I probably shouldn't feel the need to offer this disclaimer every time, but I'm just writing a blog to keep myself in the habit. Not because I think I have anything significant or marvelous to share. There, I'm done giving that warning. You should know by now if you're reading this that nothing interesting or magnificent happens. You've been warned.
That being said...
I had a moment today that made me laugh, and is still making me laugh when I think about it. I'll share.
I was driving around with the kids in the minivan. I had all the windows rolled down, because it's a gorgeously beautiful day. Anyway, we were at a long stoplight, right next to a car with a bunch of teenagers listening to some very loud rap music (they had all their windows down too, also enjoying the day, apparently). I generally don't have a problem with cars blaring music, rap or otherwise.
I really don't care, generally, but this car was playing a song of the "Fucking-bitches suck my dick, ho-shit-motherfucker" variety. Again, usually I wouldn't mind. These are all words in my vocabulary. But I had the kids in the car, and they are really in a phase where they think bad words are shocking and fun. (This is a phase that will last about 40 years) Because they hear enough fuck, bitch, shit, motherfucker from their mother, they don't need to hear it blasting from random cars.
So anyway, the kids were really way too excited about the barrage of bad words coming from our neighbor, so I turned my music way up high. My song of choice "Go Where You Wanna Go" but 1960's folk rock sensations, the Mamas and the Papas. Mama Cass was completely drowing out the motherfucking bitches stuff.
Now this is why this little memory cracks me up. Upon cranking my music up, the kids in the car turned to stare at me with the most shocked looks on their faces that I have ever seen on any faces ever.It was like a mix of shock and disgust and anger and confusion. Fantastic. Then their driver tried to turn their music up higher, but the sound system on my mom-mobile is pretty good. They were forced to listen to Mama Cass, the whitest white singer possible, whether they wanted to or not. Really, the lyrics of the song are probably pretty close the meanings of their songs---adultery and sex and cheating---it's just that it sounds like a camp song. And doesn't everyone need a little tambourine in their life now and then? They probably didn't appreciate it. Whatever.
Anyway, it was funny to me. Maybe you had to be there.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Friday, May 22, 2009
Random observations while running.
I went for a run today, which is pretty much one of my favorite things in life to do. The most random thing happened to me...
I ran by this old guy on the sidewalk, and as I was running past, he starts yelling out "Hey! Wait a minute!" So I stopped and turned around and asked "What" (very wearily considering the last conversation I had with a stranger while out running---read my blog "Creep")
He said the most random thing I've ever been asked while running...
"Do you have a pen on you?"
Why would a runner carry a pen? What would make that guy think I would have a pen? I wasn't carrying a purse. I didn't even have any pockets---I had my keys in my bra even (I'm always afraid I'm going to trip and be impaled in an unfortunate area but it hasn't happened yet.)
What would some random guy hanging out on the sidewalk need a pen for anyway? Weird.
I just ran away. It was a nice run. I ran the Bix route, so it was about 7 miles. During that time, I also came face to face with a barking, running loose pitbull who was with a Golden Retriever pal. The Golden Retriever was also barking, but it was more of a bark to his killer friend like "Hey, cool it man! You wanna get locked up and euthanized! Relax, dude!". Last week I got chased by a daschund but it's a lot scarier when a pitbull is acting like he wants to rip your face off (even if his Golden Retriever pal is trying to talk him out of it). I so want a dog so to protect me when I run (or even a guy would be good---my next husband when I'm done with my current one will be a runner). Anyway, my face wasn't ripped off. I was saved when some lady wearing a shirt and no pants came and brought her dogs inside. She showed no embarassment at all at being bare-assed.
And speaking of partially nude people, later on there was this guy walking towards me. He was wearing a shirt and pants (I know that seems random, but my mentioning it will make sense). I stopped to tie my shoe and when I was done, he was still walking towards me but he had no shirt on. That was kind of weird. It wasn't hot or anything, so I think he just wanted to show me his muscles. He was very muscley, but the creepiness factor outweighed the muscleness factor.
Also, I got a lot of horns honking at me today. I don't understand that at all. I had all my clothes on, unlike pretty much everyone else I ran into. Why do guys (it's always guys) feel the need to honk the horn and yell stupid things at female runners? Do they think I'm going to just be so turned on that I'm going to chase their car and jump in for some sweaty monkey love? The best horn honking experience I had was last summer. This guy honked his horn and yelled out some idiotic thing like "Baby!" Then he got a red light. So he was forced to sit in his car right next to me. He just stared right ahead while I yelled "What do you want? Why are you yelling at me? Grow up!" That was good times.
Running is so much fun.
I ran by this old guy on the sidewalk, and as I was running past, he starts yelling out "Hey! Wait a minute!" So I stopped and turned around and asked "What" (very wearily considering the last conversation I had with a stranger while out running---read my blog "Creep")
He said the most random thing I've ever been asked while running...
"Do you have a pen on you?"
Why would a runner carry a pen? What would make that guy think I would have a pen? I wasn't carrying a purse. I didn't even have any pockets---I had my keys in my bra even (I'm always afraid I'm going to trip and be impaled in an unfortunate area but it hasn't happened yet.)
What would some random guy hanging out on the sidewalk need a pen for anyway? Weird.
I just ran away. It was a nice run. I ran the Bix route, so it was about 7 miles. During that time, I also came face to face with a barking, running loose pitbull who was with a Golden Retriever pal. The Golden Retriever was also barking, but it was more of a bark to his killer friend like "Hey, cool it man! You wanna get locked up and euthanized! Relax, dude!". Last week I got chased by a daschund but it's a lot scarier when a pitbull is acting like he wants to rip your face off (even if his Golden Retriever pal is trying to talk him out of it). I so want a dog so to protect me when I run (or even a guy would be good---my next husband when I'm done with my current one will be a runner). Anyway, my face wasn't ripped off. I was saved when some lady wearing a shirt and no pants came and brought her dogs inside. She showed no embarassment at all at being bare-assed.
And speaking of partially nude people, later on there was this guy walking towards me. He was wearing a shirt and pants (I know that seems random, but my mentioning it will make sense). I stopped to tie my shoe and when I was done, he was still walking towards me but he had no shirt on. That was kind of weird. It wasn't hot or anything, so I think he just wanted to show me his muscles. He was very muscley, but the creepiness factor outweighed the muscleness factor.
Also, I got a lot of horns honking at me today. I don't understand that at all. I had all my clothes on, unlike pretty much everyone else I ran into. Why do guys (it's always guys) feel the need to honk the horn and yell stupid things at female runners? Do they think I'm going to just be so turned on that I'm going to chase their car and jump in for some sweaty monkey love? The best horn honking experience I had was last summer. This guy honked his horn and yelled out some idiotic thing like "Baby!" Then he got a red light. So he was forced to sit in his car right next to me. He just stared right ahead while I yelled "What do you want? Why are you yelling at me? Grow up!" That was good times.
Running is so much fun.
She don't use butter, she don't use cheese, she don't use jelly or any of these. She uses VASELINE...
I bought Hawaiian Tropic dark tanning oil the other day.
This is a really weird purchase for me because I am not a tanning person at all. I've never been in a tanning bed once and I spent most of my life avoiding the sun because I'm a hypochondriac about moles and skin cancer.
But I saw it on the shelf at the store and remembered that I liked the smell of it. I bought some pretty much to use as perfume and a moisturizer.
It's funny what sort of memories smells bring out. I realized that the smell of Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil reminds me of being a wee little girl, hanging out with my aunt Renee.
Aunt Renee was a big time tanner. (This was the 80s, after all) Thinking about Hawaiian Tropic and Aunt Renee reminded me of one of my very first memories ever.
I must have been about 2 years old when this little memory happened. I know this because my memory starts with my mom, my dad, my aunt Renee and some other grown-ups that I don't remember sitting around playing with my little sister, who was a baby at the time (and I'm two years older than her). Anyway, as they were playing with my sister, I noticed that my aunt Renee had very shiny legs. I decided I wanted shiny legs too.
Looking back, her shiny legs were obviously the result of a good rubbing down with Hawaiian Tropic, but I didn't have that knowledge at the time. I toddled into the bathroom and found a tub of Vaseline and started rubbing it all over my legs. I totally remember sitting on the bathroom floor, digging into that Vaseline and smearing it everywhere. Then the next thing I remember is that the grownups showed up in the bathroom and started laughing at me. I remember being very frustrated that they were laughing and I couldn't explain (I don't think I could talk yet in this memory).
Isn't this a weird thing to remember, a lost memory brought back to life by the scent of coconut oil?I don't know why I'm sharing it, but I guess I am because it made me think about all the completely bizarre things that my kids do. Things I cannot understand at all, but for them, they probably have a very good reason for doing them.
Anyway, I just felt like I should write a blog and that's the best I could come up with.
Oh, but on the Hawaiian tropic front, I've totally been using it and I have the shiniest legs ever. Maybe not as shiny as they would be if I got into the Vaseline, but they definitely smell better. And you know what? I've been living on the wild side and getting a tan.
The kids have been playing in the backyard a lot so I've declared "Fuck skin cancer" and actually am trying to get a little bit of a tan this year. I remember my mom giving this advice growing up, defending her decision to use self-tanner----"Tan fat looks better than pale fat". So that's what I'm doing. Tanning my fat. With Hawaiian Tropic dark tanning oil even. Like I said, totally living on the wild side, right?
This is a really weird purchase for me because I am not a tanning person at all. I've never been in a tanning bed once and I spent most of my life avoiding the sun because I'm a hypochondriac about moles and skin cancer.
But I saw it on the shelf at the store and remembered that I liked the smell of it. I bought some pretty much to use as perfume and a moisturizer.
It's funny what sort of memories smells bring out. I realized that the smell of Hawaiian Tropic tanning oil reminds me of being a wee little girl, hanging out with my aunt Renee.
Aunt Renee was a big time tanner. (This was the 80s, after all) Thinking about Hawaiian Tropic and Aunt Renee reminded me of one of my very first memories ever.
I must have been about 2 years old when this little memory happened. I know this because my memory starts with my mom, my dad, my aunt Renee and some other grown-ups that I don't remember sitting around playing with my little sister, who was a baby at the time (and I'm two years older than her). Anyway, as they were playing with my sister, I noticed that my aunt Renee had very shiny legs. I decided I wanted shiny legs too.
Looking back, her shiny legs were obviously the result of a good rubbing down with Hawaiian Tropic, but I didn't have that knowledge at the time. I toddled into the bathroom and found a tub of Vaseline and started rubbing it all over my legs. I totally remember sitting on the bathroom floor, digging into that Vaseline and smearing it everywhere. Then the next thing I remember is that the grownups showed up in the bathroom and started laughing at me. I remember being very frustrated that they were laughing and I couldn't explain (I don't think I could talk yet in this memory).
Isn't this a weird thing to remember, a lost memory brought back to life by the scent of coconut oil?I don't know why I'm sharing it, but I guess I am because it made me think about all the completely bizarre things that my kids do. Things I cannot understand at all, but for them, they probably have a very good reason for doing them.
Anyway, I just felt like I should write a blog and that's the best I could come up with.
Oh, but on the Hawaiian tropic front, I've totally been using it and I have the shiniest legs ever. Maybe not as shiny as they would be if I got into the Vaseline, but they definitely smell better. And you know what? I've been living on the wild side and getting a tan.
The kids have been playing in the backyard a lot so I've declared "Fuck skin cancer" and actually am trying to get a little bit of a tan this year. I remember my mom giving this advice growing up, defending her decision to use self-tanner----"Tan fat looks better than pale fat". So that's what I'm doing. Tanning my fat. With Hawaiian Tropic dark tanning oil even. Like I said, totally living on the wild side, right?
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Whiner
I haven't posted a blog because I've just been way too whiny lately. I'm having a rough few weeks. I don't know why exactly, but I pretty much just think I'm going insane from lack of adult interaction. Anyway, I'm tired of my own thoughts. The last thing I want to do is type them out. Ugh.
When I quit my job to become a housewife, my supervisor told me "You have too good of a brain to be a housewife!" At the time, I scoffed, but her words kind of haunt me sometimes.
When I snap out of my little self-pitying mode, I'll post again.
When I quit my job to become a housewife, my supervisor told me "You have too good of a brain to be a housewife!" At the time, I scoffed, but her words kind of haunt me sometimes.
When I snap out of my little self-pitying mode, I'll post again.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Mmm, hamburgers...
This blog is completely going to be just rambling. Like I said, if I don't post something everyday, I will completely slack off and not do it at all. So you can run off right now, or stick with me for some pointless rambling. This is just going to be a pretty standard afternoon for me. Which means boring. You've been warned.
Yesterday I was reading a library book and it mentioned that a family was going to have a grillout. And it got me to thinking that I haven't had grilled hamburgers in a long time. I actually haven't had a hamburger period in, geez, months if not a year. (I kind of hop on and off the vegetarian train. Most of the time I avoid meat, but if I'm craving it, I go for it because I figure it means I must be iron deficient or something)
So I decided that it would be a perfect night for a grillout on the deck.
We don't have a grill so after I dropped Dax off at preschool, I took Quinn and Heath on a grill shopping expedition. I've been wanting one for years for for some reason we've never bought one. Grill shopping was really overwhelming for me. I couldn't figure out the difference between a gas grill that cost $700 and a gas grill that cost $70. They're bigger, yeah, but how many hamburgers does someone really need? I went to Sears, Lowe's and Menards trying to figure out how to select a grill and never really figured it out.
Fortunately at Menard's, there was another customer who saw my confusion and pointed to a $70 grill and recommended it. He said he had had it for years and used it all year round and it was easy to use and blah blah blah. We talked about his grilling for about 10 minutes and he said his old one needed to be replaced and he was buying the exact same one again. He totally sold me on it, and I was all excited about only spending $70, then he said "Oh, but I bought the last one. Sorry."
Urgh! So the salesman came over and tried to help me pick out another one and he couldn't really explain the diffences between the $700 ones and the #70 ones either. I picked one out for $129, then asked how much it was for assembly. He said they didn't offer assembly. Agh! No way will I buy any sort of appliance that I have to assembe! Especially one that will be connected to a flammable propane gas tank! Anything I've ever assembled has fallen apart, and Mario's not any better. (We're so smart in so many ways, but basically have the same level of expertise with tools as those chimps that use rocks to open their coconuts.)
So I told him (nicely) "Forget it" and I just gave up on the grilling, and hamburgers, and curing my iron deficiency, and ideas of family togetherness of dining outside on a beautiful spring day.
