Christmas in Dixie

For those of you not in the loop, and I know you're all just dying to hear...
THIS is how Christmas happened at OUR house: 
Our kids, all but Spawn, were at their other parents’ houses on Christmas morning, so we decided to sleep in, because Spawn doesn't know any better anyway, and we needed the rest.

I was awakened around 8 a.m. by my SMOKE ALARM going nuts, and Eric shouting from the other end of the house: 
LOVE!!! GET UP ! 
GET UP ! 
Get out of the house! 
Get out of the house! 
The house is on fire! 
Get out! 
The house is on fire!

I got up, naked, quickly pulled on a nightgown and my boots, and ran up the hall. The living room and kitchen were under a thick cloud of black BLACK smoke, and Eric was out on the porch with Spawn, hopping around foot to foot, hollaring: The house is on fire!

I looked in the kitchen, where I could see there were flames coming out of the oven. I went to the kitchen, filled a glass with water, and threw it in the oven. Pssssshhhhhhhhooosh! 
Fire out. 
More smoke. 
Turned on the vent hood, the air conditioners, and opened the windows.

Problem solved.

Apparently, Eric and Spawn had gotten up earlier. Spawn had thrown a toy in the oven, at some point previously. And then Eric went to put corn dogs in the oven for himself, and didn't notice the toy laying there below the rack.

The day had nowhere to go, but UP, from there.

p.s. Don't YOU do that. I have been informed since this happened that you should use salt to put out kitchen fires, since most kitchen fires are caused by grease, and water would just exacerbate a grease fire.

Where is YOUR willie ?

Spawn is busy lately learning his body parts, top down, by pointing at each one on me and then himself. And by pointing, I of course mean poking, prodding, and pinching.

Mah eyezsh                          Mah nozsh

Mah mouf                              Mah goozle

Mah teefs                              BOOBIEZ ! 

Behyee butten                       Mah pangers (fingers)

                  Mah piggies (toes)

                        Mah...

Hey ... Where dah doobah doh??

*Sigh* ... Yes, I am aware that I should probably be teaching him the correct terminology (penis, instead of goober). But I'm not. So there. He has plenty of time to increase his vocabulary, but for now 'goober' is the word we use. 

... What his fascination is with his wee little willie is just beyond me.

He's a nudist by nature, and the dangly bits I suppose just cry out for attention. 

And let me tell ya, he heeds the call. A lot.

I have older boys, so I know this particular tendency will only grow (*cough*cough*) as time goes by.

I just don’t recall any of them starting quite this soon.

And my boobs! What the effity-eff is so damn fascinating about my boobs??? 

He was breastfed for about two and a half seconds, so this has to be some sort of genetic predisposition that has been passed down to him through his dad’s (or my) DNA.

At this rate, I'd say he's well on his way to growing up to be just like every other guy on the planet.

The Woes of a Short Attention Span

• Do you loooove projects?
• Are you just full of awesome ideas?
• Is the thought constantly spinning through your head that you could do this, that, or the other, and in fact, you should be doing exactly that right now?
• A perpetual and habitual list-maker, perhaps?

Yeah, well, me too. All of the above, for $500 Alex !
For all of about 5 to 20 minutes ... which is about as long as my attention span will hold onto an idea.

I am sure that there is a medical diagnosis for this condition, and that it probably has letters, and they probably make pills for it. I just can't seem to remember to care long enough to have ever looked into it. So, I keep making my lists. And losing my lists. And starting new lists. And augmenting those lists with other lists inside those lists. And then losing that list, too. It's a vicious cycle, that list-making.

I can't count the number of unfinished stuff around this house. Things I was soooo gung-ho and excited about, for all of about 3 minutes, until---Oh look ! A squirrel !

Seriously.

If I start something, and don't finish it right then -- I may as well just toss it in the trash. I will never come back and finish it. Even if it were to be hanging in front of the bathroom mirror with a sign that says MUST COMPLETE TODAY ! 


But, see, I know this about myself. I own it. I have no illusions of grandeur about all the things I will one day accomplish.

I'll accomplish the damn thing today, or just never mind.

Little Disappointments...

My daughter is in the fourth grade this year, and now, in addition to normal spelling and grammar, they also have creative writing. These exercises take the form of journal entries in a standard composition notebook with a pre-suggested subject.  I’m thinking that since I was soooo inspired to start a blog, and then hit a wall with what to write about, I might take some of her ‘suggestions’ and use them for myself! Writing is cathartic, right?

So, her very first one reads like this : Write about a time you were disappointed. What happened? Who disappointed you? How did you overcome this?

Ok, excuse me. This child is NINE. A time she might have been disappointed might be when Santa didn’t bring her what she wanted for Christmas. “And I was very sad. But I got a lot of other cool stuff, so I guess it was ok.” Or maybe “Once, I wanted to spend the night with my friend, but my mom said no and that made me very sad and disappointed, but then we rented movies and stayed up late and we had fun, so it all turned out ok.”  I mean, really. Not that she’s spoiled or anything, but hell. I’m VERY interested in reading her response to this one.  Maybe I’m underestimating the trauma she has endured.  Pffffft!

***Just as an aside, I read one of hers from last week. Who is your favorite heroine? “My favorite heroine is my mom. She is ausm.” Yes. Yes, I AM AUSM. LOL  Hey, hooked on phonics worked for her. You should totally give it a try.

This will be a whole new well of entertainment for me. I find my children’s thought process completely fascinating. I’ll be sure and keep yall updated, too. Who knows the kind of deep, mind-blowing thoughts that might come out of a 9 year old!

Love Letters on Wet Paper...

Dear E~


I miss you when you're not here, although I don't always say it.


I miss being able to lay my head in your lap while you stroke my hair.


