erase boards.  The markers are washable and came off with countertop spray and a paper towel, but I've done myself no favors here and I'll need to hide the dry-erase markers in a secret compartment in the ceiling to avoid more artwork around the house.

At least Sebastian got some letter-writing practice.  Oh wait, he's coloring too...

First Banana

For a year, I've had one kid who loves bananas and one kid who thinks bananas are "for babies."  I've gotten used to buying just enough bananas for Audrey to eat in a week and have appreciated Sebastian's disdain for the fruit.  He used to love bananas, but had some weird issues, like freaking out if you opened a banana in front of him.  It was really disturbing, like a night terror at the lunch table - open mouth, red face, tears streaming, his entire body grief-stricken, screaming "Why?  WHY?"

At the grocery store, I had to give him one banana in order to put the rest of the bunch in the basket.  At the checkout counter, I would explain to the cashier that she needed to weigh the bananas separately.  I would talk to her like a bomb expert, in a calm, slow, quiet but clear voice:

"Here is the bunch of bananas.  When you finish with that, I am going to take this banana from him.  I need you to put it on the scale, punch in the number, get the weight, and give it back to me as quickly as possible.  Do you understand?"

At first the cashier would roll her eyes and take her dang, sweet, high school, blue-tipped hair, gum-chewing time.  Then Sebastian would explode ("Why? WHY?") and that poor girl would choke on her gum while her eyes popped out.  The benefit of going to the same grocery store all the time is that people stopped rolling their eyes and just did what I said.  If a new employee was at the register, a supervisor would come over to execute the maneuver.

Eventually, Sebastian decided that bananas were for babies and I was more than happy to let that phase be a distant memory.

When you have a baby who starts eating solid food, bananas are awesome - portable, healthy, easy to break up, and delicious - so we started buying them again when Audrey came along.  Just to be safe, I only bought them when I was alone at the store or when the kids were distracted.  "Look!  A bird in the rafters!  Oh, you must have missed it..."  They still look sometimes when we go in the produce department, even though I've given up on the theatrics over the last few months.

This is one of Audrey's favorite foods, and she's fine with someone peeling a banana, so I figured Sebastian just had a bad past life experience.  When I picked Audrey up at daycare one day when she was about 15 months old, I found out that my kids both have the crazy banana gene.  Here's the report from her teacher:
"Audrey had a very bad day.  At snack time I cut her banana and she did not like that.  That's her milk over there and her crackers went under the other children's chairs.  We had to remove them all from the table to calm her down."
Then another teacher added that she heard the commotion from the next room, ran in and yelled "You didn't cut Audrey's banana did you?"  It was not the first time.

Turns out, if you slice a banana in front of my daughter, she becomes Hulk.  If I put banana in her cereal, I would slice it in the pantry.  I found out she saw through the charade the day she flipped her cereal bowl up to the chandelier.  If she's going to eat a banana, I just peel it and give it to her.  The last six months have been banana-tantrum-free with only one child eating them.

Then the other day, I offered Audrey a banana and, much to my surprise, Sebastian asked for one as well.  I peeled a second one for him and sure enough, he ate the whole thing with no problem.  He talked about how eating apples and bananas will make him grow big and strong.  I appreciate this because, once again, bananas are a great, healthy, portable snack for kids.  I was so glad my kids have moved past their craziness and we can snack in peace.

That is, with one important caveat.

Sebastian likes to "be first" and "win" at everything now because he's 4 and that's what kids do.  He wants to get dressed first, get in the bath first, buckle himself into the car first.  "I'm first and I'm the best," he tells Audrey, who just shrugs because she doesn't care about being first to anything.  Also, she seems fully aware that she is the best and doesn't need to worry herself with haters and pretenders.

Yesterday, Audrey asked for a banana for a snack.  Sebastian ran into the kitchen yelling "Yeah!  I want a banana too!  I want my banana first!"  This shouldn't be a big deal.  I peeled a banana and offered it to him.

Audrey reached out ninja-quick and bitchslapped that banana, breaking it in half and knocking it across the room.  Stunned, I held the remaining banana, cut clean at the top of the peel.  Sebastian burst into tears.  I looked at Audrey and found her cold, unfeeling glare piercing into my soul.  Without a word or the slightest movement, she informed me that this would not happen again because I would not dare cross that line.

If we intend to continue eating our snacks in peace, I'm going to need to remember which one of my children is still insane.  For the foreseeable future, Audrey gets the First Banana.

Happy Birthday Sebastian!

