Coming from Behind

There are times where I am far more comfortable than I should be. Today, as I got out of the car at work, I was in a bit of a "bind" due to a poor pants/underwear combination choice. Since I spend most of my time at home, I am a bit less inhibited than many who guard their actions from the prying eyes of public. Standing outside my car, I corrected the wedged material and made my way toward my work entrance. It was then that I realized my unlady-like action had been on display for the office behind the window that was directly behind my behind. The light was on and sure enough there was an observer sitting there in his chair.

Oops. How will I ever procure the respect of the public if I am constantly embarrassing myself? This seems a lost cause, maybe I should give up entirely (wait maybe I already have...)

This latest incident might be enough to earn me the much-coveted title of "Hungry Butt" (though I would have to steal it from an undisclosed person).

Precision spitting

There are a lot of little things that happen during the day when you stay home with your child; some of them funny, some of them gross, and some of them are both.  A lot of times I want to tell someone these little details, but it might be overkill, so I mostly keep them to myself.  

But this I will share.  Just now, something so gross, yet so amazing happened.  Eli was snacking on a rice cake and running around the house.  He came into the kitchen to let me know that he had a poop that urgently needed to be attended to.  I scooped him up and carried him like a baby into the living room.  As I was doing this, he was still talking and he inadvertently spat a little rice cake in my direction.  I felt it land and had an idea of it's location.  I laid him down and stood up to look at a nearby mirror.  I was right.  The chewed up rice cake landed inside my nostril!  It looked like a booger just sitting up there.  I cleaned it out in a hurry (which I am a pro at doing, I might mention) and marveled at the aim it took to get a chunk of rice cake up there.  Wow and gross all wrapped into one.  

I keep blowing my nose now because my nostril feels a little violated.  

Night Owl (whooo cleans)

This is what I decided to come and do at 9pm tonight.  I lit a fire under my own butt and cleaned out my closet and crawl space.  As usual, I started this project at a stupid time, but it was when the motivation hit!  My mom gave me a shelf to stack all the junk that was on the floor before and I got after the crawl space and realized there was nothing in there but crap. Now we can put something worthwhile in there and have storage!

Note:  Notice the mirror on the right side of the picture of the crawl space.  Moments after I took this picture, the mirror fell and crashed into the water heater and smashed into a million sharp pieces.  Poor Mark was upstairs trying to sleep because at this point it was after 11 and he had such a full day.  I had to shout up there to let him know I wasn't dead.  As I tried to remove and dispose of the glass shards, I inadvertently jabbed myself on an edge and cut the top of my hand near the knuckle.  It didn't hurt so I waited a minute before I looked at the damage.  When I looked, I tell you I could see a little of my muscle through the cut.  I thought, "oh, great" and started to envision myself in the emergency room with sweats on and raggedy hair (what else would I be in?).  I went to the stairs and said, "Um, Mark, I cut my hand on the glass and I might need stitches".  Of course, as usual, it turned out to be a little bit of an exaggeration.  Mark said it wasn't too bad and if anything, I might need just one stitch, which is not even worth it.  So he disinfected and band-aided me and gave me a stern lecture about the stupidity of late-night projects.  He wouldn't let me even look at the glass because I'm a clumsy fool and would likely cut my other hand if I tried cleaning it up.  So, he cleaned up the 6 feet of broken class.  I had to gauze and bandage over my band-aid because it was leaking blood and I still had some trash to get rid of, which required the use of my left hand.  

So, once again, when it comes to a womanly task, I am a dunce.  But at least my closet is clean.  I hope I don't get some infection and disease from this cut on my hand, that came from a mirror that was likely dirty with rust and all kinds of menacing bacteria.

    

Hot Sign

Yesterday, as I was driving home from work on a cold, rainy night, I read a blurry sign through my foggy windshield.  I thought I was imagining it so I went back around the block to see it again.  This is indeed what it read:

Hot Buffalo Chips and Wings basket $5.99

This seems to be a case of poor wording.  

I can't imagine a situation where I would pay $5.99 for a basket of hot buffalo chips.  Sick.  

Well, maybe if they were really deep fried...

Fresh perspective, not so fresh water

In order to get Eli to stop drinking his bath water, I was forced to tell him that it was gross booty water.  After all, who really wants to be drinking water their bare butt has been soaking in?  I bet he just hadn't thought about it like that.  That's why it is always good to bring another perspective...  maybe we are all drinking booty water of some sort or another, and we just need someone to open our eyes to it (and close our mouths).  

A Small Slip-up

It is no secret that when it comes to knowing what is appropriate to teach a toddler, I am completely in the dark.  I don't know what to teach him to call things like poop or pee or even the names of his "parts".  What I teach him seems to shock people, so it is likely that I am making poor decisions.  

Take the following conversation for example.  Recently, Eli has been struggling with distinguishing between males and females.  Very often, he will loudly ask "What's that guy doing?", clearly in reference to a woman.  People will feel very offended by being mislabeled as the opposite sex (it has happened to me before, but by totally competent adults...).  I felt I finally needed to address this lack of knowledge with a lesson.  While we were in the car the other day, I started to explain to him some of the physical characteristics of boys and girls.  It went something like this:  Girls typically have long hair, like Mommy.  Boys typically have short hair, like Daddy.  He nodded.  I asked if Daddy was a boy or a girl.  He said boy.  I thought we finally had it.  I said what about Mommy.  Also a boy.  Dang.  I was trying to think what other things I could explain to him that define the male and female (besides the glaringly obvious).  I told him that girls wear make-up.  Then, I ran out of things.  I know that since we are potty training, this might make some sense to him:  boys have wieners and girls do not.  He nodded.  Clearly, this is not something that will help him distinguish between males and females in the grocery store, but maybe just so he realizes that there are two distinct sexes out there.  Somehow, all this information must have gotten jumbled in his head, mixing with instructions of what "big boys" do versus what babies do (i.e. big boys do not have pacifiers).  Eli told me that he as a big boy, had a wiener.  I affirmed this. Then he said Daddy had one too.  And for some reason then he chose to yell, "and Mommy has a big wiener!"  I told him most definitely not.  We ended our lessons for the day.  This is why it would be wise for me never to home-school my children.

Perhaps he is not capable of this kind of rational thought yet.  I will have to continue to apologize to people and explain that he doesn't understand the difference and hope he doesn't yell something about them having a wiener.  

Oh brother, I really got it wrong this time...

Here is a video of us quizzing Eli.

Poor kids have the best imagination...

Eli, let's go out in the yard and play with the leaves.  Let's rake piles of them and jump around; we'll bury ourselves and throw them at each other!  What's that you say?  We don't really have a yard?  We have only a sapling with limited leaves?  There are only 60 leaves on the ground to choose from?  That's ok, we'll play in them anyway!

      

Eli has such a great imagination.  He kept bringing me piles of leaves and telling me they were different kinds of food, "Here, Mommy, eat your pees." or "I made you some soup."  Maybe if we could afford to buy food, he would have to imagine us eating leaves...

Also, we discovered a "baby snake".  But then we killed him because everyone knows he tempted the woman and brought all of humanity into sin.