Final Fantasy

“They came out with another Tactics game for the DS.” {in a very excited, ‘I cant wait to get my hands on it’ voice}
“Whats that?”
“The game I was playing while you were in labor with the kid and this baby.”
“Oh. So does this mean I have to have another baby so you can play the new one?”
{dead stare}

Basic food group

"My son just ate Ketchup for his dinner. Everything else is exactly how I gave it to him."

"Thats a vegetable, right?"

Reasoning with a 2 year old

I think I may start a category just for tantrums. I am sure I would have more of those than anything these days. Today’s was about independence. I went in to get Baby J out of bed and to start his day. We had to get going and get dressed so we can eat and go to class this morning. He was in a good mood and was playing in the mirror. So while he was making funny faces I figured I would drop his sleeping shorts and get the diaper off as quick as I could since getting him undressed and dressed is becoming a continuous battle. As the shorts hit the floor it was like I flashed his ex-girlfriend that had never seen his parts. Immediately, and as I am ripping his pee-soaked diaper off, he lifts his shorts up. He is holding it high by his stomach but the back end hasn’t passed over his back end. So in his attempt to try to keep his dignity, he runs to the door to hide from me screaming that he wants his SHORTS ON. I don’t fight him and just try to reason with a two a year old. What was I thinking?

“You can keep your shorts on as long as I put on a clean diaper”
“No new diaper”
“Mommy doesn’t want you to pee-pee on the floor. We need to wear a new diaper”
“No pee-pee da foor”
“Honeybear, we have to wear a diaper to go eat our breakfast”
“NO”
“I promise that you can wear your sleepy shorts…”
“Uh-oh!” {with a serious look on his face}
“What?”
“Pee-pee on da foor, Mommay.”

Yup! There it was. He walked over to me and pointed to the wet spot he had created on his beautiful carpeting. He immediately let me put a diaper on after that. I guess it was either a diaper or I make him sit on the potty all day.

Breaking point

Baby J is at the front door kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs. I have dinner on the table and he is covered in whatever he has been playing with outside. Most likely a mixture of bubbles and dirt. All he wants to do is play with his friend that is still outside. The high-pitched squealing gets louder and louder. The tears stream down his bright red face. He tries to bang on the door as if it will magically open with his fists. Then he uses his feet. Somehow he gets a few words that sound like “play” “outside” “Allison”. We are not quite sure, but that’s the best we can do.

R is watching this display of emotion with me for many minutes. He looks at me square in the eye and says, “Thank God I get to go back to work tomorrow!”

Mommy’s sleep policy

“Do you ever get up before the kid does?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you wake up in the morning before he does?”
“Yea, but I go back to sleep until he wakes me up.”
“You can get so much done if you wake up before him.”
“I could but I could get so much done after he goes to sleep at night AND have you help me.”

A ferocious Beast

The other day my husband and I battled a ferocious beast. It was so horrible I had nightmares about it the next day. It all started when I went into the laundry room to reheat what was in the dryer so I can fold it all hot while watching my Law and Order finale’s. There it was not even two feet next to me and I swear it was the uglyest beast I have ever seen. Worst than the one I saw in College that the experts couldn’t even identify. We used to call them Rodney bugs because they were typically found in the Rodney dorms and they looked like a cross between a roach and a cricket and some other bug. That was so long ago.

The beast I found sitting silently in my laundry room was a big old nasty spider. It was sitting facing downward on a nicely folded blanket that I use to curl up infront of the TV with. I know it was waiting for me to get closer and attack me. That thing was vicious and absolutely ready to invade my home. It probably was calling its troops as I looked at it and screamed at the top of my lungs and backed away from it without taking my eyes off of it. The husband jumped up from his computer desk so fast it was amazing. He reacted as if I lit my hair on fire and couldn’t stifle the flames.

He asks me what happened and I tell him there is a humongous spider in there. I am jumping and cringing and getting all the heeby jeebies just telling him about it. He looks into the laundry room and he immediately freaks out. I am sure he was expecting one of those typical spiders that you find around the house that are not as scary in comparison and seem pretty easy to get rid of. But, nope. This one was big and hairy and grosser than the scene where Ben Stiiller gets his face squished on a hairy mans sweaty chest in “Along Came Polly”.

I immediately run for the camera to take a picture of it. The husband runs to the garage to find something to catch it with. It’s amazing how different our first instincts are. I go to take a picture while R digs for a tree trimmer and a clear box. R’s intentions were quite obvious but I had to get this picture. I had to show my bug expert and ask her what it was and WHY THE HELL WAS IT IN MY HOUSE??!! My poor friend has had to experience all my bug woes over the years but I think this time both R and I entertained her quite well.

I send the picture to my friend and call her. While we are on the phone R and I try to come up with a strategy on how to get it out of our home. My friend tells me that this is not a bug to fuck around with it, that we should just get rid of it. She goes on speakerphone while we gear up to battle the beast. We argue over who is going to nudge it and who will step on it. I could swear that for a good 10 minutes this was going on. And of course, the bug expert is on the line listening to us bicker at each other.

“You know I can’t go near spiders.”
“What? Neither can I.”
“Yes you can, your just making that up.”
“I was the one who found it, you get to kill it.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Yes it is.”
“We should capture it and study it.”
“What the hell for? Its big and disgusting and it has to die.”

