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    Ode to the Cannoli Omelette

    May 23, 2006

    The boys apparently survived their weekend together, without me.

    Someone asked me if I missed the baby.  “What baby?”  I replied.  No, I really did miss both my boys for our 48-hour separation.  The Boo and I spend all together too much time with each other and it’s good for us to take a break.  It is also good for Dad to see WHY Mom is always threatening to kill herself.

    D:  He did pretty well, except he didn’t eat his eggs the way he eats them for you.
    K:  What do you mean?
    D:  Well he just pushed them around the tray and only ate a little.  I guess he likes the way you make them better.
    K:  Did you put cheddar in them? 
    D:  I couldn’t find it.

    I went over to the fridge, opened the door, and pulled out the Ziploc with a block of cheese in it from the second shelf.  The block of cheese had CHEDDAR in 72 point font written on the packaging.

    K:  I could see how you couldn’t find it.  It was very well hidden. 
    D:  (ignoring me) so I put ricotta in his eggs instead.
    K:  What? 
    D:  It was there.  On the shelf.
    K:  Cause it was on the shelf doesn’t mean you should put it in the kid’s eggs.
    D:  Oh, well.
    K:  I’m shocked the kid didn’t want lasagna eggs.
    D:  Not everyone has that weird food mixing thing you have.

    I don’t like my food to touch.  And I don’t want to hear how it all mixes in your stomach.  I don’t care.  It grosses me out if they touch each other on the plate.  I allow for casseroles and food that is supposed to touch.  I’ll put cheddar on an omelette.  But just because I adore ricotta cheese doesn’t mean I think it should ever be in the same room with cooked eggs.  And from the looks of it, I may have bred another one of my small crowd.  WooHoo to the non-touching food crowd.

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    You gotta know when to hold ’em, Know when to fold ’em

    May 19, 2006

    Yesterday when  I was trying to get ready to go, the Boo was following me around.  I had to get myself ready to go and then I had to get everything ready so that D and the Boo would

    a)  Not die of starvation (placing food out on the table with simple preparation instructions:  Open the jar and put the applesauce into the bowl.   Find a spoon.  Put applesauce ON the spoon.  Put the spoon in the baby’s mouth.  Repeat LIBERALLY.  At least 3 times a day)

    b)  Not go around naked (placing baby outfits on the bed.  “This is for sleep.  This is for Friday morning.  This for Friday afternoon if Friday morning goes as I envision.  Please do not show up in Pennsylvania on Saturday with the baby wearing either Thursday night’s pajamas or Friday morning’s outfit.  PLEASE DON’T.  There are 35 outfits here from which to choose.  Don’t be creative.  The shirt on top of this pile goes with THIS bottom.  His brown shirt, unlike YOUR brown shirt, does NOT go with everything.  By the way, your brown shirt doesn’t go with ANYTHING either).

    Suddenly I realize there is silence.  And that there has been silence for mere moments that may be deemed all eternity to a 15 month old.  I turn around and see to my horror that the hall closet is open. 

    And there is the Boo, leaning up against the wall like James Dean. 

    Smoking a tampon like it’s a big fat Stogie. 

    I turned back around to my work.  Sometimes you just gotta let stuff go so you can get stuff done.

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    Bethlehem, OH BETHLEHEM

    I’m in Bethlehem.  No, not the one in the middle east with Baby Jesus and all.  Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.  Why are you in Bethlehem, you ask?

    I’m asking myself the same thing.  Is it so I can turn the dial to any station and hear every 80’s song I ever loved (“I don’t know where you’ GOING, and I don’t know WHYYYYYY.  Listen to your HEARRRRRRRT before he tells you GOODBYYYYYYEE!”)?  Is it so I can hear an inordinate amount of stations playing harpsicord music (3)?  Is it because I wanted to stock up on hotel bottles of Suave (pronounced Swayve) shampoo?  Is it because, after spending 3 1/2 hours in a class trying to learn how to turn into a PRETTY website, I wanted to drive 211 miles to stay in a Best Western (thanks for the jacuzzi suite upgrade, Rich.  It’s just I’m scared to get into the tub)?  Is it because I was dying to get away from my offspring–the toddler who has decided that he will only take a nap on 600 thread count sheets on Mom’s bed, if Mom is lying beside him, not doing absolutely ANYTHING except occasionally breathing, with said toddler’s permission?

    Dear Lord, I have lost what is left of my mind.  I came to Allentown, actually, to pick up my brand spanking new screen printer and to learn how to use it.  In preparation for the class, Mark asked me to describe my skill level with screen printing.

