Now that baby Maya is getting older, we are seeing a clear bond forming between the girls. Maya gets SO excited to see Tatum, and Tatum is turning into a loving, nurturing older sister. We are starting to see how little Maya is going to look up to Tatum, and as a result we need to make sure that Tatum is setting a good example.
Somehow, Maya has caught wind of things that Tatum did as a baby, and she sometimes seems like Tatum part deux. Sometimes that is a good thing, like when she sleeps through the night. Other times, not so much.
Lets flash back to three years ago. My old roommate Shannon, and her husband Chuckie, visited from Arizona. As it was a wonderful sunny Seattle day we took them on a tour of Redhook brewery and went to the PACKED patio for lunch. At the time, Shannon and Chuckie were pre-child. We had sweet baby Tatum in the baby bjorn. While we were enjoying a pitcher of Redhooks finest, I saw Tatum's little face turn bright red, her eyes squint shut, and a gurgling sound that only a parent can accurately diagnose. She then looked up at me and smiled a smile that said "ha ha, have fun with that. Boy do I feel better now!"
She had just done the equivalent to a guy sitting on the toilet on a Sunday morning, newspaper in hand, post-coffee, after having 6 or 7 beers the night before.
The interesting thing about babies is that they defy gravity. They poop on their own head. And as we figured out what Tatum had just done, I peeled open the baby bjorn to discover a mass of sludge to rival any swamp adjacent to a tire factory. Chuckie's face turned white, eyes like saucers. Shannon said in her usually cheerful voice "Oh that is definitely a right of passage as a parent, isn't it?". To the dismay of our fellow diners, (and due to lack of options), we stripped off her rotten banana covered onesie right on the picnic bench. I held her high in the air like Simba's stinky little lion and hosed her off in the bathroom. It was horrifying at the time, but a funny story.
Flash forward to last week. We are at Redhook, beautiful Seattle day, pitcher of ESB. Tatum is coloring and Maya is 5 months old, so we share the above story with out latest guest: John. John is Kenny's ex-roommate from Arizona. Single, no kids. No less than 10 minutes after we tell the story, I notice Maya smiling and smell a familiar scent. I pick her up, see the yellow smudge on her back and say "no way... its happened again". Strip. Bathroom. papertowels. Naked baby. horrified house guest.
What's next?
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
We are trying really hard to not completely ignore our Pets
Ahhhh, well I have fake teeth but they look pretty good. I had to give a presentation to 50 people and luckily didnt even need to explain that... yes, I am here to sell tools and also I hit myself in the mouth with a wrench. No one noticed, thanks to my awesome temporary teeth that I cant chew with.
In other news, I really love being a dad of girls. They are fun, cute and smart. Tatum is beginning to really impress us with her memory and subjective opinions on things like fashion, what we should do now and what our dog is thinking about. Tatum is just getting old enough to play fetch with Jackson, which is the extent of his exercise on mamy days.
I can say that we have not completely ignored our half black lab half golden retriever, he just got to run free and swim in the slew at the marymoor dog park, and then washed in the new little doggie wash station they have set up there. Tatum help me wash jackson and loved it, and I helped tatum not notice the dogs humping each other while we waiting in line for the Doggie tub.
Our cat has resorted to throwing up for attention which is just wonderful. My neighbor gave me some iams catfood that he is a salesmen for. This is a sort of low residue special sensitive cancer cat formula. We fed coconut that and she didn't like it but ate it anyways because she is part goat. He also gave me some samples of Iams Pate which I got an email from my aunt was recalled between certain dates because of not enough thiamine (which cats need to survive). I checked the dates, they were cans that were recalled. I fed my cat the food anyways. Its free catfood and it just lacked thiamine so we also mixed other stuff every other can. I am sure Coconut will live a happy low thiamine lifestyle for a month or two.
The dog and the cat now spend most of their time watching us walk back in forth to do something for the kids while the sit and wait for their half hour of attention that they get for the day... like a prisoner who gets a half hour in the yard. I have tried putting on animal planet for Jackson to stimulate his mind, but it mostly seems to stress him out that their is a wildebeast standing in his living room.
I can't wait until I have the girls feeding the pets as a choir and petting them for some attention. that way I can stop worrying if my pets are happy and just know that they are content... like me.
