Tuesday, June 03, 2014

More From Me... (From Back in April)

The good news: The Tater is becoming more and more interested in communicating. The bad news: His "communication" is akin to the screech of a dying moose. He's quite pleased with himself as evidenced by the grin and gurgling giggle he produces after each screech.

Well. The dude at Cane's is certainly excited about his job.

The Kid just brought me a piece of paper and instructions for some very simple origami. Apparently she doesn't know that I was schooled and consequently dubbed hopeless in the art of origami by an origami master in the actual country of origami origin.

T-minus 9 days until I can take The Tater to the kid's club at the gym and go back to my regular
Zumba classes! I'm more excited about it than I am about Christmas.
Yesterday I attended what I thought was going to be a meet-and-greet for local massage therapists at a chiropractic office. I was assured it would be very informal and that I could bring my children. Turns out it was a proper interview with one of the chiropractic practice owners. So, there I was, in the interview with my two children when The Kid shouts at the interviewer, "My mama doesn't do massages anymore because she doesn't have a job!" I'm not holding my breath for a call back.
All this reading about Scotland makes me think about my dad (who served his mission there in the early 60's). We'd always beg him to sing, "Donald Where's Your Trousers" with us. I've just looked up the lyrics, however, and it seems that Paul E. Neff made up some verses of his own...And they're the very best verses of the whole song.
The chiropractic office called! Apparently the other therapists had worse interviews than me...if that's even possible. Either that or they're just really, super desperate.
Happiness is hearing giggles from the bathroom where daddy is giving both babies a bath.
Here I was thinking The Tater was a rolling baby...come to find out he was getting a little (ok, A LOT) of assistance from his older sister.
I'd forgotten how complicated life gets when you are a slave to an infant's nap schedule.
I'm sorry, new job, what's that? Oh, you want me to spend four hours this week massaging fire fighters? I don't believe that will be a problem. (Just as a PS according to the marketing director, the reason she called me back for the job? My nice, firm handshake. Having man hands has finally gotten me somewhere!)
I'm the worst person in the world for picking up the accents and speech patterns of those around me. However, after 7.5 years of living in Texas, I had successfully avoided dropping an improper verb tense. Until yesterday at the fire station when I turned to someone and said, "Naw, he said he don't want one." OH. EM. GEE. Who am I?
Last night I found myself singing The Tater to sleep. And was I singing a nice, soothing lullaby? A church song perhaps? Nope. I caught myself at "....been 'round the world, don't speak the language, but your booty don't need explainin'..." I'm such an awesome mom.
We're starting to look for houses. I may or may not have the tendency to get over-excited about things. This was Husband's advice to me today, "Now baby, I know you're excited, but even if we like a house, we're still gonna want to look at several. Anything is going to be better than the apartment. It's like missionary goggles."
Sometimes, taking the iPad/Kindle away from The Kid is more of a punishment for me than for her.
Sometimes, when it's 4:30am and I've fed and rocked a baby and I look down to see his eyes still open and his little mouth grinning at me, I wish it wasn't generally frowned upon by CPS to put that baby in a sleeper hold.
Went to an Easter egg hunt this morning at the library where we were asked to provide six eggs per child. When we got home, The Kid opened her eggs to find that someone apparently raided the mints at Sonic to stuff their eggs. That's one way to do it, I guess.
Husband and I have been married for over 7 years...last night, The Kid let him borrow her yo-yo. The dude knows yo-yo tricks! What the?! You think you know a person...
After reading books set in the mid to late 1700s, I know one thing for sure: I was meant to be born in a time period and in a country with indoor plumbing. Flushing toilets and the ability to shower whenever I want cannot be overrated.
#1 sign that I'm a horrible mother: I keep forgetting to feed The Tater. It happened last night and twice today. He fusses and fusses and I think, "Good grief, what's wrong now?!" It takes about half an hour before I realize that he's probably hungry. Awesome.
While watching Frozen for the 945th time:

Husband: I don't know why no one else is bothered that he (Kristoff) shares slobbery carrots with a reindeer.
Dear Jason Derulo,

Congratulations! You have been awarded the dubious honor of becoming my musical boyfriend! You are In good company: Shemar Moore (my actor boyfriend), The Rock (my slashie boyfriend [actor/wrestler]), Jamie Fraser (my literary boyfriend), Fredrik Ljungberg (my athlete boyfriend) and Husband (all around sassiest boyfriend).

You're Welcome,
The other day at Target, an old dude was graciously helping me get a cart in which to place my two babies when his pants fell right off and he was standing there in his boxers. He gave me that "ah, well, at least I'll never see you again" look and quickly departed. Well, guess who I ran into yesterday at Jasons' Deli.
The Kid had her first fall-on-the-floor-public-crying-jag today at Chuck E. Cheese. It. Was. Awesome. In other news, I tried to feed The Tater some oatmeal just now and he looked completely and totally betrayed. Neither of my kids are thrilled with my parenting today...
It's so incredibly hard to show sympathy to a kid who geta hurt doing exactly what you just told them not to do.
On my way to my car in the parking lot, I was stopped by a fellow Zumba participant (whom I've never met) and this, "Gurl! You is moving around even in between songs! You kinda look like a chubby racehorse." Uhhhh...thanks?
The packing has commenced...The Kid says, "Don't worry, you can trust me. I will pack my own things!" So far, she has two key chains, a pad of paper, and a bag of chips. Looks like we're set.

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