Anyone care to guess what the design flaw is here?!?
We have a cat.
We have a 17 month old.
They both like to pee. Alot. Randomly. Around the house.
One does it inside a diaper, one does it out. (I'll let you figure out which one.)
Because of this random bodily elimination, I often have to remove and wash the carpet that is in our back entry. Not a rug, mind you, but (what was once) a nice, round tapestry-like carpet that you really aren't supposed to be washing but I have ruined because I have no choice but to wash it every 11th day.
Yeah.
One of those.
Fast forward to 4 a.m. this morning.
We're up.
AGAIN.
(I have a child who DOES.NOT.SLEEP. but that's a whole different blog...) I had just removed the rug in the back hall the night before, so there was a crisscross spider web of carpet tape exposed on the floor.
In the dark house, Ella had followed me around the back hall as I went into the kitchen. And then?
Nothing.
I was alone.
And then I heard it: a tiny scared whimpering of a 17 month old getting ready to let out a full wail.
Yep, you guessed it.
Her little feet were stuck to the crisscrossed spiderweb of carpet tape and she couldn't move.
If only I had a picture.
Or video.
If only it hadn't been 4 a.m. I might've been more inclined to take both.
Spidey has nothin' on me...
MORE RIVETING MARITAL CONVERSATIONS
Him: *rummaging in the pantry*
Him: *rummaging in the pantry*
Him: *rummaging in the pantry*
Him: You know what we're out of...?
ME: Patience?
_____
Him: I think Ella's having a hard time sleeping because she needs more room...
ME: Then perhaps she should buy her own apartment.
_____
via text messages
ME: Hey, did you know McD's has free Mocha Mondays?
Him: Yeah. You should get one while you're out.
ME: Oh. Huh. I forgot it was Monday.
ME: However, the 20 minute line for the drive-thru now makes total sense...
While driving through a random neighborhood
ME: *pointing to a house with a nice patio table & chairs in the front door area* Why would you have a fantastic back yard and put your patio set in the front?
Him: Uh...maybe they like interacting with their neighbors?
ME: Why?
Him: Some people like that...
ME: WHY?!?
______
TV Announcement: Next survivor? Samoa
Him: Well, that's it. I can't do it.
ME: Hm?
Him: I couldn't be on survivor Samoa. All that black sand would be too hard on my feet.
ME: Uh...HUH?!?!
Him: I have very sensitive feet...
ME: *mutes TV* Ok, let me get this straight. The ONLY REASON that you couldn't compete on the next Survivor is because your feet are too sensitive?!?
Him: Uh huh.
ME: Uh...OK.
_____
While looking at Ella's mullet hair...
Him: You know what Daddy needs to get you, honey?
Him: Rubs the baby's hair
Him: Daddy needs to get you a Bumpit for your hair. *smiles at me*
ME: blink-blink-blink
Him: What?
ME: I'm just slightly terrified that you know what a Bumpit
is...
I have a secret.
Sometimes I listen to Canadian talk radio.
*gasp*
Look, I (heart) me some NPR just like everyone else, but lately I've felt like I listened to the SAME NPR story every morning (just change the names). (Sometimes it's the same story with even the same names.)
Something had to be done (at least for my entertainment sanity). So I looked to our friends to the North. (In my case, it's a little more East, but whatever. Semantics.)
Anyway...
CBC radio has a show called the Q with Jian Ghomeshi. (You can follow him on Twitter, but FYI he won't follow you back. Even so, he has some good Tweets.) I find the show really fresh and funny with an interesting mix of culture, art, music, book and entertainment news. For example, in the past couple of weeks I've heard interviews with Sonic Youth, the guy who created the game Tetris (one of the greatest games EVER), and David Sedaris. Today was an interview with an artist I've been listening to for a couple of years -- Madeline Peyroux
I mean, could you get more random than Sonic Youth and then Bill Cosby?!?
So there's never a dull moment. It always seems like something uber-interesting happens on the show. Take the Dave Matthews interview, for example.
A couple of weeks ago they had an interview with music man Dave Matthews talking about his new album Big Whiskey and the GrooGrux King.
My first thought was, "Sure, you scared a monkey, but do you have a monkey lamp?!?"
EX-ACT-LY.
No go on, listen to some Q.
Faux intimacy is so annoying. You know, those people who call you honey or sweetie or darlin' and they don't even know you?
I hate that.
I especially hate it when called that from someone in a service industry (retail clerks, waitresses, 16-year-olds from the local Dairy Queen, etc.).
While celebrating Todd's fatherhood at a restaurant today, we received no less than 5 (maybe 6) sweeties and 3 (maybe 4) honeys from our waitress between the two of us.
She was around 19.
I'm 40.
Todd's 40-something.
It came across as very disrespectful.
Initially, I went in to get our table while Todd parked and brought in Ella. I thought I misheard the waitress as she approached with, "Hello sweetie, what can I get you to drink?" I think I actually did a double take. She continued honey-ing and sweetie-ing so much throughout the dinner that I considered mentioning it to the manager. (I didn't.) It felt weird. It felt disrespectful. It felt uncomfortable.
These intimacies used by strangers are so odd to me. I'm not sure what people want to accomplish with this? Do they think it will endear me more to them -- perhaps leaving them a better tip? In my book, it does the exact opposite.
I mean, I call my husband babe.
I've known him for 14+ years.
I call my daughter sweetness.
I birthed her from my loins.
These qualify me to call them whatever pet name I want.
What doesn't qualify as the right to a pet name?
Taking my drink order within 3 seconds of meeting me, that's what.
So, please don't use these intimate pet names with me unless
1) You are a close family member,
2) You are an older person (whom I think has earned the right to pretty much do what they want in life), or
3) You are a waitress with FLO on your name tag who works for Mel in his diner and we're filming a 70s TV series.
Other than that? Let's just stay on simple, non-intimate terms, shall we?
Your Highness works just fine for me.
It had been a particularly rough week and I was feeling down.
Crabby.
Caged.
Claustrophobic.
Guilty.
Useless.
So the obvious answer?
McDonald's.
(*duh*)
Ella and I arrived at the M-mecca, ordered a couple of grilled chicken wraps to share, and sat just outside the room with the play area so she could gaze longingly at all the germy kids inside. (Hey, it's my bad mood, I can do what I want.)
I expected the service that is usual for any establishment these days. You know, strung out, nonchalant teenagers who say "no problem" instead of "you're welcome." This day I was pleasantly surprised.
We ordered no Happy Meal, yet the manager gave us a toy.
Appropriate for Ella's age!
And a Ronald smile mask!
When they saw me struggling with baby, bag, and purse, they offered to bring my meal out.
And then they did it!
And even asked if I needed salt and ketchup.
And fetched it!
And then, as if on cue, an older gentlemen offered to let Ella stick her grubby little finger in his ice cream to take a bite. (To which I politely declined. Please refer to these.)
Where was I? Some alternate universe? Was this what was happening to the world while I was locked away every day?!?
Say it ain't so!
Just as the clouds parted, the birds started to sing, the rainbow appeared and unicorns jumped around cotton candy trees, I watched a mother and her 4-year-old daughter walk up to the self-serve soda station. The little girl put her cup under the water and her mom immediately snatched it away screeching, "We paid for a drink! You're getting orange drink instead of water!"
It was once again clear why I didn't venture out that often.
I smiled down at Ella who was watching the scene intently and happily drinking her water.
From her own water bottle.
That we brought with us.
FOR FREE.
My mood was a little lighter.
At least for that moment.
