Alice's Adventures Underground

Shooting Myself in the Foot

Posted on 10/23/2008 05:44:00 AM - by NG

How hilarious is it that my cupcakes (that I think look quite ragged, actually) were featured on The Hip Homemaker and Blissfully Domestic, two very cool websites but websites that may now have dropped down a notch or two in people's estimation because they included something from my addled brain in their annals? When I mentioned this to The KingofHearts, he laughed a great big belly laugh. He knows that I am the Anti-Wife and have no business being associated in any way with either of those websites. Thanks for the shout out anyway, guys! Next time look closer at people's qualifications though... I sometimes tend to forget to feed my own children.

Apparently, the joke is on me, however, because The Dormouse brought home a letter from her kindergarten teacher yesterday explaining that they were having a fall/Halloween party at school and they'd asked each parent to choose and bring something from the list which was printed below the letter. The teacher had taken the liberty of checking off "cupcakes" for me and put a smiley face next to the item. The KoH is still laughing at me.

3 cents added |

Well, I Learned Grammar From Schoolhouse Rocks

Posted on 10/22/2008 04:59:00 AM - by NG

The Dormouse, yammering on from the back seat while we're driving around:

"All that goes up must come down."

A little nonplused, (because, seriously, they're teaching the Universal Law of Gravitation in kindergarten but on the reading front, she's still learning what a "W" sounds like?) I said, "Did you learn that from your teacher?"

"No."

"In school?"

"No."

"In aftercare?"

"No."

"Well, who taught you about that, then?"

"Scooby Doo."

4 cents added |

Hello Dave

Posted on 10/21/2008 06:47:00 AM - by NG In: aspirations

"Momma, I figured out what I want to be when I grow up."

"Really? You don't want to be a toothpaste engineer anymore?"

"No."

"A flagpole?"

"No. Now I want to be an inventor when I grow up."

"That sounds great. What are you going to invent?"

"Probably, the world's first robot."

"Mmmm. Yeeeaah, I'm pretty sure there are already robots."

"Oh."

"Maybe you can invent the world's first robot that does something no other robot does."

"That's a good idea."

"Liiiike, maybe, the world's first robot that cooks my dinner?"

"No! That wouldn't be a good invention. Maybe, I'll invent the world's first robot that would be very responsible."

"Well, that would be something new. What would you name it?"

"I don't know. What do you think?"

"How about Hal?"

"No, that's not a very good name for the world's first robot that would be very responsible."

"So science fiction would tell us, I guess."

"Maybe Chad."

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Beneath the Planet of Snuggie

Posted on 10/20/2008 07:57:00 AM - by NG In: I ♥ the Internet

This morning, The KingofHearts and I caught this infomercial on early morning tv that only people like us are up early enough to see. It caused no small amount of amusement and we just had to share:

I immediately said, "You too, can purchase this item which will make you look like you belong to a strange cult where people all wear Reebok tennis shoes and wait for the spaceship behind a comet to take them away from the pains and problems of earth life."

The KoH had a different take on it. His new theory is that the guys from this movie:

Weren't just mutant, telepathic humans,

holed up in an underground city,

hiding from the dreaded ape army now out to exterminate mankind...

...they're just poor victims of the recession, bent on decreasing their heating costs.

P.S. Enjoy this take on the commercial: The Cult of Snuggie

9 cents added |

To Gillian on Her 8th Birthday

Posted on 10/20/2008 06:05:00 AM - by NG

Dear Gillian -

Each year around the third week of October, I find myself getting really irritable for no apparent reason. I yell at my family for stuff that really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, people in general just piss me off (well, more than they do normally), and I start considering self-medication as a form of protection for those around me because I just can't seem to stop. Then one day I'll look up at the calendar like I did this morning and suddenly realize that today's your birthday. I don't know if the two things are really related, but they sure seem to happen together a lot. Or maybe I'm just a bitch the rest of the time too and I only notice it around now.

Earlier this year, I met someone via the Internet who had just found out that the baby she was carrying had tripliody. A friend thought I might be able to help her through this and put us in contact. We exchanged long emails and information through updates and successes as well as the inevitable outcome. I think perhaps she handled the whole thing better than I did, was much more adult about her feelings, and probably cried why me a whole lot less than I did. (A close friend who struggled with cancer in his youth once told me that he determined "why me?" to be the most dangerous question one can ever ask one's self. He said that the answer was always, "why not?" And yet I'm still prone to hand wringing and anger at God when things don't go my way. I wish I wasn't so quick jump on that bandwagon. It's trite and overdone.) I'm not sure how much of a sounding board I was to her or whether I was of any use, but what really happened through that experience was she helped me. It was nice to be able to pull that out of the little protective case I keep it in and talk about it. I vacillate between thinking that I keep all those feelings to myself a little too much - I should talk more about it to more people - and the same old me-type feelings: these are my memories, no one else's... other people aren't entitled to them unless I decide. And so I jealously guard when and with whom I talk about it. It's probably not so healthy, I admit, but it's how I roll. I'm trying to be smarter about that though.