I certainly couldn't buy Sebastian a cake so soon after I had made Audrey's!  Besides, we picked out the yellow cake with chocolate icing when we went to the store.  I had some icing for decorating and sprinkles we picked out weeks ago to decorate cookies.  That was before I realized how much work decorating cookies is.  Especially if Aaron wouldn't help, and Aaron won't help me decorate cookies if I use the secret family Christmas cookie recipe for a random activity.  No matter, there are always birthdays!

Obviously, the number 4 was prominently displayed because I think I overshot the first two strokes.  Then, my spiderweb went a little silly.  My decorating skills seem a bit ambitious following the attempt for Audrey, what with the bold number, the web, and the sprinkles after the last debacle.  I thought so too, but the alternative was to free hand the word "Sebastian" and that wasn't going to happen.

Let's just be honest: I totally rocked this cake.

And the birthday went over rather well.  He got two Rescue Bots - Boulder and Blades - which brings his total to three.  He kept noting the absence of Heatwave the firetruck, which was not cool.  He got another $5, so he plans to get to the store to buy Heatwave.  He spent the day slamming the robots into things, running around with a big shirt and no pants on and choosing macaroni and cheese for every meal.  Sounds like my kind of day!  Audrey's not too interested in the Rescue Bots, so she did not appreciate a day when she couldn't cry her way into changing to Diego or Daniel Tiger.  Whatever, she got cake at the end of it.

I forget how chill Sebastian is: if you give him a day to do whatever he wants, he picks hanging out.  He demanded balloons and craziness on Audrey's birthday, but on his, there were few demands.  Just cartoons and toys and a plain old Duncan Hines cake with some extra icing.  He called family, obliged some phone conversations, but then went back to Wolling to the Wescue with the Wescue Bots.   My kind of guy.

Happy 4th birthday, Sebastian!

"No! I Ate Me!"

While waiting in the Home Depot parking lot, Sebastian announced that he only had his gummy worm family left.  He clarified in the following video:

At least we have anudder me, though right?

Cardboard Box Time

I'm telling myself that I made a deal with my kids, but I basically just gave up in the middle of bedtime and walked out of the room.  Audrey was almost completely on board with going to sleep in her bed.  All I had to do was get through the book we were reading and that would be it, she would be asleep.  Then Sebastian walked in and was playing with the big cardboard boxes that happened to be sitting in their room, and the whole plan just went out the window.  He's the fool who planted the idea and now they are both hanging out in the dark in their respective cardboard boxes, pretending to sleep.

Nah, not even pretending to sleep.  They're talking and exchanging toys and probably sharing more of the Russell Stover Select chocolate heart that they dumped out.  And Audrey is only wearing a diaper because she told me honestly that if she wore pajamas she fully intended to take the shirt off by pulling it down over her belly and stashing it somewhere.  At least she's honest.

They're wearing me down.  Yesterday was Sebastian's birthday and he insisted on "Macka" (-roni and cheese) for lunch and dinner, so I'm trying to talk through that fog, plus birthday cake.  And I'm old.  I'm like 30 and their 7:30 bedtime might as well be midnight.  I stood up and walked out so I wouldn't just lie down on the floor and go to sleep.

This cardboard box idea was a bad one.  Aaron and I are going to keep each other up to monitor the situation as it progresses.  I think Sebastian just threw something in Audrey's box to convince her to keep it down so the experiment won't get shut down completely.  She's jumping and screaming because she's too small to get out.

Aaron's probably going to intervene before I do.  I'm thinking this can only benefit us: they'll either hate the cardboard boxes and never ask again or they'll get used to them and we can convert the kids' bedroom into something else.

I would like to cover the room in gym mats and buy myself a big puffy sumo wrestling suit and jump around because when I can just put my kids to bed in a cardboard box and walk out of the room, I'll have the time and energy to do that sort of thing.

Not Handy. Not Helpful.

I've got about a million reasons why I shouldn't try to be handy and yet...

Aaron was home from work early today, and I was riding an amazing wave of productivity from the morning - two kids got check-ups and shots, the pharmacy was visited, workboots were successfully returned to the store, and Sebastian's birthday gifts arrived in the mail, right on schedule.  The lunch I made for the kids was spectacularly well-balanced and served at the kitchen table.  Aaron came home to find two chill kids and me just sitting down to blog about the doctor.  There were a few household maintenance announcements about the thawing Cornish game hens we're having for dinner and our slow toilet, but the day was a success.  Why not push it?

