A Word Of Advice

Hypothetically speaking....

If you ever spontaneously go and see a movie with my dad, and before that movie begins you ask him, "is this a creepy movie?" and he says, "no"-- don't believe it.  It is, in fact, the creepiest movie ever.  (Although, he will be the only person in the theater giggling hysterically.)

I mean, hypothetically speaking, of course.  Like that would ever happen!

Quote Time!

This has been a week where a fresh new paranoia washed over me concerning taking LM out to mingle with the general public.  With uncanny frequency, we have crossed paths with many a person who have one disability or another, and LM just HAD to make comments.  Every.  Single.  Time.  

LM: (walks up to a man with one leg) "What happened to your leg?  Did it get cut off?"

LM: (walks up to a man with one arm) "What happened to your arm?  Can you not lift heavy stuff?"

LM: (walks up to a child with Cerebral Palsy and asks his dad): "Can your kid not walk?"

So now, whenever I see a "unique" person coming our way, I turn LM around in an immediate about-face and high-tail it outta there!  (It's safe to say we won't be attending any Special Olympics events in the near future....)  Go ahead and call me chicken-- I'm completely comfortable with that.  

Moving on....

LM: "I eat my boogers"

LM: "Aghh, Mom!  The sun; I don't like it!  It gives me the hots!"

LM: (after thinking and scheming of a way to purchase a toy he's been pining for) "Hey, Mom, I have an idea of how to get that dog I want from Fred Meyer.  Let's just use your slash card!"

(He then described to me just how easy this process is.  Apparently, you can buy anything you want, whenever you want, simply by using "slash cards".  Hmmmm...maybe it's not too early to start teaching him about responsible credit...?)

LM: (reciting a "Bible verse" for me-- one of his favorite pastimes as of late) "God 48: Whoever loves his planet could be the most goodest person, one nation, under God, indivisible and with justice for all!"

(Funny, I don't remember that one....)

Wow.  Just...wow.  

Go Girl Power! Okay, That's Enough....

Every spring our family takes turns volunteering our stellar yard skills at each other's houses.  Edging lawns, weeding gardens, planting annuals, outdoor projects-- you name it.  The homeowner's wish is our command.  

Today we gathered at my older sister's house to do her (and her hubby's) bidding-- and let me tell you, there was quite a lot of bidding going on.  I was put to work (along with my younger sister and her husband) applying a sealant to the brand spankin' new playground in their backyard.  Since this project meant that the kids were not allowed on the playground, they naturally had to entertain themselves elsewhere.  Well, The Bopper isn't always adept at entertaining herself.  You see, sometimes The Bopper needs help.  And a lot of attention.  And supervision.  And...well, she's three, what else can I say?

Anyway, as T and I were dutifully painting the sealant on, we kept hearing a small voice calling to us-- "Auntie, look!" over and over.   Unable to ignore the wee tot (moms can ignore, aunts aren't as equipped for this...) I craned my neck to catch a peak at what the little darling was up to.  Well, the little darling was naked from the waist down and vigorously pointing to a certain part of her anatomy that most women prefer not to draw attention to unless, say...they're birthing a baby or something.  "Auntie, look!" she called again, pointing more fervently.  "Yes, honey, that's wonderful!" I called back.  She proceeded to get T's attention in the same manner, and T more or less responded in the same way I had.  Apparently, The Bopper was so pleased with our reactions that she felt perhaps we would enjoy taking in another viewing.  So, she called to us again.  "Auntie, look!"  Unable to stop myself, (just like when passing a train-wreck) I peered around the corner of the playhouse again.  I was rewarded with more flaming vajayjay pride.  "I see it, honey!  That's great!" I yelled.  Then it was T's turn again, and she made some comment about the wonderful feministic enlightenment our little 3-year old niece was demonstrating.  

We figured that after round two she would get bored and move on.  After all, how many times did she think we needed to see it?  And yet...she displayed a remarkable ability to focus herself fully on the task at hand; introducing and reintroducing us to her privates.  Well, private parts don't hold nearly the same mysterious allure to me that they do to a toddler (or to your average man, for that matter).  And to be honest, I wasn't all that interested in stopping my work every 30 seconds or so in order to take in the viewing-- as exceptional as it was.  I mean, twice was already more than I needed, you know?  But The Bopper was not aware of this fact, and she attempted to command our waning attention with greater and greater urgency.  T, with more prudence than I could muster up, suggested finally that we (gasp) ignore the tyke.  I couldn't see a more reasonable solution and so we tried it.  And you know what?  It worked!  Go figure....

And by the way, in case any of you are curious, we were able to finish sealing the entire playground (although it took three of us about 4 hours to do it) before day's end.  And eventually The Bopper's mom put a lid on the pee-pee pride by outfitting the child in underpants.  And as much as I'm all about girl power, really, it was for the best....

