The Funny Stuff My Kids Say, or, Why Is My Daughter Trying to Make Out With My Husband?

Last night I was making out with my laptop working on my computer while the girls fawned all over their dad in the living room. They were being unusually angelic, snuggly, and cute. They smelled good too, since I bribed persuaded them to shower with me so I wouldn't have to deal with baths after the crankies set in. Is there anything better than a sweet-smelling child? You lean in for a whiff and suddenly all the baby days come flooding back in a rush. You know the ones: the house is quiet, there is no talking back, no hitting, no fighting. Just snuggling with a warm bundle of joy who chomps on your nipples until they bleed  looks lovingly into your eyes while you coo and fuss over him/her. The baby days are some of the best because babies are mute, immobile, and incapable of grating on your every last nerve.

But I digress.

It starts innocently enough. Abby is giving Hubs quick little pecks all over his cheeks, nose, and mouth. She is giggling. Hubs is trying to read a medical journal, but he finally gives up and starts tickling her. Her laughter is infectious. I'll have to try and capture it on a vlog sometime. Anytickle, Abby begins sticking her tongue out at Hubs and the usual reprimands ensue. Then I can almost see the wheels start to turn in her head. Her tongue comes back out and she licks Hubs' cheek. He laughs, Abby laughs, we're all laughing. Then more wheels turning, and she asks with a sweet smile on her face

"Daddy, can we touch tongues?"

*crickets*

I look at Hubs and carefully ask, "Did she just say what I think she said?"

"Yes she did," Hubs replies.

Dear God, I know I've been a bad wife lately, but seriously, if my own daughter is trying to move in on my man I know it's time for me to step up my game.

Sunday E-mail Shiggedy

Please tell me I'm not the only one who gets this crap all the time. Yes, it was in my spam folder, but still! It drives me bananas. So ridiculous. Do you think that many people actually fall for it and respond? Please note the "asses" he refers to near the end (I put it in bold italics). The only ass here is this jack-off! I especially love his use of grammar and his command of the English language. Obviously I didn't even try to click on his link, and neither should you. At least it was my laugh for the day:

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Good Day,Urgent Business Proposal.

I am the Director of Bill and Exchange at the foreign remittance Department of Africa Development bank (ADB). I am writing to seek your cooperation over this business deal. In my Department, I discovered an abandoned sum of (US $10 Million United state Dollars). In an account that belongs to one of our foreign customers who died along with his entire family in a plane crash that took place in Kenya, The account belongs to the Late DR. GEORGE BRUMLEY, acitizen of Atlanta, United States of America but naturalised in Burkina-Faso and contractor with Anglo Gold. Since we got information about his death, we have been expecting his next of kin or business associate to come and claim his money because it cannot be released unless somebody applies for it as next of kin or business associate to the deceased as indicated in our banking guidelines but unfortunately, all his supposed next of kin or relation died along with him at the plane crash leaving nobody behind for the claim. You can read more about the crash on visiting this site;http://www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/africa/07/20/kenya.crash/index.html it is therefore upon this discovery that I now decided to make this business proposal to you and release the money to your account as the next of kin or business associate. The Banking law and guideline here stipulates that if such money remains dormant after four years; the money will be transferred into the Banktreasury as unclaimed fund. The request for your assistance and maximum co-operation as a foreign citizen is highly needed to release this fund. I will like us to share this money mutually on two equal halves between me and you .Please note that I don’t have any asses to withdraw any cent from this money due to the money was insured by the owner DR. GEORGE BRUMLEY. I will indulge you at this point to understand that this is privileged information and must be strictly confidential.

Best Regards Yours faithfully,

DR. PAUL RICHARDBILL AND EXCHANGE MANAGER,
Federal Republic of BURKINA-FASO PRIE CONFIDENTIAL NOVAT

A Poorly Written Poem Inspired by Recent Events

So you've broken your clavicle in two places
Playing flag football and running rat races.

It hurts like a sonofabitch
and your bandages & sling make you itch.

They pumped you full of pain meds
And I thought you'd go home to bed...

But instead you went back out on the town
And told the bartender, "Pour me another round!"

