Saturday, February 20, 2010

A Margarita Birthday

My birthday is this Friday. A week from today. I told Kevin that for my birthday I would like him to take the kids to his parents cabin and instead of a cake I would like 2 ambien. He thought this was an odd request. I asked him if he remembered Wednesday when he had come home from Boy Scouts and I was yelling at him to get his butt over to the bathroom. Katherine had clogged the toilet because she wanted to see what happened when a roll of toilet paper was used to wipe. I told her and Seth to not move while I got the plunger. Seth decided to flush the toilet. Water went everywhere and I had to wade in and plunge and plunge then start to clean up the water. Seth ran to the other bathroom yelling that he pooped, took his diaper off and then ran back to me. Kevin walked in as Seth started to scoot on his butt and leave a poop streak in the hall. Kevin cleaned Seth up and said he would clean the floor but I told him to just get the kid to bed and out of sight. Then Kevin paused and looked at me, with my soaked feet and feces on my hand and said, "I haven't kissed you yet today." He went in for the kill, I turned my head and he got my cheek.

Or Thursday when I took the kids to Science Night and had a balloon blow up from carbon dioxide build up in a soda bottle. Two people commented how I brought evil latex into the school and the kids stayed at our experiment for two minutes. They made Gak at another place and Seth got pink and Kath got purple but she wanted pink so she threw a fit and Seth for some reason traded with her (very uncharacteric of him) and then 25 minutes later she wanted purple again. Then Seth ran out of the gym down the hall while Kath was crying about purple or pink or maybe blue and when he came back, his diaper was off centered and he had pee all down his leg. He was in his spiderman pjs, by the way because he decided he was spiderman that day and put his pj's on in the morning and walked around saying, "I am Seth Spiderman." We left and got rid of our evil latex.

So I do not think that after two such days, the only gift that I really desire is peace, quiet, and sleep. Drug induced lovely guaranteed 8 hours of sleep. And maybe a Margarita.

Monday, February 15, 2010


I love the Olympics. I love watching people who have trained their whole lives be the best in their sport. I love watching countries that have never won a medal get a gold. Of course many of these countries haven't been countries for very many Olympics so maybe that doesn't really count as extremely exciting. It doesn't help that I don't know where many of these countries are, either. Three initial abbreviations don't help much either. Neither do the flags. During the luge, I saw at least three different flags for Germany. I think all the uniforms should now be a map of the world with the country highlighted and enlarged. Most of the uniforms they wear are ugly anyhow, so a giant map won't take away too much from the fashion.

I also love watching the Olympics in bed. With hot chocolate. And popcorn. Or a sundae (if it is summer). It is gratifying to watching people killing themselves cross-country skiing, puking at the end of the race, while I am sitting next to a fire stuffing my face. I just have to remember to swallow before I cheer or sigh from someone falling so I don't spew cookie all over the floor. The Olympics would be better, however, if they coordinated the dates with the delivering of Girl Scout cookies. I think the bobsled would be better with thin mints.

If I drank, I think I would start a game where I take a shot every time an Olympic themed commercial came on. I tried to eat a Hershey kiss every time, but I got really sick and ran out of kisses. I need to think of something else.

I've been trying to watch it with my kids as well. I tried to talk to James about how he could be in the Olympics in downhill skiing if he just tried. We discussed it a little and he developed some interest. I said we could start now with ski team at the local mountain. He would have to ski every Saturday for 8 weeks. We would have to leave here at 7:30am to get him to the mountain in time and pick him up at 2pm. We would have to travel a few times to meets and it would get worse every year. I contemplated what I would have to do for my son to be an Olympian and decided it would just be easier to share my Hershey kisses with him. If he really wants a gold medal, I'll buy him one for his 18th birthday.

Ok. I must go. They are at the finish line for cross country skiing. The women do not look pretty. I believe Sweden (I know where that is) is neck to neck with Estonia (I know which continent that is). Sweden won. Then she lied down and puked. Time to open a new bag of M&M's.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Birth is a beautiful thing

My husband volunteers us for things. He used to just offer things without asking me. Now he asks me if it is ok AFTER he tells the other person, "I'm sure it is no problem, let me just ask my wife." Which still gives me no true say in the matter. Perhaps one day, he will ask me BEFORE he actually offers something. 80% of the time these offers end in disaster or he offers and I do everything. People are probably thinking, "but his heart is in the right place and he is so giving." Then you come here and put on parties for 40 people every month during the summer and buy an overpriced raft which turns out to have a hole in it for a private Catholic school that our children DO NOT go to...

There is a family in our congregation who were renting a home. It was sold and they were given three weeks to move. The mom is pregnant and due in a couple weeks. Kevin told her that they could use our condo until they found a place, "but let me just double check with my wife." So I spent 8 hours packing and Kevin spent 2 and the other family moved in. It is a really nice thing and we are great people. Then her due date started getting closer and we started talking.
"Susie is due soon."
"Her husband is a naturalpathic doctor. Do you think he will deliver the baby?"
"Probably. I wonder if they will use drugs."
Kevin then says, "I believe she has home births."
Quiet prevails.

They are a really nice family and very clean, but when you walk into your condo to look for your passport that you have lost and last had it in the condo when packing and are leaving the country in a few weeks and see a couple rather large boxes with the words, "Birthing Kit" on them, you start to question what is about to happen. And then you stop questioning because you don't want to know. You don't want to think about it and you just want to enter the happy little field the pregnant lady is probably imagining once she enters labor.

I am in that field right now.