Out of the mouths of babes...

I have a 2-year-old verbal sponge that follows me around all day, repeating things I don't want him to.  Other times though,  I teach him a phrase to say just so I can laugh at him saying it.  Today for instance, after his nap, he had a real mess going on in his pants.  It had even leaked from the diaper.  While I was changing him, I commented on his nasty "poop juice" situation that had soaked his pants.  For some reason that phrase appealed to him so for the last hour he has been running around saying, "P.U., Poop Juice!"  I hope that one sticks.

Crappy Trails to You

For some reason, when I travel, there are inevitably some dramatic, unpleasant details that befall me.

I have been in Utah for the past 8 days. I came home to Illinois yesterday with my family. A week before, I flew alone to meet them. After flying for the last two years (and dozens of flights) with a two-year-old, I was excited to be on my own, listening to music or reading a book without having to worry about a toddler misbehaving. Not even the two hour delay or extreme butt soaking I got from the automatic flushing toilet could bring me down. I just took it all in stride.

On the way home, there was a much different tune playing. I started to anticipate a rocky day of travel when the day before we were to leave, I started to feel a little funny. I had my usual headache but added to it was a sudden neck crank (I'm getting old and can't play games with a 2-year-old anymore). Then there was the feeling that my whole body had been pumped full of air with one of those foot pumps. I was burping (and other ways of expelling air) and felt quite nauseated. It could have been the sushi I overstuffed myself with or maybe I got some communicable disease from the animals I had been touching at a local farm. All I wanted to do was lie down and whine.

Then, the day of travel arrived. I woke up and knew things weren't going my way. The feelings of the day before had not subsided but added to it was the delight of rushing to the bathroom a few times every other minute. Wonderful. I was offered coffee that morning. Definitely not. In preparation for our departure that day, we spent the morning with family, going out to breakfast and hitting up the outdoor mall. Then to the airport. Things seemed to be rolling right along without a hitch: no line at security, a play area right by our gate. I was even feeling a little bit better at that point. We boarded the plane and Eli was having a great time and was even being very agreeable. Could this be? Then the death blow was dealt. As we were preparing to leave the gate, the pilot alerted us of a delay due to a storm in Chicago. It would be a little over an hour, but we would be staying on the plane, in case we were able to leave any earlier. Great. The hour passed and Eli played happily (albeit loudly). Then, again, as we were ready to pull out, we were notified that there was now an indefinite delay. We could stay on the plane if we'd like or get off with all of our stuff and not come back on until we the plane was ready to leave. It was too much work to get off so we stayed on the stuffy plane and Eli mercifully fell asleep. Another hour passed. The deplaned passengers got back on (loudly) and woke my sleeping child, who quickly became out of sorts. Finally, we took off and life resumed. Over the next 2-1/2 hours, there was mostly pleasantness plus two diaper changes - one of them smelly and messy (thanks Mark for handling that). Also, I stepped in someone's pee in the bathroom and realized that my feet smelled for the first time ever (not like pee, but more like vinegar).

We landed. Pilot came back on and started with "This is just not my day..." It seemed that another plane was occupying our gate and we would have to sit on the runway until it cleared. Thirty more minutes passed. Finally off the plane, we hobbled through the airport (smelly feet and all) with a toddler (not in a stroller), a car seat, a rolly-bag, a backpack, and a huge shoulder bag. Added to that was golf clubs and enormous (47 lb) suitcase we picked up in baggage claim. It would have been smart to rent one of those carts but instead we broke our bodies trying to get it all to the curb to wait for our ride (who had spent nearly 3 hours waiting at a nearby oasis).

Over two more hours in the car and finally we were home. The day of hellish travel was over at last.

I woke up like a gas bag again today and my body felt all out of alignment after carrying double my weight in toddler and luggage. I don't think I'll be traveling again for some time.

Child Labor

Every day my co-worker and I wait impatiently for 5:00 to come around. At that time, there is a mass exodus from our building. Within 15 minutes or so, we are left alone. We are like children, looking around the room to see who is left. Finally when the last person has left, we watch shows on the internet. We each get very close to our computers, so as not to disturb the other with the sound. We curse the phone when it rings and interrupts our respective shows. Fortunately for us, our work is very accepting of internet browsing while there is no work to be done. When the cleaning people talk to us, we have to pause our shows and make small talk, then quickly get back to the show. We still feel quite sheepish when another employee comes in from the back door and catches us looking guilty in front of our computers.

It is funny to sit in close proximity to someone and play on the internet for hours. You are feel that they are always watching what you are doing. My former coworker would watch girl fights and videos of old people falling down on YouTube. He had no shame.

Back to watching my shows...

Dressed to Impress

I have often heard the saying, "Dress for the job you want." I must have internalized that at some point, because I seem to dress for homelessness and unemployment.

I am always telling Mark some embarrassing story where I was in torn sweatpants and dirty hair when I ran into so someone I knew. Last week he said, "You know that wouldn't happen if you didn't always leave the house dressed like that." At the time I called him a B-hole. But yesterday, I started to think there might be something to what he said. Twice this weekend, I had been caught looking "unprepared".

The first was on Saturday when my cousins were in town visiting. We all had dinner together and then it was proposed that we go "out".   As everyone was running around changing, I looked down at myself. I had on what could be considered a unisex sleeveless shirt (very unflattering) with a pair of clearance Bermuda shorts on. My hair was in a messy ponytail and I had on my daily flip-flops. Is this the kind of thing you want to be seen wearing at 1 AM in a hoppin' bar? I wasn't at home so the option to change did not exist. I couldn't borrow clothes since I am the token heavy girl in the group. Dang. So, I held my head up high and embraced my frumpiness. All around me in the bar, girls in short dresses and high heels were parading around and I looked like "It's Pat" from SNL. Lesson should have been learned.

The very next day, I was feeling very comfortable in my soccer shorts and nondescript gray t-shirt (and of course my flip-flops), so I decided to wear it to work. Normally, on Sundays I am one of two people in the office so I wasn't very concerned with my attire. I did think twice about my hair, but shrugged it off anyway. Who needs make-up on a Sunday anyway? (over half the world, actually.) Unfortunately, as I arrived at the front door in the midst of torrential rain, I came face-to-face with a well-dressed woman from accounting who happened to come in to work that day. She showed excellent control and tact by not reacting to my appearance. I looked around and noticed there was no power in the building. She and I sat in the front lobby listening to the radio to see if we were going to be killed by a tornado (I tried not to make eye contact). Then, my Sunday coworker showed up. We too, sat around in the dark. The night progressed into a stressful work situation with no power but phones still ringing with people wanting to put in orders. Our systems lady came in, followed by our I.T. guy. Dang. All of them might have thought I sleep in my car. But maybe they will pay me more...

Mark, you might be right. Maybe I should consider my appearance before going out in public.

On the streets of Laredo

When you live in a neighborhood such as ours, you should be conscious of the impact it might have on your children. Often we awake to sounds of neighbors bickering (very forcefully) and witness late night drunk driving activity. Because of this rough environment, we have made the decision to dress our child to fit in, so he won't be man-handled by the local rabble. We have taught him some local gang signs and how to tell between the Gangster Disciples and Latin Kings. We have also made sure to dress him in neutral colors when he goes to the Children's Museum. I am attaching two pictures of him representin'. Two local boys tried to mess with him and he kicked their asses (at the same time). He then threw them in the gutter. We captured the scene immediately after in the picture below.



Now, when Eli grows up, all his stories will begin with, "When I was growing up on the streets..."

Relapse

I have relapsed into my usual self this week. I have been working hard (kind of) for change lately but today I took a step backward. I have vowed in past blogs that I would no longer be a push-over and I would become more confrontational.

