Drops of Awesome

Okay, because I can’t HELP MYSELF…….

They’re so cute, I’m practically vomitting. Check out the new stuff from my “other” site:

“Dare to jump in puddles. Dare to eat the green stuff. Dare to sing your own song.”

“Dare to love without limits. Dare to adore your job. Dare to be fabulous.”

And finally…………..

SHOW AND TELL
I really couldn’t decide this week since Blackbird didn’t specify hot or cold beverage. So, I picked two. For hot stuff, I love my mug I got at the Globe Theatre in London. For chilly, I like this Migo insulated cup with straw, although I’m kind of miffed because I can’t figure out how to get replacement straws and there’s no way I’m buying a whole new cup when the straw goes AWOL.

And yet, I love her still.

This afternoon my mom called and she had a sad tale to tell. One might even call it a gruesome tale. If you are squeamish, do not read on.

She keeps a basket at the bottom of the stairs where she puts things that need to go away on the second floor. I love this idea. I am using it in my book.

Yesterday while carrying the basket upstairs, a giant needle fell from the basket and got lost in the carpet. She found it a while later…..with her foot.

Here’s how it went down. The giant needle went EYE FIRST in at her toenail, coming out the bottom of her toe somewhere around the middle and then lodged itself in the BALL OF HER FOOT. The pointy part was still sticking out the TOP OF HER TOE and she couldn’t get it out! What the heck kind of needle was this and more importantly, did she even have a permit to be carrying such a weapon? My WORD!

She had to hobble to the phone and call her neighbor (a nurse) and ask her to come over with pliers to remove the object. Are you kidding me? They had to pull it back through the foot and toe by the pointy end because that was the only part sticking out.

If I didn’t know and trust my mother, I would disregard this as another lone-gunman, magic-bullet, what-grassy-knoll?, theory. However, I know she is true and OUCH!!!! So, what’s one of the first things I ask her? “Did you take a picture of it?”

Here’s where the extreme selfishness comes in. She did not, in fact, take a picture with the needle still in her toe. She said it “hurt too much” to think about taking a picture for me to post on my blog.

Don’t people think about anyone but themselves anymore? I mean, GOSH!

The picture I have posted here was taken a while ago after Grammy had received a pedicure a la Laylee. You’ll have to imagine the giant spike sticking out of her toe because someone was too busy “seeking medical attention” to photodocument.

First, and randomly, Laylee is always telling me and DY Dad that we do a “GREAT JOB!” This morning was one of the weirdest ones yet. I had just finished pulling on her pull-ups when she stopped, got very serious, inspected them thoroughly and then looked up with a furrowed brow and deep look of respect. Very slowly, emphasizing each word, she said, “Mommy! You did a really good job at that.”

“Well, thank you, small fry. I’ve had a little more experience pullin’ up the ole’ panties than you have. Mine also happen to be dry. Wanna check em for me? Can I have an M ‘n M?”

Okay, so Magoo is still at the “hit the deck” stage of his sleeping abilities. This means that if we step on a twig or creek the door hinges as we enter the room, he will stir and look up. If he sees us, we’re dead-meat. The screaming! If not, he looks around groggily and then goes back to sleep.

So, if one of us sees his head start to raise, we will mouth to the other, “HIT THE DECK!” at which time we drop silently to the ground and pray that our clothing will allow us to blend in with the carpet. Then we lay without moving for sometimes several minutes until he stops looking for prey and goes back to dreamland. “Whew, that was close!” The hardest part is to keep from giggling. When we’ve “hit the deck,” my husband and I can not look each other in the eye or all is lost. You see, Magoo is sensitive to movement AND sound, particularly the sound of his parents’ maniacal laughter.

Laylee has long since passed the “hit the deck” phase. She is now in the phase where we can pick her up by her toes, rearrange the blankets, twirl her around like a baton over our heads, take her parasailing, dress her up like Tina Turner, snap a few pictures with the flash on the camera, remove the lipstick, and put her back in bed with a kiss and some loving words. She will then open her eyes a slit, smile and say, “mmmmmm,” and go back to sleep.

In other news — Jack is either the laziest or on-the-verge-of-dying-est fish ever. He lies on the bottom of the tank all day except to eat. He spoons up to the fake plants and just “sleeps?” I have a feeling he’ll be “sleepin’ with the fishes” before long.

At breakfast this morning, Laylee held up her fist in what looked like a black power sign and said, “Now you should go like this!” Usually I don’t give in to demands that don’t involve the use of the magic word but I decided to play along.

“There!” she exclaimed, “We just did ‘GO COUGARS!’”

In a burst of school spirit a couple of months ago, I decided it was a travesty that Laylee did not yet know the cougar fight song. She has the shirt, where’s the mindless singing and cheering, I ask you, where?

So we began singing it periodically and she is in love with it. She even asks us to sing it to her at bedtime, which we do, slowly like a lullaby (Does anyone else have the feeling of deja vu? Are you ever writing a post and think, did I post this exact same thing a couple of months ago?).