In other news, I really love being a dad of girls. They are fun, cute and smart. Tatum is beginning to really impress us with her memory and subjective opinions on things like fashion, what we should do now and what our dog is thinking about. Tatum is just getting old enough to play fetch with Jackson, which is the extent of his exercise on mamy days.
I can say that we have not completely ignored our half black lab half golden retriever, he just got to run free and swim in the slew at the marymoor dog park, and then washed in the new little doggie wash station they have set up there. Tatum help me wash jackson and loved it, and I helped tatum not notice the dogs humping each other while we waiting in line for the Doggie tub.
Our cat has resorted to throwing up for attention which is just wonderful. My neighbor gave me some iams catfood that he is a salesmen for. This is a sort of low residue special sensitive cancer cat formula. We fed coconut that and she didn't like it but ate it anyways because she is part goat. He also gave me some samples of Iams Pate which I got an email from my aunt was recalled between certain dates because of not enough thiamine (which cats need to survive). I checked the dates, they were cans that were recalled. I fed my cat the food anyways. Its free catfood and it just lacked thiamine so we also mixed other stuff every other can. I am sure Coconut will live a happy low thiamine lifestyle for a month or two.
The dog and the cat now spend most of their time watching us walk back in forth to do something for the kids while the sit and wait for their half hour of attention that they get for the day... like a prisoner who gets a half hour in the yard. I have tried putting on animal planet for Jackson to stimulate his mind, but it mostly seems to stress him out that their is a wildebeast standing in his living room.
I can't wait until I have the girls feeding the pets as a choir and petting them for some attention. that way I can stop worrying if my pets are happy and just know that they are content... like me.
Feeling Human Again
Maya just celebrated her three month birthday. She is smiling, laughing, sitting in her Bumpo seat... you know, super advanced. And with her turning three months comes my return to work, and Crossfit.
My first week of work was very low key. I prepped my boss and co-workers that I'm "easing into work" and essentially let her know that if she wants me to come back to work in August, lay off sister. (Put more politically).
This week I spent time catching up with my co-workers and sifting through three months of email. The general message was "our jobs suck, we're polishing up our resumes, the pressure has gotten way worse, and we're all super stressed". Okay great. But I have a new attitude, as having a child re-directs your mental priority and I have the perspective that work is work and not life. I've sort of turned into the guy from "Office Space" after he was hypnotized. And maybe I'm just glad to have a few hours a day to "relax' at work and not deal with a whining three year old.
My first week back at Crossfit felt great too. I feel like I have muscle, a bit of stamina, and I feel generally less fragile. And as I have not worked out at Crossfit for 10 months, I am liberated of that competitive feeling of having a better time, doing more weight, or exceeding my own personal results from prior results. I just had a baby, baby. Its just great that I'm here, right?
Second week back to work, I've started talking to customers. Due to my "Office Space Hypnotism" state of mind, combined with my boss's "I'm too busy to micro-manage you... yet" state of mind, I've had some pretty good interactions. And after three months out, my numbers are the best on my team. As I talk to work contacts, its really interesting to see the three ways that people respond to me telling them I'm back from maternity leave. Here is the essence of the three consistent responses:
1. "I hope you had a fun leave of absence. Anyways, can you help me with this issue?". Yea it was super fun, I pushed out a baby, haven't slept and constantly leak milk. Thanks for dismissing the addition of a human to this planet thanks to me, I'd love to help you book a car at a low rate for your vacation.
2. "Oh you were on leave? What did you have? Name?" Okay, clear evidence that my boss forgot to send out an email about the birth of my baby (which she did admit to me).
3. "Congrats! I have four daughters myself (insert synopsis of their family tree, reminder that "it goes so fast", potential "just wait until they're teenagers" comment, and random advice). I find this one endearing, although redundant.
Second week back at Crossfit and I'm just happy to have control over my physicality and be the sole occupant of my body at this point. Its a place we work out and really, its good for me mentally.
The general message is that I feel human again. I am back doing something mentally stimulating, physically stimulating, and a routine is starting to form. More importantly, my attitude has adjusted. I can't put too much importance on petty things, and I am starting to have control of my time! Now if the baby could just start sleeping through the night on a consistent basis, we can really have some fun.