You love drinking & hanging out with your friends
But please tell me where the stupidity ends?

"I'm going back to work tomorrow," you say in denial.
Do you also think you could go out and run a few miles?

Sometimes I wonder if you've developed amnesia
From the pain meds that caused you to need Milk of Magnesia.

As I hold the giant blue bottle and stand in a long line,
I assure everyone around it's for that dumb husband o' mine.

We're going to see the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow
And perhaps then you'll start to feel some sorrow.

Won't it be fun to walk around at work with your arm in a sling
With people whispering behind your back, "What was he thinking?!!?"

You can't help with the kids' baths or opening your childproof-capped bottles
But I'm glad because it also means you can't drive your Porsche full throttle.

Instead of being a man you were acting like a boy.
Next time remember: a football is not a toy.

Tips & tricks

Lately I have discovered some tips & tricks for instant weight loss BEFORE getting on the scale every morning. I think it's my duty to share these so that others may benefit from my expertise. It's crucial to weigh yourself first thing in the morning before eating anything. You should also aim to weigh yourself at the same time each day. But I bet you didn't realize all the other ways to lose those pesky extra ounces:

1.) Remove ALL clothing.
2.) Remove any hair accessories, i.e. ponytail holders, bobby pins, and clips.
3.) Pluck your eyebrows. Vigorously.
4.) Shave your legs. All the way, not halfway.
5.) Pee and poop.
6.) Trim your fingernails down to the quick and remove your nail polish.
7.) Get a Brazilian bikini wax.
8.) Take off any and all jewelry, including rings, necklaces, nipple ring, etc.
9.) Poop again, if you can.
10.) Blow your nose. Hard. Use your neti pot.
11.) If you have showered, make sure your hair is thoroughly dry and retains no water.
12.) Brush your teeth and gargle with Listerine to kill those nasty bacteria.
13.) Consider a hair cut. Or at least a trim.
14.) Do not put on any products until after you've weighed in. This includes, but is not limited to the following: moisturizer, makeup, deodorant, lotion, or hair products/spray.
15.) Expel all of the air from your lungs prior to stepping on your scale. Do not inhale until your weight has registered.

Can you help me think of any more?

Rosh Hashanah-inspired Haiku

Made the honey cake
So dry the dog won't eat it.
Should've done box mix.
____________________

Time for Tekiah Gedolah
I would have passed out by now
How does he do it???
____________________

Dinner prep at two,
Red wine goes in the brisket--
And into my glass.
______________________

Round raisin challah!
Bought mine from Great Harvest Bread.
(round challah impaired)
______________________

Sneaking into shul
Twenty minutes late in jeans.
So disrespectful.
______________________

Apples and honey
Dip deep into the sweetness
of a bright new year!

20 questions (or more)

My girls' favorite pastime of late is asking questions. They don't stop. Half the time they already know the answers. Or the answers are too long/complicated and I'm too tired to bother with them. At any rate, I decided to keep a running log of all the questions from one hour this afternoon. Bear in mind I have two daughters, so this list is a combination of both girls' questions. Please note that Izzy asked most of the first round of questions since she did not take a nap but her sister did. Also note that many questions begin with "Mommy," which is part of what drives me so batty. I shouldn't complain since there was a lengthy period of time when I wasn't sure I'd be able to become a mommy at all....nevertheless, here we go:

1. Mommy, can I have my snack now? (not, not yet, not until Abby wakes up from her nap)


2. Mommy, can I have my snack as soon as Abby wakes up?


3. Mommy, can you put on some cartoons?


4. Mommy, can I have some water? Can I bring it in the living room?


5. Mommy, what are you doing?


6. Mommy, where's Monster (our mini Poodle)?


7. Mommy, can I have more water?
   
8. Mommy, why does the water come out of the door on the fridge?


9. Mommy, does Abby wear panties at nap time? (yes, and she already knows this. Izzy does not yet)


10. Mommy, after Pinky Dinky Doo is over are more cartoons coming on?


11. Mommy, when's Abby going to be awake?


12. Mom, are you happy?


13. Mom, are Abby & Izzy still 3 years old?


14. Mommy, is your birthday still coming up soon?


15. Mommy, what are bits? Are they little pieces?


16. Tonight is somebody going to babysit for us?


17. Mom, what are we going to have for dinner? (chicken)


18. Mom, do you mean chicken nuggets? (NO!)


19. Mommy, can I have a turn next? (we are baking banana cake together)


20. Mommy, which way do we crack the eggs?


21. Mommy, can I have another turn to mix it?


22. Mommy, can I have a taste of it when it's done baking?


23. Mom, when's it going to be done baking?


24. Mom, is it 45 minutes yet?


25. Mom, can you help me draw a big "I?"


26. Mommy, do big girls write all their letters all by themselves?


27. Mommy, are we big girls?


28. Mom, are you so impressed?


29. Mommy, do ted and red rhyme?


30. Mommy, did I do a good job?


31. Where are the peanut butter chips? (I'm cleaning up from our baking adventure)


32. Mommy, will you play fairytale with me and you pretend to be the princess' dad, ok?


33. Mom, is that new?


34. Mom, can we take Monster for a walk now?


35. Mommy, is the cake still baking?


36. Mommy, when can I have some cake?
37. Mom, why are you putting that knife in the cake? Are you cutting me some pieces?
38. Mommy, do I have to eat all of my dinner before I can have some of that cake?
39. Mommy, why are you doing that?
40. Mom, when is Daddy going to be home?
41. Mommy, why are your legs scratchy?
42. Mom, do we get to skip a bath tonight?
43. Mom, is it 45 minutes yet?
44. Mom, are you and Daddy married?
45. Mommy, did the doctor cut your tummy to get me and Abby out?
46. Mom, did Abby come out first? Is Abby my big sister?
47. Mommy, do you have a baby in your tummy right now?
48. Mom, do I have a baby in my tummy?
49. Mommy, can I see the boo boo on your tummy?
50. Mom, will you help me put my sock back on?

This was over an hour. So what is that, like almost one question per minute? Some of them, as you can tell, are rapid fire and came out in a rush all at once....so perhaps they should've counted as one question. Anyway, when I write this list out perhaps it's easy to see why I often lose my patience and occasionally ask my daughters for five minutes of peace and quiet.

But they don't get that. And then they just ask, "Mom, is five minutes over yet?"

Love at First Bite

I am eating some turkey for lunch & pretending it's last night's leftover pizza. And because that isn't working very well for me, I'm going to distract myself by writing what I hope is an amusing blog post.

For some reason I was just thinking about my first real kiss. No, I don't mean a silly peck during Spin the Bottle; I mean a full-on make out session with my first boyfriend.

My first boyfriend was Scott. He lived down the street from me in Metairie, LA, where I grew up. I think he was a year older...I was 12 at the time. We started "going out," even though that didn't mean very much. I think we rode bikes together and hung out at a mutual friend's house who also lived on our block. Once he came to dinner with me & my family at Bud's Broiler. Man oh Manischewitz do I miss Bud's Broiler! MmmMMMm!!! But that is neither here nor there.

So like I said, I was in sixth grade. And it was a really rough year for me from a social standpoint. I was not a part of the in crowd, I had a huge Jewish nose and these giant eyebrows like caterpillars (wait, I still have those...). I was wearing a training bra & had nothing to put in it. I don't know why, but my parents suggested I have a party at the end of the school year. Perhaps because I'd had a rough time of it and maybe they thought it would help smooth things over with the other kids. So I had a swimming party at our house and invited the whole class. Surprisingly most of them showed up (I think they came because it was a pool party and maybe they were curious about where I lived and all that), I think there were probably 30 kids total including me and Scott.

My mom got me a new bathing suit for the occasion. It was technically a one piece, but it showed my stomach. It was cut out in the middle but connected on each side by an obnoxious pink bow. The top was white and had "Beach Patrol" printed across it with a beach ball underneath. The bottom was modest and pink. I thought I was so cool. Little did I know a lot of the other girls would show up with bikinis, complete with actual breasts inside.