When discussing grief at some women's church event this year, I remember someone announcing to the group that feelings of loss lessen after time. To which I had to respond, "No, you are wrong. Those feelings never go away. They will always be with you, but they do eventually get easier to live with." It was a big step forward for me... bringing up our past in a group of women from this ward. Maybe it shows that I am growing up a bit and letting go of some of my hurt over how we were treated back then.

When people ask me how many children I have, it's always a hard question to answer. Because what they really mean is I see you are a bit old to have a small baby; how many other children do you have living with you at home right now because I'm wondering how you are coping and whether you are just one of those crazies who thinks when the Bible says, "multiply and replenish the earth" it meant you personally? I hate this question because it's small talk and it's supposed to be easy to answer and it's not easy for me. Depending on the situation, I'm either more or less technical about it: if it's just someone in the elevator, I'll often say two and get off on my floor. Sometimes I'll answer two at home with me and one stepson who lives with his mother if I might talk to the person again but they aren't anything more than an brief acquaintance. It's just the easiest way to get the information out when people aren't really asking to know, but just out of politeness and/or small talk. But the truth is I do and will always consider you a part of our family and I have four kids - even if they aren't all living with me right now.

For years, I've used my friend's kid as my litmus test to see where you would be if you'd stuck around. She was born in the same year as you and it's been both painful and gratifying to have a little reminder of what you'd be doing, how you'd be acting, the successes and defeats you'd encounter. This year we were invited to her baptism. It caught me by surprise, I'll admit. My first thought was Good heavens, it's not possible that it's been eight years and then, Not only is it possible, but that's how long it's been, stupid. It's hard for me to believe that that much time has elapsed when the memories of you are still so real and needle sharp. There are definitely things I'm glad you will never experience: mean kids at school, trouble with homework, Internet predators... but oh how I would just love the chance to sit back and watch you at your baptism. Who would you be now? Would you be a budding musician/therapist like I was at eight years old? Would you be a hard scientist/I think I'm going to write a novel today type like your daddy? Would you become your own brand of person entirely just to remind us that there's always something we haven't prepared for or thought through? These are things I can't wait for you to tell me one day.

We've never kept any information about you from your sisters. While The Caterpillar isn't old enough to understand yet, we've been pretty up front with The Dormouse about you and we consider you a current part of the family. When The Dormouse was younger, she used to talk about you and say things like, "We took my baby sister to the hospital. I remember, she was very tiny." I sometimes pressed to see if she'd said those things because they were things we'd told her. But we only ever used the most minimal terms to talk to her about what happened to you and I don't remember ever telling her about the hospital and how you were born. I don't really know what's that supposed to mean. Was she somehow more connected to you? Or do I just want to believe that?

Now that The Dormouse is older she doesn't claim to remember you like she used to do. But she does consider you a part of her family and you show up in drawings, family tree projects she's asked to do in school and listings of names under the title "My family." It's gratifying to see that.

Can you miss someone with whom you spent so little time? I do. I miss you Dear One. I hope one day I'll be able to put my arms around you and hold you close to me. I hope one day you'll tell me about your day and we'll laugh about silly things and just generally all be together. I can't wait for that part.

Love,

Momma

9 cents added |

Highly Qualified Professionals

Posted on 10/19/2008 07:10:00 AM - by NG

Two weeks ago, when The Dormouse was throwing up her toenails, I got an anti-nausea prescription from the pediatrician. It was a nightmare getting it filled because I went to FIVE (5) pharmacies, who all said, "Oh we don't have that in stock. We can order it though; it'll be here in about three days."

It's not like any of them didn't have the actual med, it was just that the pediatrician had prescribed it in suspension form and they, I guess, didn't have the form of the medication that would mix in a suspension.

The last pharmacy I went to was Target - which was also the largest. When they didn't have the suspension form in stock, and I could see the box of pills on the shelf behind them, I was exasperated. "Look, can you call the pediatrician and see if it's possible for her take the pill? Since the whole point of taking this med is to get something to stay in her stomach today before we have to go to the ER for IV fluids tonight, I'd really like to not have to wait three days to get it filled." Then the pharmacist there suggested I go to each and every pharmacy I'd already been to:

Pharmacist: "How about CVS?"

Me: "I've been there; they don't have it."

Pharmacist: "Or Rite-Aid."

Me: "They don't have it either."

Pharmacist: "Medicine Shop?"

Me: "Nope."

Pharmacist: "Costco?"

Me: "Yes, I went there too. Like I said, I've been to FIVE pharmacies and no one has it. You're the biggest one in the area and if you don't have it, I'm pretty sure just driving around to other random pharmacies isn't going to yield any success either. She's old enough to take a pill so would you please call the pediatrician and see if he'll allow her to take the pill instead so I don't have to end up in the ER with her when a simple pill might keep her away?"

Pharmacist: *heavy sigh, stomps off to the phone and dials the number*

Woman in line behind me: "They HATE to call the doctors here. You go girl, make them work!"

After another discussion on the phone wherein the doctor asked to speak with me because apparently the pharmacist said "Zoloft" instead of "Zofron" on the phone and he couldn't figure out why the mother was asking for an anti-depressant instead of an anit-nausea med, everything got cleared up and we got sixty (60!!) doses of some sublingual equivalent of Zofron. They didn't have the entire sixty pills, so they filled thirty and told me to come back later and pick up the other half. I got home, stuck one pill in The Dormouse's mouth and fifteen minutes later, she was able to keep down the pedialyte and tylenol we'd been poking into her gob for two days only to watch her throw it back up again. So, needless to say, I didn't really make the effort to go back for the other thirty pills.

/background

Now, fast forward to this week when I hurt my back. Don't know how; I just got out of bed one morning last week feeling fine and then twenty minutes later while walking through the kitchen, I stepped down and pain shot up my leg like an exploding firecracker. The rest of the day, I couldn't stand up straight and I went to work looking like a question mark. My colleagues finally tired of working with Quasimodo and pretty much pushed me out the door to see their chiropractor across the street (we should just pay that woman a bulk fee and have her come to the office). I'm not really a chiropractor person, but I bow to public opinion way too often so I went over there. She got me standing up straight again, which was nice, but the damage to my back muscles had been done and three days later, I still felt like I would rather stick a fork in my eye than bend over.

I finally realized I had a prescription for tylenol+codeine that still had a refill on it hanging around the house leftover from some other purpose, so I asked The KoH to go to a pharmacy to get that filled. He chose Target, got the meds and left them on the kitchen counter when he came home. When I went in a little later to find my precious, precious painkillers, all I found was a filled prescription for The Dormouse.

"Didn't you get my codeine?" I yelled from the kitchen.

"It's right there on the counter," he yelled from the living room.

"No, it's not."

"It's the red and white bag."

"The only thing here is the other half of The Dormouse's prescription."

"I didn't get anything for The Dormouse; it's RIGHT THERE."

"No, this is the other half of The Dormouse's prescription from last week."

"No, it's yours."

This when on in a very Who's on first? style until I finally opened the bag with The Dormouse's name on it and looked closely at the bottle with The Dormouse's name on it. It was my prescription for codeine, but they'd accidentally put her name on it instead of mine.

...!!

This is a huge mistake. If we had not been paying attention, it would have been very easy to accidentally dose our little forty-two pound girl with codeine prescribed for... let's just say a more than forty-two pound adult woman -- especially, if The Dormouse was still taking the other medication. I keep meaning to go back to the pharmacy and show them their mistake, or report them to the American Pharmaceuticals Association, but given that we're all sick in one way or another, I haven't really gotten out of the house to do this. I will though.

I'm not really even sure why I'm writing about this now except for the fact that yesterday the balance of the original prescription was delivered here by UPS -- apparently because I didn't pick it up -- and it reminded me of the whole fiasco.

I just want to offer these words of advice to whomever might be reading: know what your doctor is prescribing and check it once it's filled. Most, if not all, pharmacies include in the printed information that comes with each prescription a written description of what the pill/medication should look like. Make sure it matches what's in the bottle; don't just take the pharmacy's word that what's written on the outside of the bottle is what they put in the bottle. It seems to me that it's very easy to make a small mistake while filling a prescription that could have drastic consequences, just ask Dennis Quaid. Add to that, the problem we have in my neighborhood where 90% of the pharmacists only have the smallest grasp on the English language and it just makes sense to take some responsibility for managing your own health care.

The End

6 cents added |

Just... WHA HA HA HA HA

Posted on 10/19/2008 07:00:00 AM - by NG In: I ♥ the Internet

Here's the original.

More videos.

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Gas Prices Falling... and Rising... and Falling

Posted on 10/19/2008 06:56:00 AM - by NG

I made this observation yesterday on the main road out of my neighborhood. These are the listed gas prices of the nine filling stations in a 1.5 mile distance before the nearest freeway exit:

	Distance from Freeway Exit	$ per Gallon
Station 1	1.5 miles	$2.93
Station 2	1.25 miles	$2.85
Station 3	1.25 miles	$2.85
Station 4	1 mile	$2.69
Station 5	0.9 mile	$2.87
Station 6	0.75 mile	$2.85
Station 7	0.5 mile	$3.59
Station 8	0.25 mile	$3.25
Station 9	0.1 mile	$2.87

The gas prices in my neighborhood vary $.90 within a mile and a half -- on the same road. Can anyone look at this and tell me with a straight face that gas prices are all market driven and station owners don't price gouge?

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Welcome to Conditioning

Posted on 10/18/2008 06:23:00 AM - by NG

*a virtual dollar for anyone who can tell me the artist of the song in the post title without Googling. If you can, you sir (or madam), complete me and I’ll be your friend for life.*

The Dormouse had her yearly checkup yesterday and given the last couple of weeks, I decided to have her get a flu shot so we wouldn’t have to go through that nightmare again. She’s always been pretty good about shots until age four. Four kicked our asses because we weren’t ready for the drama and trauma the four year old shots would cause. She had always been rather blasé about getting a shot in general and if she cried at all, it lasted a minute tops and all was right with the world again. I had no reason to expect anything else. But somewhere between three and four, the memory and anticipation factor increased ten fold. So after the first shot when she realized it hurt and then she could. Not. Bear. Another one. So she kicked, squirmed, yanked her arm back and screamed bloody murder through the next three.

