"Mommmmmmmmmmm!!! Come in here QUICK!"
(I frantically run from kitchen to living room to see what pressing issue warrants my immediate attention.)
I find her sitting on the couch, her face completely muffled in her shirt, making dramatic gagging noises.
"What's wrong?!" I ask her.
Face still muffled in her shirt, she disgustingly points to her baby brother who is crawling on the floor nearby.
"It's Gav. His breath is TERRIBLE and it's making me gag. Will you please go brush his teeth?"
I bring my nose to the little man's sagging diaper, and my suspicions are confirmed: The culprit of this nauseating smell is actually a poopy diaper, and not a rare case of infant halitosis.
"Honey, it's not his breath....it's his bum!" I state, with a chuckle.
"Well ...can you go brush his bum then???"
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Ava, on old age:
"Momma, I think I've finally realized why old people have to walk with those walkers."
"Really? And why is that?"
"Because it's a long, long walk for them to get to heaven."
...and with that, my heart melted. My little girl says the most amazing things sometimes...and it makes me so proud that her little mind and her little thoughts work in such remarkable, touching, BIG ways.
"Really? And why is that?"
"Because it's a long, long walk for them to get to heaven."
...and with that, my heart melted. My little girl says the most amazing things sometimes...and it makes me so proud that her little mind and her little thoughts work in such remarkable, touching, BIG ways.
Monday, March 22, 2010
And who woulda thought....it figures.
Perhaps Alanis should have added this little anecdote to her infamous ditty-o-ironies in that 1995 hit song...
Jeff impulsively purchased a big-boy cell phone plan last week. (This, after 14 years of a "free" Radio Shack "employee" plan that was no longer making sense financially since he somehow kept going over the "generous" plan allotment of about 12 minutes per month with no free nights or weekends.)
I was very, very proud of him. Way to take the bull by the horns and do something completely impulsive for a change, babe!, I thought.
His weapon of choice? Why a brand spankin' new iPhone 3Gs, of course. And just as immediately as he had signed away his first-born in a binding 2-year agreement with AT & T, he was in love.
iPhone love.
He sat for countless hours on the couch with her, whispering sweet nothings into her speaker. Caressing her soft, silky, touch-screen, app-filled curves with his fingertips. Singingto along with her. Sneaking out to the car with her at night for some alone time. Feeding her chocolate covered strawberries on a bearskin rug, in front of a roaring fireplace.(While elevator-inspired, saxophone renditions of early 90's Boyz II Men songs serenaded them.)
I was beginning to feel like a third wheel in my own house...Tres bizarre.
On day five of this love affair, he drove to work.
It was a Thursday.
And at lunchtime that day, he called me on the verge oftears a very manly breakdown.
Upper management had apparently called an "important" meeting that day. And to paraphrase, it went something like this:
"We know that a bunch of you have iPhones, however they just aren't secure enough for use at our company any more. Having said that, after today, we will be issuing you all...brand new BLACKBERRIES!"
(*this is the part where Jeff's heart stopped beating for a few minutes straight, and he went into a semi-permanent state of shock.)
And just as immediately and as intensely as he had fallen in love in the first place...he began a four-day (and very textbook, might I add,) journey through Kubler-Ross's Stages of Grief.
Stage 1: Denial. "This cannot f**king be happening right now! I mean, come ON! Are you SERIOUS?? I FINALLY cave and get a plan less than a WEEK ago-a plan that allowed me to be fully connected at all times at work, and at home- and now I can't even use the phone!? This is a joke, This is a sick freaking joke....I don't believe it."
Stage 2: Anger. "This is BULLS**T! I am pissed. Seriously. I just spent a week learning and falling in love with the iPhone. I've downloaded all of my contacts. My apps. My music. My pictures. How do they expect me to go from the iPhone to THAT? It's like going from a Lexus to a Kia. Ridiculous, that's what this is. F**king ridiculousness..."
Stage 3: Bargaining. "Ok Trace...Fine. I get it- you are going to get the iPhone and I will one day be okay with that, but can I just spend the rest of the weekend with her? I promise, that's all I need. Just one more FULL day. Let me just use the ridiculously convenient touch-screen Chipotle App ONCE more to order myself a Carnitas burrito without EVER having to take my finger off the screen and/or speak to a live human being...Just ONE more time. Please. That's all I am asking..."
