Wednesday, January 30, 2008

A Nice Black Caulk


The great mattress swap of 2008 began in our house about 2 weeks ago. We gave Mamaw a queen sized bed that was in our guest room and bought a new full size for Birdie. Then Howie and I bought a new king sized memory foam mattress and gave Bubba our old bed. The old one is also king sized and you should see the boy in the middle of it, it swallows him up. It takes him so long to climb in and get to the center of it that I might have to start packing him a snack and drink so he doesn't starve on his way there!

We also decided to move Birdie back into her own room but not before it was painted and cleaned from top to bottom. I took Birdie to the paint store so she could pick a color and while we were there I decided to pick up some caulk in order to repair some seams in the baseboards and windows. First of all I never knew there were so many kinds of caulk.

Imagine this: aisles of caulk. Now, I am not exactly what you would call a caulk expert so I asked a service manager. "Excuse me, can you help me find some caulk". *giggle, I just said caulk* "What kind of caulk are you looking for?" "Hmmmm, I don't know exactly." "Let me show you all the caulk I have." This man is WAY to comfortable saying the word "caulk". "Do you prefer white caulk?" "Well, I don't want to seem prejudicial here but does caulk come in other colors?" "Sure, we've got a nice black caulk right over here."

By this point, I could hardly contain my smiles and fits of laughter. I kept saying the word "caulk" just cause I don't normally get the opportunity to say it in polite company. "Caulk, caulk, caulk" *giggle* "Does this caulk make a mess?, Is black caulk better than white caulk? Do you have a preference for caulk?" To which the sales guy laughed and rolled his eyes at me. "Dude, I don't get out much, humor me!" Finally, I told him exactly what I would be doing with said caulk and he recommended a white latex. Cause it's "easier to handle and easy to wash off my hands". *snort*

Turns out I'm quite handy with caulk. I have a steady hand which was quite helpful while filling all the cracks! The room looks great although it is looks like the inside of a Pepto Bismol bottle!

I'm so tired too. I guess working with caulk will do that to a gal!

Now for a giggle!

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Pillow Talk

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*crawling into bed together*

Me: "Scratch my back"
Howie: "Where"
Me: "Right there..."
Howie: *scratches wrong place then own ass*
Me:"Forget it"
Howie: "I love you"
Me: "I love you more"
Howie: "No!, I love you more"
Me: "I'll paper, rock, scissors you for it"
Howie: "okay"
Me: *whoops his ass at prs*
Howie: "Fine, you love me more, but you're the cutest"
Me: "I know" *giving hugs*
Howie: *groping my tit*
Me: "Is it just me or are my boobs getting smaller?"
Howie: "Yeah, you're right" *groping more tit*
Me: "And they are getting droopy and I'll soon have to tuck them into my pants"
Howie: "Shut up"
Me: "Seriously, look!" *sits up to show the droopage*
Howie: "When I was in high school I had a teacher who we called 'belly tits'"
Howie: "Now that's someone who could have tucked her boobs in her pants!"
Me: "*snort*
Howie: If we have sex on a memory mattress will it remember?
Me: "Depends" *groping him*
Howie: "Ouch, be careful......I'm delicate"
Me: "You're such a girly man!"
Howie: *tickling me*
Me: "So that's how it's gonna be" *rolls over to tickle him*
Howie: *curls up in self protection, rolls over and farts on me*
Me: "Damn, you are so sexy!"
Howie: "Did you know that these new memory pillows are made of memory foam?"
Me: "Yes, thank you Captain Obvious!"
Howie: "And I bet they totally remember everything we do."
Me: "I hope not, I really hope not!"

Monday, January 28, 2008

For The Love Of Thin Mints


How many girl scout cookies would it take to send someone into a diabetic coma?? Stay tuned, cause Howie may just find out the answer to that question. Yes my friends, it's that time of year again. Girl Scout cookie time. Aside from the fantasy football draft, there is not a more dreaded time of year for me because Howie becomes a full blown cookie addict!

About a week ago he started having wet dreams about Trefoils and Tagalongs. Then he started drawing doodles of dosidos and Samoas. But the piece de resistence are the thin mints. He's already cleared a shelf in the upstairs and downstairs freezers for his chocolaty mistresses. Then Sunday I heard the dreaded sound. Delighted giggles traveling up our walkway and aimed at our front door. For a moment I wondered if I could pretend that we weren't home but knew that the kids would make that charade near impossible. Damn! Here they come, those green covered tweenies with their knee high socks and sashes full of gymboree patches. Don't get me wrong, I love Girl Scouts, I used to be one. Well, first I was a brownie and then I was a girl scout. I remember when I was in 3rd grade I wore my girl scout uniform for my school picture. It didn't turn out as quite the wholesome look I was after cause you could still see the black eye I had just gotton from fighting with a little boy on the playground. Yeah, I wasn't exactly living by "the Girl Scout law" that day.

Anyway, Howie has many "dealers" to support his habit. He's got the daughter of one of his co-workers to supply him with all the work snacks he needs. Lord knows how many boxes he buys. Last year I think he ordered 15!!! There's no proof cause he only uses cash in an effort to conceal his shame. Then there's the little neighborhood girls who come by in droves because they know that Mr. Steeler is the guy to see when wanting to hit high sales numbers! Finally, when sales are on the downslope, there's always the little girls that sit in front of Stop N Shop or the post office to get rid of their extra inventory. I always know when they set up camp cause Howie starts offering to do some grocery shopping or buy stamps.

He keeps boxes of cookies stashed all over the house; in the freezer, in the pantry and the cabinets. He has a box in both his home and work desks, a box in his car and one in the garage. I swear he would keep one under the bed for a midnight snack if I weren't giving him shit about it! I guess it's the Eagle Scout in him trying to "Be Prepared" for running out of cookies.

"But I'm just helping meet their goals so that the troop can go to the caribbean." Yeah, what's up with that anyway. When I was a girl scout our troop goal was to have an ice cream social and the top seller got a boom box. Now, they rake in thousands of dollars in sales, take trips to exotic locations and top sellers can win laptops and game systems! It's cut throat out there. I keep telling Howie that he needs to make sure that his suppliers don't find out about each other or else he might end up with "you suck" shoe polished across his front and back windshields! Not to mention the TP'ing of our house on Halloween and the fact that every girl in the neighborhood will rebuff our requests for babysitting!

Maybe I should look on the bright side. Next year when Birdie starts Girl Scouts we won't even have to go out and sell cause Howie will buy the whole damn order sheet! Plus, all those guys at work will owe Howie big time. After all, how can they refuse to buy cookies from Birdie, if Howie sent their daughter to Bermuda the year before?? :-)

What is your favorite Girl Scout cookie? cookies?

Sunday, January 27, 2008

A Band of Gold


About a week ago I had to take off my wedding rings because they no longer fit. I've lost quite a bit of weight and need to have them re-sized but would like to lose more so it seems futile to do it more than once. It'll have to wait.

It's been eight years since I've been without an engagement or wedding ring and I feel so naked without them. It makes me feel incomplete. I've considered buying a cheap gold band just to have something on my finger.

The other day, Howie and I were at the store with the kids and we were messing around, pinching each other's butts and holding hands. I noticed a woman staring at me with an evil glare. She then looked at Howie, then the kids and shook her head. It dawned on me that she thought I was "the other woman". A cheating, philandering hussy who had my claws in a duplicitous good for nothing man who belonged to another woman!!! The poor children!!! For a minute I considered telling her that "we only cheat on the weekends" but since she seemed a little long in the tooth I didn't want to induce a heart attack.

There are many married couples out there cheating on each other's spouses. Does that make it okay because they are still wearing their wedding bands? I don't think so! I suppose under the same circumstances, I might have made the same assumption. I would never stare or roll my eyes in a judgmental display but heck I might think the same thing. I've also noticed that I get more, ahem, attention from the opposite sex without my wedding bands.

I never realized what a huge social marker our rings really are. They with one glimmer of gold or sparkle of a diamond tell society who we are. We are married, single, have good taste or have a cheap husband who buys discount jewels. They (might) stop the opposite sex from making inappropriate advances or even make the opposite sex feel more comfortable around us. It's true for me at least. If I'm around a man who is wearing a wedding band I feel like I can trust him more. He's got a wife, perhaps a family and has good intentions. Of course, he could be a complete jerk who is his family's worst nightmare, but it's all about perception, right? Not long ago I had to get a ride home from a car dealership where our min-van was being serviced. I remember specifically noticing that the man driving me home had a wedding band and I remember it made me feel safer. Like he couldn't just as easily take me into the woods and shoot me in the head! It made no sense at all. Why would I think that? I didn't consciously think about it but there it was.

I don't feel the same about women except where my husband is concerned. If he were going on a business trip with a married woman verses a single woman I would be more concerned about the single gal. It makes no sense cause either one could easily put the moves on my man. Not that it would matter much, Howie's the most loyal person I know. But you get my point.

It's wrong. I don't like that I think this way. But isn't that the purpose of wedding bands to begin with? To make a statement to the world of who we are, to show that we are committed to another person? It says that I am someone's wife. It's the jewelry equivalent of the stretch marks that announce that I am someone's mother! I suppose it's the extra assumptions that one might make about a married person that are wrong. All married people are not trustworthy. All people who don't wear wedding bands aren't single. And all single people are not trying to steal your husband (or wife). If only it were that easy!

What about you? If you are married do you always wear your wedding band? Do you notice if people, particularly the opposite sex, treat you different if you are not wearing it. Would you trust a married person more than a single person if they were alone with your spouse?

It Came Off All By Itself

Last night Birdie partially shaved off one of her eyebrows and when I noticed it I was like, "dude, what happened to your eyebrow."


"No really, what did you do to your eyebrow, Birdie?"

"Nothing, I don't KNOW what you're talking about."

I took her to the bathroom, pointed to the naked skin above her eye and said, "what, did it fall out all on it's own?"

"Yes, I wasn't doing anything and it just magically came off. I was doing my statue of literby puzzle when it all fell off!"

"Statue of literby?, you mean Statue of Liberty."

"NO! Statue of literby, mama PAY ATTENTION"

*Holy shit, she did not just shake her finger at me and tell me to PAY ATTENTION, who's child is this anyway and why is she living in my house!*

"Fine, Statue of literby....whatever, I know it didn't just fall out on it's own so tell me what happened right now or else I will give all of your Barbies to your baby sister and tell her they all need haircuts!"

"Okay, okay, I was just putting on make-up when I was upstairs with Daddy."

"But that was 3 hours ago, how didn't he notice you were shaving off your....., never mind, I'll kick him in the nut sack later, show me what you used."

*Runs upstairs and whips out a lady bic*

"It wasn't my fault mama, it was just an accident and it was Daddy's fault cause he didn't supervistited me."

"You mean supervise."

"No mama, you just don't listen."

Saturday, January 26, 2008

An Error In Judgment

The man annoys me and I try not to watch his shows but I once heard Dr. Phil say something that resonated with me. "Believe people when they show you who they are." I quite agree with that statement. Too many times people in my life have shown me their true selves and I have refused to believe them. I always try to find the good in people and sometimes there isn't much good to find and I'm often left feeling disappointed.

I've learned this lesson many times, so I try to pay close attention. Do they consistently let me down? Are they a good friend? Do I enjoy being in their company? These are all questions that I ask myself when I meet someone new. The answers help me in my quest to fill my life with positive, caring people with whom I can build lifelong relationships.

But sometimes I screw up!

Case in point! I met a woman at the beginning of this school year. I found her to be kind of nosy and she made me uneasy with all of her questions. I know I splash my business all over the internet, but I'm not exactly the kind of person who is comfortable talking about my personal life face to face. I found her questions intrusive and they made me nervous. It got to where I dreaded seeing her because I knew the questions were sure to follow. A question would start a conversation which would lead to more questions which would start more questions..OY! "Why does she want to know", I would ask Howie. It's not like I'm all that interesting. I thought she was a nice enough woman, just not exactly my cup of tea.

Then we had a confrontation. It was regarding our kids and she surprised me by her reactions. I in turn overreacted to her overreactions. Yeah, not exactly the most mature approach or my finest hour! I never knew that I could be so defensive about my kids until someone actually challenged one. I mean, c'mon. My kids are perfect right? The sun rises and falls on their angel faces, they walk on water, cure lepers and their poop really doesn't stink! How dare you imply that my child, MY child would be a troublemaker?? I should've damn well known better! My daughter's middle name is Trouble! Anyway, after that I didn't exactly see this woman in the most rosy of lights. I tried to avoid her. She had shown me who she was and she wasn't my kind of people. My people being the OCD, neurotic mothers who just don't have it together, are wildly underenthused about school functions and listen to Metallica while trying to stave off panic attacks during birthday parties at Chuck E Cheese.

Truth be told, she reminded me of my mom. My mom was always pressing me for answers to questions I didn't want to hear. Sometimes I felt like I was being interviewed for a major news magazine. "Where did you go?", "What did you do?", "When did you get there?", "Were there lots of people?", "Were you wearing clean underwear?", "Why didn't you call me?" and on and on and on. She wanted to know how much money we made, what kind of birth control I was using, when I had my period and if I preferred pads or tampons. I tell you she smothered me with her questions which I found to be controlling. I always felt judged when I gave my answers too.

Then of course, my mom died and one of the major things I missed were her questions. Weird huh? I missed that she cared enough to ask the questions. That she found me interesting enough to bother to ask. I started to see things differently. I realized that it wasn't just me that she put to question, it was everyone she met. She genuinely wanted to hear about everyone's life and be interested in their answers. I also started to understand that it had been me that was wrong. I had become one of those people who just went through life minding my own business, not stopping to ask questions and listen to others.

I started to see the question lady in a different light. I started to enjoy seeing her because I knew she was going to ask me how I was doing and want to know the details of my day. She would listen to me and care enough to make conversation when most people would ignore me and get stingy if I was breathing too much of their air. I had been so busy trying to be defensive and keep to myself that I had missed a genuinely nice person who always has a smile on her face and is the kind of person I could trust with the lives of my kids. I don't even know her that well, but I know she's a good mom, a friendly neighbor, a dutiful employee and seems to always be on top of things. I'm so very glad that I learned this lesson without which I might have missed out on knowing a really great woman. I can't believe I was so wrong about her and it makes me feel like such an ass. I hope to get to know her better, who knows maybe even some day call her a friend. What a shame it would have been if I had missed out on the opportunity to know her.

Have you ever mis-judged someone? Do you keep to yourself or do you ask questions? Are you a private person or do you enjoy talking about yourself?

Friday, January 25, 2008

Trading Sex For Clean Laundry

Me: "You're mom is coming over tomorrow at noon."
Howie: "But if she's here we can't have our afternoon delight."
Me: "She offered to do the laundry."
Howie: "So?"
Me: "So, the sex can wait but the laundry can't."

I suppose a woman reaches a point in life where her priorites start to shift. Sadly, I can say that I must have reached THAT point.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

Sometimes I Just Want To Run Away

And today is one of those days. Come to think of it, it's been one of those weekends! I don't really know what crawled up my butt and died but I have been in the shittiest of moods for the last few days. Was that a dirty look I just saw? Well, cut it out unless you want me flick you in the head. Yeah, that basically sums it up. Maybe it's cause I'm cold. Maybe it's cause I'm pre-mentstral. Maybe it's cause I'm just a bitch. It's probably a combination of all three.

While Howie was gone, everything was under control. The kids were on their best behaviors, I got a lot done, all was good. Then he got home and all hell broke loose. I don't know exactly the reasoning for this, but anytime their father is around my kids act like the spawn of Satan. I personally believe it's because they know they can get away with murder when he's around. With me, not so much! I make them tow the line and of course that makes me the bad guy. There were three adults in this house and you would think that between the 3 of us, we could handle the kids and we might get some stuff done around the house. Not so much! I think it's because I was a little tired and decided to sit down for 15 minutes. If I do that, the whole house shuts down. Literally you can hear the moaning and groaning of the machine as the gears screech to a halt if I decide to take a rest.

I keep telling Howie that I need a break. I'm on the brink of losing my mind. I'm tired, stressed, overwhelmed and just a little bit on the looney side. I need to sit alone with my thoughts, steal some time away and just be still. Birdie's incessant talking alone is enough to make me want to lobotomize myself with a dull butter knife! Throw in a couple of screams, the dog barking, the phone ringing and Mamaw's last minute pile of bills and I could literally run away and not come back for a week. Anybody want a visitor??

Of course the kids have been home and they've been inside which doesn't help matters. Yesterday Birdie kept complaining about her tooth. Since she's a consimate complainer I didn't pay attention at first but then grew more concerned. I looked in to see what I thought was a cavity. I called the dentist and they saw her right away. Yep a cavity. I was surprised since she had just been in for a cleaning and they didn't see said cavity then. I didn't know one could form so quickly! Especially when she doesn't eat sweets, drink soda, juice or smoke a crack pipe. She goes in next week for a filling and perhaps a baby root canal. G R E A T!
Did you pick up the sarcasm?? Really, I hope she's fine and I want her to be taken care of, but this just gives her amunition for complaints that could last well into next year!

Today I spent a good chunk of the morning in the emergency/doctor's office. The kids were running circles around the couch in our family room when Bubba tripped on a toy and ran into a recliner. He started screaming and when I went to pick him up noticed that his face had cracked open and blood was spewing everywhere. I ran over to pick him up and so did Birdie which really ticked him off and he started kicking for her to get away. This sent her into a tailspin of dispair. I ignored her as I was trying to keep my son from bleeding to death. I ran downstairs to the kitchen to get some ice and paper towels and just as I was putting pressure on the gaping hole in his face I notice Bear getting ready to tumble down the stairs. In my rush to tend to Bubba I hadn't put up the safety gate. So I left Bubba, saved Bear and placed her on the floor where she promptly threw herself back full force into the hardwood floors in a jealous fit. At this point they were all screaming but all I could focus on was Bubba and the carnage of his face. After cleaning with ice and applying neosporin and a bandage I decided I should just take him in as it was clear this thing was going to need a stitch or something to hold his face together. It freaked me out so I quick got everyone out of their pajamas (Thank God for my short hair) and into the car. Thank goodness the doctor saw us quickly because it's not so easy to keep 3 kids quiet and entertained in a waiting room. Besides that I was so nervous about them touching anything because everytime we go to the doctor or hospital we come home with a resistant strain of superbug that won't go away for weeks. Turns out he didn't need a stitch but they did have to dermabond it since it was a half inch gash that wouldn't close on it's own. He looks like he's got mangled pieces of flesh hanging off of his face cause the glue is all thick and goopy and blood colored. It'll be my luck that they will announce that spring school pictures will be next week!

I might just break my diet rules and go buy myself a nice bottle of wine. Have you ever felt like you could literally run away? Have you ever done it? Oh, and if any of you tell me that it sucks now but I will miss this when they grow up I will sneak into your bedrooms at night and pull off your toe nails with a pair of rusty pliars!!

Saturday, January 19, 2008

And In This Corner

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I have never mentioned a particular family member in any of my blogs. Her name is Tyson. Tyson the cat. I've never mentioned her because she threatened to sue me for lible if she ever found out I mentioned her name. Mostly because she doesn't want to be associated with us. In fact, she tries to pretend we don't exist. To her, we're just "those humans" that give her food and water and she merely tolerates us because she feels sorry for us.

From the very beginning, she wasn't sure that we were the right fit for her. She eyed us from top to bottom and finally decided that she'd give us a shot, but definitely only on a trial basis. Things got off to a rough start. We had a hard time telling whether she was girl or boy. I know, I know, it's not rocket science but she wouldn't sit still long enough for us to feel around for dangly kitty bits. We decided to name "her" Tyson because we thought she was a boy and she often liked to snack on Howie's ears.

Much like a small child, she was a real pain in the ass when she was small. She would dig in my plants, rip at the furniture or shoot around the house at warp speed only to land smack against a wall. She was always under my feet when I walked or swatting at my fingers while I typed at the computer. Then, when she reached adolescence she desperately wanted to go outside but because we lived right on a highway, Howie would have none of that. I felt sorry for her and let her out one day against Howie's pleas. You would have thought that I had committed the most heinous of crimes. I endured a day of silent treatment and dirty looks. Cause I'm an evil woman and I should wear a scarlet "E". He was sure she would never return but being an experienced parent to many cats I assured him that when she got hungry enough she would be meowing at the back door. And I was right. Except she wasn't really that happy to see us. It was more like, "yeah, yeah, I'm only here cause something better didn't come along so don't think I like you or anything." That's pretty much been her attitude ever since.

She really hated it when we moved to this house. We disrupted the whole gig she had going. She is a hobo of sorts. A wandering food beggar if you will. I kept wondering how she was gaining weight on her doctor prescribed diet until one day when I was coming out of Walmart. We lived right across the street from Wal-mart and as I walked out I heard two women talking about the "poor wal-mart cat". They were referring to this poor animal as "abandoned, wild and such a shame". I had to see what this animal looked like because it sounded like it was a matted, hissing beast with only one leg from their description. I turned to look and who do I see?? Yep, Tyson! My cat who was putting on quite the award-winning performance of pitifulness. Seems she had claimed Wal-mart as her begging territory. The only thing missing was her "will work for catnip" sign. That and a rusted tin so that the passersby could throw in charity treats. Shameless!

The move didn't put much of a hamper in her lifestyle. Within 2 weeks of our move we had three different neighbors at our front door asking us if "THAT cat" was ours. The way they said "THAT cat" with their looks of disgust didn't lead us to believe that she was performing random acts of kindness through the neighborhood. "Yes.....uh, what'd she do?" "Well, she's taunting our dogs along the invisible fence line". "Well, we caught her in our house cat burglaring our dog food." "Well, she plays chicken with us while we drive up the street." Yep, sounds like our cat. They left out that she makes crass comments about their mothers and bites the wings off of baby angels just to amuse herself.

Her shenanigans have cut down somewhat as she is easing into late adulthood. Plus,she's so fat she doesn't have the energy to walk down the two steps out the front door. Her new favorite place in the house is our kitchen table which infuriates Howie beyond belief. It's a tug of war for bragging rights at this poing because neither Howie or Tyson are willing to back down.

Howie: "Get off the damn table Tyson, how many times do I have to tell you, you're driving me completely nuts, it's disgusting, get down, I mean it, NOW!"

Tyson: "Suck it."

At this point, I think it's pretty clear who's winning!

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Minute Hugs

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Monday made 6 weeks since my mom passed away. Six weeks since she told me she loved me. Six weeks since I spoke to her. And six weeks since my heart broke.

My heart hasn't done much mending since then. The pain hasn't subsided. The lonliness hasn't faded. Sure, most days I get on with my life. I have no choice but to put one foot in front of the other and carry on. But the thought of her is right there under the surface and when I least expect it those feeling bubble up and explode on everything around me and I break down in a fit of ugly cries.

It happened at the bus stop. It happened at the P.T.O. meeting. It happend in the supermarket and standing in line at the post office. I try to allow myself to let it all out, no matter what people think. I try to cope but what I think will make me feel better always seems to bring me more pain.

I miss her face so I look at pictures. But all I see are the intricacies of her face that I never appreciated. I see the freckles that I once connected with a sharpie marker. I see the hair that I used to perm with the home-made kits. I also see those eyes staring back at me and I know that no matter how long I live, nobody will ever see me the same way as my mom did. Nobody will ever look at me with that kind of love. Those lips will never again tell me that they love me or kiss me on the cheek.

I miss her touch. She used to give "minute hugs". She'd say that people don't hug enough and when we do, the hugs are over too quickly. She would hug me for a full minute which sounds quick and easy but in reality seems like an eternity. Especially if you're a 12 year old girl who wants her to get on with it already cause her friends are waiting and looking at her wish scrunched up noses. Try it if you haven't. A minute seems like such a short time but it really does give you enough time to savor the moment. Anyway, I miss those hugs. I miss her squeezing me so tight that I can hardly breathe. The hospital bagged up all of her stuff after she died and I went through the bags and found a coat. A big, thick coat with fluff inside that still smelled of her. Every few days I put the coat on and zip it up. I close my eyes and try to smell her and feel the warmth of the coat around me. It's the closest I can come to her big hugs.

I also miss her voice. I used to talk to her for hours and I miss that she was always so interested in my life. Just the other day Bear was saying some new words. "Pizza, Pizza", she would repeat with a mouth full of food. My first thought was to reach for the phone and call my mom so that she could hear her baby girl saying new words. She would have loved that and said "oh, mijita sounds so cute". There was nobody to call. I couldn't stand it so I called their old number anyway and when her voice came over the answering machine I started to shake. I kept calling back, just to hear her say "hello" like she really was there and I kept wondering if she would answer me, if it would all be some kind of crazy dream and she would yell at me for not calling her sooner.

I keep remembering the last conversation I had with her. I was overwhelmed with caring for my dad an doing everything necessary for them to move up here. I was worried and stressed and going a million miles a minute.

"I don't know what to do mom, it all seems like too much."
"It'll be okay mija. It will all be okay."

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Monday, January 14, 2008

Because there is nothing else to do

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I'm having a bad mom day. No, I'm not a bad mom. I think I actually gave them something to eat this morning and I might have peeked behind a diaper or two to check for an e.t.a. on the next major poop blowout. From the look and smell of things I have about 10 minutes tops. It's just that I'm having one of those days when I don't want to make a pretend dinosaur world, sing "the wheels on the bus" or even practice my letters! I don't feel like reading "If you give a Pig a Pancake" ten times and I don't care that Barbie can't find her shoes. I just want to watch "The Price Is Right" and laugh at the college guy who just won a dining room set and a year's supply of Fiber Sure. You know he was hoping for a car!! *snort*

The kids are home from school today. The sky decided to take a huge dump on us last night and we woke up to this... taken this morning...5 inches and 6-8 more expected during the day!

Nice! Now I'm going to be trapped inside with the 3 little monkeys who at this very moment are probably upstairs jumping on the bed. What do you bet in a few short seconds someone will indeed fall down and bump their head? Maybe they will be knocked unconscience? Oh well, that'll be one less kid running with scissors later this afternoon! Damn, someone ought to nominate me for mother of the year! Just kidding I watch them every second. Hold on, let me give them some matches so they can enterain themselves for a bit :-)

I plan on having a mellow day. I've cleaned the house top to bottom over the last few weeks and aside from a load of laundry there isn't much else to do. I'm sure I could find something, but if Howie finds out he might have me committed for OCD. Apparently, organizing his socks in colored rows and alphabetizing his underwear by brand is considered "over the top". What? It's not like I made out a card catalog for the damn things! No really, I told him I did that just to mess with his head. He only wears Hanes so it's not like it was brain surgery!

I'm glad I'm off the hook to bring Mamaw over today. She's kinda been on my nerves lately and I need a break. She has this damn watch that pings at every hour. It's like a talking grandfather clock except with the low batteries it sounds more like a drunk old woman. She monitors everything I do around here and takes mental notes.

"BING, it's 1:00" pm: Licha goes to the bathroom
"BING, it's 1:03" pm: Licha wipes her ass
"BING, it's 1:05" pm: Licha washes her hands before putting them around my neck and strangling the daylights out of me! Geesh, I swear I want to take that watch and run over it a few times with the minivan!

I know I complain, but I really love the old lady. Plus, I suppose I should be nice to Mamaw. After all, the last few visits to our house haven't exactly been a picnic for her. First, she got lost. I should say that someone LOST her. What is it with people losing Mamaw?? First American Airlines lost her. Now the dial-a-ride people lost her. Sometimes she uses a ride service that drops her off right in front of our garage. It's never been a problem but this last week they dropped her off at the wrong house! It was a new driver who apparently didn't know his right from his left. She called me and said she was waiting outside. I was surprised because I didn't hear the beeping of the van when it drives in reverse. I went out to get her and she wasn't there. She had given the dude the right address but she was nowhere to be found. I asked her if she was sure it was our street and she thought it was. So Bear and I had to walk through the neighborhood calling out her name like she was a lost puppy. Thankfully I found her a few houses down. She was fondling the neighbors bushes in an attempt to find out where the hell she was.

Secondly, the other day Birdie went to get a cup out of the dishwasher and didn't close the door. Mamaw was walking across the kitchen for a coffee refill and SLAM! She tripped over the dishwasher and landed right on her chin. Luckily, there was no blood but it did look like someone had punched her in the face. She said a few nasty comments and I'm pretty sure she used the lords name in vain. Or maybe it was my name, I forget which. Probably both! By the way, if any of you are in the market for a new dishwasher, definitely buy Kenmore. Apparently they make dishwashers that can withstand the weight of a blind old grandmother who weighs comfortably in the 200s. The dishwasher door is a little crooked but no major damage.

Well, I should take off. The stench of diaper poop is filling the air and without the ability to open a window without the boogers freezing to the children's faces, I must take care of the smell before it soaks into the furniture and curtains. The blanket of snow outside, while quite nice, creates a dutch oven of sorts when there is stench and we can't open windows. I hope you all have a great monday!

Sunday, January 13, 2008

Daydreaming About Cheese

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Well, it's day 13 of my "Skinny Bitch" vegan diet. I can say this for sure: I'm getting skinny but I'm getting pretty bitchy too! This is some hard shit to do. The other day I drove past a farm and almost stopped to chew through a couple of cows!

Meat is one thing, but what I'm missing the most is dairy. I desperately want to eat eggs and have a large cup of milk. I've been drinking soy milk but it just doesn't quite hit the spot! I also miss cheese. You never know how much you love something until it's gone. Ah, cheese. My love, I miss you so!!

The first few days brought intense cravings, headaches and lots and lots of pooping. On the flip side I got a burst of energy so intense that I felt like I was bouncing off of the walls. Boing, Boing, Boing! In the morning I spring up out of bed with my eyes wide open, mind racing and body ready to run a marathon. WOW! It's some intense stuff. The rush is stronger than any caffeine I ever had. It's also stronger than speed. Don't ask how I know. Lets just say that I never slept much when I was in high school and leave it at that!

I've lost 6 pounds and feel incredible. I'm full of energy and while I do get bitchy at meal time without meat, I am very happy and a bit frisky too! Howie better watch out!! Yeah, like he would complain!

I also did another spinning class. Like I said, I'm not about to punk out. I told Howie about all of the trouble I was having and he started in with his advice. I was like, "what do you know about biking". He then tells me that he used to do 100 mile races and he has much advice to offer. And I'm all, "okay Yoda, why didn't you fill me in with this wealth of knowledge BEFORE I went to my first class". I'd only been talking about the damn class for 3 weeks. Why didn't it occur to him to offer some wisdom then? This just goes to show that while he pretends to hear what I'm saying, he's not listening. I know this because anytime I have bad news to tell I say that I want to talk about "feelings" and I lose him in 2 minutes. I then spill the bad news and he is none the wiser. Most days I have to keep repeating the words "blow job" just to keep his attention. That or the occasional boob flash. Even those tactics don't always work. Maybe I should try " look, chili cheese fries" as the catch phrase. He'd be all ears!

Anyway, he went out and bought me some biker shorts and I used some different shoes. My second class went much better. I completed the full hour and did about three quarters of the pushes (riding uphill off of the seat). I was still dripping in sweat but at least this time I had a bigger water bottle and a towl. It was hard work but felt amazing! Much better and even a little fun!

I've decided to give this vegan thing 6 weeks. If I feel this good and have lost more weight I will stick with it for 3 months. After that I will re-evaluate and go from there.

I know that many of you have decided to diet as a new year's resolution. What diets are you trying? How is it going? Are any of you vegan?

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

When The Street Lights Come On

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When I was five years old I used to have the time of my life. I rode my bike, I made mud pies, I collected insects, I built forts and chased my friends for hours! I was always covered in dirt but I was a happy energetic kid who loved to entertain herself. I played make believe and made up fantasy worlds.

On Saturday mornings I would catch a few cartoons, eat some breakfast and head out the door in such a rush that I barely heard my mom tell me to "come home when the street lights come on." When we lived on the farm I would throw myself into hay barrels and chase after the animals until the sun went down.

The reason for this trip down memory lane is because Birdie now wants the priviledge of playing outside by herself. It's a perfectly
reasonable request. After school she wants to be able to go outside and blow off some steam. It's better than sitting in the house playing computer games or watching T.V., right?

I'm having a hard time with this. I don't really want her out alone, but I can't always be out with her. I have 2 other kids to contend with and dinner to cook and things to do. I love to play outside with her and do as much as possible but on those times I can't, I don't want to force her to stay indoors just because of me or her siblings.

On one hand I feel like it's no problem. I've talked to her about
stranger danger and she knows to come running into the house at the first sight of a strange car or person. Plus, we have a huge driveway, about 300 yards, so it's not like she's playing close to the street. We are in a neighborhood, but tucked in behind some houses so there is a safety net. She knows not to venture from our property and always goes outside with the dog as her companion. I also leave a window or garage door open so that she can call for me if she needs help. I also trust her. She's a good kid who is careful. For example, tonite Howie drove a friend's car home because he let them borrow his truck. When he came up the driveway, Birdie made a beeline into the garage and came inside to tell me that there was a stranger in the driveway.

I believe that children need to be given a certain amount of
independence. It's good for her to be outside with her friends, riding her bike and playing in the fresh air. Most days I'm out there with her, but I'm starting to cramp her style.

I don't want to be one of those crazy overprotective mothers who smother their children. I think that if we don't give our kids an opportunity to be on their own, they learn that they cannot be trusted and lose confidence in themselves. I want to give my kids age appropriate independence from time to time. I think it's the right thing to do.

But... I AM a mom and mothers tend to worry. I'd hate for anything to happen to her while she's out playing on her own. My head races with a million things that could go wrong. She falls and busts her head open. Someone is lurking in the trees and snatches her away. She wanders off and we can't find her. A rabid monkey swings out of the woods and beats her over the head with a stick. You know, ANYTHING!

I worry because it's my job to worry. It's also my job to protect her
from everything. Except I can't protect her from EVERYTHING. That's just the nature of life. I must accept that my duty is to teach her how to protect herself to the best of her abilities. I need to arm her with knowledge and common sense and a gumption for self preservation. I must teach her to value herself and to trust her instincts. In general, I need to prepare her for the world.

When I was younger my parents never had to deal with this problem. They told me to go outside and play and come in when it got dark. Heck, I never came home except to eat and most days I didn't even do that! I went where the wind blew me and peed in the wind too! It was like that for Howie as well. He regails stories of playing on railroad tracks and fishing for frogs and playing hopscotch in the back allies with his friends. That's what kids did back then.

But we have become a society of fear. I listen to the nightly news about child abductions and animal attacks and freak accidents and it all makes me skerd! Plus, it seems like to be a "good" parent these days you have to keep close tabs on your kids. One time I was in the garage cleaning while Birdie was in the driveway riding her bike. I was watching her, hell she was only 2 feet away from me but the neighbors couldn't see me. They could only see her and thought she was alone. I received a phone call. A not so friendly phone call telling me what a crap mother I am for allowing my child to be unattended. I knew I was in the right, but it did enlighten me to what people thought was "proper care" for my children. I also learned I was being watched.

Personally, I don't believe that I have to watch my children every
second of the day. Many times Birdie plays upstairs in her room alone, Bubba wanders the play room while I'm taking a shower or Bear sits in her crib alone playing with a toy while I take the laundry out of the dryer. They don't need to be attached to me every second of the day.

Anyway, I'm getting long winded here so I will pose these questions to you. Do you think children should be allowed to play outside alone? At what age? If you are older, did you allow your children freedoms that you wouldn't allow to your grandchildren? Why? Do you think that children need a little independence or should they be closely monitored at all times?

My Dirty Little Secret

During the last few days, I have been indulging in a dirty little secret of mine. I'm embarassed to tell you all what it is upfront so give me some time to warm up and feel comfortable.

Lets just say that I've been doing dirty things. Filthy, nasty things that nobody talks about and make most people squirm.

I've been on my knees.

I've been on my back.

I've been contorted in positions that don't show off my most flattering parts.

I've sweated.

I've ached.

And I'm sore.

I've never shared this disgusting side of myself with you because I've been afraid to be judged.

I don't tell most people because every time I do I get "the look". They scrunch their noses in disaproval and I'm left to feel like a freak.

Howie frequently enjoys this habit of mine for it gives him great pleasure and makes him feel like the happiest and luckiest man alive.

Okay, I cannot believe I am going to tell you all this....






And during the last few days I have scrubbed, dusted, vacuumed, organized and overall whipped my house into shape. I can't seem to keep still. I've cleaned under the refrigerator and re-arranged furniture. I have washed baseboards and lamp covers. I've disinfected toys and dusted walls and washed windows. I've ironed pillowcases and cleaned plants leaf by leaf. I've vacuumed heating vents and organized drawers and shredded old papers. I've shampooed carpets and scrubbed the oven.

I know..I know...

*covers face in shame*

It's out of control. Please don't judge me.

I think I need help! Luckily, this dirty habit only happens once in awhile. Next week, I will be living in filth!

You guys had your mind in the gutter didn't you??? PERVERTS!

Monthly Memo To Kids: January 2008

1 comment:
To: My motley crue and your dog
From: Your exhausted mother
Re: Daily shenanigans

I believe that children should have choices in order to learn responsibility so you have two options; either pee before we go to the supermarket or pee your pants while we are there. I already have my hands full pretending that your brother isn't mine and trying to keep your sister distracted by letting her throw goldfish crackers at me. The last thing I want to do is drag all three of you to the bathroom while leaving our groceries unattended only to wait 15 minutes with your two screaming siblings while you pee one drop and then declare that it was a false alarm. You've already seen the bathroom of every supermarket and shopping mall in the tri-town area and while we're on the topic of bathrooms, it's not polite to tell someone in a public restroom that they "made this place stink like poop". Yes, it might be "the truth" but sometimes we have to keep our thoughts to ourselves. This also applies to your opinions about your mother too. I'll have you know that I'm not all "that old". I'm still totally rad, dude. I'm like totally awesome and I'll prove it to you by crimping your hair and making you listen to The Culture Club on my old 45 records! Also, we have to have a little talk about this whole "I want to marry my brother" business. I'm pretty sure it's illegal in most states and if you keep calling me "old" I will take a video of you crying because Bubba won't kiss you or hold your hand and then play it at your 15th birthday party. It's funny how at home you want to marry him and be with him forever, but out in public you would sooner eat a bowl of dog poop than claim him as your kin. On a good note, I can't tell you how incredibly proud I am about how well you are reading. The world has opened up to you and it makes me simultaneously scared and excited. I'm enjoying our evenings together cuddled in the pillows and blankets reading story upon story. Even though I am ready to pass out and can barely keep my eyes open after an hour and a half of reading, I don't have the heart to tell you to stop reading. I never want you to stop!

Your head needs to be declared a lethal weapon. I know it's twice the size of your body and probably difficult to balance but you are going to cause brain damange to one or all of your family members with your head butts. Right now, Daddy has a bruise on his chin, Bear has a bump above her eye and mommy has a broken nose due to your flagrant mishandling of your noggin. We might have to start making you wear one of those rubber protective hats....for OUR protection, not yours!!! Of course, you might need protection of your own when I open up a can of whoop ass on you for all the whining! I know you learned this from your sister, but haven't you noticed that she never gets her way? Learn from her mistakes, buddy and save yourself from doing time in solitary confinement. I've heard it changes a man. The forced vomiting you did the other day didn't keep you from avoiding a bath now did it? In fact, it got you in the tub even faster! By the way, tubs are not made for peeing. At the very least cut me a break and pee before I fill it up so that I can easily spray and rinse it out before putting you guys inside. After tubbie time you must wear clothes and when I say clothes I don't mean your Halloween dinosaur costume. The thing was a size too small to begin with, and now it's just plain skin tight. It's filthy and I'm afraid to wash it and have it shrink another size. You have to stop wearing it and you definitely cannot wear it to preschool. It's bad enough that I sent you to school in your Lightning McQueen pajama top the other day. The only reason I let you wear it was because the bus was outside honking and I was in a rush. I'm very sorry about that morning honey. What can I say? We were short on time....I needed a shower, you needed a bath and I figured I would kill two birds with one stone. Sorry you had to shower with me and I hope you didn't have too many nightmares after what you saw. Don't worry, I set aside a separate bank account for any therapy that you might need later in life.

Why is it that you can let boogers run down your face but when I got to wipe you beat me to the punch and then instantly rub the gook into your eyes and mouth? It's gross, stop it! I never knew that a 14 month old could ask so many questions. "Waas sat?" has become your mantra and you never seem to accept my answers. A ball is a ball. It will be a ball the first and the 40th time you ask. Even though you ask more questions than an investigative reporter on crack, I am thoroughly enjoying how your personality is in full bloom. It's like you suddently woke up to the world and you are bursting with charisma. I especially like how you are obsessed with the telephone. You will talk into anything that looks at all like a phone. Just yesterday I saw you having an angry conversation into the tivo remote. I can only assume that you received a nasty phone call from a persistent telemarketer trying to sell you a second warranty on your little tykes car or perhaps you failed to make payment on your Barbie Visa card. Who knows, but you sure gave whomever it was a serious piece of your mind!

Look dog, I know you love me and I love you too but we seriously have to start seeing other people....or animals. You mght be man's best friend but you are quickly becoming woman's worst enemy with your constant stalking. It seems like everywhere I turn, there you are, under my feet. I have to step over you all day long and anytime I sit down you plop yourself right on top of my feet as if to trap me so I have to pet you. God forbid the phone ring and I have to spring up quickly to answer because when I tell you to move you look at me like I just asked you to recite the Gettysburg Address. Not only that, when I get frustrated and decide to just step over you you suddenly think it's a good time to stand up and knock me over in the process. You're smothering me, dog!

Everyone, all children dog and cat need to take note that smothering is against house rules. This house is 3600 square feet. It's big, trust me I know, I have to clean it! There is plenty of room to spread out and many rooms in which to disperse. Why is it that when I am cooking dinner I have all three children running circles around me, the dog lying on top of my feet and the cat swatting at my apron strings? I know I'm irresistible and all, but please....give mama some breathing room and go run amok in another room, preferably in the family room where your father is playing xbox :-)!

This memo will be posted in every room of the house. Birdie, now that you can read you have no excuses. As for you other two, I'll spell it out in alphabet soup during your next meal. And Spencer, well I dont' speak dog so unless the cat can translate, you're shit out of luck!

Friday, January 4, 2008

A Dead Dinosaur

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Today Bubba's remote control dinosaur died. He ran out of batteries and for the first time since Christmas the house is silent from growls and moans and screeches that could make the paint chip off of the walls.

I really need to change the batteries. But part of me wants to spare myself and tell the boy that the dinosaur is actually broken and will never growl again.

Thursday, January 3, 2008

Sit and spin

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I don't know what ever possessed me, but I had this great idea to take a spinning class.

Normally, the spinning classes are later in the morning so when they offered a 5:45am class, I jumped at the opportunity. It's an hour long class and with any luck I can be home by 7:15 to get Bubba ready and on the bus by 8:15.

Today was my first class.

What the hell was I thinking?

For starters, I'm not that big of a cyclist. A swimmer, a jogger, but not a cyclist. In fact, I normally only do the stationary bike twice a week and only for 15-30 minutes at a time. I thought that I needed to add something different to my routine, something new and exciting and figured that since I work out all the time, I would be in somewhat good shape. Not so much as it turns out!

First of all, as soon as I walked into the classroom I could not help but notice that these spinning bikes look nothing like bicycles or stationary bikes. The looked to me rather like some kind of mechanical torture machines with their skinny little seats and bars of steel. They looked very menacing and left no room for comfort or sloppiness.

Then there was the matter of my classmates. I had mistakenly thought that since it was the new year, there would be many newbies eager to spin themselves into shape so I wouldn't be the only newbie. Again, not so much. It was me (the fat girl) and two extremely buff cyclists. One was a woman who looked like she stepped of the cover of In Shape magazine and from the look of things I could tell she meant business. She walked in with her two bottles of gatorade, put on her special spinning shoes that lock into the bike petals and started spinning faster than I knew possible.

I thought it was just her and me and I was feeling pretty relieved until a dude walks in. Now they're double teaming me. Mocking me with their perfectly sculpted bodies and spinning away at 100 miles per hour while chatting about their weekend run and scarcely breaking a sweat.

I, on the other hand, was trying to focus on my breathing.

I started off strong although my thighs felt the pain within seconds on the bike. I kept a good pace, kept my arms loose and tried to pull in my abs. It was a good strategy until we hit the hills. Holy mother of GOD!!! I was not prepared for the burning. My thighs felt like they were on fire! Just as I was about to collapse to the floor the instructor, or as I like to call her "mistress of pain", assures us that "this will be an easy class today, only 10-15 hills to go".




Kill me now, kill me now!! Meanwhile, Barbie girl and Lance Armstrong over there are complaining that it's "the easiest class they've taken".

After about 25 minutes I started to notice that not only were my legs on fire, so were my girly parts. I should have expected it, the seats were only like 5 inches long and 3 inches wide!

Pedal, ouch
Pedal, ouch

More hills. I'm dripping in sweat and suddenly realize that my 16 oz bottle will not come remotely close to hydrating me through this class.

At 35 minutes my feet started to go numb but that was okay because they matched my legs, thighs and part of my torso. I was sweating in every crevice and found a few sweat glands I never knew I had.

The music changed and for a second I thought we were headed into a cool down but I was not so lucky. More hills, more resistance. At this point I totally pussied out and reduced my resistance and slowed down. I had to in order to breathe. Plus, there was a puddle of sweat forming under my bike and since I was out of drinking water I was trying to conserve as much fluid as possible.

I barely made it past 45 minutes and got dizzy. I think it was from lack of fluid. The room started to spin and I literally slipped off of my bike. It was drenched in sweat and my hands slipped off and I nearly smacked my head on the handle bars.

Mistress of pain told me to relax a bit and she got me some water. I felt better after about 10 minutes and was able to finish out the class and do the stretches. Afterwards, Barbie and Lance sprung from their bikes and jogged down the hallway as if they had just had an hour long massage. Me? I knew the hospital was next door and I was wondering whether our new insurance would cover an ambulance escort home.

I did feel wonderful after I was able to catch my breath and stretch a bit but that was the most pain I've endured since giving birth! I'm not going to let those bikes make a wus out of me, I'll be there next week trying my best to get through the whole class. It's my Mount Everest and I'm going to spin my way to the top, even if it takes me 6 months to do it!

Have you ever taken a spinning class? Got any tips for me? What the hell are diaper shorts? (Someone suggested buying some for the spinning class)

Just call me Quasimoto

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One of my biggest insecurities is that I believe that I have crooked ears. I say "I believe" because nobody else that I point this out to has the guts to tell me that I look like Sloth from "The Goonies".

I do, I really do.

It's a fact, but it doesn't bother me all that much. When I was younger I always wore long hair that would cover my ears but now I could care less. It's me and I love me :-)


I cannot afford any more deformities!!!

So I was not pleased last night when Bubba decided to smack me in the face with his big fat head! The boy has an unusually large head for a small child. And it's hard as hell. When I was pregnant with him he would move that big fat head around and smack me right in the pelvis. He actually partially fractured my pelvis from all of the head banging he did on my innards. Damn kid!!

Last night, Howie and I were laying in bed talking...okay, kissing when in walks Bubba and climbs in bed right between us. We started tickling him and playing with him and in his fit of excitement he flung his big fat head back full force into my nose.

I heard a snap.

Then the bleeding commenced.

Then the pain....OHHH the pain!!!

My face instantly started to swell and it hurt, hurt, hurt. Howie got me an ice pack and I sat there hoping that I would not be deformed beyond recognition. The pain radiated through my sinuses, into my eyes, and even down into my teeth and ears.

Howie suggested we go the E.R. but I was too chicken. I told him I would be fine and hoped for the best. This morning it looked like I had been in a fighting match with Mike Tyson and while the swelling has gone down, it still hurts and looks like hell. You bet your ass I am not posting pictures of my bruised and broken nose.

Between my crooked ears and broken nose and a patch of fat on my back, you may as well start calling me Quasimoto. I told Howie he should build a bell tower on the 4th floor and leave me there so I won't scare the kids! He can let me out once a year for Halloween when for a small cover charge, the neighborhood children can come and poke me with a stick!

Go ahead, laugh at my pain!

I do have to say that my sweet baby boy felt so bad. Right after it happened my eyes started to water uncontrollably and he thought I was crying. He hugged me and kissed me and said he was so sorry. I felt terrible that he felt so bad, but how sweet is he?? He loves his mommy, no matter how deformed I am :-)

Happy New Year to you all!!!

After accidentally bumping her head with my own...

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"Ouch! Butt head!"
"No honey, I think you mean head butt"