Monthly Archives: February 2007

Mish-Mash.

Okay, so I'm not as prolific a blogger as some, but that's because I have such im-POR-tant things to do, like catch up on our DVR'ed episodes of The Peoples Court (love that Judge Milian, she's the best).  So here are some little things:

  • Laurel, like a lot of gifted kids, is very sensitive, both emotionally and physically, so she has taken to wearing her socks inside out.  The sock seams drive her nuts.  The best part about it is her proclamation, "I don't care what anyone says about it."  RIGHT ON, kiddo!  Personally, I think it's an endearing little quirk.  Greg and I fought her for what felt like years when she was in kindergarten, trying to get her to wear sneakers.  She hated them and it would take her several minutes to get them to feel JUST RIGHT.  Thing is, I was like that as a kid, too.  Those sock seams drove me nuts.  I was equally upset if I couldn't wiggle my toes inside my shoes, or if the covers on the bed did not sufficiently cover my feet or were wrinkly (I am still like that).
  • Although Ethan has learned to climb on the couch, he can only do so if bare-legged or wearing sweats.  He can't get his meaty thighs up on the couch if he's in jeans.  Not enough stretch!
  • Grandma Terri's new employer's website is blocked on Laurel's PC by our Sonicwall.  The reason?  "Not Rated."  Grandma Terri's new employer is a childhood education center.  Clearly unacceptable for impressionable children.  Laurel and I convinced our resident IT director to allow the site, but not the category.
  • A plug for the Little Gym:  If you have a toddler boy(s) with pent-up energy needing release, it's a great place to take them.  Ethan goes once a week and runs around like a child being raised (or perhaps chased) by wolves.  Then he eats mac-n-cheese for lunch and takes a really long nap in the afternoon.
  • Laurel was upset with a disruptive classmate the other day so she and another girl took the classmate aside at recess and psycho-analyzed the poor girl.  They inquired into the girl's home life and upon learning the girl felt her parents didn't pay attention to her, suggested that the girl institute a Family Fun Night at her home in order to address her feelings of parent-inflicted neglect.  Then, as recess neared its end, Laurel got mad at the girl because "I specifically told her to stay away from Blake when we were playing a game and she didn't do it!" 
  • How about those UMR grad students, eh? 

How to Make Your Mother Crazy.

Step 1:  Swing leg onto sofa and struggle to pull self up while screaming in frustration at your inability to do so:

Step 2:  Giggle like a madman when you finally manage to get some leverage and pull yourself up:

Step 3:  Find the TV remote and smugly use it to turn the stereo volume really really high:

Step 4:  Fall off sofa.  Scream like the devil.  Seek comfort from your mother.

Step 5:  Go to Step 1.

 

 

Elvis with Pinkeye

Ethan is afflicted with pinkeye.

 

He's also taken to unzipping his pajamas just enough to pay homage to The King.

They ('they' being the doctor's office) tell me that I am to apply a warm compress to Ethan's eye for five minutes prior to administering eye drops.  Yeah.  Right.  Anybody who thinks it possible to hold a rambunctious toddler still for five minutes is clearly slobber-on-themselves deranged.

Conversations with a Budding Politician.

Laurel is quite the bullshitter diplomat.  Observe:

Laurel:  "Hey Mom, look!  I'm wearing the pajamas you made!!"

Me:  "I see.  That's great!  I figured you didn't like them."

Laurel:  "Of course I like them."

Me:  "Okay, good.  I didn't know, because you don't usually wear them."

Laurel:  "That's because I want to keep them clean."

(eyeroll) 

The only reason she wore those is because all her others were in the laundry.  I know this because I overheard a previous conversation in which she told Greg she was not wearing her PJs with the long pants because they were all dirty.  I don't really care if she doesn't like the ones I made, and I don't expect her to wear them to please me.  I was just looking for something to do when I made them.  But she's so quick with her diplomacy it's unnerving.  I mean, she came up with that BS reason for not wearing them without any hesitation whatsoever. 

The teenage years are going to be especially difficult with this little Eddie Haskell on our hands.

