Monthly Archives: October 2009

Absolutely Hilarious

I love it when I stumble across blogs that are dedicated to the ridiculous in life.  Being ridiculous myself, it’s nice to know I have company.  Today I stumbled across a blog that does nothing but scan and post funny things found in newspapers. I laughed out loud at several of them, (and yes, Elizabeth, I thought of you and your former newspaper career) but this is my favorite.  I think when you read it you’ll know why.

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Needed Inspiration

My aunt sent me this great poem, and I just HAD to share it all with you.

Cleaning Poem

I asked the Lord to tell me
Why my house is such a mess
He asked if I’d been ‘computering’,
And I had to answer ‘yes.’

He told me to get off my butt,
And tidy up the house.
And so I started cleaning up…
The smudges off my mouse.

I wiped and shined the topside.
That really did the trick…
I was just admiring my good work.

I didn’t mean to ‘click.’

But click, I did, and oops – I found
A real absorbing site
That I got SO way into it –
I was into it all night.

So nothing’s changed except my mouse.
It’s as shiny as the sun.
I guess my house will stay a mess…..
While I sit here on my bum.


In Which I Confess to Breaking the Tenth Commandment

Five years ago, or so, while I was still working in real estate and we were those “double income no kids” people, my husband bought me a Tungsten T5 Palm Pilot.  I LOVED it and lived my entire life by that thing.  Everything was in the schedule, everyone was in the address book, and I didn’t go anywhere without it.  One of the applications prepackaged with the palm was called eReader, and I remember thinking “who on earth is going to read anything on a screen this tiny?”  Shortly after taking possession of this treasure, I was sitting in a driveway waiting to show a house to someone.  Bored with poking through the other apps, I opened eReader and found that it had come with two free classics: the Count of Monte Cristo and H.G. Wells’ The Time Machine.  I began reading and figured out that I was someone who would read on a screen that tiny.

It’s great.  I always have a book with me (usually several).  It’s backlit, so I can read at night.  I can read at night without rustling pages.  I can read Atlas Shrugged without needing a weight training routine. Now that I’m a full time Mom, I don’t use the schedule anymore and I’ve got addresses on my laptop now because I don’t ever need them anywhere but at home.  In fact, the only part of my Tungsten T5 that I still use is the eReader program. The palm is a little beyond it’s lifespan.  The touch screen is loosing it’s touchiness, the battery life has diminished a little and every once in a while it doesn’t sync with my laptop.  But I can still read, so I’m a happy camper and I don’t see any need to replace a palm pilot I’m not actually using for its intended purpose.  When Amazon introduced the Kindle I was interested in an academic way, but didn’t feel the need to change my digital reading tools.

Several months ago, eReader, my favorite way to read, was purchased by Barnes and Noble, my favorite bookstore.   This was an interesting triviality that affected my life in no way whatsoever until last week (the day I became the temporary host for the virus block party we had last week) when I got an e-mail announcing this:

I’ve spent a week coveting a Nook every time I fire up the Tungsten eReader.  It’s everything I love about my eReader, but nicer, and newer and owned by Barnes and Noble.  It’s also almost more money than I spend on groceries in a month.  So I’m not even thinking about buying a nook.  I’m blogging about it instead.  Doesn’t that  make it so much better?  🙂


What Would You Do?

Our mackerdoodle was ten months old before she ever stayed in a church nursery, not because of a conviction on our part, but because the group of believers with which we fellowshipped at the time didn’t have one.  One of the things that drew us to our church was the  simple nursery set up and the openness they had to let me stay in the nursery with our daughter for the first few weeks to help her adjust to this new experience, and within a month she was happily going to nursery.  In contrast, a sister church in the area has a very institutional nursery set up with clipboards and I think pagers (although I’ve never been given one) and just a “leave them at the door” approach to childcare.  I know that works for a lot of families, but it doesn’t make me feel comfortable as a mama.

This particular church congregation hosts a MOPS program in which our church participates, so two weeks ago I packed up my kids and headed out to my first MOPS meeting.  I quickly realized that I was not prepared for their nursery set up.  I have one diaper bag, but my kids were going to be in rooms quite a distance apart.   In the end, I left the mackerdoodle and the diaper bag with the very efficient, no nonsense worker in the 2 year old room.  I notified the worker of the mackerdoodle’s allergy, showed her the mackerdoodle’s snack and walked away with the cheesedoodle in the wrap.  It didn’t really cause anything more than a sense of embarrassment on my part, and a mental note to handle it differently the next time.

This morning I packed up the kids in monsoon like rain for our second MOPS meeting.  The mackerdoodle was SO excited that she had her own little backpack with her just-in-case clothes, her snack and her drink that she could carry.  She kept saying “we go mops.  yay!” and I felt that despite the weather I was a little more prepared for today’s events.

Then we pulled into the parking lot.

The mackerdoodle began to cry the same way she cries when there’s a thunder storm.  It’s a quiet, terrified cry accompanied with a slight rocking and hiding her face.  She said to me, “Oh no.  I no yike dis house.  No dis house.  I no yike dis house.”  I asked her what happened to “we go mops.  yay!”  She looked at me confused and then began alternately making sweeping motions with her arms and pointing out of the parking lot, saying “we go mops now mahmee?”  She was under the impression that we were going to mop something.  (in a side note: could this really be a biological child of mine that is excited about the idea of mopping something?)  The idea of going into that 2 year old nursery scared her.

So what would you do?  How would you handle a situation like this?

I ended up coming home.  What about you?


Wait . . . Where Was I?

Family sickness with kids is sort of like having someone push “pause” on your life, while everything else goes on and piles up around you and you can’t do anything about it.  While I was only sick myself for less than 24 hours, every time I turned around for six days I was stripping a bed and re-making it, cleaning up vomit, putting a toddler on the toilet (okay, that happens every day, but when the flu hits the lower intestine, the visits to the toilet get a little more . . . intense . . .) keeping the electrolytes up in whatever member of my family was losing fluid from whichever end of the intestine was affected at the moment, and washing clothes.

If you don’t know how much I hate laundry, you must be new around here.  As much as I hate this intestinal plague we’ve been experiencing, I hate laundry more and I have been doing laundry all week because we’ve been experiencing the intestinal plague .

On Tuesday, the mackerdoodle went through four sets of clothes while she was throwing up, as well as managing to throw up in her bed AND mine.  On Wednesday evening I managed to go through three sets of clothes in an hour partly because of the cheesedoodle’s cheerful projectile puking and I don’t want to talk about the other experience.  Thursday I had to strip both beds again.  I’d rather not talk about it.  You’re getting the picture.  In four days my daughter alone went through ten pairs of pajamas, five pairs of pants and I lost count of the panties. It was all I could do to get clothes out of the dryer, just to put the next load in.  At some point the pile quit growing and just went into recycle – remove the sick clothes or towel or sheets, place in washing machine and replace with whatever could be salvaged from “the pile”.

At the end of gastroenteritis homecoming week ’09, my living room looked like this:

The Pile

Oh the humanity.

I haven’t got it all folded yet, just like I haven’t managed to get the rest of the house back into order, but it’s on the way.  Jawan asked me today if I feel normal yet.  Whittling the pile down to two baskets went a long way to helping me get there.  Our bodies may be healed, but my house has yet to recover.

I bet someone will want to look at the house on Tuesday.


A Snapshot in my life . . .

Mackerdoodle played with some of her favorite friends all day Sunday.  Monday we found out those same little friends were throwing up.  Tuesday my mackerdoodle threw up until 5:30 ish at which point she announced that she “wasn’t sick ANY more.”  She had diarrhea for the next twelve hours.

On Monday I woke up with a slightly irritated eye.  When I woke up Tuesday morning it looked like this:

but my daughter was sick.  Today I went to the optometrist.  I have to stop wearing contacts for a while to let my eye heal.  Only I haven’t owned glasses since the mackerdoodle was a few months old and I stepped on them in the middle of the night.  (Could that be why my eye is irritated?  Hmmm)  So I’ve ordered these glasses (in silver – $12 with shipping.  yay Zenni), but I’m a little blind until they arrive.

Not that I need to see much to make it from the couch to the toilet, vomit (or other), and get back.

yeah.

The mackerdoodle is, in her words, “not sick ANY more.”  Unfortunately, now I am.  So why am I blogging instead of lying on the bathroom floor?  Well, the cheesedoodle is wide awake and happily  (I don’t mean that sarcastically.  He’s actually giggling.) happily projectile vomiting.  Jonathan’s at work, but I’m thinking of telling him to avoid the house of plague.

uh oh.  better go puke again.


Wordless Wednesday: He’s Almost as Big as She is.