6 Quotes....

LM has truly been full-of-it lately.  Better than TV!  And Ruby Jane....  Let's just say she recently uttered a beaut that, sadly, is completely unpostable.  (If you're terribly curious just email me.)

1. LM: (upset that his father had confiscated a certain toy due to misuse) "Mom, you shouldn't have got that husband!"

2. (After I'd made the popcorn that LM had requested for his snack): "Maybe I made a little mistake-- I don't like popcorn, Mom."

3. (LM spots three girls who are all gussied-up for prom and approaches them, grinning ear-to-ear, and suavely calls): "Hey, ladies!"  

(This gets their smiling attention, and thus encouraged, LM drops his line): "You look pretty, ladies."  

(He is rewarded with giggles and thanks.  Lord, help me!)

4. (LM was repeatedly getting into an item not "approved" for his usage, and so I threatened to hide it from him): "But I'm a good sniffer-outter, Mom."

5. Tiff: "How tall are you?"

LM: "I don't know."

Tiff: "Do you think you're as tall as me?"

LM: "Let's measure!"

(They stood face-to-face to measure.)

Tiff: "Oh...you're not quite as tall as me."

LM: "I'm as tall as your boobs!"

6. Ruby Jane: (as she was prepping my toes for a pedicure) "Gosh, woman, your cuticles are huge!"

(Ah, yes, what mom hasn't heard her 9-year old daughter say that?)

Bonus:

This sort of thinking just makes a parent gush with pride....

Ruby Jane: "I'd like to get an easy job where I get paid A LOT!"

(Ummm...if you find one, let me know....)

Just For Fun

Have you ever really paid attention to the faces you make while getting ready in the morning?  (You know, when you're doing your hair, putting on make-up, getting those contacts in, etc.)  

Well, I discovered for the first time today that I make a very special face while pulling my hair back into a pony-tail.  A face I hope none of you are ever exposed to-- it is that idiotic.  

So, just for the heck of it, check out your facial acrobatics next time you're in front of the mirror laboring over some morning ritual.  (I'm going to try and sneak a peak at hubby shaving-- I'll bet it's a hoot!)

And in the future, I'm keeping the bathroom door shut....

Should I Press Charges Against Myself?

I just have to tell someone about the pain I've been in for the last three days.  This mini-tale falls under the "Humongous Dork-Face" category-- but at this point in my life that's a comfortably familiar place for me.  I haven't told a soul about it yet, (being, ironically, too embarrassed) but figured what-the-heck, might as well just tell the whole dumb story on my blog.

Here goes....  I punched myself in the face.  Hard.  Like, I'm surprised there's no black eye or at least some colorful bruising.  It hurts when I smile.  It hurts when I wash my face.  It just plain hurts!  

You see, I was very nearly asleep-- the one obstacle in the way of full unconsciousness being the fact I was practically freezing.  Hubby is a notorious bedding hog, and so I clenched the covers tightly in my fist and began to pull hard.  Well, that sucker must have been all wrapped up nice and toasty-warm because those dang sheets weren't moving off him an inch.  So, I pulled harder...lost my grip and...BAM, right in the cheek bone.  I wasn't so sleepy after that-- just mad.  Mad, hurting, and still cold.

That was three nights ago.  And my face is still sore, goshdarnitall!  So if I see you in the next couple days, please refrain from making me laugh.  It hurts.

Get Your Quotes Here!

Without further ado:

1. LM: "I scratched a hole in Nini's tree and it squirted icky Christmas tree juice on me!"

(I then proceeded to explain the concept of "sap".)

2. The Bopper: "The Bopper has a bottom."

Her Mother: "Yep!"

The Bopper: "Mama has a bottom, too."

Her Mother: "Yep!"

The Bopper: "Yeah, a big one!"

 

3. LM: "I'm done cleanin' my room!  I put everything under my bed...for safety."

(Hey, works for me!)

4. LM: "Mom, you're my aunt-sister, right?"

Me: "No, I'm your mom."

(We proceeded to disagree about the matter until it was discovered he was trying to say "ancestor".  But I don't like being called his "ancestor" anymore than I like "aunt-sister"-- both are pretty creepy in my book.)

5. (LM, Ruby Jane and The Bopper were playing a game of Hide and Seek.  LM was "it" and covered his eyes with his hands to start the countdown.  Popi proceeded to make conversation with Nini in the background.)

The Bopper: "Popi, be quiet!  LM's praying!"

6. (One of LM's favorite lunches is a tortilla spread with peanut butter.  On this day he'd already eaten three and then asked for another.)

Me: "You've had enough, LM."

