Should We Be Worried?

Got a hit on this blog today from someone from the "Commonwealth of Kentucky Information Systems" searching Google for "everyday chemistry with embalming fluids." Hmmm.

And, by the way, I am number five on that search, thankyouverymuch. Not a lot of everyday chemistry you can do with embalming fluids, apparently.

Sip Bacardi, 'Cause It's My Birthday, Yo

So. Here I am at 40. Things get serious now. I know 40 is the new 30 and all, but it's still grown-up.

According to my horoscope, it's going to be a stellar year. Things in my career are really going to pick up. Too bad I only work two days a week.

So what are our plans, you ask? This morning G and the boys frosted a square chocolate cake for me. I'd take a picture but our digital camera is broken AGAIN. Right before Halloween, can you believe the timing? Anyway, there are two presents for me on the table but I have to wait until G comes home for lunch to open. I tried to manipulate A. into telling me what they were, but he's not cracking. He'll only say that there are "presents" inside. The kid's got a will of steel. Or he doesn't know.

This weekend we're taking our first night ever away from the kids together. We'll head to SF and stay in a hotel with a KING SIZE BED ALL FOR ME HA HA HA and no babies in it! I don't know where G's going to sleep.

G made reservations at three restaurants (here, here, and here) so we'll be doing a lot of eating. No, just kidding. I guess we'll have to pick one. Middle Sister will be dealing with the boys. She's says she's excited, but she's never spent a night with Ben the Bed Hog. I may have forgotten to tell her that he's used to sleeping with us in the big bed.

I already got some Omaha steaks from my sisters. Mmmm. See, my dad's wife, who lives in AZ with my dad, always sends out stuff from Omaha for Christmas. The first year we got steak. Mmmm. Then she remembered that G. doesn't eat red meat and it's been fish for us ever since while my sisters dined on steak. The fish is good, don't get me wrong, but why should I be punished because he can't digest red meat? I complain every year (not to her - I dropped some hints and they didn't work, so I gracefully stopped), so this year Big and Middle Sister sent me some Bacon-Wrapped Tenderloin. And free burgers and knife set came with it! Score!

And I got some things from my wish list from Big Niece, who had the presence of mind to order gifts and get a card in the mail on time even with a 1-month-old baby.

And I got a card from Larry Gutierrez, who says one of the best things that happened in 1965 was that I was born. He's got my last name wrong, but it's the thought that counts. I believe he's an Allstate agent and how he got my (wrong) name and birthday, I'll never know. But I vaguely remember thinking "Who the hell is Larry Gutierrez?" last year too.

Didn't get a card from my dentist this year. I think that means it's time for a cleaning.

A Zizzer-Zazzer-Zuff, As You Can Plainly See

Does anyone else look at this picture and say, "Jerry Jordan's Jelly Jar, J J J!"

28 hours until....

I turn 40. I'm just sayin'. You people on the East Coast have even less time.

So Who's the Lady?

Me (walking behind the snack bar counter): Who's next?

Lady: I am.

Me: What can I get you?

Lady: Well, I want you to dial this phone number and find out if these Northern Atlantic birds can swim for this paper I'm doing.

Me: Seriously?

Lady: Yes. I don't know if they can and I need to find out.

Me: Look, there are lots of ways to find out. Why don't you go to the library, use one of their computers and check the internet. I'll bet you find the answer very quickly.

Lady: No, I want you to call this number and find out for me.

Me: Look lady, this is a snack bar. If you want a soda or a snack, I can get it. But I'm not going to call that number for you. Who's next?

That was my dream last night.

How to Melt My Heart

A: I want the family on the family room.
Me: What?
A: (repeats)
Me: (pretend not to understand because I'm in the middle of cooking dinner) What do you mean?
A: C'mon, the whole family in the family room.
Me: Oh, you want the whole family to be in the family room right now?
A :(thinking: Jesus. How dense is she?) Yeah! You gotta come to the family room and get some lovin'.
Me: Awwww. (go to the family room to get some lovin')

Dead Ants

Q: What did the Pink Panther say when he stepped on the anthill?
A: Dead ants, dead ants, dead ants, etc.

Yeah. Well. No matter how many dead ants you have, there are always live ones. G asked me sadly, "Have we lost the war?" Swarming ants. All over the wall. We've got Ant PTSD. Except there's no Post- to it because they keep coming.

