Archive for January, 2010

David Just Knows. And Reichen Does, too.

Sunday, January 31st, 2010

David was out of town the first time he really freaked me out. We had just moved in together after dating about 8 months and while I knew him pretty well, I didn’t know anything about his most intriguing trait. He doesn’t like to talk about it. Even now, he’s wary of me to writing about it. He says if I do, it might go away. But it never does. And we’ve talked about it a lot over the years because he keeps doing it. And now, it appears, my 3 year old does it too.

All I wanted to do when I pulled into our drive way that night nearly a decade ago was eat dinner and go to bed. It had been a long day at work and with David out of town, I wanted it to be over. But when I grabbed my purse and shut the door of my Ford, Explorer, I just stopped and stared. I immediately jumped back in my SUV, locked the doors, and with my heart racing, I dialed David.

I told him something really strange was happening in the house and before I said another word he interrupted, “Every light in the house is on.”

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. How could he know? He had been out of town two days. I’m the one who turned off the lights and locked the house that morning. Not to mention I never turn on every light in the house.

“How do you know that,” I stammered.

“I just know things,” he said simply.

Since that day, I have heard that phrase more times than I can count. David just knows things. And I’m not sure how he knows them. He just does.

He knows what strangers at the table next to us at are going to order before they do. He knows the exact score of a football, baseball, or basketball game before they’re played. He knows exactly how many pieces of candy are in a bag of m&ms.

David just knows things.

I agree, it sounds odd. It is odd. I wouldn’t believe it myself, if I didn’t witness David doing it day and in and day out over and over and over again through the years.

What’s even more odd: Reichen now knows things, too.

Reichen is passionate about music. When we’re in the car, he begs me to turn on the radio and from my rear view mirror I see my son dancing and singing to the songs. He wants to know the name of every tune and he wants to know who sings it.

I never thought much of it, until the boys and I were driving to get my daily dose of diet vanilla coke a few days ago, that’s when Reichen spouted off One Republic would be the band to play the next song.

“We’ll see,” I said.

My eyes bugged when the band’s latest hit began to blare through my minivan speakers. Reichen jammed a bit before making his next prediction.

“Momma, Fireflies is next,” he smiled.

“All right, Doodle Bug. Let’s listen for it,” I replied.

Good thing we were stopped at Sonic waiting for the drink I ordered, because I was stunned when the top 40 song started playing.

Since that day, Reichen has made other mind boggling predictions, ones impossible for him to predict.

Ever since Reichen was born, he has been the spitting image of his father.  And it’s not just me who says it. Complete strangers stop me on the street, at airports, and restaurants and confirm it.  But it appears he’s inherited more than his father’s looks.

Reichen, just like his dad, now just knows things, too.

ReichenandDavid

Chugga Chugga Poo Poo

Tuesday, January 26th, 2010

pottytraining

 

I hear it coming, it’s on the way

In fact, it’s here and it’s here to stay.

 

The potty train is at your front door

And I’m the conductor yelling, ”All Aboard!”

 

You get mad and say it’s not for you

To that, I reply “Chugga Chugga Poo Poo!”

 

You think it’s funny and laugh a little bit

Until you’re on the stool and then you start to kick.

 

You’re filled full of  fluids and I know you have to go

But when I ask you if you’re ready, you say ’No! No! No!!”

 

So we continue to sit and wait several minutes

We read, play games, and I try every gimmick.

 

I tell you there’s candy, it’s your favorite reward

You just have to potty and every piece can be yours.

 

We wait and we wait and get really bored

But suddenly you’re ready and both of us are floored.

 

You did it! I knew it! I’m so full of elation!

Reichen’s train has finally left the potty station.

Husbandism #12

Monday, January 25th, 2010

David:  “I ate them all.”

What my husband confessed when I asked him where the gummy vitamins went that I just bought for the boys.

I’m Totally Talking To You. But Not in French.

Sunday, January 24th, 2010

Parlez vous Francais?  Non?  Me, neither.  And that’s pretty pathetic considering I took 2 years of the foreign language in high school and 2 more in college.   You don’t have to be a math major to know 2 plus 2 equals 4.  And to study a subject that many years and remember nothing is um… weird.  It’s weird I don’t remember a word of vocabulary.  It’s weird I don’t remember how to conjugate  verbs.  And It’s weird I can’t even remember a single french phrases. 

You:  “Whatever.”

(I literally hear you interrupting me in my mind while I’m writing, so I just want you to know I’m going to have a little conversation with you right here, right now.  And I totally know we didn’t talk in real life.)

(I think.)

Me:  “What do you mean, ‘whatever?’ “

You:  “You so know a few french words.  I mean, you at least know one french phrase.  You wrote ‘do you speak French,’ in French, at the beginning of the blog.”

Me:  “Oh, that.  I looked it up on Wikipedia and copied it into the post.”

You:  “That’s weird.”

Me:  “Totally.”