I miss the way your eyes crinkle in the corners when you laugh.


I miss the way you'll do anything, say anything, no matter how ridiculous, just to make me smile.


I miss the smell of you. I use one of your t-shirts as a pillowcase, just to have something to hold. The smell of your cologne comforts me in the night when I can't sleep.


I miss the way your body feels so warm snuggled up against my back.


I miss bumping into you in the kitchen every time I turn around, because you only need something when I'm in there trying to do something already.


I miss sitting next to you on the couch, staring at the TV, laughing at the same stupid thing at the same stupid time.


I just miss you.




Come home soon,


        ~Love~

Astrology

I'm not a huge believer in astrology. I read my horoscope occassionally for fun. Sometimes, it can be eerily on the money. Sometimes, it's so far off as to be laughable. Recently, though, a friend loaned me a book about astrology. In this book, there are personality profiles for each of the astrological signs AND their Chinese astrology counterparts.

I am a Libra in western astrology. I was born the year of the Snake. The combined profile made for quite an interesting read, to say the least. Actually, parts of it sent chills skittering down my spine. I've decided to share with you an edited version of my profile, in hopes of giving you some insight into me.
Enjoy.

The Libra Snake

Magnetism personified. The Libra born in a Snake year will, above all, attract. This combination is a mostly happy one. People born under this sign may be less so. This is because they are not only irresistible; they are also stubborn and willful. They want things done their way, and like to order others around subtly. Often, things are done for them, their way, by willing lackeys. These people have charisma to burn. Libran Snakes rule others through emotion. They are capable of sensing exactly what another needs from them. They are remarkably perceptive and even have a gift for the supernatural. Librans born in Snake years know how to exalt an audience with their cool, reasonable yet emphatically sentimental discourse. These people are born to serve as shepherds of human flocks, moralizers and brotherhood mongers. There is a Saint Valentine quality about the Libra born Snake person. A lacy, heart- shaped, whimsical yet meaningful self that always shines through.

Taking up causes is, in the case of Libran Snakes, always performed in the most graceful and non-violent way. Libra/Snake wants to reason with danger, to talk over differences, to discuss the peace arrangements. Then he will make a touching speech on the subject, and more people will collapse at his feet. Libra/Snake doesn’t have to overpower. All he has to do is attract.

Can you see me blushing yet?
No?
Oh well, I didn't read modesty or humility in here anywhere yet.

One quality that the Libra/Snake possesses and frequently uses in his or her profession is humanitarianism. The Libra side of this person’s character wants justice for all. The Snake is kindness itself, always compassionate and understanding, willing to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on. The two signs together create a being of enormous altruism, who is not afraid to do something about hunger or poverty or injustice.

These subjects are all love and sensuality, sexiness and grand romance. Of course, they are too gorgeous to be forever faithful to one person. Do what? Hey, I resent that. But they are definitely devoted mates in every other way. Too, Libra/Snakes, for all of their beauty and languor, can be a lot of fun. They are mischievous, a little zany, and they know how to laugh at themselves. If you are attracted to one of these miracles of charm, I suggest you adopt his or her ideals immediately. You will be needing all the patience and pacifism you can get when your Libra/Snake goes off on a tour of African hunger areas without you, leaving you home to keep the kids alive. You will need great personal fortitude and lots of dignity to walk beside your beloved Libra/Snake. Keep your nose in the air and don’t give that adoring crowd the time of day.

You will be welcome at the Libra/Snake’s home, too. Feel free to drop in any time. BYOB please. There’s always enough room for a few more uninvited guests. The Libra/Snake will want to have lots of children. I thinks 'wants' is a little too strong of a word here. This character enjoys caretaking and protecting others. He or she may, for this reason, mollycoddle a bit too much and hover anxiously over his sleeping bambinos. But when they awaken they will be in for a good time. Libra/Snake parents bedazzle their kids the same way they enchant everyone else.

By nature, the Libra/Snake is a leader of men. But he or she is non-competitive and wants no part of belligerence. The gift here is attractiveness. People willingly revere this subject, hang on his every word and long to be like him or her. Misused, this talent can, of course, be extremely dangerous. The Force is strong in this one. Feel the pow-ah of the Dark Side! But as the Libra/Snake is not so power-hungry as he is willing to take the reins if they are given him, there is less danger here than may be feared. Well, damn. That's a buzzkill. The Libra/Snake does not take well to subordination. It’s not that he or she cannot understand the need for humility, but that the underling station annoys them. They know they can run the show, so they wonder why somebody doesn’t just hang a sign on their door saying "Boss." Exactly. But they don’t misuse power as a rule, and are as conscientious as those who work with them. Libra/Snakes make excellent partners for less charismatic people who know how to do earthly things like add and subtract and pay their taxes. Libra/Snakes want top billing but don’t rankle at sharing the profits.

The Trash Fairy

It is 1:05 a.m. and as I sit here, mindlessly surfing the net out of boredom and insomnia, what should catch my eye? The trash can in the kitchen.... its gleaming stainless steel exterior mocking me with its sticky fingerprints and overflowing refuse.

Yeah, I see you. Now shut up.

Am I the only person in this house who knows the mechanics involved in changing out the trash bag?
It seems like a simple enough process.
Pick the full one up and out, give 'er a spin and tie it up. Insert new bag. Boom. Done.

But no.
That is apparently just too complicated and time-consuming for this household.
Better to keep packing it in, until it flows over the top and tumbles to the floor.
That's ok, dear. Momma will pick it up. I have nothing better to do. I need the excercise anyway, right? *sigh*

Maybe, if I ignore it, and wish hard enough, the housecleaning fairy will come tonight.
Please, oh please, come visit me!
Oh, and if you could hit the bathroom with your magic wand on the way out, I'll be much obliged.