You may remember our ant battles. They continue. We live on top of Ant Mecca. There are ant swarms every time we dig in our soil. There's an ant highway across the doorway of our garage and several smaller turnpikes across our patio. I've picked more ants off Ben than I care to think about. When they're outside, we leave them alone. But they continue to think they can come into the kitchen (and the bathroom) and it needs to stop before I blow Ant Mecca up.

Yesterday, I saw a big ant huddle near the window, and I investigated because these are stupid ants and they never find food, even when it's laying right out there on the counter, so what could they be huddling around? They dispersed like high schoolers at a fight when I approached, and in the middle was a BIG ant. It was almost twice the size of the others, with a big ol' rear end. Do you think she was the queen? Well, queenie, you jus' been dethroned! Lunasea in da house!

If she was the queen, and I killed her (not only am I doing better than the U.S. Government in the war on terror), will the other ants go away too?

Books, Softball and Adventure

Books

When I was a kid, I used to tell my parents that I was afraid of the dark and ask them to leave the hall light on. I also made sure to position my bed so that it got most of the light. I wasn't really afraid of the dark - I wanted to read after bedtime. I'd hide under the covers if one of them came near my room, and since my dad went to bed at 11pm and turned all the lights out, that was the latest I could stay up reading. Occasionally they caught me and warned that my eyes would be ruined. I do have horrible eyesight today (400/20 I think), but guess what? Stick some glasses on me or put contacts in my eyes and I'm good as new.

Aidan wants "lots of books" in his crib with him when he goes to bed. He doesn't even want us to read to him anymore. Just pile them up in there and leave the hall light on, thank you very much. I can't believe I'm letting him do this. I had to sneak my after-hours reading for so many years, it's just a slap in the face that he can be so blatant. I don't have the heart to refuse. He sleeps right on top of them, too, and is upset when he wakes up and finds fewer in there than when he went to sleep (sometimes I sneak in there and take some out to make room for his body). I totally understand books being a security blanket. And he can't actually read, so I'm not too worried about his eyesight.

Softball

So sometimes he doesn't get enough sleep. Last night he fell asleep around 9:30, and was up at 6am. He was a pain in the neck for most of the day, but got better after I threatened him. He wanted to go to the park after G got home from work, so we went and found that the adjoining ballfields were hosting 8 adult softball teams.That's a lotta softball. So we stayed, had hot chocolate, sat in the stands and cheered the "Go Dumb" team. Aidan was the best cheerer there - he kept yelling, "OH! LOOK AT THE BIG HIT!" and "OH! THAT WAS A BIG THROW!" It was great. Too bad it tended to be between plays (and innings). And often for the other team.

He gets VERY enthusiastic when he's tired, and it's pretty funny. When we were walking to the car, he yelled, "THAT WAS A NICE TIME, MAMA! THAT WAS PRETTY FUN!" You just can't stay mad at someone that enthusiastic.

Adventure

And while we were at the pumpkin patch yesterday, we were climbing this big pyramid of hay bales. I held his hand, but he's not the most adventurous kid on the block. He kept saying, "I don't know. I'm just not sure," as he climbed (phrases that Sir Topham Hatt uses on Thomas). We were passed by several 18-month-olds. It was like climbing with my grandmother.

Oh, and BTW, G is back at work but not completely better. After our Slice O' Americana evening, he passed out before 8pm.

Live and Fresh: Lunasea!

Who gave this woman* her own show? I first saw her during the Hurricane Katrina coverage, and thought she was losing her voice because she'd been working long hours. Nope, turns out she always sounds like that.

1. To the pilot of a rescue helicopter as they're flying over a house with a guy trapped on the roof: "How important is it, what you're doing?"

2. To the guy they rescued: "How happy are you to be rescued?"

3. To the mayor of a town wiped out by Hurricane Rita, after he pointed out the demolished diner where he ate lunch every day: "Where are you going to eat lunch now?"

It's good for a laugh, but it also annoys me as my dream job is to take over "Fresh Air" on NPR. And I don't sound like I smoke two packs a day.

*The current photo on Rita Cosby's page is Hugh Hefner and some playbunnies. I'd look up a photo of Rita to avoid confusion, but I'm too sleepy.

Spam, Sperm, Whatever

I use HaloScan comments on this site, and somehow the spammers haven't gotten through yet. But I have a "footnotes" blogspot (see 100 Things) and today they found me. In fact, Josh found a lot of useful info about sperm banks on my site. Just wanted to say...glad I could help.