So the husband holds the tree trimmer firmly and I am trying to hold the flashlight steady because you know by now the damn thing moved into the dark folds. I try to back away as far as I could in the room and R just kept pushing me forward because it was my job to step, capture or keep an eye on it. Whichever was needed. So as R is poking and prodding the hairy monster, it moves. It keeps moving even after we were able to get parts of it off. R started to beat the blanket and it finally stopped moving. It was in a whole bunch of pieces, on the blanket that was now on the floor. All while R was doing his thing with the tree shears I am squealing and freaking out and I actually believe R was too. You would have to ask my friend that was still on the speakerphone listening to our episode of “how not to kill a spider”.

After the massacre we carefully looked at all the pieces of that nasty monster on my beautiful blue snuggle blanket. R asked me what we are going to do with it and I immediately say,

“We are going to throw it out.”
“How are you going to get it off that blanket?”
“Are you kidding me, I’m not going to touch that thing again.”
“You mean your gonna throw the whole blanket away?”
“You bet your ass I’m throwing it away. Unless you want to sleep with it again?”
“Ill go get you a bag.”

It took a lot of maneuvering and a bit of bravery to get the bag over the blanket without touching anything. I did get that whole blanket in there and its ready for the garbage men to take the spider to its final resting place.

R and I went back to our computers. There is nothing like some couple bonding.

Bedtime stories

“HELLO? What the hell did you do? I couldn’t get him down no matter what I tried.”

“I read him a book and sang him a song as I went around the room until I got to the door and snuck out. He’s just laying there with his sippy and will be asleep in a few minutes.”

“You must be a miracle maker.”

“No, you must have tired him out the past hour and a half.”

Lost in translation

Around the house, I am typically the one that fixes things. If the door closes wrong, I am the one to adjust it, if a drawer gets jammed, I am the one that unjams it. I put up the hardware and I have more mileage on the power drill than my hubby. I guess you get the idea, right?

The past few days I have noticed a little ‘stuffage’ in our downstairs toilet. That bathroom is not typically used so I have put the soft toilet paper in there to try to get rid of it. It turns out that the super soft, ultra thick, you can jump off the top of a building and land on it safely toilet paper is really bad for your pipes. After all the sewer and plumbing issues I have witnessed, I listen to my plumber like he is the leader to my cult. Scott brand, regular toilet tissue is all we will use in this house. However, I do have some leftover soft stuff so I try to place it wisely. I just can’t bear the thought of just tossing all of it.

Last night I mentioned the stuffing that I have noticed in the bathroom to R. I told him to be careful with the toilet paper because it seems like that toilet doesn’t take it so well. I even pointed to the door of the water closet since we were sitting in the room it adjoined.

Today R worked from home, so he got up pretty late and ran downstairs just in time for work. He typically doesn’t bother me and lets me sleep in the mornings. During breakfast this is the conversation I had to endure:

“The downstairs toilet is stuffed up.”
“It is? Did you use it?”
“Yea.”
“Didn’t I just tell you last night not to use that bathroom?”
“You meant THAT bathroom?”
“Uh, YES! I pointed right at it.”
“Oh, I thought you meant the upstairs bathroom.”
“What?”

{Short pause}

“Why did you even use that bathroom.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You blow dry your hair in our bathroom and I never wake up.”
{confused stare}

So I spent all morning with J searching Target for a $120 plunger. (well that includes a few extra items)

Comfort of Our Future

“I want a king size bed.”

“Why? Our bed is fine.”

“It’s too small.”

“No its not.”

“Every night you creep onto my side of the bed and I have no where to go.”

“I’m going to creep to your side of the bed no matter how big it is.”

“I want my own bedroom.”

I love HGTV

“For my birthday, I want a table saw. You know how much I could do with a table saw?”
“Uhhh, table saws scare me!”
“Yea but not if you know how to use it. I think I know how to use it.”
“You're so butch!”

In reference to my New Years’ post

“What about us do you think pegs us as dorks?”
“Lots of things, I cant list all of them.”

Can You Hear Me Now?

“What the hell is on your head?”

“They’re my new headphones.”

“More like earmuffs to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“They are ugly and HUGE!”

“But they are wireless and they work great with my iPod.”

“Well, one good thing is that you wont be able to hear everyone saying what a moron you look like while you wear them.”

Friendly Conversation Amongst Bickering Women

“Am I seeing you this weekend?”

“Saturday, right?”

“Yea, Sunday J has a birthday party and I don’t think you are invited.”

“Oh that's right. Only thing is I have a chest cold virus. I feel OK but I just have a cough. It’s been here for a while. Is it OK for me to come with that?”

“Sure, J has Croup. You can swap.”

“Cool, what do you do for croup?”

“Don’t worry, you wouldn’t get it, your too old.”

“Oh, what are you saying? I’m old?”

“Uh, your not 2 and you do have such soft skin, you have a few extra bags and gray hairs than him, so deal with it.”

“Fine! I’m going to bed.”

When Not to Watch Lord of the Rings

“I’m going to make popcorn.”
“Now?”
“Yea, I’m hungry.”
“Its one o’clock in the morning.”
“I still have another 2 hours of this movie to watch.”
“I’m going to bed then.”
“WHAT? You’r not going to sit with me?”
“That’s right! I am a terrible wife.”