Stage 4: Depression. Well, folks-- this is where we are today. And where we were yesterday. And, come to think of it--the day before that, too. He miraculously seemed to whiz right through stages 1-3, but we are at a standstill here at stage four. As I write this now, he sits sulking on the couch, staring down at the very unfamiliar (and not as sleek) scroll-ball based Blackberry. He detests it. His face is pinched and mean when he looks at it. Almost like he's mad at it. Resentful of everything that it lacks. The navigation bars and menus aren't as intuitive, and the lack of a touch-screen is something to be mourned. My heart aches for him, and I feel tremendously guilty that I have inherited the previous love of his life. (Was it wrong of me to adorn her in a stylish new pink and purple 'Speck' case today-- a far cry from the masculine black one that he had dressed her in for the first 4 days of her life?? Too soon....?)
Stage 5: Acceptance. I am hoping that we reach this place soon. VERY soon. He has been moping around the house like a 6-year old boy who lost his pet goldfish for 3 days now, and frankly, he's got to move on. Honey, if you are reading this, PLEASE pick yourself up by your bootstraps and truck on ahead. The Blackberry isn't the worst thing in the world. At least it's FREE, right?! That's pretty huge. (which is also what she said.) It will help us trim some of the financial fat from our budget and you can still use her on the weekends, okay? Just keep telling yourself that it's not goodbye, it's "See ya soon"...
And that, my friends, is way more ironic than ten thousand spoons when all ya need is a knife. Or, rain on your wedding day. (Which, I've always felt, falls far more appropriately under the category of "bad luck" than "irony," no? And while we're on topic, isn't wedding-day rain actually supposed to promote luck? I digress...)
The silver lining to all of this is? Why, of course, that I have adopted one pretty cool little gadget! I went from a 2005 flip-phone to a George Jetson-worthy apparatus in under a week. And contrary to Jeff's beliefs, I am actually very excited about all the fun things I'll be able to do with her! (So what if myonly favorite "app" at the moment happens to be Ava's Zoo matching game?) I've only had her for a day. Give me some time. Allow us to get to know each other....and I'm sure that by the end of the week, I'll be just as head-over-heels gaga about this adorable little contraption as my hubby once was- in a lifetime a long, long time ago.
Jeff impulsively purchased a big-boy cell phone plan last week. (This, after 14 years of a "free" Radio Shack "employee" plan that was no longer making sense financially since he somehow kept going over the "generous" plan allotment of about 12 minutes per month with no free nights or weekends.)
I was very, very proud of him. Way to take the bull by the horns and do something completely impulsive for a change, babe!, I thought.
His weapon of choice? Why a brand spankin' new iPhone 3Gs, of course. And just as immediately as he had signed away his first-born in a binding 2-year agreement with AT & T, he was in love.
iPhone love.
He sat for countless hours on the couch with her, whispering sweet nothings into her speaker. Caressing her soft, silky, touch-screen, app-filled curves with his fingertips. Singing
I was beginning to feel like a third wheel in my own house...Tres bizarre.
On day five of this love affair, he drove to work.
It was a Thursday.
And at lunchtime that day, he called me on the verge of
Upper management had apparently called an "important" meeting that day. And to paraphrase, it went something like this:
"We know that a bunch of you have iPhones, however they just aren't secure enough for use at our company any more. Having said that, after today, we will be issuing you all...brand new BLACKBERRIES!"
(*this is the part where Jeff's heart stopped beating for a few minutes straight, and he went into a semi-permanent state of shock.)
And just as immediately and as intensely as he had fallen in love in the first place...he began a four-day (and very textbook, might I add,) journey through Kubler-Ross's Stages of Grief.
Stage 1: Denial. "This cannot f**king be happening right now! I mean, come ON! Are you SERIOUS?? I FINALLY cave and get a plan less than a WEEK ago-a plan that allowed me to be fully connected at all times at work, and at home- and now I can't even use the phone!? This is a joke, This is a sick freaking joke....I don't believe it."
Stage 2: Anger. "This is BULLS**T! I am pissed. Seriously. I just spent a week learning and falling in love with the iPhone. I've downloaded all of my contacts. My apps. My music. My pictures. How do they expect me to go from the iPhone to THAT? It's like going from a Lexus to a Kia. Ridiculous, that's what this is. F**king ridiculousness..."
Stage 3: Bargaining. "Ok Trace...Fine. I get it- you are going to get the iPhone and I will one day be okay with that, but can I just spend the rest of the weekend with her? I promise, that's all I need. Just one more FULL day. Let me just use the ridiculously convenient touch-screen Chipotle App ONCE more to order myself a Carnitas burrito without EVER having to take my finger off the screen and/or speak to a live human being...Just ONE more time. Please. That's all I am asking..."