Our favorite part comes at the end:

“Rah-Rah Rah-Rah-Rah. Rah-Rah Rah-Rah-Rah. GOOOOOOOOOO (hands rolling) COUGARS! (Fist up in the air)

Then we attempt to calm down enough to eat the rest of our Panda Bear Crunch cereal, saltines, and watered-down gatorade that we like to call – breakfast. Stop yelling at me! I’ll throw her a banana in an hour or so.

I never finished Moby Dick. This may not come as a complete surprise to my American Novel professor who graded the exam where I answered that Ishmael, THE NARRATOR OF THE ENTIRE BOOK, dies at the end. (The first words of the book are “Call me Ishmael” which should have been my first clue that he lived through his dealings with the massive beast from the deep in order to record his experiences. Alas, I remained clueless.)

To the rest of you, this may seem shocking.

The truth is, I just couldn’t do it. It was so long and there was so much information about whale anatomy, I was taking a billion classes and we had only one week to read the book. So, I read until he started describing each whale species and every single atom it possessed. Then I read/skimmed the Cliff’s Notes and moved on with my life.

It is a happy and full life and I don’t really feel bad about it. I still got a B in the class and they even let me graduate.

The Mobe-ster still sits on my shelf of “great literature” and one day maybe Laylee will read it and tell me what happens. Until then, at least I can comfort myself in knowing that Ishmael is still alive to write his life story.

The coveted Daring Young Mom gear is now available, “just in time” for Christmas. Check it out if you’re bored. I had fun getting it all set up.

I think the yellow bag with the giant picture of my HEED is the best item. I’m trying to redesign that with just the simple logo but am running into “issues.”

All the stuff says:

We know we’re all supposed to eat about a bazillion veggies every day. We are also encouraged to coerce our children into consuming said vegetables. Even I, a self-proclaimed veggie lover, struggle to eat enough because they seem to take so much time and effort to prepare.

What tips can you offer for making this process a little less painful for all concerned? How do you conceal these healthful morsels or make them more appealing to your family members? How do you get down your 3-5 servings each day?

A couple of ideas:

Orange or Green Mashed Potatoes – My aunt taught me to boil carrots or spinach within an inch of their lives in a small amount of water, just barely to cover. When they are super-mushy, add the whole pot (water and all) to the potatoes you’re mashing for dinner. This becomes a novelty food – green or orange mashed potatoes.

For young toddlers who can’t chew carrot sticks yet – Every few days I boil several carrot sticks and then stick them in the fridge. When Laylee wants a snack, I hand her a couple of carrot sticks “just like mommy eats” and she loves them.

Now I want your tips. Gimme, gimme, gimme!

When I am sick, I am often irritable. When I am irritable, I am often snippy. When I am snippy, I am often embarrassed or annoyed by my children repeating phrases of my snippidity over and over and over again.

Tonight Magoo was whining, part of his teething ritual. Laylee was also whining and saying my name over and over and over again and asking me to do impossible tasks. “Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Please put this 10’X10’ blanket into my purse the size of a sandwich baggie.” “Please. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy.”

I think that’s why we all just tell them our name is Mommy and keep our real identity a secret for as long as possible. We don’t want to grow to hate our own names.

Amdist all this whining, I was stomping around the house looking for some important papers I’d misplaced during my days of pathetic sickness. My two-year-old stalker was hot on my heels and I turned to her and said, “You’d better leave me alone now or Mommy is going to HAVE A COW.”

Laylee: Are you going to have a cow, Mommy?

Me: Yes.

Laylee (delighted): OH! Can I have a cow too Mommy?

Me: Sure. I think you already are.

Laylee: Can Magoo have a cow too Mommy? How about Daddy? Can Daddy have a cow?

Me(madly shuffling through papers): Yes, we can all have a cow. Let’s everybody have a cow. Yippee! It’s cow time. Let’s all have a big fat cow.

Laylee(very excited): O-KAY!

An hour later it’s bedtime and Laylee won’t stop crying

“I can’t go to bed. Mommy said we could all have a cow. I want a cow. Can we go to the store and get a cow? I want a pink cow. Daddy, do you want a white cow and mommy do you want a pink cow like me? Let’s all have a cow. Please. I don’t want to go to bed………WAAAAAHHHHH”

Luckily DY Dad saved the day with a great old trick called, “Let’s-pretend-this-pink-doll-jamma-is-a-pink-cow-and-eat-you-and-tickle-you-all-over-with-it-until-you-forget-why-you-were-in-fact-having-a-cow.”

I am a very conflicted person. I was raised on fairytales and magic and had a sweet and wonderful childhood. Then I went to college and studied Film and English and became a sort of jaded “Into the Woods” – “Don’t Lie to Your Children about Santa Claus” sort of person.

Now that I have kids, I want them to have as magical a childhood as I did and I want them to use their imaginations and dream and see the world as a wonderful place. Like my parents before me, I will teach them what they need to know when they need to know it.