We wandered around Menard's for a while. I saw this kind of kit thing for making a raised garden bed, and decided it would make a good sandbox. I've been trying to figure out a sandbox for a while. When Dax was a toddler, we had one of the Little Tikes plastic sandboxes, but all it did was collect a ton of rain and it was too heavy to dump out so it was basically our own little private mosquito breeding ground. Plus, it was tiny so I know if I had to have three kids sitting on top of each other in it, there would be some brawling. They need their space. Anyway, this raised flower bed was big--4x4. And it didn't have a bottom so I guessed the rain would drain out of it.
About this time, the grill salesman found me and said he forgot to tell me he could sell me the floor model of the sold out grill. Yay! Already assembled and cheap!
So I got the grill and the faux sandbox and went to checkout. I still needed sand and a propane tank. They were out of propane tanks, and they told me I needed to go to another area to get a ticket for sand. Eh, I said. I'll get it later. Too much work.
On my way out of the Menard's parking lot, I noticed that Hy-vee had propane tanks, so I went in the liquor store entrance (it was next to the propane tanks) and bought one. The cashier guy was like "Where's your older boy? Don't you have three?" I get that kind of stuff all the time. I swear I had never seen this guy before in my life, but he recognized me. I have never been in that Hy-Vee liquor department ever, so it's not like I'm some lush that drags her kids in to buy booze with her. I'm really bad with faces (but I'm good with names. I will remember a name for the rest of my life. And astrological signs too. But not faces. I could never be a politician.)
I drove REALLY carefully home because the idea of having a big can of noxious gas in the trunk kind of creeped me out. I unloaded my purchases and got back in the car to pick Dax up from school.
I actually had a few spare minutes, so I decided to be efficient and stop at Teske's to pick up sand for the sandbox. I also like to look at the puppies in Teske's. They had the cutest little happy pug puppy and I literally squealed when I saw him. This old lady standing next to me gave me the dirtiest look, but jeez lady, if you can't squeal when a little baby puppy is jumping around trying to kiss your fingers, when can you squeal? There were also these really cute chihuahua/daschund mixes. They cost $600? How does that work? How do you charge $600 for a mutt? The boys loved the puppies too, and I tried to coach them into telling their dad "I want a puppy!" when he got home. (I want a dog so bad, but Mario thinks we have enough wild animals running around the house, pooping and peeing everywhere)
The guy asked how much sand I wanted, and I guessed six bags. It seemed freakishly expensive--$36 dollars! What? But I haven't priced sand lately so I just accepted it. When I got the sand in the car and read the square footage it covered, I realized that six bags wouldn't cut it. I actually needed 15 more bags for my huge giant sandbox. Agh! At $5 a pop, 15 more bags was not an option.
As I waited for Dax's class to get back from their field trip, I called Menards and asked their prices. $1.57 per bag. Teske's is a rip off (but I guess if they charge $600 for hybrid dog, they think they can charge $5 for one of the most abundant materials on earth) I ordered my extra 15 bags of sand over the phone.
While we were waiting in the van for Dax's class to return, Quinn said "I need new pants!" He had peed. Totally my fault since it had been a lot of running around with no potty break. Then within 30 seconds, Heath announced "I need new pants too!" Agh! Yuck Yuck Yuck! I actually had some spare pants in the car but no undies or diapers so they were kind of going commando (and going commando is REALLY bad if they decide to poop their pants. I know that from experience. Theirs, not mine, I mean)
Dax showed up and we headed out to Menard's and picked up our sand. I literally have a ton of sand now in my car, waiting to be unloaded. (I don't think I need to worry about going to the gym today) We stopped at Fareway for hamburger because everyone knows you buy your meat there (especially if you only eat meat once in a while--make it worth your while) That was kind of a disaster in and of itself, since all the car carts were gone. I need the car carts. The car carts hold two kids. With a regular cart, I can hold one kid and then I have two freerange kids. It's really hard. I passed a lady in an aisle who had one of the so-needed car carts and I shot her some dagger eyes. She was shopping with an approximately 8 year old girl who wasn't even riding in the car. Glare. Of. Death. Leave the car carts for the moms with a carfull of kids, okay?
Finally we got home and set up the grill and had our delicious hamburgers, sitting outside on the deck. It was very worth it.
(Is anyone still reading this? Why? I told you it would be boring! I was right, eh?)
Yesterday I was reading a library book and it mentioned that a family was going to have a grillout. And it got me to thinking that I haven't had grilled hamburgers in a long time. I actually haven't had a hamburger period in, geez, months if not a year. (I kind of hop on and off the vegetarian train. Most of the time I avoid meat, but if I'm craving it, I go for it because I figure it means I must be iron deficient or something)
So I decided that it would be a perfect night for a grillout on the deck.
We don't have a grill so after I dropped Dax off at preschool, I took Quinn and Heath on a grill shopping expedition. I've been wanting one for years for for some reason we've never bought one. Grill shopping was really overwhelming for me. I couldn't figure out the difference between a gas grill that cost $700 and a gas grill that cost $70. They're bigger, yeah, but how many hamburgers does someone really need? I went to Sears, Lowe's and Menards trying to figure out how to select a grill and never really figured it out.
Fortunately at Menard's, there was another customer who saw my confusion and pointed to a $70 grill and recommended it. He said he had had it for years and used it all year round and it was easy to use and blah blah blah. We talked about his grilling for about 10 minutes and he said his old one needed to be replaced and he was buying the exact same one again. He totally sold me on it, and I was all excited about only spending $70, then he said "Oh, but I bought the last one. Sorry."
Urgh! So the salesman came over and tried to help me pick out another one and he couldn't really explain the diffences between the $700 ones and the #70 ones either. I picked one out for $129, then asked how much it was for assembly. He said they didn't offer assembly. Agh! No way will I buy any sort of appliance that I have to assembe! Especially one that will be connected to a flammable propane gas tank! Anything I've ever assembled has fallen apart, and Mario's not any better. (We're so smart in so many ways, but basically have the same level of expertise with tools as those chimps that use rocks to open their coconuts.)
So I told him (nicely) "Forget it" and I just gave up on the grilling, and hamburgers, and curing my iron deficiency, and ideas of family togetherness of dining outside on a beautiful spring day.
We wandered around Menard's for a while. I saw this kind of kit thing for making a raised garden bed, and decided it would make a good sandbox. I've been trying to figure out a sandbox for a while. When Dax was a toddler, we had one of the Little Tikes plastic sandboxes, but all it did was collect a ton of rain and it was too heavy to dump out so it was basically our own little private mosquito breeding ground. Plus, it was tiny so I know if I had to have three kids sitting on top of each other in it, there would be some brawling. They need their space. Anyway, this raised flower bed was big--4x4. And it didn't have a bottom so I guessed the rain would drain out of it.
About this time, the grill salesman found me and said he forgot to tell me he could sell me the floor model of the sold out grill. Yay! Already assembled and cheap!
So I got the grill and the faux sandbox and went to checkout. I still needed sand and a propane tank. They were out of propane tanks, and they told me I needed to go to another area to get a ticket for sand. Eh, I said. I'll get it later. Too much work.
On my way out of the Menard's parking lot, I noticed that Hy-vee had propane tanks, so I went in the liquor store entrance (it was next to the propane tanks) and bought one. The cashier guy was like "Where's your older boy? Don't you have three?" I get that kind of stuff all the time. I swear I had never seen this guy before in my life, but he recognized me. I have never been in that Hy-Vee liquor department ever, so it's not like I'm some lush that drags her kids in to buy booze with her. I'm really bad with faces (but I'm good with names. I will remember a name for the rest of my life. And astrological signs too. But not faces. I could never be a politician.)
I drove REALLY carefully home because the idea of having a big can of noxious gas in the trunk kind of creeped me out. I unloaded my purchases and got back in the car to pick Dax up from school.
I actually had a few spare minutes, so I decided to be efficient and stop at Teske's to pick up sand for the sandbox. I also like to look at the puppies in Teske's. They had the cutest little happy pug puppy and I literally squealed when I saw him. This old lady standing next to me gave me the dirtiest look, but jeez lady, if you can't squeal when a little baby puppy is jumping around trying to kiss your fingers, when can you squeal? There were also these really cute chihuahua/daschund mixes. They cost $600? How does that work? How do you charge $600 for a mutt? The boys loved the puppies too, and I tried to coach them into telling their dad "I want a puppy!" when he got home. (I want a dog so bad, but Mario thinks we have enough wild animals running around the house, pooping and peeing everywhere)
The guy asked how much sand I wanted, and I guessed six bags. It seemed freakishly expensive--$36 dollars! What? But I haven't priced sand lately so I just accepted it. When I got the sand in the car and read the square footage it covered, I realized that six bags wouldn't cut it. I actually needed 15 more bags for my huge giant sandbox. Agh! At $5 a pop, 15 more bags was not an option.
As I waited for Dax's class to get back from their field trip, I called Menards and asked their prices. $1.57 per bag. Teske's is a rip off (but I guess if they charge $600 for hybrid dog, they think they can charge $5 for one of the most abundant materials on earth) I ordered my extra 15 bags of sand over the phone.
While we were waiting in the van for Dax's class to return, Quinn said "I need new pants!" He had peed. Totally my fault since it had been a lot of running around with no potty break. Then within 30 seconds, Heath announced "I need new pants too!" Agh! Yuck Yuck Yuck! I actually had some spare pants in the car but no undies or diapers so they were kind of going commando (and going commando is REALLY bad if they decide to poop their pants. I know that from experience. Theirs, not mine, I mean)
Dax showed up and we headed out to Menard's and picked up our sand. I literally have a ton of sand now in my car, waiting to be unloaded. (I don't think I need to worry about going to the gym today) We stopped at Fareway for hamburger because everyone knows you buy your meat there (especially if you only eat meat once in a while--make it worth your while) That was kind of a disaster in and of itself, since all the car carts were gone. I need the car carts. The car carts hold two kids. With a regular cart, I can hold one kid and then I have two freerange kids. It's really hard. I passed a lady in an aisle who had one of the so-needed car carts and I shot her some dagger eyes. She was shopping with an approximately 8 year old girl who wasn't even riding in the car. Glare. Of. Death. Leave the car carts for the moms with a carfull of kids, okay?
Finally we got home and set up the grill and had our delicious hamburgers, sitting outside on the deck. It was very worth it.
(Is anyone still reading this? Why? I told you it would be boring! I was right, eh?)
Monday, May 11, 2009
Weekend recap
I've discovered in past blogging attempts that if I don't update everyday, then I don't update at all.
So, weekend recap...
On Saturday morning, I kind of accidentally taught a yoga class. This was so unsanctioned and unauthorized. I went to the Y for a yoga class (obviously I love the great yoga studios in the QCA more than the Y, but the Y has childcare) It was cancelled, so I went in to the room to do my own thing anyway. A couple other women had the same idea. So we were all chatting and kind of throwing out pose names and we were all pretty much doing the same thing. But because I'm bossy, I started throwing out most of the names. And then I started suggesting some things they hadn't done before, and they really liked them (firefly, side crow, noose, even headstand---I guess the Y doesn't want the liability issues that headstand might bring) It was a lot of fun, but I told them over and over again that I really didn't know what I was doing at all, and if I accidentally broke them they couldn't sue anyone. Not the most official disclaimer but whatever. It was obvious these Y yoga goers were craving something a little more than the standard Y yoga class so I did some advertising for the awesome yoga studios around here. Y yoga is like the gateway drug for the real stuff...
Then I went to Zumba. I'd never taken Zumba with this instructor before, but my friend Meki used to and said she was really tough. I'd never really heard of a "tough" Zumba instructor before. Like I was talking about the other day, Zumba is pretty much dancing around. Fun and you burn a few calories, but tough? No.
But this lady was like a dominatrix Zumba instructor. T-O-U-G-H. She didn't crack a smile the entire time and did not give one single moment of rest for the entire 60 minute class. I'm usually pretty confidant about my cardiovascular endurance, but MY GOD! At one point I completely felt like I was half dead and everything around just looked kind of surreal. It felt like I was in Hell, being forced to shimmy and meringue for eternity. Satan was blond and wearing a pink exercise bra. It was the hardest class I've been to in a long time and it was Zumba! What?!?
After all that, I took the kids over to my mom's for a bit to visit while I went to the library. I stocked up in the used book sale. I got a fantastic 1980's Richard Simmons diet book (the pictures SO make it worth the 50 cents) I also got this marriage book and when Mario was flipping through it yesterday, he noticed that the previous owner had underlined a bunch of parts of it, and wrote her own comments in the margins, totally bitching about her husband. It was pretty hilarious. But even better was when I realized she had written her name in the cover and it turns out it was one of Mario's friend's moms! If you're going to write all over a book about the problems you're having with your marriage, don't put your name in the front and donate it to the library book sale. I mean, if you haven't already.
On Mother's Day, I celebrated in the best way possible. I escaped from my kids and husband.
I went kayaking for the first time! I went with my mom and my cousin Michelle (K). None of us had kayaked before, but I found this store that offered all these kayaking trips in Galena. They drive you out about 6 miles outside of town, give you a kayak, a lifevest and an oar and pretty much just tell you to get in the river and make your way back into town. We kind of thought there would be guide or a lesson or something, but no. Not really. It was pretty much sink or swim. The lady did give us about a 1 minute lesson, in which she said about 4 times "When you fall out" or "When you tip over..." Agh!
But we did not tip over. It was a lot of fun and very relaxing. It took a little over two hours to get back to Galena's downtown. Then we just handed over the kayaks and went on our merry way! I'm definitely going to do it again.
And this is what I'm really super excited about, and trying to recruit other people to do...this store has a "Mississippi Adventure Day". It's about $90, and it's a whole day of activities. You start out with a kayak lesson (hopefully more substantial than the one they gave us the other day!) and then you kayak for a few hours down the backwaters of the Mississippi. Then you dock, hike up Chestnut Mountain, and do Power Yoga for an hour (or you can skip the yoga and hike around instead but why would you skip yoga?) They give you lunch, then you hike back down the mountain, and they give you a bike and you ride back into Galena. Fun! Who's up for it! My mom has been kind of freaking out about the idea of me kayaking in the Mississippi, but the email the lady sent me said it's pretty beginner friendly so I totally want to do it now. Anyone else?
So that was my weekend! I got some much-needed me time and feel like my batteries are actually kind of recharged for once!
So, weekend recap...
On Saturday morning, I kind of accidentally taught a yoga class. This was so unsanctioned and unauthorized. I went to the Y for a yoga class (obviously I love the great yoga studios in the QCA more than the Y, but the Y has childcare) It was cancelled, so I went in to the room to do my own thing anyway. A couple other women had the same idea. So we were all chatting and kind of throwing out pose names and we were all pretty much doing the same thing. But because I'm bossy, I started throwing out most of the names. And then I started suggesting some things they hadn't done before, and they really liked them (firefly, side crow, noose, even headstand---I guess the Y doesn't want the liability issues that headstand might bring) It was a lot of fun, but I told them over and over again that I really didn't know what I was doing at all, and if I accidentally broke them they couldn't sue anyone. Not the most official disclaimer but whatever. It was obvious these Y yoga goers were craving something a little more than the standard Y yoga class so I did some advertising for the awesome yoga studios around here. Y yoga is like the gateway drug for the real stuff...
Then I went to Zumba. I'd never taken Zumba with this instructor before, but my friend Meki used to and said she was really tough. I'd never really heard of a "tough" Zumba instructor before. Like I was talking about the other day, Zumba is pretty much dancing around. Fun and you burn a few calories, but tough? No.
But this lady was like a dominatrix Zumba instructor. T-O-U-G-H. She didn't crack a smile the entire time and did not give one single moment of rest for the entire 60 minute class. I'm usually pretty confidant about my cardiovascular endurance, but MY GOD! At one point I completely felt like I was half dead and everything around just looked kind of surreal. It felt like I was in Hell, being forced to shimmy and meringue for eternity. Satan was blond and wearing a pink exercise bra. It was the hardest class I've been to in a long time and it was Zumba! What?!?
After all that, I took the kids over to my mom's for a bit to visit while I went to the library. I stocked up in the used book sale. I got a fantastic 1980's Richard Simmons diet book (the pictures SO make it worth the 50 cents) I also got this marriage book and when Mario was flipping through it yesterday, he noticed that the previous owner had underlined a bunch of parts of it, and wrote her own comments in the margins, totally bitching about her husband. It was pretty hilarious. But even better was when I realized she had written her name in the cover and it turns out it was one of Mario's friend's moms! If you're going to write all over a book about the problems you're having with your marriage, don't put your name in the front and donate it to the library book sale. I mean, if you haven't already.
On Mother's Day, I celebrated in the best way possible. I escaped from my kids and husband.
I went kayaking for the first time! I went with my mom and my cousin Michelle (K). None of us had kayaked before, but I found this store that offered all these kayaking trips in Galena. They drive you out about 6 miles outside of town, give you a kayak, a lifevest and an oar and pretty much just tell you to get in the river and make your way back into town. We kind of thought there would be guide or a lesson or something, but no. Not really. It was pretty much sink or swim. The lady did give us about a 1 minute lesson, in which she said about 4 times "When you fall out" or "When you tip over..." Agh!
But we did not tip over. It was a lot of fun and very relaxing. It took a little over two hours to get back to Galena's downtown. Then we just handed over the kayaks and went on our merry way! I'm definitely going to do it again.
And this is what I'm really super excited about, and trying to recruit other people to do...this store has a "Mississippi Adventure Day". It's about $90, and it's a whole day of activities. You start out with a kayak lesson (hopefully more substantial than the one they gave us the other day!) and then you kayak for a few hours down the backwaters of the Mississippi. Then you dock, hike up Chestnut Mountain, and do Power Yoga for an hour (or you can skip the yoga and hike around instead but why would you skip yoga?) They give you lunch, then you hike back down the mountain, and they give you a bike and you ride back into Galena. Fun! Who's up for it! My mom has been kind of freaking out about the idea of me kayaking in the Mississippi, but the email the lady sent me said it's pretty beginner friendly so I totally want to do it now. Anyone else?
So that was my weekend! I got some much-needed me time and feel like my batteries are actually kind of recharged for once!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Creep
I went for a run yesterday. I've been trying to achieve the goal of running from downtown Davenport, over the Arsenal bridge, through downtown Rock Island, then back over the Centennial Bridge back to Davenport. I just can't do it. It's not like it's some insanely long distance or anything like that. It's that something always stops me. I am destined to never achieve this goal.
Because my husband went golfing yesterday, I earned some time to myself (we try to trade off hour for hour of earned non-kid time). My tentative plan was to run my little route, then end up back in downtown Davenport to take the weekly free class at the Davenport School of Yoga.
I started heading for the Arsenal Bridge, assuming that the span would be open (to barges and therefore closed to pedestrians) like it is every other time I try to run over the bridge. It was actually not open, so I was able to run on it. But the weird thing was that there were a bunch of newtrucks and cameramen and stuff. I had no idea what was going on, I couldn't see any sort of action but I later read that a deer was trapped on the rollers of the dam. So sad! It kept trying to swim away to safety but kept getting swept back to the rollers. The paper said they couldn't rescue it so they euthanized it. Poor thing! But I guess I understand. You can't exactly throw a life preserver out to a deer. But why were the newtrucks there? Did they want footage of killing a deer? Weird.
(Also weird is that every time I try to type "deer", I end up mistyping "deere". I'm so indoctrinated.)
So anyway, I made my way over the Arsenal Bridge, and headed along the Rock Island side. I saw a family of ducks swimming on the river. There was a mother, a father and about 12 baby ducks. I made note of the fact that all the kids kept following the mom, right underfoot (underwebbed foot), while the dad kind of just floated near them doing his own thing. I felt a kinship with that mom duck. I know that feeling that you just can't get your kids to get away from you for a second. I'm assuming the mom duck told her kids the same thing I tell my kids when they're hanging all over me in the evening..."Go play with your dad! You haven't seen him all day!" (Not so much for their benefit, or for their dad's but because I need one freaking second of not having kids attached to me) It was kind of good to see the issue in an interspecies issue.
I ran over to the Centennial Bridge and started my second run across the Mississippi River. I was so excited that I was actually going to be able to finish this route!
Um, not so fast. As I got on the bridge, I noticed a guy on a bike behind me. I kind of slowed down and moved to the side and motioned for him to pass me (it's a pretty narrow pedestrian path on the bridge). He just waved and kept riding really slowly behind me. I kept going for a bit, then stopped again and waved for him to ride ahead of me. He rode his bike right up next to me and got off.
I said "Just go ahead, I'm slower than you are."
He said "Oh, no, I've got plenty of time. I'm in no hurry."
He didn't exactly look like he had any place to be ever. He was very skinny with long ratted dreadlocks and was missing his front teeth. He looked very bum-like.
I said "Just go ahead. Seriously." I was getting kind of mad at this point because he was giving off serious weirdo vibes and I really didn't want him following me. Who knows when some weirdo homeless guy might become psychotic and decide to throw a fellow pedestrian off the bridge? You know? I wanted to keep my eyes on him. He was creeping me out.
Then he creeped me out even more.
He goes "But I like watching you from behind" and grabs for my arm!
Agh!
So I started saying "Just go away! Go!" He wouldn't, so I ran off the bridge the way I came on it. I kept looking back to see if he had left, but he was just standing there, almost daring me to try to come back across.
I hate weirdos.
I ran back to Rock Island, and was going to run back via the Arsenal Bridge, but I was too freaked out. I didn't want to meet this creep again. I called my mom to come and pick me up, which she did because she's awesome (I called Mario too but knew it would take him forever to pack the kids up and drive all the way from Moline and I wanted to get away from the area pronto.)
So anyway, I've given up on my plan. I'll have to find another route. It's one thing to deal with crazies on a bike path. It's another thing altogether to deal with them on a narrow path on a bridge with no escape route, with traffic whizzing by on one side, and certain death by drowning on the other.
My mom brought me back to D-port to my car and I did end up taking the yoga class. I think it helped calm me down a little.
Creepy!
Because my husband went golfing yesterday, I earned some time to myself (we try to trade off hour for hour of earned non-kid time). My tentative plan was to run my little route, then end up back in downtown Davenport to take the weekly free class at the Davenport School of Yoga.
I started heading for the Arsenal Bridge, assuming that the span would be open (to barges and therefore closed to pedestrians) like it is every other time I try to run over the bridge. It was actually not open, so I was able to run on it. But the weird thing was that there were a bunch of newtrucks and cameramen and stuff. I had no idea what was going on, I couldn't see any sort of action but I later read that a deer was trapped on the rollers of the dam. So sad! It kept trying to swim away to safety but kept getting swept back to the rollers. The paper said they couldn't rescue it so they euthanized it. Poor thing! But I guess I understand. You can't exactly throw a life preserver out to a deer. But why were the newtrucks there? Did they want footage of killing a deer? Weird.
(Also weird is that every time I try to type "deer", I end up mistyping "deere". I'm so indoctrinated.)
So anyway, I made my way over the Arsenal Bridge, and headed along the Rock Island side. I saw a family of ducks swimming on the river. There was a mother, a father and about 12 baby ducks. I made note of the fact that all the kids kept following the mom, right underfoot (underwebbed foot), while the dad kind of just floated near them doing his own thing. I felt a kinship with that mom duck. I know that feeling that you just can't get your kids to get away from you for a second. I'm assuming the mom duck told her kids the same thing I tell my kids when they're hanging all over me in the evening..."Go play with your dad! You haven't seen him all day!" (Not so much for their benefit, or for their dad's but because I need one freaking second of not having kids attached to me) It was kind of good to see the issue in an interspecies issue.
I ran over to the Centennial Bridge and started my second run across the Mississippi River. I was so excited that I was actually going to be able to finish this route!
Um, not so fast. As I got on the bridge, I noticed a guy on a bike behind me. I kind of slowed down and moved to the side and motioned for him to pass me (it's a pretty narrow pedestrian path on the bridge). He just waved and kept riding really slowly behind me. I kept going for a bit, then stopped again and waved for him to ride ahead of me. He rode his bike right up next to me and got off.
I said "Just go ahead, I'm slower than you are."
He said "Oh, no, I've got plenty of time. I'm in no hurry."
He didn't exactly look like he had any place to be ever. He was very skinny with long ratted dreadlocks and was missing his front teeth. He looked very bum-like.
I said "Just go ahead. Seriously." I was getting kind of mad at this point because he was giving off serious weirdo vibes and I really didn't want him following me. Who knows when some weirdo homeless guy might become psychotic and decide to throw a fellow pedestrian off the bridge? You know? I wanted to keep my eyes on him. He was creeping me out.
Then he creeped me out even more.
He goes "But I like watching you from behind" and grabs for my arm!
Agh!
So I started saying "Just go away! Go!" He wouldn't, so I ran off the bridge the way I came on it. I kept looking back to see if he had left, but he was just standing there, almost daring me to try to come back across.
I hate weirdos.
I ran back to Rock Island, and was going to run back via the Arsenal Bridge, but I was too freaked out. I didn't want to meet this creep again. I called my mom to come and pick me up, which she did because she's awesome (I called Mario too but knew it would take him forever to pack the kids up and drive all the way from Moline and I wanted to get away from the area pronto.)
So anyway, I've given up on my plan. I'll have to find another route. It's one thing to deal with crazies on a bike path. It's another thing altogether to deal with them on a narrow path on a bridge with no escape route, with traffic whizzing by on one side, and certain death by drowning on the other.
My mom brought me back to D-port to my car and I did end up taking the yoga class. I think it helped calm me down a little.
Creepy!
Friday, May 8, 2009
The Stampede
I was telling my mom this story, in complete exasperation, the other day, completely finding no homor in the situation. She, however, found lots of humor in the situation and told me I needed to write a blog about it. According to my mom, this is the kind of thing I'll want to remember 10 years from now. I'm not so sure about that. (I didn't even want to remember it five hours later...when my husband got home and asked how our day went, I answered "Ugh." and left it there)
So here's the story.
We pretty much just bought our house for it's location. We wanted something that felt a little secluded, but is still in town. We found that in our house. We kind of have a little forest in our backyard. Our property is cut in half by a pretty little creek, and we always have lots of wildlife to watch...I've seen turkeys, coyotes, badgers, beavers, raccoons, huge giant owls, snakes and lots and lots of deer (I use the deer to get my kids to behave. I tell them their Santa's reindeer checking up on them. I like to lie to my kids)
Love our yard, but I've only been on the other side of the creek one time. That's kind of weird to have a big backyard and never, ever set foot in most of it. So the other day, I decided it was time to explore. Not only our yard, but the thicker woods that our little woods lead into. Also, I was jonesing for some morels and thinking that I might find some in there.
So this week, I decided to take the kids for a nature walk in the backyard. We walked along the creek for a while until we found a shallow spot to cross over. Within 100 yards from my house, it was like we were in the middle of a national park. Completely all woods, we couldn't see any houses anywhere around. It was really gorgeous. The kids loved climbing over the fallen trees, and picking wildflowers, and looking at animal prints in the mud. There was a beautiful clearing that looked like a spot where fairies (or maybe Wiccans) would have their pow-wows under a full moon. We looked through the stream for pretty rocks and the kids competed to find the biggest sticks.
Dax was having the most fun. He is unsure and not very confidant in a lot of areas. He's had problems in school and we're actually having him repeat a year of preschool (because it's probably better to repeat preschool than repeat kindergarten). He's had some health challenges that kind of slowed down his learning and he struggles hard with school. And that's why I love to see him in nature. He's so confidant and sure-footed. It's just great to see him so at ease.
So I was actually kind of feeling guilty that I hadn't explored the woods until then. As we walked through it, I was imagining taking them on future camping trips and having picnics out there. I felt so bad for not having introduced the kids to the natural beauty that was literally next door to our house.
But then I realized why I never take the kids anywhere fun. It always ends in crying and yelling and giants messes.
I decided it was time to head back. They didn't want to, but eventually followed me back after I reminded them that there might be wolves living in the woods (last winter, a neighbor found a deer slaughtered in his backyard. He called wildlife experts and they identified the tracks in the snow as grey wolf prints. Other neighbors admitted they had seen wolves in the ravine. I looked and looked and never saw any but still, you never know)
We were having a good time making our trek back home. The kids spotted our house through the trees and for some reason, that caused a stampede.
We were on the other side of the creek and I was looking for the best spot to cross when they all started crying and yelling about wanting to go home. It was like a herd mentality. They all started to stampede towards the house. Dax started running, and instead of stepping in the inch of water over the rocks, he stepped in a giant thick mud puddle that sucked his shoe off. He started screaming bloody murder, which caused Quinn and Heath to panic even more. I pulled Dax out, tossed his muddy shoe up on the banks and set him on the other side of the creek.
