things that make me go hmmmmm

Mr. Lemony, a bloody brilliant software designer with a Big Deal Job who handles global accounts and manages global employees in his sleep is completely confounded by laundry sorting. Today I folded the load he "threw in" to "help" me...one pair of jeans, a towel, a pajama top belonging to Lemony Child, a pair of purple socks, a pair of green socks, and a potholder.

A potholder.

What the hell, man?

Lemony Mutt not only hears the things I say to her, she obeys me. Now I don't expect my children to be perfect little drone-like beings, but if the dog can understand drop it, leave it, sit, stay, come, wait, hush, and play dead surely the others (who tell me they have more advanced brains than the dog) can understand stop fighting with your brother/sister/socks/homework/mother and if you can't stop at least be quiet about it!

I mean, it's not like I'm asking them to play dead or anything, you know?

My cats can puke out enough fur for me to knit a new cat almost daily. One is 17 years old and the other is 4 years old. Now physics was never my strongest subject, so I'm not sure about the science behind the whole cat to fur ratio thing, but doesn't logic dictate that if a cat eats enough of its own fur to puke out a whole new self it should be bald? Especially after 17 years of puking??

Because you know if I was choking down my own hair and horking it back out I'd be bald by now.

And, also:

Teenagers going from happy to nuclear in six point two nanoseconds.

70 degree days on November 30th in New England.

Anyone?

vacation conversations

Snorkeling
“Can you believe how warm the water is?”
“It’s the Caribbean, Dad.”
“I know, but still. It’s so warm…hey, is that a cookie?”
“A what?”
“A cookie.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh! It’s a sea urchin! Look! Spindly!”
“Stop talking with the snorkel in your mouth, Dad. You’ll drown.”
“I’m going to go look at that urchin.”
“Uh, Dad?”
“It’s so close…why can’t I reach it?”
“Dad?”
“Look, it’s just inches away but every time I go for it I can’t reach it…”
“Dad?”
“Is it moving away from me? Why can’t I get under the water and reach…”
“DAD!”
“What?”
“You’re wearing a life vest!”
“Oh.”

Ordering Dinner
“I’d love a bowl of ravioli.”
“We're in Jamaica. They don't make ravioli. They make jerk chicken.”
“Who you calling a jerk?”
“Funny. You’re funny. Did you know he was funny?”
“I knew. Look, they have something called Jamaican fruit cake on the dessert menu. What do you suppose that is?”
“Fruit cake? In Jamaica?”
“You’re funny, too.”

Jet Skiing (shouted loudly over roar of water toy)
“Um…Mum…you’re not supposed to go so fast…”
“It wouldn’t go this fast if it wasn’t supposed to go this fast.”
“Um…Mum…I think that was a turtle…”
“Did we hit it?”
“No.”
“Then enjoy the turtle.”
“Um…Mum…aren’t you supposed to turn at the orange ball?”
“I see it…hang on…we’re turning.”
“Um…Mum…you’re not supposed to so fast…AAAAHHHH”
“Didn’t we just have…hey, where’d you go?”

Skimming rocks
“I can’t do it!”
“Not with that attitude you can’t. Find a shell or a flat rock and we’ll try again, okay?”
“Fine.”
“Oooh…nice rock. Okay, like a Frisbee…flip it, use your wrist, one, two three, NOW!”
“Hey! I did it!”
”Told you you’d figure it out!”
“Look! That one went far!”
“Watch out for people swimming by, okay, dude?”
“I know, Dad.”
“Hey! That was a good one! Try again!”
“I found a big rock!”
“Throw it!”
“Um, Dad? I think I hit a fish.”
“No…you couldn’t have.”
“Hey, look…there’s a dead fish…”

Sunscreen
“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!”
“Lemony Child! Stop screaming! It’s just sunscreen!”
“I won’t put it on! I won’t! I just won’t!”
“Stand still…here…put it on your legs…you’re not going to the beach until it’s on.”
“I am! I am going to the beach! I AM!”
“Please, for the love of Pete, just put the stuff on you legs!”
“NO!”
“Fine. Burn. When your skin blisters and falls off I don’t want to hear a single word.”
“YOU WANT MY SKIN TO FALL OFF!”

Last Day
“Dad? Why does Mum have her fingers in her ears? And why is she making that noise?”
“I don’t know. Leave her alone.”
“But I need her to help me find my shoes. I can’t go to the airport without shoes…DAD! I think Mum’s crying!”
“Give her a Pop Tart. She’ll be fine.”

Airport (Jamaica)
“No, sir, this is not a valid passport.”
“What do you mean it’s not a valid passport? It was just issued a few months ago!”
“I mean it’s not valid.”
“Check again.”
“I did check again.”
“Then check again again.”

Airport (somewhere in the U.S.)
“Flight 1762 to Quiet Village Not, departing at 6:35, has been cancelled.”
“Is that voice on the PA system shitting me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, good.”

Airplane (somewhere between somewhere and Quiet Village Not)
“Hey, folks, this is the captain here…we’ll be in a holding pattern over Providence for about half an hour while they clear snow...”
“Is he shitting me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, good.”

Airplane (still somewhere not near Quiet Village Not)
“I’m really sorry folks…we’re diverting to Kennedy International in New York City because of snow.”
“Is he shitting me?”
“Yes.”
“Captain again, folks, I want to you know it wasn’t the snow that prevented us from landing…it was the yahoo in the snowplow who took out a very necessary piece of equipment.”
“Is he SHITTING ME??!”
“Yes.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”

Terminal E, Gate 28, Kennedy International Airport, 1:15 a.m.
“We’re sorry folks…security personnel aren’t on duty until 5:30. You can’t leave the gate area. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
“If you say is he shitting me one more time I’m divorcing you.”
“Don’t tempt me.”

Terminal E, Gate 28, Kennedy International Airport, 5:17 a.m.
“Mother?”
“What?”
“I was wrong.”
“About what?”
“Hell isn’t in Disney. It’s in Kennedy International Airport, where you have to sleep on the skanky floor with strangers lying next you, snoring and farting.”
“Don’t say hell.”
“Don’t tell me I don’t have a point.”
“Point, no point, what difference does it make when we're stuck in hell?”
“Mother?”
“What?”
“Have a Pop Tart.”

no, really?

What American accent do you have? Your Result: Boston You definitely have a Boston accent, even if you think you don't. Of course, that doesn't mean you are from the Boston area, you may also be from New Hampshire or Maine.
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North Central
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Philadelphia
The Inland North
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What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

Shocking. Really. I'm stunned.

*thud*

When my legs stop shaking, I'll tell you about the giant slab of ice that flew off a truck and smashed into a thousand little pieces all over my car. That was fun. Really.

*thud*

hero

She's stubborn. She's willful. She pushy, bossy, and has attitude to spare. She is the youngest of three, and her mother (that would be me) can tell you with certainty that if she'd been born first she would be an only child.

She is challenging. Spirited. High-maintenance. Exhuasting.

My mother-in-law calls her my cross to bear. My mother calls her "my revenge."

I call her something entirely different.

Let's be honest. When you say you don't care if it's a boy or a girl as long as it's healthy, you never really anticipate anything but a healthy baby. I know that's what I expected, and for almost 9 months that's what I had. Then the vomiting started.

Projectile and violent, it would linger for six, seven, sometimes ten hours at a time and then it would stop as suddenly as it started, leaving her limp and lifeless for days afterward.

She started struggling to gain weight.

Give her more protein, they said, but she threw up every time we tried meat.

Give her more vitamin-rich veggies, they said, but she threw up every time she ate a veggie that wasn't a carrot.

She has been to immunologists, gastroenterologists, cardiologists and allergists. She has been poked, prodded, and bled dry. She has been forced to swallow barium and endoscopes. She has been doped up and sedated, x-rayed and MRI'ed. The child has every reason to hate doctors and nurses and phlebotomists, but every time we have an appointment she smiles and says, "Hi! Which arm do you want today?"

She doesn't cry, not even when the needles slip and grind bone. She doesn't freak out when they lie her on a table and giant, noisy pieces of machinery come at her from above. She makes jokes with the nurses and when she sees me and her father struggling not to cry she smiles and says, "I'm fine, you know."

Her doctor explained it like this: Think of your immune system as an army of four or five soldiers. They're all lazy, even a little bit drunk. They go to work when they absolutely have to and not one moment before; your daughter's immune system has tens of thousands of soldiers and they're all trigger happy.

My baby's immune system doesn't work the way it's supposed to, and it can kill her if we're not very careful, but she's fine, you know.

Some heroes wear a uniform. Others wear white coats. Some wear helmets, or work boots, or baseball caps.

Mine wears fairy wings.