Here's what happened. I was desperately in need of caffeine stimulation before work so I raced over to Dunkin' Doughnuts for some excellent coffee. I ordered an iced coffee with skim milk and vanilla flavoring. I might have fumbled the order a bit. I wasn't sure what he repeated back to me so I said it again and then drove up to the window. He handed me my cup and instantly I knew it was all wrong. It was iced tea with skim milk toward the bottom and likely a shot of vanilla flavoring. Nasty. I looked at him and then handed him my money. My mind raced - should I ask him if this was iced coffee? I didn't. I said thanks and drove away. I was really sad because I wanted an iced coffee but I didn't want him to have to make me another one. The man at the drive-thru had a very thick accent and I didn't want to embarrass him either. So I took my iced-tea crap drink and went to work with a lack-of-caffeine headache. To punish myself for my stupidity, I have now consumed 3/4 of this sick drink. I might add that I hate iced tea without the added bonus of flavoring and skim milk.

On another down note, I fell off the wagon and resumed my at-home drinking. Mark and I shared a bottle of wine (when I say shared I mean Mark=one glass, Lily=5 glasses) over the course of this week. So much for having a "dry" house. I might as well start making moonshine and bathtub gin.

On a positive note, I feel like laughing all day - like I drank that secret Willy Wonka juice that makes you float to the ceiling, only I won't burp to get down. Maybe it is from this crap ice tea drink. Maybe I'll order another one tomorrow.

The Girl Who Cried...

A series of rather unfortunate things have happened to me lately. Rather than depress you with all of them, I will pick out just one situation and describe it's horror for you.

On Thursday night, I was almost home from work when I saw a red work van pulled over to the side of the road in a weird way. It caught my eye so I kept watching as I passed (yes, I realize I should have been looking forward rather than rubber-necking). The hazard lights were on and the driver's side door was open. I could see a pair of legs hanging out and another man bent over the legs. What!? I slowed down and kept looking. The legs looked weird, like they were hanging a little grotesquely, knees facing up, like the person was lying down, half on the seat, half on the floor. All the cars around me were rubber-necking. I thought about pulling over, but I was in the other lane and past the car already. I was 30 seconds from home too.

Now, let me pause my story for a bit of background on me. Recently, I have seen a lot of things that warrant a police call. There are always drunk drivers in our neighborhood and people yelling and probably beating on each other. After the fact, I always mentally abuse myself about how I should have called the police and that someone is probably dead because I didn't. I have made a vow that the next time I see something, no more waiting, just call.

Back to the story...
In light of recent personal proclamations, I decided to call the police for the man in the red van. I didn't have the local police number so I had no choice but to call 9-1-1. This is terrifying for me, I feel like it should only be called if someone is chasing me in the house with a knife. I started the call out with, "This might be nothing, but it seems like there is a van pulled over on the side of the road that looks like he might have a medical problem." I tried to describe the area but got all turned around and panicked because I was talking to 9-1-1. I kept trying to say I might be wrong, but he might be unconscious and the other guy seems like he's trying to help him. I suggested they send a police car to check it out, in case it was something.

Then, I hung up the phone and went in the house and told Mark what I just did. He looked at me in a weird way. I went to our back door, where the road is visible. I couldn't see the van from there. I told Mark where it was and we both went outside to look. Then I realized the van was gone. It was only 2 minutes later and the van was gone! Maybe not such a medical emergency after all. Mark then suggested that I might be an alarmist. I started to panic again. Should I call 9-1-1 back and let them know they are gone? While I was mulling over this thought, I hear sirens in the distance. Oh no! Don't come over here... Instead of one police car, a processional that could have escorted a president came by. One police car, two ambulances, and one full-size fire truck all came by and slowed down at the spot I poorly indicated to the dispatcher. Very soon after, the line of costly emergency vehicles drove back the other way, no lights on this time, heading home, cursing the girl who cried emergency.

So, I was wrong. Maybe their air conditioning went out and they were leaning in trying to see the spark plugs. Maybe they were looking for a contact. Maybe there was an emergency and man number two was able to drag man number one back in the van and drive him to the hospital (maybe not).

I have to reprise my vow to call the police. They probably will put my name on the list if I call again. Dang.