My Precious Butterfly

“All the precious time…

…like the wind…

…the years go by…

…precious butterfly…

…spread your wings…

…and fly.”

Happy 4th Birthday, Funny Girl.

My heart is in your hands.

It’s HOT!!!

If you’re tempted to take a trip to the sauna, just hop on a plane and come on over to Virginia.  What happened to June?  June is supposed to be warm, temperate, tolerable.  100 degrees and 90 percent humidity is not June, it’s AUGUST!  Which makes me extremely fearful of what kind of weather we’ll be having then!

So, if you’re wondering where I am, I’m either at the pool or I’ve melted somewhere between my computer and the mailbox.

Tight Squeeze

During the past 11 years of my marriage, two things are certain: I will never learn to cut the lights off, and Doug will never completely finish a tube of toothpaste before throwing it away. (A couple of months ago, I removed one of these aforementioned tubes from the trash and was able to brush twice a day for a week!) This morning, I opened the toothpaste drawer to find NO TOOTHPASTE. I went to the trash can and saw that the very last tube of toothpaste in our house had been tossed away to an early grave.

Now, on to our breakfast table conversation this morning:

Doug: Sure would be nice to be able to brush our teeth this morning, wouldn’t it, guys?

Me: (*grinning from ear to ear*) I brushed my teeth.

Doug: (*Oh, no, here we go expression*)

Me: I took a perfectly good tube out of the trash can and had no problem squeezing enough out to brush my teeth.

Funny Girl: Did you wipe it off after you took it out of the trash can?

Me: Yes, honey.

Doug: Well, that was nice of you to think of yourself, honey. The rest of us will just use water.

Me: I’ll have you know that there’s enough in that tube for the rest of you. You like to get on me about leaving the lights on, but you waste more money on throwing out that toothpaste than I waste by leaving a light on.

Doug: (*smiling. no comment*)

Me: (*proud, haughty grin*) Kids, your mommy can squeeze the life out of a tube of toothpaste.

Doug: Yeah, she can squeeze the life out of a lot of things.

Daggone it! I can’t believe I set myself up for that one!

Happy Anniversary

Today Doug and I celebrated our 11th anniversary. “Why are you posting on your anniversary?” you ask. I’ll tell you why. Doug and I decided that a nice, quiet lunch and shopping would be more enjoyable than dinner and a movie. What I didn’t anticipate was the little extra something that must have been in my salad that caused me to spend the past three hours in the lavatory. I’m just now emerging from the fog (no pun intended) to a peaceful, quiet home. Doug decided not to add the noise of three screaming children to my misery, so he took them out for dinner and ice cream.

Happy Anniversary, Doug! I hope we have many, many more…just not like this one

Mouth of the South

Last night the Inquisitor was in the kitchen working hard on a paint-by-numbers Dolphin picture he got over the weekend.  He enlisted Funny Girl to help him by cleaning his paint brushes:

Inquisitor:  Mommy, Funny Girl keeps calling me her “Royal Highness.”

Me:  Well, you’re letting her help you paint.  That makes you royalty in her book.

Inquisitor:  She don’t have no book!

Me:  You mean, “She DOESN’T have ANY book.”

Inquisitor:  I know.  I just like sayin’ it the “Southern” way.

I ain’t got no idea where he gets that from.

I Need Your Advice: Update

Several of you wanted to know the status of the “dog” situation.  Well, after I posted my problem…my problem went away - LITERALLY.  They moved.  I’m not kidding.

I wish all my problems would go away that easily. 

Thought, Interrupted

My mom e-mailed me a funny conversation she had with Funny Girl this morning.  It reminded me of a button I saw the other day:

Grandma: Who is your teacher?

Funny Girl:  You are.  And Mommy and Daddy.

Grandma:  What about Grandpa?

FG:  He doesn’t teach.

Grandma: But he tickles you and brings you popcorn chicken.

FG:  We should call Grandpa “The Chicken Agent” because he always brings me chicken.  Oh, look at that caterpillar!  I want to get it.

Yep.  Short attention span.

The Inquisitor, Defined

As we were riding in the car this morning, I was reminded (once again) of how my oldest son earned his pseudonym: “The Inquisitor.” (As a matter of fact, my very first post from June 2006 dealt with this very subject.) His ability to barrage a person with questions rivals the best journalists in the news industry. The only way I can slow him down is to ask, “What’s your record for consecutive questions asked?” (a line I borrowed from the clip below). Then, in silence, he will sit silently tallying the questions he just asked in an attempt to get an accurate count.

To give you a better idea of what to expect on a typical day with the Inquisitor, I tracked down this clip that pretty much sums it up. Though, I must say, this kid ain’t got nothin’ on the Inquisitor.

I Need Your Advice

We’re having a slight situation in my neighborhood, and I’m afraid I don’t know my rights.  That’s where you come in.

First of all, it’s important to note that their is no leash law in our county.  So…on to business.

About two months ago, a family moved in next door to us.  They have two cocker spaniels (male and female) that are terrorizing the neighborhood.  If my children go outside to play, they run into our yard and bark threateningly, circling around them yapping their little heads off.  I now have to go outside with my kids or they won’t play outside.  A week ago they chased my nieces off the bus and scared them to death.  They’ve chased several people that are out for their daily walk or out mowing their lawn.  Doug has talked to the owners, but the situation is not getting any better.  Funny Girl, who was already showing the early signs of canine phobia, is now completely scared to death of ALL dogs - she LITERALLY panics at the sight (or sound) of a dog.

My dad now carries pepper spray with him when he walks.  Another woman in our neighborhood does the same.  I’ve noticed that an avid jogger on our street now runs with a five foot long stick in his hand.

So…what do I do?  How they can just sit in their house (the dogs are only out when they’re at home) and allow this to go on?

Tales from the (not-so) Clean Side

Foreward:

A couple of months ago, Funny Girl had a coughing episode during the night that resulted in the entire loss of the contents of her stomach.  When such episodes occur, the HazMat team (aka “Mommy” and “Daddy”) rush in to disinfect all bedding and individuals that may have been contaminated by any biohazardous fluids.  Bathing is always a part of the decontamination process.

Now, all that being said, I hope you enjoy this evening’s conversation:

As I was tucking Funny Girl into bed this evening, she rubbed my face with her sweet…but sticky, little hand.

Me: Ew!  You are a sticky, stinky girl!  You’re definitely going to need a bath tomorrow!

Funny Girl:  I want to take a bath right now!

Me:  No, it’s late.  You can have a bath tomorrow.

Funny Girl:  Pl-eeeeeeeeaaaase, please can I have a bath right now?

Me:  Tomorrow, honey.

Funny Girl:  (*pausing for a moment*) Then I’m going to throw up in the bed.

Wow.  She must REALLY want a bath!