So we're swimming, we're goofing off, I'm high on the fact that cool kids are at my house, my party, swimming in my pool. A few couples start sneaking off to make out by the garage. Eventually someone leaks the fact that although Scott and I are supposedly dating, we've never really kissed (i.e. no tongue). Then everyone starts making fun of me and goading me. I don't want to look bad in front of the cool kids; however, my parents are just inside the house watching tv in the sun room, which looks out onto the pool. My brothers are in there too. They can see everything.

I whisper with a few of the girls and they/we decide that if everyone makes a big circle around Scott and me that my parents will be unable to see anything that happens in the middle of said circle. Scott and I are in the middle now. I'm suddenly cold and my teeth are chattering. I want to hop out of the pool and hide somewhere. I feel like I'm going to be sick. But everyone is chanting for us to kiss. I can't not do it. So we inch a little closer. And after an eternity, our lips meet. Everything is fine (albeit a little sloppy) for a few seconds. Then Scott pulls away from me sharply and puts his hand to his mouth.

"Ouch! You bit me!" he exclaims. Shrieks of laughter all around. I blush furiously. And that's really all I remember except that this was the end of Scott and me.

the birds and the bees

I am watching an Oprah I dvr'd from earlier this week that focuses on talking to your kids about sex.

All I can think is, "Oh my God."

They showed this one mom giving her 10-year old daughter "the talk" with the help of a professional sex therapist...and of course I imagined myself having to do the same thing in a few years.

This episode recalled lots of whispering at slumber parties about the birds & the bees, the "bases," getting your period, etc. My mom gave me some books when I was very young (perhaps too young, but after all, my brother Kevin was born when I was almost 6 and apparently I asked a lot of questions about how he came to be!). They featured these goofy looking cartoon characters. one book was called,"Where Did I Come From," and the other was, "What's Happening to Me?" It doesn't take a genius to figure out what these were about. I brought the former one to school with me and showed all my friends at recess. Mom got a call from my teacher; she had no idea I'd stuffed the book in my backpack and taken it with me to school!

I think it's funny how little I really knew/understood about everything despite these books and having had talks with my mom. I never had serious boyfriends until I was a senior in high school, and never had sex until I was in college. but seeing kids these days---it seems like they're growing up much younger now (does that make sense?). And that's scary to me. I want to arm my girls with as much information as they need, but I hope I can do it in an effective way. I also hope they will be smart about sex. Perhaps if I have a drink or two before our "talks," things will go smoothly. Ha!

My life in Haiku--through mine and my daughters' eyes

(inspired by recent Real Simple)

Izzy says, "Damn it."
I try hard not to giggle
Pleased it wasn't "shit."
_____________________

We can wipe ourselves!
Clogging toilets is so fun!
Please use the whole roll.
_____________________

Abby's precious gift:
A slimy, hand-picked booger.
So thoughtful, honey.
_____________________

Dora panties stuck
"Mommy, I have a wedgie,"
Loudly in Target
______________________

Snuggle time on laps
Suddenly a bad smell wafts
"Excuse me," says Izzy.
______________________

Stuck inside, I cry.
Nasty weather breeds boredom
Kids watch hours of tv
______________________

I hear loud crying
Blood-curdling screams ensue
Can't I just poop, please?
______________________

Time for healthy snacks
More high-fructose corn syrup?
It's in everything.
______________________

False advertising
Box reads "nutritious fruit snacks inside."
sugar high contradicts
______________________

En route to Starbucks
I need my fix to survive
Coffee save me now!
______________________

Bath time for our kids
Equals bad monsoon season
Watch out for splash zone
_______________________

I want pink pants, too!
Izzy has some but not me.
That's not fair, Mommy!
_______________________

Laundry never ends.
Maybe I should sleep in here?
Yay! Tide doesn't snore!

need a laugh?

here's a brief synopsis of the last hour at our house.

dan called. stuck in the OR, won't be home til very late tonight. so it's just me and the girls. we eat dinner. girls have leftover pizza. abby eats 1/2 her slice and leaves the table, forgetting to clear her plate. i am doing dishes, and realize too late that Monster (our mini poodle) has jumped up to claim her leftovers. i start hollering at him and chasing him around the living room and kitchen as the slice hangs halfway out of his small mouth. i enlist the girls' help, and the three of us chase him around, laughing and hooting, until i finally catch him. he managed to eat part of it, but in the process got sauce and cheese all over his face and in the hair around his mouth, face, and ears. omg. huge mess for such a little dog.