<<Josh said...
Found a lot of useful info on your site about sperm bank - thank you. Haven't finished reading it yet but have bookmarked it so I don't lose it. I've just started a sperm bank blog myself if you'd like to stop by>>

Still Stuck in the Infirmary

It's official: G. is really sick. He's got the pneumonia in his chest, that boy. A-coughin' and a-hackin', he be. Takin' them anti-bi-otics and should be as good as new in no time at all, iffen you believe them docs at that hos-pee-tal.

I remember when I was dating and if I or my boyfriend was sick, we'd do the whole flower-chicken soup-kleenex thing. Now it's like: "Hmm - he appears to be breathing, so he must be OK. Gotta get the kids dinner. Oh, did you want some soup? Here's the can opener."

No, that's not true. I heated the soup for him and even poured it into a bowl. I'm pretty sure I gave him a spoon, too.

Desperate Housewives watchers - I have a question. When did aliens take over Lynette's body? No way would the old Lynette sit there and let Joely Fisher be such a bitch to her, or insinuate that her kid's first day of kindergarten wasn't important. She just wouldn't let herself be caught there. I don't believe it and it's irritating me. I keep thinking, "this was sooo written by men," which isn't fair and I'm not sure why I think that, but I do.

Lost watchers - funniest line I've read all week: on the TWoP recap, about the end of the episode where Jin runs out of the jungle with his hands tied behind his back and all the "Others" are running after him with spears: "Looks like Jin forgot to use his Capital One card." Hah!

Commander in Chief: I'm a West Wing fan, but I checked this show out when there was nothing else on and I was working on the 'puter. It didn't bother me that the level of political conversation compared to WW is like Marcus Welby vs. ER, but it did bother me that the POTUS leans down to her young daughter and admonishes her for reading her sister's journal: "You're not supposed to read big sis's journal," and little sis gets all sorry and apologizes to big sis immediately. Riiiight.

"Hey, Aidan, you're not supposed to sit on Ben's head." Yeah, that'll work.

Stuck in the Infirmary

It's just after 8pm on Friday night and all my guys are out cold. The boys are sleeping, and G. has the flu. He's been completely out of commission since Wednesday night.

"Can you refill the Brita? I don't even have the strength to lift it," he moaned. I took his temperature and found it to be a burning 99.3, so he went off to bed. "Good thing men don't get pregnant," I muttered.

It was quite a switch from A., who last week was sick and steadfastly refused to admit it. After I finally got some medicine down his throat, if he coughed at all, he'd glare at me accusingly and say, "My cough is still there! So you and your fancy cherry-crap flavored syrup can go to hell!" He clearly said the first part; the last part was implied.

Later G. clocked in at 101.3. But then we discovered our fancy temporal thermometer is off and his temperature was actually over 103 as determined by the old-fashioned mercury. Hmph. Guess you really are sick. Stay away from me, and for God's sake, don't get the baby sick.

In other news:

Did I mention I'm turning 40 in a few weeks? It seems like a big deal, if only as a marker of the last 10 years. When I turned 30, I was single, in grad school with no idea if I would ever finish, and living in a small studio. Around that time, I wrote out this little piece of paper that I carried around on which I had written all my biggest goals:

1. Finish the Ph.D.
2. Be in a happy marriage or relationship.
3. Have children (was going to do this with or without #2).
4. Have a house with a garden.
5. Have an organized, clutter-free life.
6. Be able to run 5 miles.

Four months after turning 30, I met G. Four years after that, I married him, and here I am living in a house with a garden (that I don't touch because Goal #2 has control issues) and our two little boys. I had my Ph.D. orals the week I found out I was pregnant with A., so that got finished too. I ran a 5-mile race in 2001 and have been largely pregnant (literally) or nursing since then. I do work on the organization and have gotten much better, although "organized" is probably not an adjective often used to describe me.

So what's left? I still need to learn to drive a stick shift. And see the Alps. But the major things: check, check, and check.

And yet there's more:

A. has begun playing more complex games. They're great because he tells us exactly what to do, even it if results in a strategic paradox. He loves to hide in the closet and yell, "I'm in the coats! You can't find me anywhere!"

He also tells us exactly how to react: "I'm a robot! You can't believe it!"

So much of parenting is by the seat of the pants. It's nice when they give you clear instructions.