So when I decided she should get a flu shot at this appointment, I prepared her before. I reminded her how awful she felt when she had the flu and explained that this shot might hurt for a minute, but she felt awful for days when she had the flu and it might be worth it to have a little bit of pain that would be over in a second rather than be sick for days again and feel as badly as she did.

Either what I said worked and I’m a great parent, or she just grew a year more mature since the last time. (probably the latter) Whatever, she was a trooper and didn’t even try to kick the doctor in the balls once.

So we finished the visit, told her how brave she was and headed out the door. I got through the waiting room, past the front desk, out the door and half way up the steps when I realized The Dormouse wasn’t by my side. I turned and looked over my shoulder to see her standing in front of the desk. “Cm’on,” I yelled, and turned toward the steps again.

She stood there.

"We're leaving."

She still didn't move.

Exasperated, I went back down the steps through the open door to grab her by the arm and drag her out of the office.

"But, Mooooomaaa...." she trailed off.

"What?!?"

"I was braaaaaave!"

Suddenly, it occurred to me: the nurses usually give her a lollipop and tell her how brave she was after she has an appointment in which she gets a shot. She got a shot and she wanted her lollipop, dammitall. Even though it'd been over a year since she last got a shot, my little behavioral modification experiment subject had been taught that she deserved a lollipop and she was physically incapable of moving until she did.

Pavlov's dog, ring a bell?

1 cents added |

Finally

Posted on 10/17/2008 11:07:00 PM - by NG

And with just a few clicks of the mouse, my faith in the political process is restored... at least a little. It's just nice to hear two people talk to and about each other like adults for the first time in.... good heavens has it been two years? I'm going to bed now.

From the Alfred E. Smith Foundation dinner last night in New York.

(I'm dying to know who wrote their speeches.)

2 cents added |

Moonglow

Posted on 10/17/2008 07:04:00 AM - by NG

The other night, the moon had this fabulous ring around it which is supposed to be bad, I know, but I went out to take pictures anyway. One of the photos was way underexposed - as in, "Look, I took a picture of a black blob" underexposed - and I was going to delete it, but I thought I'd see if I could make something out of it in PhotoShop first for the hell of it. I bumped up the contrast just a bit and out came this little gem. Sometimes life is all about happy accidents.

Edited to add: Here's the before picture for those who are curious.

6 cents added |

He Likes Me, He Really Likes Me!

Posted on 10/17/2008 06:19:00 AM - by NG

Yesterday morning at work, as is our custom, we began the day by having a long and heated rehashing of the debate and how John McCain doesn't seem to know the difference between autism and Down's Syndrome. (He may be a perfectly qualified candidate and all, but we are all therapists who specialize in working with children with special needs and that "Sarah Palin knows about autism / we'll spend the money to find the cause / we're going to have a budget freeze on all programs" statement angered this group like no other -- and not just those in the room who are mothers of children who are on the autism spectrum.) As is my custom, I soon realized that this could go on forever, and quietly backed out of the conversation to go back to my office and get some actual work done.

I was sitting at my desk, listening to the lingering discussion in the hallway when this email came through on my desktop:

Alice -- *my name is not really Alice; obviously, it had my correct name*

I just finished the last debate before the election.

Now the outcome of this campaign is up to you. I need your help to get our message out -- and to get out the vote. I wouldn't ask for your support if this campaign didn't urgently need it. Your donation of $5 or more today is essential to our unprecedented get out the vote operation in these final days. The most dangerous thing you can do right now is nothing. Your support and hard work are exactly what we need between now and Election Day.

While he didn't mention the middle class, John McCain chose to repeat the false, negative attacks that make up 100% of his advertising these days. The truth is that his choices say more about his campaign than they do about me. But John McCain and his allies are not going to stop fighting -- or attacking -- until the very end.

We're doing this a different way. Tonight I talked about the real problems ordinary people face during this economic crisis and concrete ways that I will create jobs, cut health care costs, build a new energy policy, and get our economy moving. But time is running out. Our strength and our success in these last 20 days depends on you: https://donate.barackobama.com/finaldebate.

Thank you for all you do,

Barack

So face, all you Obama Mommas! Take that Dormouse! I started yelling out my office door, "I just got an email from Barack Obama! Barack Obama knows my name! Not only does he know my name, but we are on a first name basis!" For some reason, my colleagues were unimpressed with my notoriety.

I quickly sent this email back:

Dear Barack - *remember? we are on a first name basis*

Thanks for the personal email. It's been so long since I've heard from you! I have to say, your email took me by surprise, though. I didn't expect to hear from you until after the election when things had calmed down a bit. I still remember fondly that night we spent together in the back seat of that Studebaker. What fun, heady days those were right? Did you ever get the chocolate sauce our of your lapel? I hope the dry cleaning wasn't too expensive. Hey, remember that $20 you owe me? Feel free to consider that a gift to your campaign. Just think of it as "my little tip."

I think of you often and can't wait to hear from you again.

Thanks for all you've done, if yaknowhaddamean,

Alice

P.S. There's a reason The Dormouse loves you so... she's yours.

A couple of hours later, I got another email. This one, from Joe Biden:

Alice --

Anyone who tells you this election is already decided is dead wrong. Let's not forget the 2000 election, when Al Gore was up by double digits in October. The surest way to lose a race is to slow down with the finish line in sight. We're taking no chances. We've planned the biggest get out the vote operation in history, and we need to make sure that every voter has their voice heard. That's why we've set the goal of bringing in 100,000 new donors by Friday at midnight.

If you step up and make your first donation today, it will be matched by a previous donor. Will you make a donation of $5 or more today and double your impact? This campaign has fought for every inch, and now is not the time to take anything for granted.To get out the vote, we need to knock on hundreds of thousands of doors and make even more phone calls.

This campaign has built the largest field operation in history, and we need to mobilize it in these remaining days to get every single voter to the polls on Election Day. Because that's what it comes down to -- counting every last vote. Make a matching donation today to make certain that when everything is on the line, we are stronger than ever: https://donate.barackobama.com/promise. We've come too far to hold back now.

Thank you for everything you're doing,

Joe

Oh puleeze! How gullible does Joe Biden think we are? Anyone could tell that was a form letter.

P. S. Monica got emails from moveone.org and Karl Rove, which is hilarious beyond my wildest dreams and provides me with no end of amusement.

5 cents added |

Because I Haven't Spent Quite Enough Time on the Interweb Lately

Posted on 10/16/2008 06:38:00 AM - by NG In: I ♥ the Internet

As a follow-up to this post... I thought I'd offer the chance to really make your opinion matter. You know... just like it does in presidential election exit polls. Click on your choice to see a running tally of the results. Vote early, vote often (just like in presidential elections).

Get your own Poll!

2 cents added |

It's Progress

Posted on 10/16/2008 04:54:00 AM - by NG

This is what she bought with the birthday money from Grandma and Grandpa. I promised I would post a picture. Sure it's still pink, but it's no nightmare in pink and for that, I am thankful. Our little girl is growing up.

Perhaps we should have let her buy some shoes too.

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My New Favorite Pasttime

Posted on 10/16/2008 04:43:00 AM - by NG In: I ♥ the Internet

Make your own, here.

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To Cut or Not to Cut

Posted on 10/15/2008 04:57:00 AM - by NG

The Caterpillar's main activity (still) these days is finding some object of desire and then walking around with it. The more tired she becomes, the more circles around the living room she makes. The other morning she was running around with the sash from my bathrobe and tripping on it so The KingofHearts tied it around her waist to form this lovely outfit:

When will women break the Sumo Wrestler glass ceiling?

This photo is what brings me to the real reason for this post: to question the Interweb about something - and I know what dangerous ground that is. That's how confused I am. So, all you people with an abundance of opinions and nowhere to share them, here's your chance.

What do I do about her hair?

When The Dormouse was a baby she had the same fine, stick-straight hair as The Caterpillar, as me, as every other women in my family. I have no doubt that these girls will curse me in their teenage years when this whole straight hair thing has outlasted it's popularity and curly hair will be the thing to have, just like it was (and I did) when I was in high school. Go ahead, girls, I can take it... I've prepared for it. I'm pretty sure my mother did the same thing.

The Dormouse had this lovely feature where her hair first grew in on only one side of her head, making her look like tiny punk rocker. By the time she was a year, however, there was quite a bit of hair to work with. So we cut bangs into it and she's had the same hairstyle ever since - one that I'm not so thrilled about but that we're locked into unless we want to go through the lengthy, awkward stage of growing out those bangs..

The Caterpillar has avoided the shaved side of the head look, but she has a different problem. Only the hair on the top one third of her noggin is growing. The hair at her nape and ears looks just like a newborn's. What this means is she looks like an old man with a very bad toupee. The top hair is long enough to always be in her eyes but the rest of the hair doesn't seem to want to catch up. So most of the time she ends up looking like a bearded collie.

Does this hairstyle make my head look fat?

I quite like the sprinkler head hairdo myself which is what we've been doing lately. Not only does it make her look like a kewpie doll, but we've found it also is a great personality test indicator.

When they look at her and say, "Oooo! She looks just like Pebbles," they are over thirty.

When they look at her and say, "Oooo! She looks just like Cindy Lou Who," they are under thirty.

When they look at her and don't say anything about what an adorable child she is, they have hearts made of stone.

The problem with the sprinkler head as pictured above is the same problem with every clip, ponytail holder, head band, hair piece, rubber band, and while we're at it add hat and shoe to that mix: she takes it off in about thirty seconds flat after it's been attached to her body. And since that one time when that missing hair clip on The Dormouse turned up in her diaper, I don't really like to put things in her hair when I know she'll take it out and put it in her mouth.

The KingofHearts thinks we should cut her hair. I'm not one of those overly sentimental types who can't bear to part with her baby hair, but I don't really think cutting it will work at this point. Oh and besides, OH NO CUT HER BEAUTIFUL HAIR??!? CUT OFF THE ENDS OF HER HAIR? HAIR THAT SHE WAS BORN WITH? HAIR THAT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN? THAT WILL BE THE END OF HER BABYHOOD AND I DO NOT THINK I CAN BEAR IT, YOU MAY AS WELL JUST STICK A KNIFE THROUGH MY HEART. Like I said, I'm not overly sentimental.

What would you do?

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Feel Free to Skip Right On Past This Post

Posted on 10/15/2008 04:30:00 AM - by NG

I try to stay away from politics on this site because I realize that I am probably never going to be completely informed about whatever subject is at hand and I don't like the idea of spoutting off ridiculous opinions in print without actually doing any real research on both sides of the issue. But, speaking from my purely emotional point of view this morning....

Here's what drives me nuts about the recent focus of this neverending long Bataan death march to the White House: The idea that someone is untrustworthy and not eligible to be elected president because he or she might be of Arab descent? Come on. Has it really come to this?

No person except a natural born Citizen, or a Citizen of the United States, at the time of the Adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the Office of President; neither shall any Person be eligible to that Office who shall not have attained to the Age of thirty-five Years, and been fourteen Years a Resident within the United States.

Putting aside the fact that no one in this presidential race happens to be an Arab... can I share something with everyone? IT DOESN'T MATTER! Near as I can tell, the above clause of the constitution says nothing about the race, religion, sexual preference, hair length, color of eyes, what middle name he might have been given thirty years before anyone in this country even knew who Saddam Hussein was, pet choice, or how long the legs are of the possible candidates for president. So why are we spending time talking about whether or not one of the candidates might be a secret Muslim? I applaud John McCain for choosing not feed into this ridiculousness... even if his campaign doesn't choose to take that same tactical maneuver.

I'm just glad that there are people out there who are reasonable enough to point out stuff like this.

I just wish they weren't all comedians.

/rant

4 cents added |

A Good Farmer is Outstanding in Her Field

Posted on 10/14/2008 01:23:00 PM - by NG

We enjoyed the crook necked pumpkins so much last year, that we saved some seeds from them to grow again in the Spring. This was really an agro-lesson for The Dormouse. SHE planted the seeds (in the flower bed) and SHE watered the pumpkin plants (for about a week) and SHE weeded the area (okay, no one did that) and SHE picked the pumpkins. Despite our best efforts to kill them all with inattention and the pumpkin plant's best efforts to kill my Daphne (we are going to have it out soon if it doesn't start climbing the basketball hoop pole instead of my precious Daphne bush) we managed to get several decent sized squash out of the deal. SHE is very proud of herself and her green thumb.

These two pumpkins got cooked up and turned into baby food for The Caterpillar. We figure everyone should get to enjoy the fruits of her labor. (no pun intended - these aren't fruits, or are they? I never remember how that goes.)

4 cents added |

Momma Should Cook More

Posted on 10/13/2008 05:35:00 AM - by NG

I made some apple dumplings last night for dessert. (Don't get too excited, they were dream dinners - all I had to do was put them in the oven and not let them burn.) Here's what I heard from the kitchen when they were ready to come out of the oven:

"Mmmmmm, smells like IKEA in here."

3 cents added |

Spending Way Too Much Time Around Her Father

Posted on 10/13/2008 05:31:00 AM - by NG

"Momma, I have a headache."

"Oh, I'm sorry honey."

"OOOH, MY ACHIN' HEAD!"

1 cents added |

Touch of Blue

Posted on 10/12/2008 02:30:00 AM - by NG

Remember those science experiments you did in school when you put celery in colored water to explain how plants use the process of osmosis? When I lived in Oregon, there was this plant called Queen Anne's Lace (it grows here too, but not nearly in the quantities it did there) growing everywhere along the sides of the road. Being from the desert, I'd never heard until one of the interns I was living with showed me, how those tiny white flowers would turn colors if you put them in colored water just like the veins of the celery. I was completely fascinated with this (I know -- it takes very little to amuse me) and spent the summer picking Queen Anne's Lace whenever I saw it and keeping it all around our house in little jars of multi-colored water. I pity the person suffering from hayfever who has to be my roommate.

I just came across these photos I took sometime last year when I had to teach a lesson at church about how the things we surround ourselves with have an effect on us. I had this brainstorm to use white carnations in colored water to illustrate that fact. I gave each girl one of these carnations to remind them that if we hang around in uplifting places doing uplifting things, our surroundings can show on our countenances just like the beautiful colors coming through on these petals. And if we don't... you end up looking like me.

10 cents added |

My Daughter's Hands

Posted on 10/10/2008 10:00:00 AM - by NG

It occurs to me that one day this hand will not be so small anymore. The fingers will grow long and lean and become more dexterous. They'll spend less time grabbing at things and, hopefully, less time pulling out my hair (but that might be replaced by my own hands pulling out my hair) and more time giving, creating, doing. One day some young man may even ask to have this hand in marriage. Either way, eventually I won't be able to think of this hand as "mine" anymore. I realize it's stupid to mourn the loss of this child while she's still a child; there are just days I can't help thinking about the inevitability of it all. But... at the same time? I can't wait to see what this hand will do.

3 cents added |

Balloon Fun

Posted on 10/09/2008 04:54:00 AM - by NG

I bought a tank of helium and some balloons to decorate the room for The Dormouse's birthday party on Saturday at the moon bounce place and then realized "Hey! This place is literally FILLED with inflatables -- adding thirty balloons to the mix just might be overkill." And if there's one thing we do in this family that's play the tag. *stifled guffaw* So I put them all back in the box and decided to save them for another day. Which turned out to be good because The Dormouse's actual birthday sucked so much, I got out the balloons while she was taking a nap to cheer her up a bit.

However, I think the adults in the room were much more entertained by the balloons than The Dormouse.

This look says, "I will humor you just this once because I am too worn out to do anything else, but if you ever show this photo to anyone, be sure that I will break both your kneecaps with a hammer."

"What me worry?"

Good heavens, my kids have fine hair. I apologize now for all the future perms you two will feel it necessary to undergo to disguise that fact. Sorry girls -- it won't work. You're stuck with it just like I was.

"You people bore me with your balloons and the rubbing on my head. I need a nap."

The pack of balloons came with eye, ear, nose, etc. stickers to make faces on the balloons. A work of genius, if you ask me.

This is what my husband would look like if he had been born a cartoon character.

2 cents added |

I'm Really Quite Insane, You Know

Posted on 10/08/2008 04:30:00 AM - by NG

Because it was way over our budget to invite the entire kindergarten class to The Dormouse's birthday party, I felt badly and wanted to do something for all her friends at school. It started out as just cupcakes, but a spider theme had been established and it quickly got out of control.

Yeah... I made thirty-six of these little suckers with The KoH's help before we decided if we made any more they might come to life and take over the house.

I thought I was smarter than that.

Just goes to show you: no one ever went broke inventing something to improve your sex life or spoil your kids. (This would fall into the latter category, in case there was any doubt.)

6 cents added |

Is Our Children Learning?

Posted on 10/07/2008 11:11:00 AM - by NG

When I saw this item with its stern warning over the weekend at Target, I simply had to purchase it. Because, as I reasoned with The KingofHearts, it's so preposterous... I mean, what kind of educational disaster could this decorative globe cause?? But then, it occurred to me: maybe this is how the current administration learned about the global economy.

3 cents added |

Five Alive

Posted on 10/06/2008 02:18:00 PM - by NG

Five is...

the number of days in a week
the number of toes on an average person's foot
the number of kids who came to The Dormouse's birthday party on Saturday
the number of times The Dormouse got up last night to throw up
the number of times I woke up in addition to the times The Dormouse throwing up
the number of fever baths we tossed The Dormouse into between yesterday afternoon and four am this morning
the number of times I cursed the stomach bug The Dormouse picked up (I might have underestimated that just a tad)
the number of hours it was when I realized no one in the house was going to work or school today
the number of pharmacies I went to this morning to get a prescription filled for anti-nausea meds before I snapped and yelled at the fifth pharmacist, "No I cannot wait until tomorrow for you to order this; she's being prescribed this so that she can keep something down in the next six hours before she needs to go to the ER for IV fluids."
the number of times I was grateful that I spent a crap load of money on a moon bounce birthday party last Saturday because her birthday today sucks
the number of years I've been all too happy to put up with this stuff because she is such a cool kid

There's more to write, but right now everyone needs a nap. I declare this day a do over.

4 cents added |

One of These Things Just Doesn't Belong Here

Posted on 10/03/2008 05:04:00 AM - by NG

This is the cake I made yesterday for The Dormouse's birthday party this weekend. It is filled with green jello, so when you cut into it, it will all ooze out like greasy grimy spider guts.

Now who doesn't want me for a mom???

I was charged with carving a pumpkin for a party to celebrate a colleague's twentieth year with the company. (Because nothing says thanks for twenty years of service like a carved pumpkin, apparently.) It was just supposed to say "20" but Matt did such a good job carving the last pumpkin that instead I tricked him into carving a likeness of her into the pumpkin for me.

Now who wouldn't want him for a fake uncle???

The KoH did nothing crafty last night, but he says he did eat a lot of Oreos.

8 cents added |

Spoon!

Posted on 10/02/2008 06:15:00 AM - by NG

You know how sometimes you mean to say one thing but when it comes out of your mouth you accidentally say a word that only sounds like the word you meant to say? They're called spoonerisms and a former uncle of mine was famous in our family for them. He knocked off some great ones in the years I knew him... like the day he went into a pet store and told the clerk that he needed to purchase "25 pounds of bird shit." Then there was the time while he was the bishop of his congregation and while conducting the meeting on Sunday he announced the next speaker by saying, "It's always a pressure to have the missionaries speak to us." (Those may not be the best examples of this particular linguistic phenomenon, but they are pretty funny.)

Every once in a while, I can come up with some too... like the day we were sitting at breakfast and I looked over at my loving, sweet companion of a husband. What I meant to say was, "Please pass the salt, dear," but I had a slight slip of the tongue and what I actually said was, "YOU STUPID S.O.B., YOU'RE RUINING MY LIFE."