I surrendered the computer to Aaron and went to find something to do.  I know! I thought I'll check on that toilet!

Check-up!

Sebastian and Audrey both had to go to the doctor for a check-up today, an event they've been looking forward to all week.  We'll get out of the house, we get to meet our family nurse practitioner, and she'll make sure everyone is healthy.

Sebastian used to freak out whenever he went to the doctor.  He's never liked people getting up in his space, and I would leave the appointment black and blue from the wrestling match over some stranger in pink scrubs sticking something in his ear.  My kid's really suspicious.  I give him a lot of notice before we go to the doctor.  I also try to act like stickers are a much bigger deal than even his preschool teachers have made them out to be.

Fortunately, my kids watch Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood, and Daniel Tiger got to go to the doctor, so my doctor announcement was met with cheers.  If there had been more than two kids, they would have done the wave.  For a week, I've heard chants about check-ups, songs about the doctor, and toddler arguments about how the "DOC-TOO" is going to make sure we are HEALTHY.  Both kids were even looking forward to getting shots, because that's what Daniel Tiger got.

Little Cavepeople

Sometimes I go outside and I see my neighbors' kids playing in the street, wearing bathing suits in February with only one shoe on, rolling in the grass, and screaming.  Sure, they're having fun, but do I want MY kids running out in the world with this assortment of cavepeople?  I smirk, because my kids are really quite perfect.

Then I walk inside and Audrey has chocolate on her face from a donut she found on her booster seat this morning and Sebastian doesn't have pants on because "that's not his job."  There's a mixture of dog food and crayons in the hallway.  Also, the water is running in the bathroom, but no one's hands look clean.

I'm going to lock the door so my little cavepeople don't corrupt the neighbors' kids.

Mayonnaise Elf

I tried to be sneaky while feeding the dog last night.  It was about 45 minutes after feeding time and Audrey was nowhere to be found, so I quietly opened the dog food bag and slooooowly scooped the dog food because scooping dog food is about the loudest thing you can do if you're not vacuuming.  A few pieces dropped back into the bag and I knew I was sunk before I heard it.

"Mayonnaise Elf!  Mayonnaise Elf!"

Dang that Mayonnaise Elf!  I swear, any time I do something Audrey wants to do, she declares Mayonnaise Elf, like she's calling Parlay or something.  I brush her hair - "Mayonnaise Elf!" - or pump soap on her hands - "Mayonnaise Elf!" - or help untangle her from a shirt she's tried to pull down over her belly - "NO MOM!  MAYONNAISE ELF!"  I think she invokes Mayonnaise Elf about 345 times a day, which may burst my eardrums, but it also reminds me to be patient, step back, and allow Audrey and the Mayonnaise Elf to do their thing.

After all, she's two now, so this independent streak is only going to get worse.  Eventually, she'll also learn to speak, so the Mayonnaise Elf will gradually leave us and Audrey will transition into yelling what she really means:

"NO MOM!  BY MYSELF!"

First Haircut

Audrey got her first haircut the other day, which means I probably need to change out the doorknobs in my bedroom and bathroom.  Here's how those things are related:

Not A Cake Decorator

There is no shame in ordering a cake.

First of all, when I bought the Valentine's Funfetti cake, I made a silent promise to myself that it would not become Audrey's birthday cake.  As a post-Christmas baby who married a post-Christmas baby, I'm pretty sensitive to people whose birthdays get overshadowed by holidays, so I planned to do something different.  Then I realized that she probably doesn't care and we're going to have a bunch of cake this week, so I went ahead and made it.  I had the Funfetti frosting,  but I decided I wouldn't mix the sprinkles in.  Surely I could write something with these little icing writers and then use the sprinkles for some awesome decorating.

Let's not go into my poor choice for a cake plate - obviously I was not completely committed here.  And my writing is just... awesome...  I was on the phone with Aaron when I did that.  The sprinkles, well, the sprinkle work is evidence that I just have no clue when to stop.  You note that I have a lot of sprinkles left, so the good news is I stopped myself.

Part of me debated just dumping the rest on to cover my elementary school cake decorating skills, but I'll wait for Aaron to get home before I have a complete sprinkle meltdown.

I'm going to spend some time on Cake Wrecks to feel better about myself.  I mean, it could always get worse.

Birthday Baths

Want to know what Audrey wants for her birthday?  A bath.  Yup, that's what she wants.  A bath and to be able to run around in her diaper with big girl underwear on top.  I say...

"WHAT A GREAT IDEA!  WHAT A SPECIAL WAY TO SPEND YOUR SPECIAL DAY!"

And then I gave her ice cream for breakfast.  And I didn't get frustrated when she put the ice cream cup two feet from herself and dribbled it on the floor as she ate it.  Ice cream for breakfast AND a bath?  This day is going to be so awesome!

There is only one thing standing in my way: Sebastian.  This almost-four-year-old knows the birthday drill, and once he finishes his second helping of breakfast ice cream and this episode of Diego and the bath - WITH BATHTUB CRAYONS! - he will mention balloons, cake, presents, new puppies, pony rides, and Santa Claus because, you know, presents.  We'll work on that.  He proudly presented the birthday gift he bought me as being from Santa Claus, so he's kind of ahead of the game in a lot of ways.  To be fair, my birthday is immediately after Christmas, but from what I hear Santa should be coming to our house tonight for Audrey's birthday as well.  We've got some things to talk about that.

For his second birthday, Aaron and I (mostly Aaron since he's the family trumpet player) blew up something like 100 balloons and put them all over his room.  Then we had balloon hats when he woke up.  We also had a newborn sister and we were trying to curry favor with him so he wouldn't sell her on eBay.  In retrospect, we had some odd expectations about sibling integration.  We also really liked the balloon idea.

I feel dumb, because he probably just wanted a bath, maybe some ice cream and Diego.  Now, we have photographic evidence of what a birthday can be and tub crayons are just not going to do it.  Furthermore, Sebastian got to open his Valentine cards and gift while Audrey got to open her birthday presents.  His brain will kick into gear the minute he's picking out his post-bath shirt and he'll realize that if Audrey gets a huge birthday present, he can get at least a large Valentine present to open at the same time.   It's only a matter of time until this birthday bath is no longer enough.

Let's see if Aaron loves me enough to stop and pick up an obnoxious birthday balloon on his way home, to present with the dinner presents and keep the distraction up.  If I give Sebastian the chance to spill the beans about how special a Birthday Bath really is, I'll have a very clean little girl with big eyes demanding a parade by the end of the day.

Language

The other day, the kids were watching a movie while I was cleaning up the kitchen after lunch.

Sebastian: DAMMit!  DAMMit Bug!
Me: (running in) WHAT did you just say?
Sebastian: Dammit!  Look Mom!  The bug just hit the window!  Dammit!
Me: Okay Bud, that's a bad word.  Mommy and Daddy shouldn't say it and you should not say it either, okay?
Sebastian: Okay Mom.
Me: (walking back into the kitchen) Okay...
Audrey: Oh SHIT!

I've got some work to do.

Note: I didn't post this when it happened because obviously it reflects SO well on me.  This is something we are working to correct both in ourselves and our children, so just enjoy the comedic value of the moment.  Thanks.

So Help Me, Fish!

We do dumb things when we just feel like getting out of the house, like getting fish.  Last time, it was a tank with six different fish in it who died on some kind of rotational system that we never could understand.  The tank was in the kids' room, so we tried to shield the kids from the multitude of fish deaths.  Most often, one fish would die in the late afternoon and I would notice as I put the kids to bed, which is the wrong time to pull a dead fish out of a tank.  By the next morning, those little cannibals had eaten their dead friend.  Sick.

This time, we got two bettas.  They're named Link and Zelda, in some order, and they change names every day or so.  I don't know why, since they look completely different.  One is a beautiful blue and the other is a white/pink/red baby that Audrey picked because she really wanted a baby fish.  The baby fish gets on my nerves.

Dress for the Bowflex

I seriously just changed my shirt twice because someone was coming to buy an item I put on Craigslist.  The first shirt was a boring, long-sleeved striped shirt, and the last shirt was another boring, long-sleeved striped shirt, but I changed it up by putting a t-shirt on over it.  It was a very casual "I didn't try too hard" kind of look.

Now why would I go to the trouble?  Because I was selling a Bowflex and I, quite obviously, could still use a Bowflex.

We don't have space for the Bowflex now and I wasn't taking the time to use it - we definitely needed to sell it.  I'd had it up since January, when everyone else was selling their Bowflex to New Year's Resolutionistas.

The Utility of Dogs

I gave the kids Pop-tarts for breakfast, because I am lazy and that is what they wanted.  Pretty soon, I realized the dog had eaten half of each child's breakfast because kids love to feed dogs and dogs eat everything.  I shouldn't complain: Madigan's obsessive floor-licking puts every mop or vacuum to shame.  Don't tell my husband, but last week, when we woke to find the cats had flipped Sebastian's dinner plate of spaghetti sauce on the floor, I didn't vacuum - I just let the dog go to town.  Then I gave her a treat, which happened to be 3/4 of two hard boiled egg yolks that the kids handed to me.  The dog was a great free investment.