Quinn was by this time in the middle of the creek (seriously, an inch or two of water), trying to climb up a 4 foot high bluff by grabbing onto roots. Then for some reason, he decided that the roots looked like snakes and started freaking out about snakes biting him. I yanked him out and set him by Dax and they both started running for the house.
Heath was still on the other side of the bluff, doing what he does when he's upset---sitting down sobbing. He can not cry and walk at the same time. So I yelled for him to come and he stayed there crying so I climbed back over to him (because I was in the creek) and got to him and realized he was seriously sitting two inches away from a bunch of poison ivy (Heath already has enough skin issues with the eczema. Poison ivy is the LAST thing that child needs). So to get him out of it, I grabbed him up and then I kind of slipped and trying to avoid falling into poison ivy, we both fell in Dax's mud. It was like quicksand. It sucked off both of Heath's shoes (which he was really mad about because he loves his new green apple Vans) They were completely encased in mud. Sick. I pretty much tossed a screaming Heath up into the yard and we all made our muddy tracks back to the house. I threw all the clothes and shoes into the washer, and threw us into the bath.
And that is why I don't do ambitious parenting projects like nature walks.
Ugh.
In my final thoughts about our little outing, I kind of freaked out a little bit. I was embarrassed that all the neighbors probably heard the kids screaming, and my yelling at them to knock it off and all of this ruckus we caused. But then that embarassment kind of turned to anger! My kids were totally acting like they were being murdered down in that wooded ravine. Why did no one check on the children being killed? What if there was a real murderer who dragged the kids down there to kill them? What if there was a Blair Witch?
So here's the story.
We pretty much just bought our house for it's location. We wanted something that felt a little secluded, but is still in town. We found that in our house. We kind of have a little forest in our backyard. Our property is cut in half by a pretty little creek, and we always have lots of wildlife to watch...I've seen turkeys, coyotes, badgers, beavers, raccoons, huge giant owls, snakes and lots and lots of deer (I use the deer to get my kids to behave. I tell them their Santa's reindeer checking up on them. I like to lie to my kids)
Love our yard, but I've only been on the other side of the creek one time. That's kind of weird to have a big backyard and never, ever set foot in most of it. So the other day, I decided it was time to explore. Not only our yard, but the thicker woods that our little woods lead into. Also, I was jonesing for some morels and thinking that I might find some in there.
So this week, I decided to take the kids for a nature walk in the backyard. We walked along the creek for a while until we found a shallow spot to cross over. Within 100 yards from my house, it was like we were in the middle of a national park. Completely all woods, we couldn't see any houses anywhere around. It was really gorgeous. The kids loved climbing over the fallen trees, and picking wildflowers, and looking at animal prints in the mud. There was a beautiful clearing that looked like a spot where fairies (or maybe Wiccans) would have their pow-wows under a full moon. We looked through the stream for pretty rocks and the kids competed to find the biggest sticks.
Dax was having the most fun. He is unsure and not very confidant in a lot of areas. He's had problems in school and we're actually having him repeat a year of preschool (because it's probably better to repeat preschool than repeat kindergarten). He's had some health challenges that kind of slowed down his learning and he struggles hard with school. And that's why I love to see him in nature. He's so confidant and sure-footed. It's just great to see him so at ease.
So I was actually kind of feeling guilty that I hadn't explored the woods until then. As we walked through it, I was imagining taking them on future camping trips and having picnics out there. I felt so bad for not having introduced the kids to the natural beauty that was literally next door to our house.
But then I realized why I never take the kids anywhere fun. It always ends in crying and yelling and giants messes.
I decided it was time to head back. They didn't want to, but eventually followed me back after I reminded them that there might be wolves living in the woods (last winter, a neighbor found a deer slaughtered in his backyard. He called wildlife experts and they identified the tracks in the snow as grey wolf prints. Other neighbors admitted they had seen wolves in the ravine. I looked and looked and never saw any but still, you never know)
We were having a good time making our trek back home. The kids spotted our house through the trees and for some reason, that caused a stampede.
We were on the other side of the creek and I was looking for the best spot to cross when they all started crying and yelling about wanting to go home. It was like a herd mentality. They all started to stampede towards the house. Dax started running, and instead of stepping in the inch of water over the rocks, he stepped in a giant thick mud puddle that sucked his shoe off. He started screaming bloody murder, which caused Quinn and Heath to panic even more. I pulled Dax out, tossed his muddy shoe up on the banks and set him on the other side of the creek.
Quinn was by this time in the middle of the creek (seriously, an inch or two of water), trying to climb up a 4 foot high bluff by grabbing onto roots. Then for some reason, he decided that the roots looked like snakes and started freaking out about snakes biting him. I yanked him out and set him by Dax and they both started running for the house.
Heath was still on the other side of the bluff, doing what he does when he's upset---sitting down sobbing. He can not cry and walk at the same time. So I yelled for him to come and he stayed there crying so I climbed back over to him (because I was in the creek) and got to him and realized he was seriously sitting two inches away from a bunch of poison ivy (Heath already has enough skin issues with the eczema. Poison ivy is the LAST thing that child needs). So to get him out of it, I grabbed him up and then I kind of slipped and trying to avoid falling into poison ivy, we both fell in Dax's mud. It was like quicksand. It sucked off both of Heath's shoes (which he was really mad about because he loves his new green apple Vans) They were completely encased in mud. Sick. I pretty much tossed a screaming Heath up into the yard and we all made our muddy tracks back to the house. I threw all the clothes and shoes into the washer, and threw us into the bath.
And that is why I don't do ambitious parenting projects like nature walks.
Ugh.
In my final thoughts about our little outing, I kind of freaked out a little bit. I was embarrassed that all the neighbors probably heard the kids screaming, and my yelling at them to knock it off and all of this ruckus we caused. But then that embarassment kind of turned to anger! My kids were totally acting like they were being murdered down in that wooded ravine. Why did no one check on the children being killed? What if there was a real murderer who dragged the kids down there to kill them? What if there was a Blair Witch?
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Apology to the Parks and Rec Department of the City of Rock Island
I've had a rough week with the kiddos. The twins, Quinn and Heath, are working on the potty training issue, with our fall deadline approaching faster and faster (they have to be potty trained for preschool) Dax, who is 5 and generally potty trained was having some bowel issues for some reason.
So pretty much, I've been living in a house where three people poop anywhere except the toilet. If you come to my house and see a brown spot on the wall, and wonder to yourself, "Is that chocolate or poop?", just let me answer that right now for you. It's totally poop. (I try to keep on top of it, but it ends up in the weirdest places.)
Anyway, this week has been a particularly disgusting one on the poop front.
I spent a lot of this week at home with the kids because I didn't want to deal with accidents out in public. But it made me go insane to sit around the house and stare at poop smeared walls (like I said, I do try to clean it, but even once you wipe it up, you know it's there. Ugh)
So we ventured out.