Did I Poison My Family?

I guess we'll have to see.  I bought one of the recalled jars of peanut butter.  Greg and Laurel ate some, so we're waiting to see if they contract salmonella.  Awesome.

Don't tell Grandma Smith.  She will absolutely have a heart attack.

The best part about this is that in order to get a refund, I'd have to send the lid back to ConAgra Foods in Irvine, California.  Hell, the postage would cost more than the refund.  Forget it.

I love my wife.

Well, here it is Valentine's day and I have a confession to make.  I was up late working last night, so late that it became Valentine's Day while I was working.  Having completed a quite lovely Labor Distribution report for a client, I turned my efforts to finding the perfect E-Card for the wife.  Yes, I'm admitting I have not purchased an actual paper card at this point.  That turned out to be a lost cause.  All of the cards I saw were STUPID.

So, having not found the perfect E-Card to express my undying love for my wife on Valentine's Day, I've decided to create a blog post instead.

My wife is wonderful.  She is funny, smart, a wonderful cook (did you see the homemade pretzels she made, I mean who does that?), a great mother, she lets me win arguments, sometimes (see driveway cutting post), what else could one want?  I'm certain I don't express all of these things to her enough, so here it is world, I love my wife.

Having said that, I know it is probably irresponsible of me to have not purchased a paper card that may or may not end up in the drawer with other cards exchanged over the past 6 years.  But, what could be better that a blog post, I mean really?  Tell you what, I will even make a special backup of the blog database today so that this blog post may live on for all eternity, even in the event of hardware failure, network outages, etc.  Heck, maybe I'll even do a screen capture to PDF and print it out for the wife.  🙂 

I love you wife – Greg

Snow Day Snapshots.

Another snow day.

I want to take Laurel up the the school for sledding, but the driving conditions aren't really conducive to that right now.  So we're waiting. 

Meanwhile, Ethan is gazing longingly out the windows:

I'm making homemade pretzels:

Laurel is reading Harry Potter again

 And Vinnie is doing what Vinnie does: 

Last I knew, Greg was in the basement, working away.  I didn't want to go pester him for a photo, so in honor of the frustrations he faces on a day-to-day basis, this will have to do:  Click Here!

Saw Glee.

That husband and I, we agree on most things.  But every now and then we don't see eye-to-eye.  Take this weekend, for example.

I'm morally opposed to cutting through important things, like houses and driveways and basement floors and things like that.  I figure if we can find a way to do something that avoids cutting holes in expensive objects (like houses and driveways and basement floors), that's a good thing.  If we can't find a way to avoid it, I like the idea of hiring an insured professional, so when something goes wrong — and it inevitably will, someday — it's not our problem.

Greg doesn't really see this in such a black and white manner. 

Now granted, I know Greg is brilliant.  He can do anything.  He's not going to screw something up by drilling through it or sawing through it or cutting around it or beating it with a sledgehammer.  I know he's a detail-oriented perfectionist and if he screws something up he'll feel terrible and fix it the right way.  He won't cut corners or use some jack-leg remedy to fix something.  Especially not under my watch, because I will nag him to death.

We decided to obey the law (yes, I would prefer breaking the law over cutting through pricey, solid, stationary items) and install an invisible fence to keep Vinnie in.  I'm sure you understand that, being morally opposed as I am to cutting through expensive objects, I experienced some trepidation when Greg determined the best way to install said fence involved cutting through our driveway.  The driveway?  It's only 2.5 years old.  I mean, it's barely even dry yet.  I was unequivocally opposed to this. 

But.

After plenty of good-natured wrangling, I finally realized that although it would work, my idea for avoiding a driveway cut wasn't really practical or fair for Vinnie.  Vinnie would be required to run all the way around the house to get in the door.  So Greg won.  His victory, however, came with a warning from me that he should not expect to win any more disagreements for a very, very long time.

So Greg got to cut through the driveway.  And I, I got to see how happy he was doing it, which almost makes it okay that every time we leave the house he points out the marvelous job he did cutting up our driveway.  Almost makes it okay. 

Behold: