life with WE

Early opening.

Yesterday we had our first swim of the season at Pop and Bonnie's pool.

And our first fits leaving the pool, and our first demands to go back to the pool...

If you were curious, even heated, that water was COLD!  But the chlorine did wonders on Warren's scooter injuries.

Friday fun facts!

I'm opting again today for random, useless facts.  I needed a pick me up after a day of whining, ants, mopping, injuries, more whining, timeouts, laundry, dinner, did I mention the whining?

So here you have it.  Chew on these...

• It is impossible to lick your elbow.  Go ahead and try - I did.  Three times.  I'm not afraid to admit it!
• Maine is the only state who's name is just one syllable.  I need Mike to sing the state song for me to verify that.  ...Connecticut, Delaware...
• Frogs do not drink water.  Even frogs on grills.  I double checked that!  They absorb it through their skin.  Duh!
• Pigs can run a mile in 7 1/2 minutes.  Now I have NO idea if this is true, but if it is, don't I feel worse than a pig?  I don't think I could run that fast if my life depended on it!
• A polar bear's skin is black.  Its fur is not white, it's actually clear.  Dude, I doubled checked this.  It's for real.  Their skin is black, which helps them absorb heat from the sun, and their hair is hollow tubes filled with air.  Bizarre.
• Stewardess is the longest word typed only with the left hand.  It's weird to type a word with only one hand.  Something tells me we could invent a longer word that uses only the left hand.  Someone work on that, okay?
• A raisin dropped in a glass of fresh champagne will bounce up and down continuously from the bottom of the glass to the top.  I don't even like champagne, but I'm so testing this one out.
• The Guinness Book of World Records holds the record for being the book most often stolen from Public Libraries.  Ah but of course.
• It is estimated that 40% of the people at a party will snoop in your medicine cabinet.  Oh I've done it before.  Don't judge me.  But really, this can't be true.  How often do you let people in the bathroom that has all your good stuff in it?  Mainly they use that common hall one, right?
• No word rhymes with month, purple, orange or silver.  What about murple, or fonth?  Never mind.
• It is impossible to sneeze with your eyes open.  I think they'll pop out of your sockets if you do.
• If you keep a goldfish in a dark room, it will eventually turn white.  Proven.  While in college. Got some goldfish, didn't ever turn the light on and left them in the dark area of our living room.  Turned white.  Then floated upside down.  Kids in college should not have pets.  Not even fish!
• Seven million cell phones are dropped in the toilet each year.  Gross! 
• An average of 100 people per year choke on ball point pens.  This made me have a small flashback to a boss I had before who seriously chewed the caps of his Bic pens like it was chaw.  Then he'd start hacking because he had swallowed some tiny piece of plastic.  I yelled at him for it.  Wonder why I never got promoted after that?
• Cat's urine glows under a black light.  True.  Especially in the front room at my old house in Kansas.  It was sick dude.  Sick.
• In most advertisements, the time displayed on a watch is 10:10.  I can't decide if I believe this one or not.
• In Bulgaria, nodding yes means no, and shaking no means yes.  All I can say to that is, well I'll be a monkey's uncle.  And according to various sites, it is the only place where that is true.

PS - Elaine had her first dentist appointment yesterday.  And she absolutely LOVED it.  Sat still, listened, didn't cry - got her teeth cleaned, checked out, and flossed!  Then she was a royal BEOTCH the rest of the day.  I love her though.  Love her.

Yesterday's main event.

Guess what this is?

 

That is part of an injury sustained by my Warren yesterday.

Let's zoom out, shall we?

 

That sweet face, all banged up.  Does he look happy to you?

What about now?

 

Warren met the driveway with his face yesterday.  While riding his scooter.  He also managed to bang up his elbow and re-scrape his bum knee.  It was quite an ordeal as you can imagine. 

I guess this is my introduction to boys and spring/summertime?

Ouch.

That's gonna hurt like a bitch when he showers.  Oh raw skin...

(And of course I took a picture of it.  Dude, I blog AND I scrapbook.  Hello?!?!)

 

It's a good thing I have high self-esteem.

There have been a few instances lately when damage could have been done to my ego.  But I survived it.

Let's see. 

• Last week, Warren asked me how old I was.  When I told him he was 32, 29 he said, "wow, that's pretty old."
• Prior to that, I had to email my actual weight to family members for a weight loss competition.  Suffice it to say, I'm just a scootch over the 125 pounds listed on my driver's license.  Oh to be sixteen again...  I have named my alter ego Big Momma for that competition.
• Elaine came to snuggle me yesterday morning.  When she got under the covers next to me, she said, "mommy, you stink."  What?  You mean I don't smell delicious with morning breath and halls throat when I'm sick?
• At a birthday party on Sunday I was chasing some kids around.  One of the kids wanted my attention.  He got it by yelling, "hey OLD LADY!"  (I'm coming for you Jack.)
• Elaine drew this picture of me on our chalkboard.  Do I really look like a circle with spikey hair?

Now, all of this could send a gal over the edge.  But not so for me.  You know how I love me my zoloft.  And I don't care what those kids say, I'm the bee's knees.  The shiznit.  Da bomb!  I am silly enough to think people pay attention to me when I'm driving the Mountaineer sans children rockin' out to the radio.  I'm one hot momma.  It's good that people don't expect much out of me, appearance-wise. When I shower and put on real clothes, Elaine will tell me I look like Jessie (my sister), "oh so pretty".  Warren assumes it means I'm going somewhere and they'll have a sitter. 

Setting the bar low all while having a kickin' self-image (image, hallucinations - what's the diff?) - that's where it's at.  It's how I maintain my game.

I recommend it for all stinky, circular, spikey-haired old ladies out there!  HOLLA!

Can we just pick an age and stick with it?

Five.  Five is hard.  Two was hard.  As was three and four.  Five.  Now that's a toughie.

Five seems to be a hard age for my War-T.  Well, at least this early five that is.  I think because he can't seem to stick to five.  Daily, his age changes at rapid intervals.  There are times when I feel like he is ten, only minutes later to discover that he's about two and has lost his ability to cope.  It's hard to be a kid.  And sometimes, its even harder to the parent and try to keep up.

For instance, after school yesterday, Warren was this angelic child.  He knew I was sick and offered to do everything to make me comfortable.  He read me books, he got me a blanket - he even offered to get my slippers for me.  When it was time for lunch, he begged to make everyone's.  And was damn proud of himself for creating such a feast for Elaine and himself.  (Hisself?  He and Elaine?  What's the rule there?)  He took the trash out, hauled in the recycling bin, and offered to do laundry.  I mean I was cracking up at the things he was willing to do without my asking.

During rest time, he was more five year old again.  He played quietly in his room for about ten minutes before coming out to ask if rest time was over.  We do this battle every day.  Such is the routine of a five year old and his mother.

He played outside with friends, got freaked out by a dragonfly, then played outside some more.  He was nice to his sister, then he was mean to his sister.  He rode down the cul-de-sac hill at top speed on his scooter.  All typical five year old stuff. 

Then came time for evening baths.  He's moved onto showers, which can I get an AMEN?  AMEN!  But during this shower, he cried because "water is getting into my eyes and making my eyes hot".  I tried to explain/understand but he was too far gone.  Much like a two year old.  Specifically MY TWO YEAR OLD.  After the shower ended, it as all over.  Tears flowed as he remembered that he had hurt his knee, oh two hours ago.  Tears when he couldn't find his milk cup in the fridge.  Tears when his mom lost it and said the kids were going to bed at 7:30.

I could go on and on about five.  But let's just sum it up by saying that it's an age of confusion for the five year old, and his parents.  I'll just try to enjoy the ride - loving the highs and waiting out the lows.  You never know when I'll get a blanket and a story again.

Tball playa!

PS - A very happy birthday to my niece Megan!

Leave a message after the beep. BEEP!

Very busy wallowing in my own pity that is my head cold.

Cannot deal with world, let alone type blog.

Just trying to survive.

Maybe tomorrow?

Perhaps then I can make sentences?

I, I will survive.  Oh as long as I have sinus pills I know I'll feel alive!...

Just grillin with my frog.

This is both an entry and a mythbuster pertaining to frogs.  I know, you are all on the edge of your seat, just waiting to find out what in the world I have to say about frogs, right?

We have this tree frog.  He lives under our grill cover.  Anytime we take the cover off of the grill, he is there.  And he is NOT afraid of us.  Remove the cover and he stays attached to the grill.  Fire it up - still attached.  Grilling in progress - he moves to the side tray that does not have heat, but he's still there.  He never leaves.  Never.  (And I'll admit this fact.  Even though I KNOW that frog is going to be there, each time I move the cover and see him I scream/squeal like a girl and jump.  Idiot.  I am an idiot.)

He's changing colors though.  From a good shade of green to an almost ashy gray.  Is he cooking himself being so close to the heat?

I was worried, yet not worried enough to touch him.  Ewww.  So I brought it up with Mike.  While he was grilling last, he picked him up and moved him to watch him jump.  Sure enough, the insides of his legs were still green.  The rest, gray.  Mike reported this to me, and added, "you know frogs can adjust heat in small doses.  It's true.  If you put a frog in a boiling pot of water, he'll jump out.  But if you put a frog in water and bring the temperature up slowly, he adjusts his body temperature until it's too late and he's cooked."

I questioned this.  I mean if Mike had quoted some dental stat, or given me a floss lecture, I totally would have believed him.  But frogs?!  What the f does he know about frogs?

So of course, I googled it.  Cuz I love the google.  The kids these days, they google.  I found out it is an urban legend.  HA!  Stick to dental facts Mike; we don't watch nearly enough Animal Planet.  According to Dr. Victor Hutchison, it's completely false.  As the temperature increases in a boiling pot of water, the frog will become more active in his attempts to escape the heated water.  If the container size and opening allow the frog to jump out, it will do so.

Therefore, our tree frog surely can't take the heat.  Does this mean we are slowly cooking him to death?  And if so, why doesn't he jump off my grill and get out of dodge?  I don't want him there anyway!

Research found at: http://www.snopes.com/critters/wild/frogboil.asp

Ribbit, ribbit my friends.  Have a hoppy weekend.  Get it, hoppy?  Oh I'm so damn funny.

Backing down from a seven year old.

Otherwise known as, seriously what kind of wimp am I?

Warren went out to play with the neighborhood kids yesterday.  Their newest adventure is to play monster scooter, in which one of them is the monster and chases the others (all on scooters), while growling.  They've been going in and out of my garage on scooters, which didn't bother me initially.  Then they began crashing into things in the garage - each other, my car, tools, Elaine.  You get the idea.  So I made the rule that no scooters were to be ridden in the garage. 

Apparently I'm the only idiot who was letting the kids do that.  I guess that's one of the perks of being the new family on the court.

Anywho, as Warren went out to play yesterday, I reminded him of the rule.  "No scooters in the garage," I called after him.  "I know, I know," he replied.

A few minutes later the doorbell rang.  More kids with a request for Elaine to play.  She had just woken up and dude, she sucks when she wakes up from her nap.  So I told them she'd be out in about ten minutes.

Five minutes later, and the doorbell is ringing again.  It's David from next door.  He and Warren play together the most often, and he's a pretty sweet kid.

D: Um Warren's mom? 
Me: Jenny.
D: Yes, Jenny.  Can you tell me why we can't ride our scooters in the garage?
Me: I sure can.  Because it's too dangerous.  And I don't want you crashing into each other, or my car, or the tools, or my car...
D: But we only crashed into stuff once or twice.  And it's fun.  And we won't do it again.
Me: No, you still can't.  You can chase each other in the street or on the driveways.
D: But...
Me: Well, it's really Mister Mike's rule.  And he's the boss of the garage so we have to follow the rules.
D: Okay.
W: Mommy, if you let us ride our scooters in the garage, I'll give you all my dollars in my bank.
Me: Nice try, Warren.

I can't even stand up to a seven year old.  SEVEN.  I mean, I've come a long way, but clearly, I still have a people pleasing complex.  Blaming my hubby because he's not home.  Loser.

And by the by, I tried the Mad Housewife Cab.  It's not so good I'm sad to report.  Cute, fun bottle, but it has a wicked aftertaste.  More of a bite really.  Boo.  Fun marketing though - like those damn Jenn cocktails.  Cute bottles and package, bad cosmos.

The critique behind me.

So the Cards lost yesterday.  They didn't just lose, they lah-host.  Crappy game baseball wise.  BUT.  Yes, there's a but.  It was a fabulous day.  Sunny, partly cloudy, around seventy degrees.  I was away from my kids in the company of adults, enjoying a jumbo dog with mustard, ketchup and relish, and a large Bud Light in a plastic bottle.  Dude, in my book, that is a damn fine day; even if your team loses.

In addition to the fabulous surroundings, there was free entertainment provided by the gentlemen behind us.  They were consuming a few more Bud Lights than I (no judgment on my party because I HAVE SO BEEN THERE), and were speaking loudly during the game.  They were not rude an obnoxious -  only heckling an ump once as I can recall, and they really didn't curse.  They spent the bulk of their time discussing the players, high definition television, cable versus satellite, and doing people watching.  Specifically, chick watching.  And even more specifically, peroxide-blond chicks with large breasts.

Critiques of the game were along the lines of:

• Dude, Edmonds is playing like a girl.  Sorry, I didn't mean that, really like a three year old.  Yeah, a three year old could play better.
• Comcast cable sucks - that's what I have.  They should call it SHD.  Some high def.  Ha ha ha.
• Oh Thompson.  This guy CANNOT pitch.  He sucks.
• See, I told you he sucks.
• Damn, we cannot hit today!

They bickered about moving into the sun.  They talked about the guy on his cell phone who got hit by a foul ball (which, he DID NOT if they would have paid attention).  And they talked about girls.  "I mean do you see that blond with the rack?  I don't know, I just have a thing for blonds."  One of his friends would mmm-hmm, and the other would say, "I can appreciate that."  I think that part was my favorite.

I can appreciate that.

Dude, so can I.

Overall, good day.  A loss for the Birds, boo.  BUT a hot dog, Bud Light, adult company, great weather, and blond chicks with racks.  I mean what more can a girl ask for?

I can appreciate that.

It's my DAY OFF.

Um yeah. 

Today, I have the day off.  That's right.  My sister Jessie has tickets to the Cardinals game and has invited Mike and I to go.  The stepmom is babysitting.

Did I mention I have the day off?

I AM SO FREAKING EXCITED I COULD PEE MY PANTS.

I need a day off.

Now you all have a nice day, while I have a Budweiser and a hot dog cheering on my redbirds.