I took the kids to the Y and I took a Zumba class. I haven't been to a Zumba class for a while. I used to really enjoy them, until I got burnt out on group exercise classes altogether. Zumba is supposedly a Latin inspired dance aerobics. (It's about as Latin as the Olive Garden is Italian) But it is pretty fun. I am a really, not good dancer, but I have a lot of fun with it. Whenever I'm in Zumba, I pretend I'm a drag queen. Seriously, I really do! There always seem to be a lot of self-conscious women in Zumba classes, barely moving themselves for fear of messing up. Whatever. I don't care if I look like an idiot. The more flamboyantly I "dance", the more calories I burn. And that's totally what I'm there for.
So after that successful outing, I decided to push our pooping luck and took the kids to Mojo's for lunch. They have delicious sandwiches that are huge enough for all of us to split one, and live music between 12-1 on weekdays. Dax absolutely loves the live music. He completely soaks up everything going on with the musicians. The twins kind of put up with it, but get a little restless so we couldn't stay long.
Still no pooping accidents! Yay! So because the sun was shining, and didn't look like it would be shining for long due to storms in the forecast, we went to the park. I like to take the kids out to a park pretty much every day. We have a nice backyard, but I like the variety of getting to explore different playground equipment, or seeing the boys interact with other kids. So I'm all over the QCs trying out the different parks.
So today, I got a coffee to go from Mojo's and we headed off to the park near the Hauberg Civic Center in Rock Island. I love, love, love the Hauberg Civic Center. It's a turn of the century mansion that is owned by the city.
Mario and I were married there. I was trying to explain that to the kids, but they couldn't understand what I was talking about. I kept saying "Daddy and I got married there." and they kept saying "You got Mary there?" (Mary is my aunt). This went on and on, them asking to go in to see Mary, and me trying to explain the concept of matrimony to them with no luck (maybe they're too young, or maybe they're too male to understand.) Finally, I tired of hearing them beg to see Mary and I totally lied and said "Sorry guys. Mary's taking a nap. We can't go in." And they were okay with that answer.
Okay, so now for the part of this story that the title refers to. We were doing so well, when Quinn came over to me with the "look". The look that says "I am currently squeezing a giant turd out of my butt."
Agh!
If he was wearing a diaper, it would have been pretty easy. Toss out the nasty diaper, wipe him up and head home for new undies or diaper (I had wipes in the car but no diapers for some reason.) I couldn't very well plop him down in his carseat with a butt full of crap, so I debated my limited options. The best option seemed to be to get rid of the turd, wipe him up and head home. But how do you dispose of a giant piece of crap?
There was no bathroom at the park to flush it. There were no stores around to go into to mooch their bathroom facilities. I couldn't dump it in the grass.
There was, however, a garbage can. But you can't just throw a turd into a garbage can unwrapped! Sick! Usually my car would have held any number of makeshift poop wrapping papers, but I actually cleaned it out yesterday. The only piece of garbage in the car at all was my Mojo's coffee cup.
I dumped out the leftover coffee, pulled down Quinn's pants, and like the worst vending machine in the history of vending machines, the big giant poop plopped into my coffee cup.
I put the lid back on, tossed it in the garbage can and drove away. Quickly.
So anyway, my apologies to the staff of the parks and recreation department of the city of Rock Island. I don't know why anyone would happen to open a coffee cup in the garbage can at the park, but if they do, they're in for a big surprise.
So pretty much, I've been living in a house where three people poop anywhere except the toilet. If you come to my house and see a brown spot on the wall, and wonder to yourself, "Is that chocolate or poop?", just let me answer that right now for you. It's totally poop. (I try to keep on top of it, but it ends up in the weirdest places.)
Anyway, this week has been a particularly disgusting one on the poop front.
I spent a lot of this week at home with the kids because I didn't want to deal with accidents out in public. But it made me go insane to sit around the house and stare at poop smeared walls (like I said, I do try to clean it, but even once you wipe it up, you know it's there. Ugh)
So we ventured out.
I took the kids to the Y and I took a Zumba class. I haven't been to a Zumba class for a while. I used to really enjoy them, until I got burnt out on group exercise classes altogether. Zumba is supposedly a Latin inspired dance aerobics. (It's about as Latin as the Olive Garden is Italian) But it is pretty fun. I am a really, not good dancer, but I have a lot of fun with it. Whenever I'm in Zumba, I pretend I'm a drag queen. Seriously, I really do! There always seem to be a lot of self-conscious women in Zumba classes, barely moving themselves for fear of messing up. Whatever. I don't care if I look like an idiot. The more flamboyantly I "dance", the more calories I burn. And that's totally what I'm there for.
So after that successful outing, I decided to push our pooping luck and took the kids to Mojo's for lunch. They have delicious sandwiches that are huge enough for all of us to split one, and live music between 12-1 on weekdays. Dax absolutely loves the live music. He completely soaks up everything going on with the musicians. The twins kind of put up with it, but get a little restless so we couldn't stay long.
Still no pooping accidents! Yay! So because the sun was shining, and didn't look like it would be shining for long due to storms in the forecast, we went to the park. I like to take the kids out to a park pretty much every day. We have a nice backyard, but I like the variety of getting to explore different playground equipment, or seeing the boys interact with other kids. So I'm all over the QCs trying out the different parks.
So today, I got a coffee to go from Mojo's and we headed off to the park near the Hauberg Civic Center in Rock Island. I love, love, love the Hauberg Civic Center. It's a turn of the century mansion that is owned by the city.
Mario and I were married there. I was trying to explain that to the kids, but they couldn't understand what I was talking about. I kept saying "Daddy and I got married there." and they kept saying "You got Mary there?" (Mary is my aunt). This went on and on, them asking to go in to see Mary, and me trying to explain the concept of matrimony to them with no luck (maybe they're too young, or maybe they're too male to understand.) Finally, I tired of hearing them beg to see Mary and I totally lied and said "Sorry guys. Mary's taking a nap. We can't go in." And they were okay with that answer.
Okay, so now for the part of this story that the title refers to. We were doing so well, when Quinn came over to me with the "look". The look that says "I am currently squeezing a giant turd out of my butt."
Agh!
If he was wearing a diaper, it would have been pretty easy. Toss out the nasty diaper, wipe him up and head home for new undies or diaper (I had wipes in the car but no diapers for some reason.) I couldn't very well plop him down in his carseat with a butt full of crap, so I debated my limited options. The best option seemed to be to get rid of the turd, wipe him up and head home. But how do you dispose of a giant piece of crap?
There was no bathroom at the park to flush it. There were no stores around to go into to mooch their bathroom facilities. I couldn't dump it in the grass.
There was, however, a garbage can. But you can't just throw a turd into a garbage can unwrapped! Sick! Usually my car would have held any number of makeshift poop wrapping papers, but I actually cleaned it out yesterday. The only piece of garbage in the car at all was my Mojo's coffee cup.
I dumped out the leftover coffee, pulled down Quinn's pants, and like the worst vending machine in the history of vending machines, the big giant poop plopped into my coffee cup.
I put the lid back on, tossed it in the garbage can and drove away. Quickly.
So anyway, my apologies to the staff of the parks and recreation department of the city of Rock Island. I don't know why anyone would happen to open a coffee cup in the garbage can at the park, but if they do, they're in for a big surprise.
New blog (again)
I had a very active myspace blog for years. And it was a lot of fun and all that, but I decided I didn't like the format. So I got a freewebs blog, but I hated that format even more. So here I arrive at blogspot. I plan to keep this blog updated frequently, unless I decide I hate the format.
So welcome!
So welcome!
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