LM: "Enough to survive me?"

Vanity Strikes Again-- And It Hurts

I went for a little jog outside yesterday because the weather was so stupendous (which has been rare this spring).  I wasn't planning on being out very long (I'm not that kind of runner-- geez, I don't live for pounding the pavement) and I certainly didn't plan on challenging myself with any hills, at least not any big ones.  In short, it was to be an obligatory jog.  Truthfully, most of my jogs are obligatory-- it's rare I wake up and say, "Gee, I'd really like to go out for a run!".  It's more of a compulsion I can't explain....

Anyway, I decided to deliver LM to Kindergarten and then take off from there.  There's a cemetery nearby the school that's delightful to run in.  (Really!  It's one of my favorite spots!)  But to get there from the school requires some jaywalking (or else it turns into a rather roundabout route that I had no intention of wasting my time with).  But, wouldn't you know that a cop was perusing the school area just at the moment I was about to conduct my illegal maneuver?  He was right in front of me, no less.  Well, I wasn't about to jaywalk under the watchful eye of an officer.  (Besides, what if he ticketed me, and one thing led to another and the stash of contraband dishwashing detergent was discovered under my kitchen sink at home??  Yikes, it's best that I just mind my Ps and Qs around law enforcement officials, I think.)  Well, by continuing on my merry (legal) way I ended up even more out of range of the cemetery.  So scratch that idea!  I decided instead to see where this new direction took me.  And where did this new direction take me, you ask?  Why, into an extremely hilly area, of course!  Have I ever mentioned how much I absolutely abhor running up hills?  Now, downhill, that's fun.  You can run downhill forever and not break a sweat-- even if you've never gone jogging in your entire life.  In fact, if you wake up one day and decide suddenly you'd like to become a runner, I recommend you find a nice long hill, run down it, and call it a day.  Not only will you feel impressed with yourself for getting out there, you will have completed your task so successfully you'll be on a high for the rest of the day.

Sorry.  Derailed.  So, I kept getting farther and farther away from where I wanted to be-- due largely to the fact that whenever I had the option of going uphill or downhill, I chose down.  There is a little running phrase that kept popping into my mind as I was making these choices, however.  "What goes down, must come up."  Suddenly, in light of that knowledge, the downhills didn't seem so fun anymore.  But by then I'd reached a nice flat area and was jogging happily (well, as happily as one can be while jogging, that is) and wondering how I was going to make it back to my car without having to run back up any hills.  

The conclusion I came to was this: I would simply run the rest of my alloted time on these lovely flat roads, and then I would walk uphill back to the school.  Yes!  I'm brilliant!  But as I turned the corner of the street I was on, I came face-to-face with a ginormous hill (with there being no second option other than turning around and heading back the same way I came).  I considered doing just that, until I saw that I had an audience.  A yard full of young lawn maintenance guys were hard at work mowing, trimming, fertilizing and what-have-you.  Seriously, there must have been a half a dozen of them just at this one house.  And what made it even worse was that they all appeared to be well-built with rustic good looks.  (I can say these things because hubby doesn't read the blog.  But just in case: Hubby is the most ridiculously handsome and well-built man of them all!  There-- covered.) 

Anyway, most of you ladies would agree with me that lawn maintenance guys are right up there with construction types-- a girl has to keep a stiff upper lip while passing by.  But I wasn't just passing by, I was running by.  And there was no way I was going to stop and walk up that hill-- not with twelve hunky eyes monitoring my progress!  So, I did what any self-respecting girl in my situation would have done-- I charged on full-speed ahead.  Eat my dust, suckers!  Ha!

Let's just say that by the time I reached the top I was second guessing my vanity-induced decision-- mostly due to the fact I couldn't breathe.  I was sucking in air hard and hoping against hope I was far enough away from the guys that they couldn't hear me and thus ruin all my effort.  And wouldn't you know that when I crested the hill I discovered another cop (the same one?) driving by?  I wanted to shake my fist at him and yell that this was all his darn fault!  If I could have just jaywalked where I wanted to I wouldn't have gotten into this god-forsaken neighborhood with the maniacal hills and hunky yard crew.  Darn him!  

But, by that point, I didn't have far to go.  And I was at the end of my alloted running time so I finished off with a cool-down walk.  Heck, I needed to recover.  See, I told you I'm just a lowly recreational runner.  Nothing impressive here.  (And I can prove it by the ever-expanding rolls that are developing around my middle, and the booty that I have to forcibly squeeze into my jeans every morning.  Although, those are due more to the fact that I discovered bulk candy at WinCo than anything else....)

Oh, vanity, I have you to thank for my sore petushky this morning.  What a wonderful reminder to me that I am a hopeless creature.  Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless.