More Breakfast Conversations

So today at breakfast the kids were discussing whether or not they were going to audition for a role in the grade level spring plays at their school. Seven said he was considering trying out for the part of Humpty Dumpty.

Ten: I wouldn't do that if I were you. There might be a head injury involved there.
Seven: Oh, that's okay. I've been banging my head on stuff for years.
Ten: I worry about you. I do.

Yeah, me too.

Minds in the Gutter

Seven has a loose tooth--one of the top front ones. It's been loose for ages, but doesn't seem to be any closer to coming out. The whole family was gathered at the table before school when the following conversation occurred...

Seven: Hey Mommy, do you want to wiggle my tooth?
Me: No thanks, I'm trying to quit.
Dan (muttering and smirking at me): I've got something you can wiggle.

And I made the mistake of laughing, which just encourages such behavior and makes both kids say, "What? What's so funny?" and I can't explain because, EUW!, so they keep asking, "What's so funny?" over and over again, all the way to school.

Then, my friend over at Susan's board said she had a great recipe for "adult" macaroni and cheese. So I asked her if the noodles were shaped like genitalia.

Dan and I are perfectly matched, don't you think?

Topical Tuesday 2

In which I give a quick update for the couple of you who actually read this and worry about me and my sanity...

1) Dan went to the utility company today and, big surprise, turns out that we did NOT use more than a million gallons of water last month. So much for that celebrity hot tub party theory. Our bill was only, oh, about four thousand dollars too high. Whew. Now that I don't have to pay that bill, I can keep raising my children in the manner to which they've been accustomed. Yeah, that's right...all Easy Mac, all the time.

2) Still no cure for leprosy, but I'll keep you posted. The bumps on my face have been downgraded from Violent Violet to Cranky Crimson. I'm hoping by tomorrow they will have faded to Pissed-off Pink. Stupid face wax.

Some of you have asked me where I had this done. Actually the exact words used were, "Oh, honey, who did that to you?" (asked with appropriate horror in her voice). Well, I wouldn't want to speak ill of the company, just in case they actually offer to give me a refund, but their initials are Merle Norman.

3) Back still aches. Thanks for noticing. I left a message with my doctor and he's supposed to call be back tomorrow. Stupid air hockey.

4) I'd better go now because the gale-force winds of the thunderstorm we're having are threatening to blow in the windows of this room. Yikes.

Not Feeling the Pretty

I almost didn't post this because it's just too embarrassing for words. But then I realized, what is the purpose of this blog, if not to go online to make fun of myself in a public forum in which tens of interpeeps can share myprivate shame? So here goes...

I had a little waxing mishap on Saturday. And before you go getting all excited, the word Brazilian will not be appearing again in this post. Sorry, it was NOT that kind of wax job. Everything was above the shoulders, the way God intended. Or, you know, NOT the way God intended, since he's the one who thought it would be high comedy to give me facial hair in the first place.

I've been getting my brows waxed for a few months now and love it, so I figured, what the heck, I'd go get the hairs violently ripped from my chinny-chin-chin too. Bad idea. Really. Don't go there. I can't recommend it.

Because, you see, I'm now battling a severe case of leprosy.

All I wanted was to have a nice, smooth, hair-free face like a chick is supposed to have. I'm way to young for those hag hairs that some women of a certain age develop on their chins as they approach middle age. Shut up. I am to TOO YOUNG for hag hairs. PPTTTHHH.

It wasn't even all that painful. I mean, duh, it hurt, but I was expecting a bit of pain. No pain, no gain, right? A little ouchie is a price I'm willing to pay for beauty. But now...

I'M SO NOT FEELING THE PRETTY HERE, PEOPLE!!

Pain I can deal with. But not the horrible red bumps, whiteheads, and scaly skin that I ended up with. That I PAID FOR! Oh no. No one warned me that this could happen. Because I know from the depth, nay the very cockles of my heart that, had they given me the Leprous Lizard Treatment option, I would've said, "No thank you, I'm good."

I really wanted to call in sick today at work, but I didn't think my boss would buy leprosy as a valid reason for a sick day. And, well, I'm out of sick days. And even I am too vain to lose a day of pay to hide my shame. But I styled my hair extra poofy today to draw attention away from my face, and, you know what? The 1980's called and they want their hair back.

What with the leprosy, the big hair, and the excruciating back pain, it really sucked to be me today. Wah!

Internet Insomnia

Why am I still awake and blogging at this time of the night? I mean morning? Well, there are quite a few reasons, actually:

1) The class I finally signed up for is supposed to start tomorrow. Well, today now. I went to check the announcements tonight, just to keep on top of things and make sure I'm ready for tomorrow, being the little over-achiever that am I, right? Well! Turns out I'm not the only one who took a beating with the OCD stick. There are people who have already been chatting about the class on the discussions board. One woman has already TURNED IN A HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT! GAH! Don't these people realize that I'm used to being the teacher's pet? They're taking butt-kissing to a whole new level. Great! Now I'm already falling behind in class on the very first day. And this is an online class. It's not as if I can bring chocolates to suck up or flirt with the teacher for a better grade. Not that I've ever done that or anything.