Let me be clear: I'm not proud right now.  This is not a high point for me.  I'm using the dog to do half my dirty work and turning my kids into Suburban Tarzans.  Audrey was sitting on the floor, wearing nothing but a diaper with big girl underwear on top (I'm working on that, I swear this will only last a week... or so...) and happily feeding her Pop-tart to the dog.  Meanwhile, I was reading about the Pope retirement as a reward for getting the dishwasher unloaded.

Then I decided to get productive, so I called a 1-800 number about funding for a work certification.  The kids were starting a movie, Audrey finally had a dress on, what could go wrong?

"Mom! Mom! MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!"

"Mom!  Mom!  MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!"  I ran to the kitchen, where Sebastian was standing in front of the open fridge.

"Mom!  Look!  My back is holding the door!  My back can hold the fridge door because that is what my back do because my back is big and strong and can hold the door all by myself!  Look Mom!  Keep looking!  Do you see the door?  Do you see my back is holding the fridge door?  That's because I am big and strong!"

I closed my eyes and opened them wide.  I blinked a few times.  Shook my head.

"Mom look!  I got you some cheese!  One for you and one for Daddy and two for me but Audrey doesn't need one!"

And he left the room, with two Kraft Singles that he can't open.  I put mine in the fridge and opened "Daddy's" for Audrey.

"Mom!  Mom!  MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!  I need you to open my CHEEEEESE!"

I'm not running this time.

Toilet Plunger Amnesty

I don't know where it is, I don't know what you were playing, I don't know why on earth you thought you needed it, but WHERE IS THE TOILET PLUNGER?

I wanted to say that.  And I would have gotten more frustrated with each question.  And both of the children would have wailed the minute I told them what I needed.  If I ever found it, I would have listened to sniffles while I manipulated a half-roll of toilet paper down the toilet.  Not because this is what I wanted to do with my evening, but because gleefully throwing it in was what my daughter wanted to do with her afternoon.

No, I could not yell my way to the toilet plunger.  I could not even be frustrated: my friend Jackie had twin boys who discovered that if you just put the end of the roll in the toilet and flush, it makes a thwap-thwap-thwap sound as the whole roll goes down!  My kids have not teamed up in this endeavor, and it was only half a roll that had been carefully peeled, placed, and punctuated by giggles as she went to peel off another piece.

Instead, I found both children in the living room.  I knelt down in front of them and I said "Hey guys?"

Good MORNING!

I just woke the kids by setting our cat, Piano, on Sebastian's bed and closing the door.  There are three creatures in that room and two are extremely excited.  The one who is not excited has claws and a long memory.

Chivalry Was Killed... By a Dog Fart

Our dog Madigan is awesome. And she loves apple cores. Tonight she had three apple cores and was in absolute heaven! Then she came in for the night, to sleep in her luxurious dog bed, which is right next to my side of the bed. I thought nothing of these two seemingly unrelated facts. That was a mistake.

Turns out, Madigan has some of the same genetic makeup as a skunk. I would say she can clear a room, but the stench renders anyone affected too weak to walk. It's not a fart: it's a war crime.

Of course I smell it first, since she's right next to me. My nostrils actually go numb first to prepare themselves to take it all in, and then the stink just flies directly into my brain. This may be how they mummified the Pharaohs to make sure they were dead and get all the gray matter ready to come out. I lurch from my book with a loud "UGH!"

I happen to live with the proverbial Peanut Gallery, who starts in with "What happened?" Followed immediately by a string of "whoever smelt it dealt it" accusations. And I roll my eyes and lie still so the poison will waft over me and season his side of the room.

Tonight, I tried a different tactic. I yelled out because I couldn't help it, but then I tried to appeal to my husband's chivalrous nature: "Honey, would you mind switching to my side of the bed tonight?"

"Huh? Well... OH GEEZ WHAT DID THAT DOG EAT? No way. Oh GOD!"

Maybe I wasn't fast enough to beat the smell to his nose - to be fair, I may have lost consciousness on this one - but I'll declare it. Chivalry is dead. Cause of death is Dog Fart.

And it will be a while before this dog gets any apples.

The Perpetrator, living a life of luxury until she's sent to the Doggy Hague.