I don’t remember much about the middle aged woman who taught the high school subject, either.  Who spends an hour a day, every day for 2 years with someone and can’t even remember her name?  Me, that’s who.  But I do remember one thing:  I did not like her.  Not one little bit.  And she didn’t like me. 

I hated French class and Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name knew it.  I would sit in my seat and chew gum and she would tell me to spit it out.  She would ask me to conjugate a verb and I would say no, thank you very much.  She would roll her eyes and I would roll mine.  Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name was really annoyed and so was I.  But, c’mon.  I was a 13 or 14 year old hormonal kid.  What was her excuse?  I have not thought about Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name since the day I skipped out of her classroom for the last time nearly 2 decades ago.  That is, until last night. 

I guess the pepperoni and hamburger, cheese stuffed crust pizza we ordered from Pizza Hut really did a number on me because I had the most bizzare dream about Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name.  It went a little like this:  I was in France and I started to panic a bit because I didn’t know the language.  And you’ll never guess who stopped on the street to help – Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name.  

Here’s the part of the dream that gets a little gummy and blurry and doesn’t make a lick of sense whatsoever, so please indulge.  Over the course of the dream, Madame I Can’t Remember Her Name and I became really, really, really good friends.  She was funny and clever.  She showed me where to eat and how to order.  She even had a sense of humor and we laughed and laughed and laughed.

But then I woke up.  And thought that was weird.  Really weird. 

But perhaps not nearly as weird as me sharing this really weird dream with you.

Sorry about that.

Toddler Talk

Friday, January 22nd, 2010

Reichen:  “I like playing with you, Dadda.”

The sweet, simple statement my 3 year old said while building a Lego dinosaur with David.

The Talk of a Toddler

Wednesday, January 20th, 2010

lathamstanding

 

Words:  they’re spilling so quickly from your mouth these days

Several syllables strung together I can’t believe that you say.

 

You’re so proud when you speak, you know it’s a big deal

You say ‘bulldozer’ when you see one and let out a squeal.

 

Your brother is impressed, even though he’s only three

“Momma,” Reichen says, “Latham talks just like me!”

 

You say ‘please,’ you say ‘thank you’, you say ‘excuse me’, too

You say ‘mine’, you say ‘Elmo’, and when you’re dirty you say ‘poo.’

 

You laugh when you say ‘giraffe’, you think it’s so funny

And when you see one outside, you point and say ’bunny!’

 

You’re 21 months and it’s all just beginning

It’s so exciting for us that your words are now trickling.

 

You’re my youngest boy of one and I can’t wait to hear more

My little Latham baby, your words will make you soar.

Isn’t This Dresser Delightful?

Tuesday, January 19th, 2010

AstierDresser

If I had an extra $10,500 burning a hole in my pocket, I would totally buy this dresser from Berddorf Goodman.  Isn’t it breathtaking?  The piece has varying drawer pulls reclaimed from vintage chests.  And as if whimsy weren’t enough, the drawers open on both sides.

Not Me. Not Now. Not Ever.

Monday, January 18th, 2010

Once I clip a coupon, I almost never see it again.  I tend to lose the money saving piece of paper in the pit of my purse where other bits of lint, restaurant mints, and gum I’ve wadded in old receipts live.  So imagine how proud of myself I was when a few weeks ago, I actually remembered the coupon I clipped, dug it out, and used it to buy a massive bottle lotion.  And by massive I mean enormous.  It’s actually so big, it could soothe any and all skin issues I, my mom, my neighbor and her 2 teenage daughters have, or will have for the next 3 1/2 years.  But I had to buy the big bottle since that’s what the fine print on the coupon stated.  If I bought anything smaller, I would not be eligible for the $0.50 savings the paper promised, so against my better judgement I bought it. 

I have to tell you, I’m not a big bottle buyer.  It’s.  So.  Not.  Me.  There’s always a new fragrance or  a new formula a magazine beauty editor says I must try and when she does, I want to try it.  I don’t want to be smack dab  in the middle of a long term relationship with a big bottle.  I have, what you might call, commitment issues.

I should have listened to my inner instinct.  Now, not only can I not buy the latest and greatest bottle I just read about in this month’s In Style, the big bottle I did buy,  is not working out.  And I can tell you why in one word:  GLITTER!  I’m not even kidding.  It has GLITTER in it!  Lots and lots and lots of GLITTER.

I apologize for yelling, but there is no other way to tell you how much GLITTER there is in this big bottle without shouting it.  It’s not a shimmer.  It’s not a glow.   It’s GLITTER.  And GLITTER is everywhere.  It’s in my clothes.  It’s in my hair.  It’s in my car.  And, It’s on my kids. 

David:  “Why is GLITTER all over the boys?”

Me:  “It’s my big bottle of  body lotion.”

David:  “Why did you buy a big bottle of body lotion with GLITTER?”

Me:  “I didn’t know about the GLITTER.  And, I had a coupon.”

David:  “Oh.”

