There are few things on this earth more empowering, more initmidating, more awe-inspiring, more...more...clackier -- than a new set of fake ones. Nails, I mean. If any other part of your anatomy is new and clacky, you may want to get a new surgeon.
I had abandoned regular manicures shortly after Molly was born out of fear that my little claws of power would claw her little eyes out. Subsequently, it took me til roughly last week to regrow completely normal, healthy nails that didn't look like they were pillaged off of a corpse. So what do I do? March right back to the nice little shop of indeterminable Asian descent and plop down $55 ($45 plus tip) for them to start the cycle of mucking my nails up all over again.
It feels GREAT. I am typing with wild abandon today (whereas usually I type with pretty domesticated abandon) just because it is EXTRA CLICKY CLACKY. "Hi. PERIOD. How are YOU BAM BAM BAM TAKE THAT YOU PIECE OF SHIT SPACE BAR!!! HA HA!!!!"
One thing I forgot about, though, when telling the nice man "yep, that looks like a good length" is that every night I am sort of required to stick my fingers in my eye to get my contacts out. oops. I figured this out last night at 11:45 after having already taken an Ambien and doing the little drunken-totter-maybe the dose should be a little less for small people-dance.
I tried with my thumb and forefinger. POKE. Thumb and third finger. JAB. Tried just smooshing the damn thing to one side of my eye. SCRRRRRAPE. Tried all of these things for 10 minutes before finally clawing one soft contact out of my right eye.
God damn it, I have two eyes. Repeat. Repeat. repeat. Finally get contact extracted from left eye.
Go to do one final round of business on the potty before bed -- poke nail through TP and almost partake in do-it-yourself episiotomy.
ARRRRRRGH.
Today I do appear to be all in one piece, and even managed to get both contacts in without ripping them in half or lodging my eyeball up into my sinus cavity.
I am woman. I have nails. Hear me roar. (I mean, in addition to the pain related roaring. just ignore that)
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
crickets
I am sitting here watching the Tigers, again, as usual, which is par for the course for me every single day from April-OCTOBER (yeah baby, this year it WILL be OCTOBER) except the random Monday or Thursday travel day. It's best for all involved that I be left alone when undertaking this daily ritual, as I turn into Captain Tourette's.
"BLEEP BLEEP you BLEEPING sheep BLEEPING monkey BLEEP piles of BLEEP!!!!"
And that's when we're only up by a few runs. Tonight we started off down 7 RUNS after the FIRST INNING. It is now the 6th, and we are within one run (8-7 Indians winning).
Err...
BLEEPITY BLEEP BLEEP MOTHER BLEEPING BLEEPNUTS
9-7 Indians.
I am free to spew obscenities at the top of my lungs this week without fear that Molly-the-human-parrot will immediately pick one of them up and decide it should be the name of one of her stuffed animals. She AND Murphy are both on vacation this week, up north with Mamaw and Grampa Waters and Mamaw Hearsch, having a lovely time at the beach. Dan has class every night this week. This means that my house is totally. utterly. completely.
QUIET.
It is insane. And disconcerting. I have been away from Molly on business before, but having an entire house in which no one is snoring or muttering "dorrra...boooots...choc-ate millllk" in their sleep and in which there is no 115 lb lump of fur to trip over is just WEIRD. Even when Dan gets home from class around 10 or 11, we sit here and look at each other like "what exactly DID we do before we had a kid? or a dog? Or laptops? I mean, at some point, did we talk to each other?? Did we watch something on television during which neither of us was IMing someone or studying?"
I can actually hear crickets outside. Over my obscene mutterings of course.
One upside of this dependent-free week -- the poop quantity and responsibility is massively reduced. Each of the humans in this house is currently responsible SOLELY FOR THEIR OWN POOP THIS WEEK!!!!! I don't have to pick up dog poop! I don't have to feign excitement over toddler poop in the toilet and examine each piece like I'm checking out the prized jewels of the Nile and I don't have to explain to anyone that no, those are NOT raisins in the potty and I do not have to yell "BYE BYE POOPY!!!" every time I flush away a bowel movement!! (although I can if I want to. You can't stop me) And Dan can get his own candy if he wants a pooping reward!!! It is a thing of beauty.
So, I am off to scream at the TV some more and enjoy my eerily quiet night. Last night I ended up having to turn Molly's Baby Einstein CD on to try to help me fall asleep. Didn't work. Also -- I do not recommend that any human being try to watch "The Passion of the Christ" after 1) eating anything in the last 3 days that you don't want to see back up in your lap and 2) within 12 hours of trying to sleep. We started watching at 11:45 last night. Bad. Bad. Idea. Hopefully my nightmares tonight will be limited to misplayed grounders.
"BLEEP BLEEP you BLEEPING sheep BLEEPING monkey BLEEP piles of BLEEP!!!!"
And that's when we're only up by a few runs. Tonight we started off down 7 RUNS after the FIRST INNING. It is now the 6th, and we are within one run (8-7 Indians winning).
Err...
BLEEPITY BLEEP BLEEP MOTHER BLEEPING BLEEPNUTS
9-7 Indians.
I am free to spew obscenities at the top of my lungs this week without fear that Molly-the-human-parrot will immediately pick one of them up and decide it should be the name of one of her stuffed animals. She AND Murphy are both on vacation this week, up north with Mamaw and Grampa Waters and Mamaw Hearsch, having a lovely time at the beach. Dan has class every night this week. This means that my house is totally. utterly. completely.
QUIET.
It is insane. And disconcerting. I have been away from Molly on business before, but having an entire house in which no one is snoring or muttering "dorrra...boooots...choc-ate millllk" in their sleep and in which there is no 115 lb lump of fur to trip over is just WEIRD. Even when Dan gets home from class around 10 or 11, we sit here and look at each other like "what exactly DID we do before we had a kid? or a dog? Or laptops? I mean, at some point, did we talk to each other?? Did we watch something on television during which neither of us was IMing someone or studying?"
I can actually hear crickets outside. Over my obscene mutterings of course.
One upside of this dependent-free week -- the poop quantity and responsibility is massively reduced. Each of the humans in this house is currently responsible SOLELY FOR THEIR OWN POOP THIS WEEK!!!!! I don't have to pick up dog poop! I don't have to feign excitement over toddler poop in the toilet and examine each piece like I'm checking out the prized jewels of the Nile and I don't have to explain to anyone that no, those are NOT raisins in the potty and I do not have to yell "BYE BYE POOPY!!!" every time I flush away a bowel movement!! (although I can if I want to. You can't stop me) And Dan can get his own candy if he wants a pooping reward!!! It is a thing of beauty.
So, I am off to scream at the TV some more and enjoy my eerily quiet night. Last night I ended up having to turn Molly's Baby Einstein CD on to try to help me fall asleep. Didn't work. Also -- I do not recommend that any human being try to watch "The Passion of the Christ" after 1) eating anything in the last 3 days that you don't want to see back up in your lap and 2) within 12 hours of trying to sleep. We started watching at 11:45 last night. Bad. Bad. Idea. Hopefully my nightmares tonight will be limited to misplayed grounders.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Blogging only as a distraction
I am currently watching the Tigers and White Sox and if I don't do something with my hands, I may hurl the remote through our very expensive TV. I guess i could do laundry or something useful, but I'll update instead so that my 4 former readers have something to read later.
I can't believe I haven't been on here since May. Oops. Molly turned 2 on May 24 and is now 2 going on 17. WHERE in the world she gets her attitude and mouth I am sure I have NO idea. The child talks in monologues. Not just paragraphs. You can actually call her on the phone and have a conversation. Whether or not it makes sense is another thing, but you can try.
Me: "Hi baby!"
Her: "MOMMMEEE! What you doing mommy? Mommy? Mommy I on da TEL-FONE!"
Me: "I hear that! What are you doing?"
Her: "Ummmm...MUR-phy....STOOOOPID DOG!!"
Me: "Murphy is a NICE dog. Not a stoopid dog."
Her: "OK. Stoopid dog."
Me: "What did you do with Grandma today?"
Her: "I GO SWIIIIIMING MOMMY!! In da pool! I jump in and get ALL wet!!"
Me: "What else did you do?"
Her: "I GO POOOPY MOMMY!! In da POTTY!! YAAAAAY!"
Me: "That's great! And wh...
Her: "OK Bye"
drops phone on floor.
Lovely.
Potty training is a slow process indeed. I thought I was a supergenius, and would successfully bribe her with M&Ms for any poop or pee pee actually deposited in said potty and not on the floor, in the diaper, in the pull ups, etc. After a few months of limited success, we've lately been doing a lot better with actually going. Last week she would pee or poop and yell "WHAT I GET MOMMY???!!" before she was even off the toilet. She would get to pick an M&M and yell "I get CANNY!!"
This week, she pooped on the potty the other day and I said "YAY Molly!" She says "What I get?" and I said "CANDY!" and she looks at me for a second and goes "No thank you mommy. What ELSE I get?"
She got a sticker. I hope we train fast, or this is going to start costing me some serious bribe products.
I can't believe I haven't been on here since May. Oops. Molly turned 2 on May 24 and is now 2 going on 17. WHERE in the world she gets her attitude and mouth I am sure I have NO idea. The child talks in monologues. Not just paragraphs. You can actually call her on the phone and have a conversation. Whether or not it makes sense is another thing, but you can try.
Me: "Hi baby!"
Her: "MOMMMEEE! What you doing mommy? Mommy? Mommy I on da TEL-FONE!"
Me: "I hear that! What are you doing?"
Her: "Ummmm...MUR-phy....STOOOOPID DOG!!"
Me: "Murphy is a NICE dog. Not a stoopid dog."
Her: "OK. Stoopid dog."
Me: "What did you do with Grandma today?"
Her: "I GO SWIIIIIMING MOMMY!! In da pool! I jump in and get ALL wet!!"
Me: "What else did you do?"
Her: "I GO POOOPY MOMMY!! In da POTTY!! YAAAAAY!"
Me: "That's great! And wh...
Her: "OK Bye"
drops phone on floor.
Lovely.
Potty training is a slow process indeed. I thought I was a supergenius, and would successfully bribe her with M&Ms for any poop or pee pee actually deposited in said potty and not on the floor, in the diaper, in the pull ups, etc. After a few months of limited success, we've lately been doing a lot better with actually going. Last week she would pee or poop and yell "WHAT I GET MOMMY???!!" before she was even off the toilet. She would get to pick an M&M and yell "I get CANNY!!"
This week, she pooped on the potty the other day and I said "YAY Molly!" She says "What I get?" and I said "CANDY!" and she looks at me for a second and goes "No thank you mommy. What ELSE I get?"
She got a sticker. I hope we train fast, or this is going to start costing me some serious bribe products.
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