2) Dan stopped at Wendy's on the way home to bring dinner for everyone because I was helping Ten finish a project that had to be done tonight even though it's not due until Thursday because for the rest of the week I knew I'd be too busy with my own homework to help him with his. (Deep breaths, deep breaths.) So, unlike his mother, HIS work will be turned in early. Grrr. Anyway, Dan brought me a ginormous diet Coke, which I drank after six in the evening so I might as well have just smoked some crack with a speed chaser.

3) I paid the bills and balanced the checkbook tonight, which is insomnia-inducing on any night. But on this all-important night before I return to student life, when all things are supposed to be organized and settled and calm, I got the utility bill from hell. Dan says I have a tendency to, shall we say, embellish when I retell a story. But, oh interpeeps, this is, sadly, not an exaggeration in any way. This is the actual real live amount of our utility bill this month.

Are you ready?

$5,386.89

(Give or take a few cents because I'm too lazy to go downstairs and get the bill. Plus, if I see the amount in black and white the shakes will start again.)

We went from using 6700 pounds last year to 8400 pounds last month to OVER ONE MILLION pounds this month. Yeah, right. Must've been all those pool parties, charity car washes, and lawn watering services I was offering. You know, when it was below freezing outside! I know that Dan will straighten this out tomorrow. I know he will. Because I am not equipped to handle ONE MORE THING right now.

Okay, deep breaths. D-E-E-P breaths.

Yeah, that's not working for me either.

Potty Humor for Boys

Seven brought home his graded papers folder Friday night. One of his papers was an essay he wrote after learning about Martin Luther King, Jr in which he had to answer the following questions:

"What if you could do one thing to make your school even better? What would you do?"
So he wrote (I left his spelling the way it was on the paper):

"I would make a law tha Everyone will be nice to each other. It would help owr school a lot. It is my Dream. And people will shar."

His teacher wrote a smiley face and said, "I like your dream." I was patting myself on the back, having a big Prideful Mommy moment that I'm raising such a conscientious kid and a good little writer. Then I saw what he and his big brother had written on my white board downstairs:



If you can't read it, I'll tell you what it says...

"Look! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's an egg salad sandwich! NO! It's The Crimson Crud! And his sidekick Patrick the Pee Brain. "

Then there's a picture of "The Toxic Flusher," complete with a toilet plunger in his hand.

Wow, the pride that is bubbling out of me at this very moment. It kinda (sniff) gets you right there, doesn't it?

On an even more prideful note, my man is DA MAN! Before leaving to put in about nine hours at the mall on a busy Saturday (while I was out getting my brows waxed like the girly girl that I am), he FIXED my garage door opener. Not just a little bit fixed, mind you, but all the way, truly, and wholly, every single part works, fixed! He rocks.

I love me some Fix-It man. And he can write too.

I swear it was the Air Hockey

In the Murphy's Law of doctor's appointments, my ear didn't hurt as much when I woke up today, NATCH, because I went ahead and made that appointment yesterday. If I hadn't made the appointment I would be gouging out my ear with a letter opener by now, I'm sure. This is exactly the same phenomenon as when my car magically stops making the funny noise it's been making for months the very second I drive it onto the mechanic's lot. Dan made me keep the appointment (LOVE THAT MAN) when I said I was going to cancel it. I didn't want to pay the co-pay for them to tell me that I have a cold, but Dan said he didn't want me to be miserable all weekend if it started to hurt again five minutes after the doctor's office closed--which is the norm. Plus, my back has been hurting for a month and it was time to get that checked out too.

So I went, thank goodness, because my ear canal is inflamed. The ear drum looks okay, though, so I don't have to try to find an oral antibiotic that I'm not allergic to. I have prescription ear drops which don't seem to be doing much for me yet, but we'll see.

The best part of the appointment was when the doctor said, "So what did you do to your back?" Because see, here's the deal. Remember when we first got the air hockey table and we didn't attach the legs yet--we just sat cross-legged in the floor and s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d to hit the little pucky thing? Yep, you guessed it.

I torqued my back.

Playing air hockey.

Which no one believes.

When you say you hurt your back playing air hockey you get a "wink, wink, nudge, nudge" response. If Dan and another man are around there is much elbowing, high-fiving and back-slapping. People assume that there was something kinky going on and that "playing air hockey" is what the kids are calling IT these days. Um, sadly, no. It was the hockey.

So I tried to explain to the doctor that it was truly and for realsies an air-hockey induced injury, while blushing and stammering wildly. He laughed. A lot. So I explained the legless table, the s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g, the cut-throat competition, etc. He laughed harder--the kind of laugh that makes grown men wipe their eyes. So I said, "I knew I should've just said I was swinging naked from the chandelier," which made him laugh even harder, probably because he treats my husband too.

Long story short, I have problems with my hamstrings and/or my sacroiliac joint for which I have to take an anti inflammatory do lots of exercises which require me to twist into bizarre poses and postures involving my butt being up in the air. So I told the doctor, "Well, great. That's how I got into this mess in the first place."

On my way out he was waving good-bye with one hand and wiping his tears with the other. He called out, "Tell your husband, 'Good job.' I'll never look at air hockey the same way again."

Sheesh. Men.