    Uh, I pick out crappy fonts? 

    My sister thinks this is a bloody brilliant idea.  She thinks it will be as much fun as having your own helium tank. 

    I don’t know if anything can actually compete with a helium tank.  But I’ll let you know.  Post all your favorite ideas for sayings–I’m branching out to expectant fathers, new mothers, rotten children and bloggers.  And Vloggers (I couldn’t forget you, Bekah!).  So let me know.  If I pick your idea, I’ll send you a shirt. 


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    One of those days

    May 16, 2006

    That was today.  You know those days.  When you barely have the energy to breathe in and out, let alone be productive.  We had a hectic weekend.  It’s not like we really did anything, but we stayed up late and got up early. 

    So when the Boo woke up early from his nap today, I crawled in beside him hoping that my comforting presence (yelling GO TO SLEEP NOW) would lull him back to slumber.  And there I was, two hours later, sawing logs like Homer Simpson.

    I’ll give him credit.  The boy tried to awaken me for, oh, about 15 minutes.  He crawled on my head, he hit me with his cup.  He yelled “UPDOWN” about a dozen times. 

    Then he tried to wake me up by tickling me.  He was making himself laugh so hard in his efforts to bring me back from my sleepy bliss.  He was giggling away and I was thinking, “who is this child and how did he get in my bed?  And where in God’s name is his mother?” 

    Oh, that’s right.  I’M his mother.  Whatever.  All I kept thinking was “why won’t he go back to sleep?”  I guess expecting him to sleep longer than 4 hours is a little ridiculous, huh?  And now he’s up.  It’s 11:43 p.m.  What kind of mother has her kid up at 11:43 p.m.?  I guess the kind that lets him sleep for 4 hours at naptime.

    One of these days I’m gonna figure it all out.  I hope.

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    Some days it’s great to be a mom

    May 14, 2006

    The Boo refuses to say “Ma,” “Mom,” “Mama,” or even “Beee-otch” to identify me as the all-sacrificing parent who has given everything short of her own life for his very well being and happiness. It’s “DAD” this or “DAAAA” that. 

    So we play a little game here in this house.  

    K:  Ethan, who is your favorite?  Mom or Dad?
    K:  Ethan, who do you love more?  Mom or Dad?
    E:  DAAADDD! (starting to laugh)
    K:  Ethan, who is stinkier?  Mom or Dad? 
    E:  DDDDDDDDDDAAAAAAAAADDDDD!  (giggling uncontrollably)
    K:  That’s right!  Ethan, who do you think should clean the kitchen?  Mom or Dad?
    E:  DAAA!
    D:  ETHAN??!!!
    K:  Whose gonna argue with a 14 month old?

    The kid is our very own Magic 8 ball, except you know the answer to your question before you even ask.  It’s a great party trick. 

    So this morning I opened an eye to breakfast-in-bed, complete with coffee and on a silver tray.  This was very special.  You are probably thinking it was pretty special because it was served on a silver tray, and don’t get me wrong, that never happens.  But what was so special was that my husband brought me coffee.  I’m not allowed to have coffee on account that coffee contains caffeine. 

    Of course it has caffeine, you say.  That’s why people drink it in the morning.  But for those of you who know me, I don’t need caffeine in the morning.  Or ever, for that matter.  I jump out of bed with the intent to use my 25,000 words a day by 10:00 am.  For that very reason, NO COFFEE FOR COOKIE.  But he brought me coffee because it was mother’s day. 

    The baby then proceeded to upend my silver tray sending coffee into my eggs and all over my bed.  I burst into laughter.

    K:  Now it is really Mother’s Day.  I am so glad to be your mom, Ethan.

    He looked at me so serious and touched my face.

    E:  Da.

    And then he laughed.  Everyone’s a joker around here.

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    Is it just me or is green getting too green?

    May 12, 2006

    Jen:    I got a gig writing an article about vacationing at home.
    K:       That is so lame.  I mean, it’s great that you got the gig, but who the hell wants to vacation at home? You live there all the time. 
    Jen:    You know, it’s for those people that want to refrain from driving their gas-guzzlers that are wrecking the  environment.  For the people that want to put extra money into the pockets of people in their community.
    K:       You mean give money to those people that give you sh#tty service Monday to Friday?  Give money to     those people on the weekends too?
    Jen:    Well if you are going to put it that way. 
    K:       Yeah, I think I’ll stick with Paris.  But good luck with that.   

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