so i tell the girls their bath will have to wait until i can bathe monster (can't have marinara dog running around new house and on new furniture). as i am bathing him, i hear the girls fighting and jumping on their beds, etc. abby comes in, clad in only her shirt (there is absolutely nothing cuter than a little naked tushie), to report that izzy has gotten a boo boo and (to add insult to injury) peed all over her bed. GOD DAMN IT.

so i finish up with the dog, dry his hair and then start a load of sheets. izzy's bed was made at the time she pissed on it, so her quilt, blanket, sheet, and mattress pad were all wet. Fu*$ing FAN-TA-BU-LOUS. especially since all their bedding had been freshly washed when we moved in this weekend. i realize they've been through a lot these last few days, but i just wish she would've peed anywhere else, even on the new carpet. then i get the girls in the rub for their bath and the usual drama ensues (crying, monsoon-like splashing, soap in eyes, you know the drill). wears me out.

i am rushing to get at least some of her bedding through the wash by bedtime. fortunately i have a few extra blankets, but i haven't gotten around to washing the new extra set of twin sheets i got for them (just in case of a situation like this one).

in the midst of all this, dan calls to ask me to set the DVR for Gossip Girl and 24. i'm all like, "what the f*&@, do you have any idea what kind of night i'm having while you're taking out some old woman's dead bowel?"

Why?

When will we learn?
Or should I say, when will my husband learn? He bought the girls mini-keyboards for Hanukkah. OMG.

YOU CANNOT IMAGINE THE DEAFENING MELODIES EMANATING FROM MY HOUSE WHILE MY TWO GIRLS PLAY THEIR G.D. KEYBOARDS SIMULTANEOUSLY AT F&%$ING 7:00 A.M.

I am not wholly innocent myself, as I gave the green light when he suggested toy guitars. However, I have already had to confiscate these as Izzy has seriously injured multiple knuckles/fingers by strumming a bit over zealously. She really did a number on herself and hopefully learned a valuable lesson. But regardless, the guitars have been hidden away until the rather large scabs disappear. Tonight, the last night of Hanukkah, they will get a nice, quiet gift----a dress up trunk of princess garb. That should be relatively harmless....right?!?!!?

The girls have really enjoyed Hanukkah this year and have helped light the candles each night. They are also repeating the prayers along with us, which is pretty darn cute. We did not give them gifts every night, but they got gifts from grandparents some of the nights...

It's been a long week on call for Dan, and I feel for him. But it's nearly over, and then he'll be off for New Year's.

What is everyone doing for NYE?

Bust-Laid Plans

So, in my continuing quest to be attractive to my husband and make an effort with my appearance, I put on a retired lace bra this evening. I think although I purchased this bra with aforementioned bust intentions (ok, bad joke), it has rarely, if ever, actually been worn. Instead it has been hibernating in a drawer, crammed underneath lots of other more reliable/comfortable/practical underthings.

Not long after I donned said bra, I began itching furiously. There is nothing more un-sexy than a woman scratching her chest and constantly adjusting herself in hopes that it will stop.

Scritch. Scra-a-a-a-atch. Itch. Scritch scratch. Itchy itchy. What are there, bugs in my blouse?

"What is wrong with you?" Dan asked, looking at me in utter horror. Even the dog looked at me curiously. I peeked down my shirt and noted that a red rash was quickly spreading over my skin.

I tried to explain to Dan that Issac Mizrahi suggests if you start with beautiful underthings, you will begin to feel more beautiful and radiate confidence, etc. He rolled his eyes, clearly not understanding me. I stormed into our bedroom, yanked off the offending article of clothing, replaced it with my boring, same everyday brassiere and here I sit relating this tale.

This is precisely why I have such a hard time sticking with this sort of thing, this "making an effort." I just end up with a rash and a husband who thinks I'm one sandwich short of a picnic.