My first week of work was very low key. I prepped my boss and co-workers that I'm "easing into work" and essentially let her know that if she wants me to come back to work in August, lay off sister. (Put more politically).
This week I spent time catching up with my co-workers and sifting through three months of email. The general message was "our jobs suck, we're polishing up our resumes, the pressure has gotten way worse, and we're all super stressed". Okay great. But I have a new attitude, as having a child re-directs your mental priority and I have the perspective that work is work and not life. I've sort of turned into the guy from "Office Space" after he was hypnotized. And maybe I'm just glad to have a few hours a day to "relax' at work and not deal with a whining three year old.
My first week back at Crossfit felt great too. I feel like I have muscle, a bit of stamina, and I feel generally less fragile. And as I have not worked out at Crossfit for 10 months, I am liberated of that competitive feeling of having a better time, doing more weight, or exceeding my own personal results from prior results. I just had a baby, baby. Its just great that I'm here, right?
Second week back to work, I've started talking to customers. Due to my "Office Space Hypnotism" state of mind, combined with my boss's "I'm too busy to micro-manage you... yet" state of mind, I've had some pretty good interactions. And after three months out, my numbers are the best on my team. As I talk to work contacts, its really interesting to see the three ways that people respond to me telling them I'm back from maternity leave. Here is the essence of the three consistent responses:
1. "I hope you had a fun leave of absence. Anyways, can you help me with this issue?". Yea it was super fun, I pushed out a baby, haven't slept and constantly leak milk. Thanks for dismissing the addition of a human to this planet thanks to me, I'd love to help you book a car at a low rate for your vacation.
2. "Oh you were on leave? What did you have? Name?" Okay, clear evidence that my boss forgot to send out an email about the birth of my baby (which she did admit to me).
3. "Congrats! I have four daughters myself (insert synopsis of their family tree, reminder that "it goes so fast", potential "just wait until they're teenagers" comment, and random advice). I find this one endearing, although redundant.
Second week back at Crossfit and I'm just happy to have control over my physicality and be the sole occupant of my body at this point. Its a place we work out and really, its good for me mentally.
The general message is that I feel human again. I am back doing something mentally stimulating, physically stimulating, and a routine is starting to form. More importantly, my attitude has adjusted. I can't put too much importance on petty things, and I am starting to have control of my time! Now if the baby could just start sleeping through the night on a consistent basis, we can really have some fun.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Jess is compelling me to post
Well, since she alluded to the story and since she basically started this blog for us to do together, I will oblige and tell you about my ill-fated Sunday...
I work in the construction/industrial supply industry, not that I am overwhelmingly handy with tools, but I sell them and have access to pretty cool stuff. One of the products that I ordered for myself is a Rust-Oleum anti-slip floor coating. I have a basketball halfcourt in the backyard replete with a key and a Seattle Supersonics logo painted on it (under the logo I used spray paint, also Rust-oleum, to write R.I.P. for our dearly departed Oklahoma Thunder). I am hosting a two-on-two Basketball tournament/BBQ in a couple weeks and wanted to paint the court with new surface for the following reasons:
1) It will keep you from slipping when it is wet and we do live in Seattle
2) it will look nice for the tournament
3) I wanted experience in applying one of the products that I sell (to make me a better salesman, but mainly #1 and #2)
This anti-slip paint is a heavy duty Industrial epoxy paint which means that I had to mix an Epoxy resin with the paint which has some grit in it. The mixing needed to be done with a Jiffler blade for 3 to 5 minutes (a mixing blade that attached to a 3 chuck drill). So I purchased the blade from "the Depot" and got ready to paint my court. I used Intertape PT14 masking tape (a line of tape that I represent) to mask off the key so I would not paint over the lines. and charged up the battery on my Bosch Cordless Drill/Driver (also a line I rep) to get ready to mix and apply the Epoxy paint. I am feeling good about getting experience with the products I sell and doing something I have never done before (painting with epoxy).
There was one problem, the Mixing blade has a three foot shaft on it and at the end of the shaft was a rubber tip used to hang on a display at Home Depot. Now this blade had probably sat on the shelf for a year and the rubber tip had basically fused to the end. I needed to get it off to put the blade into the drill. It would come off by hand, so I sprayed some WD-40 Blueworks Penetrant (another line that... I represent!) around the shaft to loosen it up. After a couple minutes of letting the Penetrant marinate on there, I tried again... the rubber tip didn't budge. So I got a pair of my LockJaw clapping Pliers (I don't need to say it do I) and clamped onto the rubber tip to pry it off.
I was sitting in a chair in my backyard, blade between my feet, and applied pressure to pull the rubber tip off. The penetrant I had applied before, caused the pliers to slip off the rubber tip and fly up smacking me right in the mouth. Here is the payoff to this longwinded tail (be warned, it ain't pretty):
I will tell you that I have Veneers on my front 6 teeth, so the damage is not as bad as it looks, but I did break my actual tooth under the veneers and needed a crown to be built. Thank you to Dr. Stacy Pacheco for doing the emergency dental work after coming home from eastern Washington on a week that she is on Vacation. Its going to be a long process to get my teeth fixed, I currently have temporary fake teeth on (they look like the real thing thanks to Dr. Pacheco). I have to wait for my gums to heal before we can take impressions for my new veneers. I have a presentation in front of 50 people on Thursday. I just hope my lips heals before then.
I am proud to report that after I did this, I picked up the same pair of pliers and finally got the rubber tip off . I mixed the epoxy and painted my basketball court with a mouth full of broken teeth. If you want to play in my tournament, it is at 1PM on August 14th. I will be the guy wearing a mouthguard just to play some backyard basketball.
I work in the construction/industrial supply industry, not that I am overwhelmingly handy with tools, but I sell them and have access to pretty cool stuff. One of the products that I ordered for myself is a Rust-Oleum anti-slip floor coating. I have a basketball halfcourt in the backyard replete with a key and a Seattle Supersonics logo painted on it (under the logo I used spray paint, also Rust-oleum, to write R.I.P. for our dearly departed Oklahoma Thunder). I am hosting a two-on-two Basketball tournament/BBQ in a couple weeks and wanted to paint the court with new surface for the following reasons:
1) It will keep you from slipping when it is wet and we do live in Seattle
2) it will look nice for the tournament
3) I wanted experience in applying one of the products that I sell (to make me a better salesman, but mainly #1 and #2)
This anti-slip paint is a heavy duty Industrial epoxy paint which means that I had to mix an Epoxy resin with the paint which has some grit in it. The mixing needed to be done with a Jiffler blade for 3 to 5 minutes (a mixing blade that attached to a 3 chuck drill). So I purchased the blade from "the Depot" and got ready to paint my court. I used Intertape PT14 masking tape (a line of tape that I represent) to mask off the key so I would not paint over the lines. and charged up the battery on my Bosch Cordless Drill/Driver (also a line I rep) to get ready to mix and apply the Epoxy paint. I am feeling good about getting experience with the products I sell and doing something I have never done before (painting with epoxy).
There was one problem, the Mixing blade has a three foot shaft on it and at the end of the shaft was a rubber tip used to hang on a display at Home Depot. Now this blade had probably sat on the shelf for a year and the rubber tip had basically fused to the end. I needed to get it off to put the blade into the drill. It would come off by hand, so I sprayed some WD-40 Blueworks Penetrant (another line that... I represent!) around the shaft to loosen it up. After a couple minutes of letting the Penetrant marinate on there, I tried again... the rubber tip didn't budge. So I got a pair of my LockJaw clapping Pliers (I don't need to say it do I) and clamped onto the rubber tip to pry it off.
I was sitting in a chair in my backyard, blade between my feet, and applied pressure to pull the rubber tip off. The penetrant I had applied before, caused the pliers to slip off the rubber tip and fly up smacking me right in the mouth. Here is the payoff to this longwinded tail (be warned, it ain't pretty):
I will tell you that I have Veneers on my front 6 teeth, so the damage is not as bad as it looks, but I did break my actual tooth under the veneers and needed a crown to be built. Thank you to Dr. Stacy Pacheco for doing the emergency dental work after coming home from eastern Washington on a week that she is on Vacation. Its going to be a long process to get my teeth fixed, I currently have temporary fake teeth on (they look like the real thing thanks to Dr. Pacheco). I have to wait for my gums to heal before we can take impressions for my new veneers. I have a presentation in front of 50 people on Thursday. I just hope my lips heals before then.
I am proud to report that after I did this, I picked up the same pair of pliers and finally got the rubber tip off . I mixed the epoxy and painted my basketball court with a mouth full of broken teeth. If you want to play in my tournament, it is at 1PM on August 14th. I will be the guy wearing a mouthguard just to play some backyard basketball.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Protected by Faeries
This past Sunday was an odd day. As a family we slept in, crawling out of bed between 9am and 10am. I finally went into Tatum's room close to 10am, where she was sprawled out on her bed and still recovering from her stomach flu two days before (another story).
After a morning of lethargy, Kenny decided to tackle the day. But first, he tackled his own mouth. With a wrench. I'll leave that up to him to describe.
Between Kenny's personal Fight Club morning and Tatum's lack of energy, I decided it was time to see if some fresh air could perk us up. I packed the girls in the car and headed to Rhododendron Park, a new favorite of ours.
When I pulled up I saw a man in a maroon silk ruffled shirt: odd attire for a Sunday afternoon at the park. I then saw a woman in a flowing skirt and cape get out of a Mini Cooper adorned with earth loving bumper stickers, including one that said "Protected by Faeries". I thought it was an odd choice of car (Mini) and bumper sticker (faeries) considering the woman was, at minimum, 300 pounds.
As I walked into the park I noticed that a sort of official gathering was being set up in the park shelter that typically hosts children's birthday parties and family picnics. However, the people flocking to the tables were not the normal women in khaki Capri's with cupcakes and a group of kids under age 5. Rather, it was an oddly dressed group complete with flowing capes, floral headpieces, and a number of men in Utilikilts. I parked Maya and I at the closest bench to the picnic shelter to (spy) piece together what was going on.
First: there was a greeter that asked everyone "are you here for the wedding" and had them sign into a guest book. A florist delivered flowers and a number of people brought dishes for what appeared to be the early formation of a pot luck reception.
Second: there were a number of lesbian couples, as well as straight couples. And, a number of children also dressed in the same medieval looking garb as their adult counterparts. It was like the renaissance festival without giant turkey legs and fake jousting. (I couldn't help but hope that their parents don't make them wear cloaks and head pieces to school, our young society just isn't hospitable of that kind of different).
Third: One woman stood out as a possible priestess or officiant of the wedding, as indicated by an intricate flowing cream colored cape, leather bound book and sword.
Finally: many of the men had swords (likely fake ones... I hope).
It was about the time that I began counting utilikilts and swords that I put together, based on my little knowledge of the topic, that this was a Wicken Wedding. As if that weren't entertaining, the photographer began taking pictures of the bride and...bride. A lesbian wicken wedding. Could the day get any better?
Tatum asked me to push her on the swings, which took me away from my listening post. However I was rewarded by a little pirate asking me where the bathrooms were. Yes, a pirate. I looked in the field and low and behold, a pirate birthday party. A dozen little boys with eye patches and swords. Where are the hidden cameras people? I'm used to Dora the Explorer and Thomas the Train parties in this park, and now we have a potential battle royale between the wickens and the pirates. Time to hunker down with the some popcorn.
Just as a woman walking by remarked that the forest was a perfect faery forest, Tatum asked to go home. The curiosity seeker in me wanted to force her to stay and watch the day unfold, but one look at her sad little face told me she needed a good nap. So we packed up the car (much to the delight of a wing-wearing woman in a Subaru Outback who needed a parking spot) and headed home to our toothless daddy.
Now I've done a little research on Wicca (On Wikeapedia... Ha!) and there is, in fact, a relationship between Wicca and Faeries. Wicca is a belief system that demonstrates a reverence for the Earth and her natural order. They study/worship the elements of nature, the seasons, and some circles believe in fairies, or faeries. So I did some research on faeries and found a wonderfully entertaining website called the Children of Faerie. I was particularly interested to learn the following about these creatures:
-Only certain people have faery sight (aka can see faeries). All cats have it. (aha... I'm seeing a correlation here between cat ladies and the belief system). If you want to know where they live in your house, follow your cat.
-Unicorns live in apple orchards.
-A circle of mushrooms is called a faery circle, a sure sign of faery activity. Or, a sign you ate some bad mushrooms which lead to "faery activity" if you ask me.
-Faeries are very fearful of anything made of iron.
-If you make a tea of marigolds and rub it on your eyelids, you may see faeries.
-Don't combine marigold tea eye-rubbing with a mushroom circle and an iron rod. That's called the deadly triangle and you'll see Satan. Okay I made that up, but come on. Its kind of funny.
Okay I'm starting to get paranoid that a faery is going to come replace Maya with a faery baby, which is a changeling. So on that: I love faeries! Especially faeries getting married in the park surrounded by skirted sword-wielding men and miniature pirates.
Good night Mother Earth. -Jess
After a morning of lethargy, Kenny decided to tackle the day. But first, he tackled his own mouth. With a wrench. I'll leave that up to him to describe.
Between Kenny's personal Fight Club morning and Tatum's lack of energy, I decided it was time to see if some fresh air could perk us up. I packed the girls in the car and headed to Rhododendron Park, a new favorite of ours.
When I pulled up I saw a man in a maroon silk ruffled shirt: odd attire for a Sunday afternoon at the park. I then saw a woman in a flowing skirt and cape get out of a Mini Cooper adorned with earth loving bumper stickers, including one that said "Protected by Faeries". I thought it was an odd choice of car (Mini) and bumper sticker (faeries) considering the woman was, at minimum, 300 pounds.
As I walked into the park I noticed that a sort of official gathering was being set up in the park shelter that typically hosts children's birthday parties and family picnics. However, the people flocking to the tables were not the normal women in khaki Capri's with cupcakes and a group of kids under age 5. Rather, it was an oddly dressed group complete with flowing capes, floral headpieces, and a number of men in Utilikilts. I parked Maya and I at the closest bench to the picnic shelter to (spy) piece together what was going on.
First: there was a greeter that asked everyone "are you here for the wedding" and had them sign into a guest book. A florist delivered flowers and a number of people brought dishes for what appeared to be the early formation of a pot luck reception.
Second: there were a number of lesbian couples, as well as straight couples. And, a number of children also dressed in the same medieval looking garb as their adult counterparts. It was like the renaissance festival without giant turkey legs and fake jousting. (I couldn't help but hope that their parents don't make them wear cloaks and head pieces to school, our young society just isn't hospitable of that kind of different).
Third: One woman stood out as a possible priestess or officiant of the wedding, as indicated by an intricate flowing cream colored cape, leather bound book and sword.
Finally: many of the men had swords (likely fake ones... I hope).
It was about the time that I began counting utilikilts and swords that I put together, based on my little knowledge of the topic, that this was a Wicken Wedding. As if that weren't entertaining, the photographer began taking pictures of the bride and...bride. A lesbian wicken wedding. Could the day get any better?
Tatum asked me to push her on the swings, which took me away from my listening post. However I was rewarded by a little pirate asking me where the bathrooms were. Yes, a pirate. I looked in the field and low and behold, a pirate birthday party. A dozen little boys with eye patches and swords. Where are the hidden cameras people? I'm used to Dora the Explorer and Thomas the Train parties in this park, and now we have a potential battle royale between the wickens and the pirates. Time to hunker down with the some popcorn.
Just as a woman walking by remarked that the forest was a perfect faery forest, Tatum asked to go home. The curiosity seeker in me wanted to force her to stay and watch the day unfold, but one look at her sad little face told me she needed a good nap. So we packed up the car (much to the delight of a wing-wearing woman in a Subaru Outback who needed a parking spot) and headed home to our toothless daddy.
Now I've done a little research on Wicca (On Wikeapedia... Ha!) and there is, in fact, a relationship between Wicca and Faeries. Wicca is a belief system that demonstrates a reverence for the Earth and her natural order. They study/worship the elements of nature, the seasons, and some circles believe in fairies, or faeries. So I did some research on faeries and found a wonderfully entertaining website called the Children of Faerie. I was particularly interested to learn the following about these creatures:
-Only certain people have faery sight (aka can see faeries). All cats have it. (aha... I'm seeing a correlation here between cat ladies and the belief system). If you want to know where they live in your house, follow your cat.
-Unicorns live in apple orchards.
-A circle of mushrooms is called a faery circle, a sure sign of faery activity. Or, a sign you ate some bad mushrooms which lead to "faery activity" if you ask me.
-Faeries are very fearful of anything made of iron.