David says, coupon or no coupon, I should break up with the big bottle.  And I agree.  So here goes…

I’m sorry, big bottle, but our relationship is over.  Don’t call me.  Don’t text me.  And please don’t request to be my friend on Facebook.  I just want you to know, big bottle,  I really gave it all I could, but we’re just not good together.  The GLITTER was just too much.  It’s me, big bottle, not you.  And I know, in the future, you’ll find someone who loves you, GLITTER and all. 

Just not me.  Just not now.  Just not ever. 

Not even with a coupon.

There’s. Nothing. Funny. About. It.

Friday, January 15th, 2010

Reichen has been really sick the past 10 days.  He has hand, foot, and mouth, the same horrible disease Latham contracted just a few months ago.  And it’s been truly terrible.  Again.

For days and days, I’ve tried to think of a light, clever, and funny way to blog about the illness, but then I realized:  there is nothing funny about my 3 year old running a high fever, not eating a single bite, and sleeping constantly for 10 straight days. 

fullhoofandmouth

There’s nothing funny about my 3 year old losing 15% of his body weight, his repeated bloody noses, or having the worst case of blisters in his mouth and down his throat the pediatrician has ever seen.

hoofandmouth

There’s nothing funny about the sores covering my 3 year old’s mouth, nose, and lips, his gums being so inflamed every time I brush his teeth they bleed, or hearing him cry from pain in his sleep.

There’s.  Nothing.  Funny.  About.  It.

 

To Cut, Or Not To Cut: That Is The Question

Thursday, January 14th, 2010

Who wants to cut these curls?

Lathamcurl

Daddy does.

Lathamcurl1

Mommy doesn’t.

lathamcurl2

Good thing mommy always wins.  Always.

Husbandism #11

Tuesday, January 12th, 2010

David:  “I just thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.”

What my husband said when I caught him eating three chicken burritos and taking a bath at the same time.

Just in Case You Need to buy Me a Present

Tuesday, January 12th, 2010

You know what’s really handy, dandy about this little bloggity, blog thingamajig I have going on here?  Every now and then, my handsome husband actually reads it. 

The last time he hopped on was just before my birthday in December.  He was looking for the perfect present for my 35th, and boy did he discover a doozy.

So, I thought, you know, just in case he needed an idea or two for future holidays such as Valentine’s Day, Easter, or President’s Day, these lamps from Z Gallerie would look perfect in our dining room. 

mariposa-table-lamp-black

Don’t you agree, Dear?

 

The Lean Cuisine Lesson I Leaned the Hard Way

Sunday, January 10th, 2010

Never, and I mean never,  talk to your husband on your cell phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder after just microwaving yourself a Lean Cuisine. 

Never, and I mean never, set your lunch on the floor to cool, while you pick up the tornado of toys left in the wake of your two toddlers while talking to your husband on your cell phone sandwiched between your ear and your shoulder after just microwaving yourself a Lean Cuisine.

Never, and I mean never, let your phone slip from where it’s sandwiched between your shoulder and your ear and watch helplessly as it does a triple gainer with a half twist to the floor where it pops up again into a flawless front somersault, back layout combination before landing into the Lean Cuisine enchilada lunch with extra cream sauce you just microwaved and set on the floor to cool while picking up the tornado of toys left in the wake of your two toddlers while talking to your husband.

phone

It’s.  Just.  Not.  A.  Good.  Idea.

I Never Knew They Called Him Flip

Thursday, January 7th, 2010

I never knew they called him Flip, my husband, when he was in junior high.  But they did.  And I love it.  I love it so much.  I may even love it more than I love my route 44 diet vanilla coke from Sonic.  Okay, I don’t love it that much.  I mean nothing tops my love for the 1/3 of a gallon of sugar free soda I slurp every day.  And by that, I mean nothing.

Flip said he got his nickname in 1989 from his classmates.  They called him that, Flip revealed tonight after we put our two toddlers to bed,  because of the perfect wave Flip feathered in his hair every day; a  wave that not only took a lot of time to create, but apparently a lot of product, too.  Flip said it took him a couple of cans of Aquanet a week to manage his mane.

I mean, I thought I knew all about Flip’s junior high years.  I knew Flip tight rolled his Guess jeans.  I knew Flip wore pink Converse high-tops.   And I knew Flip popped the collars of his Polo shirts.  How could Flip omit the most important junior high fun fact?  I’m sure it has nothing to do with the possibility of me abusing Flip’s nickname.  I’m sure it simply slipped Flip’s mind.  But don’t worry, Flip.  It’ll never slip mine.

A Cobweb of Confusion

Wednesday, January 6th, 2010

Please, don’t ask me if I’m fine.  I’ll always say yes. 

Always. 

Even when I’m not. 

And I’m not.

My mind is cobwebbed in confusion, question, and doubt.

And the finely spun fibers are strangling me.

So, just don’t ask me if I’m fine.  I’ll always say yes.

Always.

Even when I’m not. 

And I’m not.