it was bound to happen

With all of the gratuitous kibble and petting and squealing with hysterical glee when she sees her, it was bound to happen--my idiot dog now has a new mistress and her name is Annabelle.

It rained today, and so the wretched cur was inside. Bella is her name. Anyway, my idiot dog Bella and my sweet child and I were all in the nursery. Bella, then Annabelle and then me were all cuddly on a daybed I have in there. I was reading (with my current malady reading sounds like this: goo nigh womb, goo nigh moon, goo nigh cow jump ovah da moon) and the dog was pestering Annabelle. Licking her and bothering her. I am always worried that she will scratch Annabelle with her claws by accident, so I moved Annabelle to the other side of me, thinking that the dog just wanted to be closer to me. Wrong. She got up and went to the other side of me where I had put Annabelle and that's when I noticed she was licking her hand--and in idiot dog language this means "come on already! Pet me!!." She was also trying to snuggle up with her. Disloyal mongrel.

Of course, the new mistress has some behavioral problems to deal with. The dog was taking some of her toys and trying to eat them and Annabelle was following her around wagging her finger at her and saying "no, no, no, no dog."

Next week I will make the transfer of title official by teaching her how to scoop poop.

hand foot and mouth disease

So last week Annabelle was a little under the weather. She wasn't eating, she had a lot of drool, she seemed tired, but otherwise okay, so I didn't take her to see the doc. Oh, and my friend asked me "what's that rash on her face?" My response? "Hmm." Sometimes she has a little rash on her face, especially if I don't wipe it after eating. Turns out it was hand foot and mouth disease. And now I have it. The feet and hands are no big deal. It's the mouth that is killing me. Blisters the size of nickels--5 of them--under my tongue. The pain is unbearable. I am taking liquid lidocaine. I can't eat. I can't talk. I sound like Marlee Matlin. After careful consideration, I would choose childbirth over this. It would be over by now and I would have a baby to show for it. And after you have the baby they give you pancakes and if you live in Texas, people bring bar-b-que to the hospital. Instead I have a blister that if you look real carefully, you will see the profile of a Roman soldier--the kind with a helmet and a plume on it. Definitely not cute and cuddly. And forget about the bar-b-que.

Thankfully Hyphen is being cool about it. Helping out and not teasing me too much. He's only asked me if I am going to start washing my hands about 15 times. I do wash my hands. Just not compulsively like some people.

But on the bright side because I haven't felt like eating for a couple of days, I am now back down to the danger zone for my weight. I have the following scale: Acceptable (but still need to lose 15lbs.), Danger zone, fat zone, orca zone (a.k.a the splash zone) and then finally the Oprah zone. I was a card carrying member of the book club two weeks ago when I decided to stop drinking sweet drinks. I generally have one soda or several glasses of sweet tea a day. For me not having sweet drinks means only having them twice a week. I got down to the orca zone and now I am comfortably in the fat zone, but as soon as I can eat again I am going to get some chicken nuggets from Wendy's and put a lot of salt on them, so the danger zone might be a short lived phenomenon.

In the sunshine, in the shadow

Stop what you are doing right now and go hug your babies. Go hug your babies and then go and hug someone else's baby. And if you don't have babies of your own, or if they are grown, hug three teenagers, even though they are difficult people, teenagers especially need hugs because they have acne, angst and puberty. And then give them a compliment, or even better brag about them to someone else, where they can hear it. I did that today. I was at the library at story time and a little girl climbed into my lap. It is summertime and that means story time is crazy full. There is a daycare that drops off all of these sweet little kids-- it is the kind of daycare where 12 year olds are in the same class with 2 year olds and this little girl was one of the littlest ones. "Mean," she said, as she pointed to another little girl.(thankfully not annabelle) "Was she mean to you?" I asked. She nodded. "Do you need a hug?" I asked. A second nod. So I gave her a little cuddle. And she sat in my lap until it was time for her to leave. "Do you need a hug for the road?" I asked. Another nod. Annabelle was totally non-plussed about the lap sharing. She was too busy playing with trucks.

Today I went to a funeral of a beautiful girl. A beautiful girl. A girl who I know got lots of hugs, but like the preacher said, lost the battle she had been fighting against herself. The preacher said not to look back, and he was right. Look forward, and do something. So I am going to hug on kids--tuck a little love in whenever I can. You might be the only adult that gives someone a cuddle that day and a good hug has some staying power and its memory can cheer you up when you are feeling blue. I have personal knowledge that this is true--my little friend's hug still felt warm and wonderful during the euology.

So turn off your computer and tuck some love in. Go hug those babies.

Annabelle Capulet?

So there he was again. I swear this punk is stalking me. We were in the dressing room of the Y and who walks in? Turd-kid, of course. And his mom. He had just finished his swim class and we were heading to ours. It might have been because he was naked and so was Annabelle, but we had a mini-truce and therefore a somewhat civilized conversation.

Me: "hey kid, where's your bike?"

Turd-kid: "it's at home. I am swimming. I am going to be a good swimmer, like my poppa."

Me (struggling to put a 17 month old baby in a 12 month old suit): "I am sure you will."

Turd-kid: "where's your suit?

Me: (still struggling with the suit) "it's under my clothes"

Turd-kid: "Are you going to swim with her? My mom doesn't have to swim with me. I swim by myself."

Me: (one arm in, now jamming the other one) "that's good for you."

Turd-kid's mom: (who has watched me struggle with the 12 month old suit) "You know what I did? I bought a bikini for my daughter and just used the top and put a swim diaper on the bottom." (Note: of course you did. I get seriously creeped out by babies in bikinis and this woman is also one of my nemesises/nemisi)

Finally, I got her suit on!

Turd kid: "She looks so beautiful and cute!"

Watch it there Romeo.

Back in the olden days, circa 1982

Sometimes I get to wondering just what the heck kind of mom am I? In some respects I am very old school. There is no tolerance for playing with food in our house. The cell phone is not a toy. Tantrums are endured, but not endearing. We wear pajamas at night and change into clothes in the morning and we never go anywhere in our diaper. But in other respects, I am the mom that forgets her diaper bag, never has a snack, and let's her child get dirty--really, really dirty. I was thinking about this while I was at Kroger. They were handing out cookies. The cookies were butterflies with pink sprinkles on one side and were dipped in chocolate on the other. Without thinking, I grabbed one and gave it to Annabelle. As I was shopping I started to think about how when Audrey and I were kids they didn't really give out cookies, and when they started to, it was a rare occasion when we could have one. My mom cooked almost every night and she did make snacks. Back in those days, she believed in healthy eating and our snacks would be carrots sticks that she cut (not baby carrots, they didn't have those yet, or if they did, she didn't buy them) and celery sticks. She would have them in the fridge with ice chips on top. There was no ranch dressing back in 1982. You just ate them. Plain. And you liked it, dammit. If there were ever cookies in our house, they were oatmeal and hard as a rock. But they were good for you. My mom never made cupcakes and that alone has scarred me for life. Of course, that was before she turned 50, before she turned 60, and before she got cancer. Now she believes in cheese enchiladas and that this is DQ country after all, and you should go ahead and have yourself a blizzard.
I was mulling all of this as Annabelle enjoyed her cookie--enjoying it to the point that people were laughing at her chocolate covered mouth. (I intended on taking a picture of that mouth but somehow on the drive home she figured out how to lick it all off)I was at Kroger's to get a last minute item for the supper Hyphen was cooking. It was 5:30. And my daughter was eating a sugar cookie.
I of course didn't have one. I didn't want to spoil my dinner. Old habits are hard to break.

one of the hazards of having a girl

The children's clothing industry has decided that girls should just look cute. They shouldn't play and certainly not in dirt, dog kibble or water. They should wear dresses with smocking and things with ribbons and bows. And everything should be pink. Apparently, my mother is the ceo of the children's clothing industry. The height of silliness occurred last week when I was looking for some water shoes. I was going to visit my sister-in-law in Dallas where they have a killer kiddie pool. But she needed water shoes, which I knew would be hard to find because Annabelle has freakishy small feet. First, I went to some snooty European children's shoe store in the post oak area where the lady didn't even look up when I asked if they had water shoes for babies. So then I thought, "what the heck am I doing here? I just need to go to my mother-ship." So I headed to Target. I got to the baby shoe area and passed by the boys aisle where saw some Teva-like sandals in navy blue. Perfect, just one more aisle over and I'll get them in pink (hey, I like pink, I am not immune to girlie things, read on). So I go to the next aisle and............. you've got to be kidding me. Sequins. Silver and pink sequins. Ballet shoes. Complicated looking sandals. And tiny whore shoes with tiny whore heels. But no water shoes. Not even shoes that you could eat kibble in

Where are the shoes for this girl?

superman and lex luthor at the spark park

He was there tonight. I saw him eyeing me suspiciously. I kept my cool and after a few minutes he came up to me. Hyphen and my idiot dog were with me tonight, not exactly back up, but witnesses nevertheless. This was our tense exchange.

Turd-kid: "I got a new bike."

Me: "really? well fancy that, a new bike-- how nice for you."

Turd-kid: "she can't get on it, it's too big." (seriously, this kid said this, what is with him???? Why must he torment me??? and just to make sure he was talking about Annabelle I replied....)

Me: "who?"

Turd-kid: "your baby girl." (oh snap, you did not say that!!!)

Me: "well, it's big, but if she likes it, she will find a way to get on."

Turd-kid: "why does she like my stuff?"

Me: "I really don't know."

We left it at that and he ran off to play. Hyphen was standing next to me. "That was him," I told Hyphen, "that was my nemesis. Look at him. He's staring at me. He knows it. He knows we are enemies" Hyphen gave me a weird look and walked away. That was okay. I still had Bella, my best friend, my trusty companion--she can at least intimidate him by licking the little turd or wagging her tail at him.

Oh, and Annabelle totally tried to get on his bike.

The first lie?

It began like this--

Me: "Annabelle, is that kibble in your mouth?"

Annabelle: "Nooo."

The evidence, however, was indisputable. She was by the kibble bucket, there was kibble all around the floor and kibble in her hand. As sure as God made green onions, she was eating kibble.

But was the evidence indisputable? Was it her intent to lie? With her limited verbal skills, the answer to almost any question is no, to wit this exchange--

Hieu: "Annabelle do you love your papa?"

Annabelle: "Noooo."

Hieu(panicked): "what?"

Me: "She says that for everything. Watch this-- Annabelle, do you love your ba-pa?" (grandpa, who is her favorite person in the world)

Annabelle: "nooooo."

Hieu:(relief) "oh thank god."


So maybe no sometimes does mean yes. It's not like I was going to take the kibble away from her, she eats it all the time, so there was really no reason to lie. Right? At any rate, you can tell what she hears a lot. Super great parenting on my part.

daddy's home

This was what my evening was like between the hours of 6p.m-8p.m.

Hyphen on swimming:

Me: "hey, let's go swimming tonight."

Hyphen: "I don't like to go swimming because when I do I feel like there is pressure surrounding my body."

Me: "you mean like, water pressure?"

Hyphen on the park:

Hyphen: "Annabelle, don't run on that bridge, it's dangerous. Annabelle not that slide, it's too high. Annabelle, you are covered in mosquitoes. Annabelle you are scaring me when you run on that bridge, you are going to fall. Dude, aren't you scared that she is going to fall?"

Me: "not really. Maybe we should put her behind a glass case, so she'll never get hurt, bit or dirty."

Hyphen: "I wish we could."

Hyphen on mosquitoes:

Hyphen: "dude there are mosquitoes everywhere. Aren't they bothering you? We are going to get malaria. I am from a foreign country, you people don't understand mosquitoes like I do."

Hyphen on being a Virgo:

Me: "Annabelle, maybe we should have a little Virgo baby so daddy can have someone to pal around with."

Hyphen: "No, we would just complain all the time and annoy each other."

Now, that I can agree with.