Bejeweled

A quote of note from lunch today.

Eli:  "Mommy, I want to be an exterminator so I can get those family jewels that Billy was talking about." [in reference to Billy the Exterminator, as usual]

Me: "Hmmm.  What did Billy say about his jewels?"

Eli:  "He said he almost lost them. But if I was an exterminator, I would never lose my family jewels."

Perhaps we should consider revising someone's TV viewing schedule.  On a positive note, it looks like the Clinton line will continue, since Eli seems to know the value of family jewels.

The Friday Frenzy

Fridays are special days for me.  I don't have to work and I get to pick Eli up from school and basically do whatever I want (unless what I want is to get a massage or to finally get my house clean).  Unfortunately though, there are some Fridays that don't turn out as well as I'd like.

On the days that Mark has to coach a basketball game in some far away place, my kids inevitably decide to misbehave.  They know I have no relief pitcher to come in and help me cope, so they do their worst.  This happened to be the case last Friday.

Eli didn't have school, so I scheduled a list of errands that had been put off for weeks.  Of course, on this particular day, it was -17 degrees with the wind chill so carting my kids around seemed rather ludicrous.  I didn't let that stop me.  I'm a fighter!  I bundled them up and let my car warm up for 15 minutes (bye bye, gas!) and off we went.

One of our stops was Barnes and Noble.  In hindsight, this may have not been the wisest choice for my kids; one was hyperactive and the other extremely crabby.  We attracted the attention of the entire store within seconds of entering.  Eli was shouting and trying to haul me to the children's section and Marina was quiet as long as her stroller was moving, but if I happened to pause, she would arch her back and scream.  Soon she was so mad it didn't matter if we were moving or not.  After 10 torturous minutes, we rushed to pay for our books and then headed over to the Starbucks cafe, where the girl behind the counter told me that they no longer sold the smoothies that I had been bribing Eli with.  As his eyes widened, she suggested an alternative: the Strawberries and Cream Frappe.  Against my better judgment, I gave in.  Eli held the sugar-laden poison like it was gold.

Trying to carry a bag, my coffee, and push a stroller while herding a small child with a milkshake was a snap (on second thought, perhaps I should have elected to pass on my coffee but it just seemed too important at the time).  It only took us 5 minutes to get out the door.

It was when we got to the car that the real trouble started.  I opened Eli's door for him to get in and by the time I got back over to Marina's side and was hurriedly trying to release her from the stroller, I heard Eli's exclamation.  I looked in the car; his face looked horrified.  By the side of his seat, his milkshake lie on its side with its entire contents spilling out onto the upholstery.  I immediately yelled at Eli (oops) and ran around in circles, not knowing how to remedy the present situation.  It was freezing cold.  Marina was screaming in her stroller and there was a strawberry disaster attacking my car.  I had no napkins or anything useful.  I had to improvise.  Thankfully, I always carry a stack of mail around with me in the front seat.  I found a cardstock flier for a local dentist and used it like a dustpan - my bare hands being the broom.  I bailed out the first load while trying to apologize and comfort freezing Marina.  I found some old receipts to rub on the mess before I finally gave up.  I wiped my sticky, nasty hands on a good pair of black sweatpants and fastened an irate Marina into her seat (if you know me, you know that there are few things I detest more than sticky hands).  I wasn't about to give up on the rest of my errands, so we drove around town in a car that smelled like sweet, foul strawberries.  I had to apologize to Eli for my overreaction.  His poor heart was broken over the loss of a milkshake that he had only taken three sips of.

After we got home, I tried to scrub my seat with upholstery cleaner but it was so cold that it just froze on my seat on top of the strawberry dairy mess.  So now, every time I get in my car, I'm seized by an aroma that smells suspiciously like strawberry puke (you know my feelings on vomit...).

Needless to say, my special Friday did not go as planned.  Since I'm an eternal optimist, I'm already making plans for this Friday.  Maybe I'll take the kids to Pier 1 Imports and let them run around...

Cat Crimes

I came downstairs this morning to find a crime scene in my living room (which is not very unlike the normal clutter and [occasional] messiness).

This young lady was lying prone on the floor.  While I could see she was still smiling, her dress was tattered and her hair disheveled.  Clearly someone was bothering her in the night.

It didn't take long to spot the bastard that trifled with her.  From his elevated spot on the coffee table, he was watching her, warning her to keep her mouth shut.

Lorenzo rules over the house after dark.  He oversees the movement of underground catnip (which he finds in the drawer and somehow removes and chews through the container) and commands his minions (Fat Linda) to do his bidding.  When he's had enough, he comes and sleeps on my head.  At times, he will lash out (completely unprovoked) and attack you.  Just ask my sister who had her arm mercilessly bitten last summer.  The arm ended up going completely numb, which sent her to the doctor and earned me a call from Animal Control (they forced my sister to report the animal who mauled her) and Lorenzo got locked in the clink (actually he was supposed to be quarantined but we let him roam about and bite other people).

It's unfortunate that cats live so long.  We likely have another 10 years with Lorenzo and 15 with Fat Linda (unless she has a heart attack from being so fat).  We can't get rid of them because we kind of love them, even though we barely like them.  So for the next decade, we will have to put up with Lorenzo humping everything and Fat Linda jumping on the kitchen table trying to snatch rice cakes out of Marina's hands.  Dang.  It's going to be a long 10 years.

Resolutely Crazy

Recently it has occurred to me that in a battle against weirdness, my poor kids don't stand a chance.  Sometimes I think I am rather normal, but then I realize that I am fooling myself by thinking it is everyone else who is odd.  I was especially impacted by this yesterday morning.  As usual, I was walking around the living room singing a Christmas song at the top of my lungs.  I stopped and looked at my kids.  They were both casually going about their business, not at all phased by the commotion.  You see, clearly this isn't too far out of the ordinary for them.  I had a rare moment of insight.  It is possible that most moms don't randomly burst into song and dance around the room on a daily basis.  And my eccentric side may eventually overflow onto my kids.

So as a nod to the new year and resolutions and all that, I've decided to forgo the normal Get-Skinny and Don't Drink Pop (see pictures below, oops) resolutions and go straight to the Stop Being so Crazy resolution.  I predict this will go as well as the others.

I fear my resolution may be coming a bit late for one of my children.  He has been exposed to crazy for over 4-1/2 years.  I've compiled a small list of photographic evidence.  

So what does the future hold for my little one?  Will her mother stick to the anti-crazy clause and give her fighting chance?  That remains to be seen...  "The hiiiillllls are alive, with the sooooound of music!"