OK, maybe I made that last part up to amuse my husband, but the first paragraph is totally true. At least I think it is.

We are in the process of putting another engine in one of our cars (and a transmission, and an on-board computer, and... and...) and that debacle has kept our second car out of commission for more than three weeks. (That's a whole different post.) So we've been getting by on one car, a very patient friend who thinks he owes us (and we're not setting him straight) and occasionally renting a car. Yesterday, The KingofHearts rented a car because well, he didn't feel like walking the forty-five miles home from work (wussy!). Then when I went out to rehearsal last night, I drove it because nothing irks me more than to rent a car and then have it sit in the parking lot all the time. I want my money's worth, dammit!

It was a cute, red sporty model with a nice, quiet ride and satellite radio and and one of the other violinists who saw me get out of the car at the rehearsal hall squealed and said, "Oh, what a cute car you have!" And then I had to tell her that no, I do not have a cute, red, sporty car, I have a crappy, tiny, "high gas mileage" car that doesn't really get high gas mileage, has had two engines, two transmissions and two computers and still doesn't shift into shift into fourth gear.

After rehearsal, which was in BFE from where my house is, I stopped by the closest grocery store because we needed milk and I decided that since I was unfettered with children for once, I would do an actual shopping trip. It was 11:00 pm and I was the only one in the store other than two employees and I strolled the aisles, looking at products, reading labels, singing along to the Muzak and just generally enjoying the fact that I didn't once have to keep anyone from doing a swan dive from the shopping cart or yell at anyone to put that back and stop screaming. Then I walked out into the gorgeous, cool evening, noticed the recent rain glistening on everything, loaded the groceries in my cute, red car, and then drove around with all the windows down and the satellite radio blaring to some 80s rock station. Just because I could.

It reminded me of when I had just moved to Washington. If it rained at night, I'd get in my car and just drive around because I was awake and there was no one to tell me not to. I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to and it was sweet, delicious freedom. And for a brief moment last night, just a second mind you, I considered driving right past my exit on the Beltway and never looking back because I do not know what that freedom feels like anymore.

I'm not saying my life was perfect when I was single. It was lonely, hard and demoralizing at times, but I do miss that freedom. The ability to pick up at 10:00 at night and decide, hey, I've never seen North Carolina... I think I'll go there. How about now? I think this hit me so hard because I've spent the last two weeks and the better part of $1000 planning and making plane reservations so that I can bring my family on a work trip with me because The Caterpillar is still nursing and I need someone to watch her while I'm working, but I can't be away from her or my boobs will explode. But if I simply bring a babysitter type with me, then who will get The Dormouse off to school in the mornings, because The KoH has to leave for work even before the before- and after-care office opens in the morning so he'll have to take a week off work and then he might as well just come with me and watch the baby too and now I have to find the baby's birth certificate because they won't let her be a lap child unless I can prove she's under two and what kind of identification will I use for my older child at the security gate and some airlines now count car seats as one of your checked bags so does that mean I have to ship my clothes to the conference in a box and did I mention we still don't have a second working car but we've already spent $3000 on a new engine. transmission and computer so it's like a brand new car, but it just doesn't run???

So I took the long way home last night.

I'm not saying I'm sorry for what I've gotten myself into. I love this weird little family and all the people in it. I just sometimes look back a little wistfully at that freedom and miss it... just a bit. It's not like I don't get to do stuff I enjoy now, but there's always an air of rush and exigency surrounding every event - hurry up and get this fun thing over with... don't dare stop to enjoy it because you've got to get back! I'm just saying it'd be nice to go to the Stephen Colbert show and not have to explain to the security guard why I have a breast pump in my bag and that no, the chilled bag of breast milk is not a gift for Stephen (but if he really wants some, I guess I'd be willing to share).

But then I think of my daughters' eyes in the morning. I pick up the baby and pat her back and she pats mine. It's out little dance we do every morning these days. She waves at the dishwasher and I say "Hi dishwasher," she waves at the television and I say, "Hi, TV," then an actual human being walks into the room and I say, "Hi Daddy." She stares blankly. The Big One will stumble up from downstairs in a sleepy stupor with her hair arranged in some kind of white girl afro. She'll take forty minutes to down half of an egg and get one shoe on and I'll have to dress her the rest of the way or she'll miss the bus. I'll pick up all the dirty dishes The Man left on the counter last night while I was away even though he could just have easily put in the empty dishwasher below the counter and it off himself and I'll kiss him goodbye before he heads off to work in that cute little rented red car, and what I realize is this:

There's no place I'd rather be.

(But I would like my car to run now.)

6 cents added |

Monkey Parts

Posted on 10/01/2008 06:39:00 AM - by NG

I got a bouquet of flowers a few weeks ago, I can't remember for what now, and these cute little fillers that were were used in the arrangement fascinated me. The florist told me they were called monkey paw... but they're not even close to what monkey paw looks like (and, incidentally, it's more commonly referred to as kangaroo paw anyway). I tried to find out what they are actually called using my resident flower expert, Mrs. Google, but she failed me. So, instead I choose to call them monkey dongles -- because that's the new favorite word in our house these days.

0 cents added |

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