A Quote from last month’s book club book, The Hiding Place, by Corrie Ten Boom:
Corrie as a young child had asked her father about Sex. “He turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but to my surprise he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his traveling case from the rack over our heads, and set it on the floor. ‘Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?’ he said. I stood up and tugged at it. It was crammed with the watches and spare parts he had purchased that morning. ‘It’s too heavy,’ I said. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It’s the same way, Corrie, with knowledge. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you.’”

A psychiatrist once told me that he thinks encouraging imagination and belief in fairies and Santa Claus, etc. encourages children to think on a higher conceptual level and to develop empathy.

This weekend, we went the magical route and headed for a high school production of Cinderella. What a blast for the kids. The moms had a great time too.

The girls all dressed like Cinderella in honor of the occasion.

Laylee didn’t have a Cinderella costume so she wore a blue dress and we told her she looked like the Cinder-one anyway. All three girls got magic necklaces from their “fairy godmothers.”

We all settled in for a great show. An announcement was made that no photos were allowed to be taken inside the theatre. I heard and ignored this warning. I don’t think taking pictures of my own kids violates the school’s copyright agreement with Rogers and Hammerstein….and I didn’t take any during the performance.

I did not, however, hear the warning that people in the back half of the theatre should keep the isles clear during the second half of the show. This would be very important later.

Despite the fact that it was a Saturday matinee starring all of the understudies and they charged a fortune for tickets, there was a pretty full house.

As the orchestra began playing the overture, Karli and I both started tearing up. It made me remember being in theatre and going to musicals with my mom. The tradition is alive and well. Karli also misses performing. We made a vow to do some sort of community theatre one day (something with no kissing scenes since we’ve both made a previous vow concerning this aspect of theatre with our husbands). Laylee clapped wildly when appropriate and yelled out, “OH!” “That’s the FAIRY GODMOTHER!” and “I think the MICE ARE COMING!” at all the appropriate places. About an hour in, she was on my lap with her head resting on my arm. Did I mention the play started right about naptime?

At half-time, we stood in line to buy wands.

The wands were waved wildly in the wind ….until they broke. Many tears were shed.

Much repair work was done.

After my four-hundredth intermission photo, a voice came over the intercom reminding the audience that no photography was permitted in the auditorium (read this: Kathryn, you flash-happy nut, stop taking pictures already!).

Laylee was very tired during the second half. Since I was sitting on the isle, I laid her coat out in the isle like a pillow and let her rest her head where she could still see the show. A minute later, I heard loads of screaming and feet pounding down the isle. I snatched her out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed by 50 giddy adolescent glass-slipper-trier-oners. That was scary, or as Laylee would say, “That was cloast!” The theatre was really dark and they could have crushed her head like a grape. I remind myself to listen the next time “they” explain how I can use my airplane seat cushion as a flotation device.

When everything was proclaimed “Happily ever after,” we had pictures taken with the royal couple, bundled up the kidos and headed out into the cold Puget Sound fall.

Luckily the King had enough gold in the treasury to pay for his son’s orthadonture.

The drive home was wet.

Laylee finally got to sleep.

What a great day, until a few hours later when the hideous parasite took over my body. Thanks for all your well-wishes. I’m feeling much better today. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll be fully mended and no one else will come down with it.

Speaking of tomorrow — the tip is how to convince/trick your kids, your spouse and yourself into eating more vegetables.

I think I might be dying. Last night I came down with a wicked stomach bug. After hours of fluid loss, body aches and chills, I called my insurance provider’s nurse advice hotline and she told me to go in to the ER or Urgent Care for rehydration. So, they tested me for dehydration and our whole family spent 4 hours in the Urgent Care while they pumped me full of 3 liters of IV fluids. Magoo had to go 6.5 hours with no food b/c he will only take the breast and the nurses wouldn’t let me give him what little fluid I had left.

The fluid was so cold and I just laid there and felt the cold spread over my whole body. The nurses kept complaining about how hot it was and even called maintenance to come fix the heat problem. I laid there with a sweater and a blanket on, shivering. For the grand finale, I got a shot in le rear to help control the nausea. Overall, not the best Sunday on record.

Luckily DY Dad is taking the day off work tomorrow. He’s spent all day watching the kids, bringing me small sips of liquid, folding the laundry and cleaning the kitchen. He is a great little nurse.

Man, I pray no one else in the family gets this. For now, I’ve put all of us in lock-down mode. I don’t want one of us to unwittingly pass the bug to someone else outside the family.

Laylee: Can I use the phone to call Ducky pretend?

Me: Okay sure.

Laylee: How’re you Ducky?
Are you good?
Are you in time out?
Because you were mean and you were kranky?
I hope you have a great day!
Because I’m playing with mommy.
Sooooo…..
The end.
Have a great day.
Talk to you later Ducky.

She hands me the phone. Can you guess if anyone else had to go in time out today? Do you think anyone else was mean or kranky? No, it was not me! You take that back.

NANOWRIMO Word Count: 6733 (at least 500 of which don’t bite the big one. Yippee!)