February 17, 2011 at 8:18 am | Posted in Misc. | 3 Comments
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The King of All Wild Things has suddenly become quite the parrot. I say “cute,” he says “cuuute.” A car honks, he says “bop bop.” The Other Sister says “cheese,” he says “cheesch.” Mike takes the Son of God’s name in vain, he says “Geesch!”


And even though our brains say not to react when a small child uses inappropriate language or else he’ll continue saying it to get a rise out of everyone, our mouths said, “No, Max! Don’t say that!” And thus my almost-two-year-old discovered the power of the word “Geesch.” Great.

But we didn’t hear tiny blasphemous utterances after that one instance, so we thought we were in the clear. So one evening Max and I made our weekly excursion to shop the rhymes-with-spit out of the best grocery store ever. And there we were in the family planning aisle when an older gentleman slowly pushed his cart past us and said hello to Max. Nothing out of the ordinary. I realize how obnoxious this sounds, but my little man truly is pretty darn and people constantly stop to chat with him. It takes us forever to go anywhere in public. Hoodles, the man said hello to Max. And Max looked him in the eye and yelled “Geesch!”

I did my best to keep a straight face and said, “OK, Max, we’ll go get you some cheese.”


Hot For Teacher

June 28, 2010 at 7:56 am | Posted in TV (The Boob Tube) | 9 Comments
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This post might embarrass my husband. But he has never read this blog (true story!), so he probably won’t even know about. He talks about this subject all the time anyway, so I’m not overly concerned. And I have much worse stories I could tell about him (like pretty much every Fiesta tale, for example), so he’s really getting off pretty easy.

I was wracking my brain this morning trying to think of something to write about, when Sid the Science Kid came on. For those of you without little people in your homes, Sid is a wannabe scientist who goes to this really fun preschool with three other kids. Each day they learn all about how something works. It’s actually quite enjoyable.

So why is this important? Because the hubs has a crush on Suzy, Sid’s teacher.

Sid the Science Kid's Teacher Suzy

The Other Woman?

True, Suzy looks a little saucy in this picture. And she’s a great singer. But… she’s not a real person. And even weirder than Mike thinking Suzy is hot is that one of his very good friends, who we shall refer to as “Schmohn,” agrees with Mike that Suzy is hot stuff.

I’m a little creeped out. Ladies, does your husband have an attraction to a cartoon character in a children’s television program? Anyone care to explain this to me?

And I just realized the kind of door I may have just opened. Allow me to clarify. Mike doesn’t have crazy fantasies about Suzy or try to get me to dress up like her or anything . He just comments that she’s hot whenever the show is on. I’m not looking for defenders of furries or anything  like that. And if you don’t know what a furry is, don’t go running to the goggle unless you want your entire day ruined. Trust me.


Why I Work Out In Private

June 14, 2010 at 7:53 am | Posted in Misc. | 4 Comments
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In response to Sarah’s recent post about As Seen On TV fitness products, Tracy suggested I tell you about the time I injured myself during an early morning hotel workout. And I’m sure her only motive behind bringing up this vignette is to serve as a cautionary tale. Because, being her only favorite sister-in-law, she would never want to embarrass me.

A couple of years ago Schmommy bought me a Power Tube, basically a resistance band with handles. And since it folded up pretty small, I figured it would be a great way to keep up with my fitness regimen when Mike and I took a little trip down to Fayetteville. Famous last thoughts.

Our first morning in Fayetteville, I jumped out of bed early to get those endorphins hopping. I put on my yoga pants and tank top and proudly started doing some bicep curls. And while I was thinking about what a lazy bum Mike was for still being in bed and mentally patting myself on the back, the handle broke off one end of my Power Tube and the band snapped me in the arm. Hard. Hard enough to leave an angry welt. Insert your favorite expletive here. Mine starts with F.

And of course, as I’m rubbing my sore arm and throwing the offending Power Tube on the ground, I hear a snicker from the bed. The snicker grows into full-blown laughter. And my beloved says, “I told you you were going to hurt yourself with that thing!”


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