-If you make a tea of marigolds and rub it on your eyelids, you may see faeries.
-Don't combine marigold tea eye-rubbing with a mushroom circle and an iron rod. That's called the deadly triangle and you'll see Satan. Okay I made that up, but come on. Its kind of funny.
Okay I'm starting to get paranoid that a faery is going to come replace Maya with a faery baby, which is a changeling. So on that: I love faeries! Especially faeries getting married in the park surrounded by skirted sword-wielding men and miniature pirates.
Good night Mother Earth. -Jess
Thursday, July 8, 2010
As heard by our neighbors
Contrary to what I have convinced myself, wood fencing does not act as a sound barrier. I tend to forget this, as do our house guests, and I wonder what sort of conversations our neighbors have listened in on. Although we have a large wonderful yard, I can hear my neighbors talk in the few times they venture out. We are outdoor people and spend a lot of time entertaining and just hanging out. Today, if you were our neighbor you would have delighted in the following.
Tatum: I'm nudies daddy!
Kenny: You are nudies! Do you like to be nudies? Should I be nudies too?
Tatum: yay! you be nudies TOO!
Kenny: Okay here goes my swimsuit! (pause) I'm nudies too!
Tatum: we're BOTH nudies! yaaaay!
Kenny: Its fun to be nudies on a hot day!
Now before you think my husband is a total creep, let me fill you in on some blanks that the neighbors couldn't see due to the wood fence.
Tatum was in the swimming pool and had stripped off her swimsuit as young children are apt to do on a super hot day. Kenny was playing with her swimming baby doll, and assigning his voice to the doll. He had actually taken the DOLL'S swimsuit off, not his own. Upon realizing the neighbors were out enjoying the weather, he exclaimed in a louder than normal voice:
"That's right! its fun for your baby doll to be nudie too on a hot day, so she took her swimsuit off! But daddy didn't. Daddy's swimsuit is still on, because daddies don't like to be nudies. That's silly!"
Oops. Granted, still mildly creepy to some that he decided the baby doll should be nudie, but consider this. He is a 33 year old man that until the last few months has never played with baby dolls. Cut him some slack, he's a dad of two girls and its a learning process. If he played with the doll in a manner that came naturally, he would have had the doll in some sort of MMA cage match with the Yo Gabba Gabba dolls, or he would have employed her baby to mow the lawn. So he's really doing his best here.
Later, as I sat out back enjoying a nice glass of pinot grigio, talking to my sister on the phone and snuggling a sleeping baby, Tatum opened the door and when I looked at her I said:
Me: "Tatum? Where are your pants? And what's on your legs?"
Tatum(at top volume): "Mommy, there's poop EVERYWHERE! I pooped mommy! I need you to wipe"
Lovely. I went inside to investigate and sure enough she pooped on the potty! Notice I said "on". Not in the hole that is designed for the poop to fall through. On the rim. Then she attempted, in her ever-growing independence, to clean up the poop with half a roll of toilet paper. This clogged the toilet at which time she felt it prudent to loop me into the situation. Enter mommy in time to clean up the toilet, unclog it, and shower her off.
And with that I ask: is ANYONE available to babysit? I need a date night.
Tatum: I'm nudies daddy!
Kenny: You are nudies! Do you like to be nudies? Should I be nudies too?
Tatum: yay! you be nudies TOO!
Kenny: Okay here goes my swimsuit! (pause) I'm nudies too!
Tatum: we're BOTH nudies! yaaaay!
Kenny: Its fun to be nudies on a hot day!
Now before you think my husband is a total creep, let me fill you in on some blanks that the neighbors couldn't see due to the wood fence.
Tatum was in the swimming pool and had stripped off her swimsuit as young children are apt to do on a super hot day. Kenny was playing with her swimming baby doll, and assigning his voice to the doll. He had actually taken the DOLL'S swimsuit off, not his own. Upon realizing the neighbors were out enjoying the weather, he exclaimed in a louder than normal voice:
"That's right! its fun for your baby doll to be nudie too on a hot day, so she took her swimsuit off! But daddy didn't. Daddy's swimsuit is still on, because daddies don't like to be nudies. That's silly!"
Oops. Granted, still mildly creepy to some that he decided the baby doll should be nudie, but consider this. He is a 33 year old man that until the last few months has never played with baby dolls. Cut him some slack, he's a dad of two girls and its a learning process. If he played with the doll in a manner that came naturally, he would have had the doll in some sort of MMA cage match with the Yo Gabba Gabba dolls, or he would have employed her baby to mow the lawn. So he's really doing his best here.
Later, as I sat out back enjoying a nice glass of pinot grigio, talking to my sister on the phone and snuggling a sleeping baby, Tatum opened the door and when I looked at her I said:
Me: "Tatum? Where are your pants? And what's on your legs?"
Tatum(at top volume): "Mommy, there's poop EVERYWHERE! I pooped mommy! I need you to wipe"
Lovely. I went inside to investigate and sure enough she pooped on the potty! Notice I said "on". Not in the hole that is designed for the poop to fall through. On the rim. Then she attempted, in her ever-growing independence, to clean up the poop with half a roll of toilet paper. This clogged the toilet at which time she felt it prudent to loop me into the situation. Enter mommy in time to clean up the toilet, unclog it, and shower her off.
And with that I ask: is ANYONE available to babysit? I need a date night.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Tiny Dancer
Yesterday as I sat in traffic with the theme song from the kids show "Olivia" running through my head (a song that repeats the same word over and over..."Olivia"...I mean how self absorbed can one kids show pig be? I can only figure she is some relative of Miss Piggy), when I decided it was time for some C89 music. This local radio station plays the kind of techno and house music that is reminiscent of my clubbin days in Scottsdale, and brings out a little friend I like to refer to as my Tiny Dancer.
Most of us have one. This is a piece of our imagination that allows us to think we are a spectacular dancer and choreographer. Most of us don't actually dance like our tiny dancer leads us to think we are. This is why bars and clubs don't put mirrors on the dance floor. If we saw that we are more Napolean Dynamite and less Justin Timberlake, we would politely retire to the tables flanking the dance floor and order up a round of shots to cope with the lack of actual coordination.
One time, at a dive bar in Flagstaff Arizona (they called themselves an afterhours club but it was more like a community center selling Red Bull), there was a row of portable mirrors placed on the dance floor for late night crazies like us. When met with the reality of what we looked like, we started to joke around by dancing "badly" and "dorkily", which came easy. We told ourselves and eachother that we were just being funny. What was really occurring is that our Tiny Dancer had run away screaming, since mirrors are like kryptonite to little TD.
Tiny dancers are fueled my loud music and alcohol. Like popeye and spinach, booze makes Tiny Dancer grow in size and seem more real. There have been times after enough chardonnay that I could actually see myself as a professional choreographer. No living room is too small for my tiny dancer, just close the shades. No, not to prevent the neighbors from seeing, but rather to prevent any mirror effect from the windows.
Yesterday as I drove to bookclub I let my tiny dancer hang out in my head. Small though he was she still offered some entertainment for a little while, and I wondered if everyone has a Tiny dancer.
Do you?
Most of us have one. This is a piece of our imagination that allows us to think we are a spectacular dancer and choreographer. Most of us don't actually dance like our tiny dancer leads us to think we are. This is why bars and clubs don't put mirrors on the dance floor. If we saw that we are more Napolean Dynamite and less Justin Timberlake, we would politely retire to the tables flanking the dance floor and order up a round of shots to cope with the lack of actual coordination.
One time, at a dive bar in Flagstaff Arizona (they called themselves an afterhours club but it was more like a community center selling Red Bull), there was a row of portable mirrors placed on the dance floor for late night crazies like us. When met with the reality of what we looked like, we started to joke around by dancing "badly" and "dorkily", which came easy. We told ourselves and eachother that we were just being funny. What was really occurring is that our Tiny Dancer had run away screaming, since mirrors are like kryptonite to little TD.
Tiny dancers are fueled my loud music and alcohol. Like popeye and spinach, booze makes Tiny Dancer grow in size and seem more real. There have been times after enough chardonnay that I could actually see myself as a professional choreographer. No living room is too small for my tiny dancer, just close the shades. No, not to prevent the neighbors from seeing, but rather to prevent any mirror effect from the windows.
Yesterday as I drove to bookclub I let my tiny dancer hang out in my head. Small though he was she still offered some entertainment for a little while, and I wondered if everyone has a Tiny dancer.
Do you?
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