Thursday, January 20, 2011

Me vs the Couch

It was one of those, one of those weeks when Thursday and the guilt-free wine session that comes with it could not come fast enough.

Baby Boy went to bed early. I made myself a fabulous salad (don't think I am a banner a health, it is a last ditch effort to lose 5 pounds before going on vacation in two days after a week of pasta, Trader Joe's pizza and chocolate), popped open the wine and threw myself on the couch so excited to watch some Real Housewives.

The problem was that the SCAT MAT we have on the couch to keep the dog off was still on there (it is basically clear so it is very hard to see) and I was zapped to high hell.

"WHAT THE "^&%^*%^*# &^&^(#&^&^@*(@*(*(#&^#!!!!"

Sadly, this scream only confirmed Baby Boy's worst fear that all the interesting, fun stuff goes on when he is in bed.

Guess who is helping me type this? So much for a guilt-free night!!

Monday, January 17, 2011

The Potty Loophole

I have to pee a lot.

We were at lunch today and there was a huge line for the one bathroom. My bladder quickly concurred that this did not look promising.

As I wondered how I could sneak to the car and pee into my Venti Starbucks cup saved for such occasions, the woman at the front of the line took notice of me and Baby Boy.

She caught Baby Boy's eye (somehow missing his tell-tale diaper bulge). "Oh, little one. Do you have to pee?"

As he answers everything, "Yeah, sure!"

"Does anyone mind if this little boy jumps to the head of the line? I don't think his bladder can hold it!" she called out.

"Of course, I will have to go in there," I managed as my kidneys began to punch me in the back to hurry up, "you know to help him..."

Score one for the Potty Loophole! I will have to teach him the Pee Dance for future long lines...

Monday, January 10, 2011

Next Stop...Timbucktu!

In a rare aligning of 5 am up wake-ups, wanting to eat nothing but carbs and saying all of his clothes are "TOO TIGHT," I dare say today was one of those days when I needed earplugs, a ski mask and a bottle of gin to block out Baby Boy's ever changing moods.

At the UPS store, while mailing back all of the "too tight" (yet fits perfectly) stuff, BB was amazingly quiet. When I finished with the checkout gal, I realized why. He had found a roll of stickers and had slathered his coat in bright orange, PRIORITY RUSH tags.

I placed him next to the stack of outgoing packages. For a second...or maybe 10...

PS if my UPS man looked anything like the banner pic, then I would have slathered myself in those stickers!

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Oo, Ooh That Smell

For some reason, I got in the habit of praising Baby Boy's brilliance as such:

"What shape is this orange?"

"Round! Circle!"

"I smell Harvard!!"

Skip forward to this evening when we were at dinner and a foul smell entered the area.

"Ew! What is that smell?" someone exclaimed.

Baby Boy didn't miss a beat.

"Smells like Har Verd."

Maybe he will be a Yale boy after all.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Kisses That Miss

Baby Boy came running into the kitchen, holding his crotch, yelling that his "Nis Hurts!!"

(He had apparently fell onto his light sabor--another reason DH thinks I buy inappropriate toys for him.)

After a few minutes, I asked him if it felt better.

"Kiss, kiss it!" he wept.


Luckily, I was saved by explaining away that awkward request by the dog, who was more than happy to lick off any spare dinner crumbs from his lap area.

Good thing he hasn't discovered band aids yet...

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

(WWDCD?) What Would Dry Cleaner Do?

Our dry cleaner is Born Again. He often wears hard-core Christian rock music tee-shirts that scream CRUCIFY!!!! or I KNOW WHAT JESUS WOULD DO!!!

Other than that, and the occasional "Is your husband still Jewish?", he is a damn good dry cleaner. So we hold our breath and deal.

Last week a giant pile of clothes appeared in my car, which I assumed was my husband's passive aggressive way of telling me he had no clean clothes to wear. So off to Nazareth they went.

"I don't think I have ever seen these clothes come through here before," Jesus Dry Cleaner remarked.

I picked them up today ($70!!) and laid all the plastic bags out on the bed.

DH came home and asked what all those clothes were doing, not only "clean" but "back."

Apparently, they were to be taken to Goodwill.

Ah, the magic of marital communication.

(In case you are wondering, there are no pictures of Jesus washing clothes to be found on the internet. I think that is the only thing I haven't been able to find.)

Monday, January 3, 2011

The Coat of Mistaken Identity

DH came home last year with a brown coat. It had a fur collar.

"Thanks baby! I love it!" I squealed when I saw it and grabbed for it.

"No!" DH yelled as he pulled it out of my reach. "It is a guy's coat. I got it for me."


"That was in the man's section?"

"Yeah. It was the only one left." (More likely some drag queen had shoved it back into a random rack once she saw the price tag.)

"Ok, honey. Why don't you wear it out tonight?"

Since, he has been taunted, made fun of and ridiculed by our friends for wearing a lady's coat. I think by this point he knows he is wrong but after months of wearing it, his pride has overridden the gender mishap.

We went out to dinner last night and he left his coat there. When he called today, the hostess kindly informed him that "his wife's lovely coat" would be waiting for him to pick up.

That may cinch the death of his coat and the birth of mine.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Shake Weight...What?

My son isn't a cuddler per se. But something about my BBF's husband, Jay, turns him into a mush ball. Baby Boy is a solid 35 pounds--I can barely carry him anymore. But Jay was being a good sport as BB snuggled into his neck the other day.

After about 25 minutes, as Jay sagged beneath the weight, I asked, "So, is this making your biological clock tick for a son?" (They have twin girls.)

"The only biological clock I hear is telling me to go to the gym and work on my biceps," he quipped.

I didn't show him the outcome of my carrying BB on only one side for the past two years: my left arms looks like I could win a cage fight whereas my right arm looks like a cross between a grandma and a pelican.

Thank god for long sleeve shirts...and the Shake Weight, where fitness and pornography meet.

Here is an SNL link for their Shake Weight parody.