Stage 4: Depression. Well, folks-- this is where we are today. And where we were yesterday. And, come to think of it--the day before that, too. He miraculously seemed to whiz right through stages 1-3, but we are at a standstill here at stage four. As I write this now, he sits sulking on the couch, staring down at the very unfamiliar (and not as sleek) scroll-ball based Blackberry. He detests it. His face is pinched and mean when he looks at it. Almost like he's mad at it. Resentful of everything that it lacks. The navigation bars and menus aren't as intuitive, and the lack of a touch-screen is something to be mourned. My heart aches for him, and I feel tremendously guilty that I have inherited the previous love of his life. (Was it wrong of me to adorn her in a stylish new pink and purple 'Speck' case today-- a far cry from the masculine black one that he had dressed her in for the first 4 days of her life?? Too soon....?)
Stage 5: Acceptance. I am hoping that we reach this place soon. VERY soon. He has been moping around the house like a 6-year old boy who lost his pet goldfish for 3 days now, and frankly, he's got to move on. Honey, if you are reading this, PLEASE pick yourself up by your bootstraps and truck on ahead. The Blackberry isn't the worst thing in the world. At least it's FREE, right?! That's pretty huge. (which is also what she said.) It will help us trim some of the financial fat from our budget and you can still use her on the weekends, okay? Just keep telling yourself that it's not goodbye, it's "See ya soon"...
And that, my friends, is way more ironic than ten thousand spoons when all ya need is a knife. Or, rain on your wedding day. (Which, I've always felt, falls far more appropriately under the category of "bad luck" than "irony," no? And while we're on topic, isn't wedding-day rain actually supposed to promote luck? I digress...)
The silver lining to all of this is? Why, of course, that I have adopted one pretty cool little gadget! I went from a 2005 flip-phone to a George Jetson-worthy apparatus in under a week. And contrary to Jeff's beliefs, I am actually very excited about all the fun things I'll be able to do with her! (So what if my
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Send it Back, Dad!
While eating lunch at Uno's today, Jeff ordered a house salad with bleu cheese dressing.
A few minutes later, the salad arrived.
Ava, who was sitting next to her Dad, looked over at this salad, pointed, and declared:
"Dadda, you better send that salad back RIGHT now!"
"Why, what's wrong with it?" he asked her, puzzled.
"Well, I heard you say to the waitress that you wanted BLUE cheese. But this cheese it white. They definitely brought you the wrong one."
And instead of engaging her in a lengthy (and possibly stomach-turning) explanation of soft cheeses and what the "bleu" part really is....Jeff just looked at the salad, looked at her, and stated
"It's okay honey, I'll try this white cheese for today."
Gotta love life with a 4-year old :-)
A few minutes later, the salad arrived.
Ava, who was sitting next to her Dad, looked over at this salad, pointed, and declared:
"Dadda, you better send that salad back RIGHT now!"
"Why, what's wrong with it?" he asked her, puzzled.
"Well, I heard you say to the waitress that you wanted BLUE cheese. But this cheese it white. They definitely brought you the wrong one."
And instead of engaging her in a lengthy (and possibly stomach-turning) explanation of soft cheeses and what the "bleu" part really is....Jeff just looked at the salad, looked at her, and stated
"It's okay honey, I'll try this white cheese for today."
Gotta love life with a 4-year old :-)
Friday, March 19, 2010
ONE-handed cruising?!? (Also known as, "My life is over soon")
He's not yet 9 months old... but snapshots like this make me realize how impending this whole walking business really is. Yikes!
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
St. Patrick's Day photoshoot FAIL:
Fortunately, a few minutes later everyone ("everyone" = "Gav") was a little bit happier and we were able to snag at least a few decent photos to commemorate the 1/8th Irishness that exists inside of them today :-)
...And of course, a few obligatory shots of Aves on her way to school, completely St. Patrick's Day-ed out from head to toe. She was VERY impressed with this little get-up!
"Just a WEE bit Irish...socks" How appropriate!
HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY 2010!!!!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Allow me to fill you in on the past few days:
1). First chiropractic appointment with Dr. M on Monday afternoon. Findings: My neck is straight. Which in theory, (and from my stick-figure drawing days,) sounds like it would be an okay thing. However from a Chiropractic standpoint, "straightneck" is a very bad condition. Apparently, your neck is supposed to have a natural "C" curvature to support the massive 8 pounds of noggin that sits atop it...and mine has increasingly, over the years, lost this curvature and progressed into a straight line. In addition to this, my lower back pretty much sucks and the distance between the disks is eroding...so we need to work on that, too. He pretty much told me that I will need to be seen three times a week for four weeks in the beginning (I will apparently have to start raiding my childrens' piggy banks and/or playing guitar at Alewife station to make this happen, since my insurance covers NONE of this...) and then once a month for maintenance thereafter. But really, how can you put a price tag on your health? And so with financial apprehension (but high hopes of physical relief,) I began treatment Monday. And overall, this first visit went well except for 3 teeny, tiny things:
A) While explaining the towel exercise I was to be doing at home every night, Dr. M said to me (of the towel that I was to use), "Make sure it is at least a nice thick 6 inches in diameter and FIRM when you grab it. It will feel the best this way, especially while lying on your back." (Now if that doesn't constitute a Global "That's What She Said" award, or at least a close runner-up, I don't know what would...) I had to avoid eye contact with Jeff at all costs in the aftermath of this statement, as to not burst into completely juvenile, inappropriate laughter in front of a very classy, very professional, very crisp-collared Dr. M.
B) Let's just say that my first adjustment laying on the table could have gone...better. He first adjusted my spine, which meant that I was laying on the table on my belly. That was an easy enough position for me to get into, considering I was able to look down, see the table, gauge where I needed to position myself, and lay on it. Cake. However when he told me that he was then going to do my neck and that I would need to lay on my back on the table-- it was a completely different story. Mainly, because my neck and back are so ridiculously stiff & immobile right now, that I am unable to turn my neck at all to see where I am going. (think Tin-Man in Wizard of Oz: "Oil....oil...") That said, as I was attempting to lay on the table, I apparently over-shot the distance between the donut-shaped thingy (that your head is supposed to cradle itself in,) and--well-- Dr. M's crotch. Yup, that's right folks. Visit #1, and I lay my head directly upon his PENIS. With an abrupt "Whoops, let's just scoot you down a little more," and a humiliating few moments of silence that ensued, Dr. M and I both somehow ended up surviving this completely shameful ordeal. (Sidenote, I'm sure Dr. M's little patient file for me probably now reads something like "Watch out for this skanky little whore. She'll won't stop at anything, including faking "stiff-neck" to cop a back-of-her-head-feel of manhood regions...")
Now for those of you who may still be unclear as to the visual of this circumstance, I have taken the liberty of attempting to illustrate it for you. (MAJOR DISCLAIMER: I am not an artist. Not even close. My 4-year old daughter draws better stick people than I do, no lie.) Having said that....allow me to "illustrate" for you the turn of events that took place at the chiropractic office on Monday, March 15, 2010.
PHASE 1: Dr. M is quite happily waiting for me to lay on my back on the table. Please note how his crotchal region hugs the donut-shaped area where my head is supposed to lay:
PHASE 2: "The incident" occurs:
PHASE 3: Complete, painful awkwardness for many, many moments.
C) And for the third and final reason why this visit didn't pan out so well: I had a miserable stomach ache the ENTIRE duration of the appointment, but attributed it to a new medication that I had taken earlier that morning....I was wrong. Which leads us to tidbit #2 of "filling you in on my week."
2). Got slammed with the STOMACH BUG that everyone who is anyone in New England has acquired in the past month. I thought we'd escaped it here, but alas, no. Immediately upon arriving home from the Chiro, my stomach ache was way worse, waves of nausea were coming faster and faster, and I was shivering. Freezing cold. Add warm comfy jammies, a down comforter, a fleece blanket, a 74-degree house thermostat reading... and I was still freezing. This is when Jeff brought out the big guns-- also known as the Braun Thermoscan Ear thermometer-- and confirmed with a reading of 102.9 that this was, in fact, me being sick and not some freak adverse reaction to a medication. Crap. I proceeded to spend the better part of the evening next to a vomit bucket convulsing, shivering, having hot flashes, shivering more, dry-heaving, hallucinating, having every joint in my body ache (do fingernails count? they were aching too...), and--well-- expelling things from my body in gross ways that not only do you have no interest in reading about, but I have no interest in recounting in words. Therefore, Jeff had to take 1/2 the morning off from work today (which is less than ideal considering how much time he's already taken off this year to aid his perma-sick wife...) while I laid in bed unable to move. Fortunately my Mom was able to come for the remainder of the day so hubbster could get into work for a few hours, while I continued to lay in bed completely unable to move. (Until about 2 hours ago when I finally hobbled into the living room to slump in the recliner, now only partially unable to move...hey, progress is progress, right?)
And that, my friends, is all of theexcitement ridiculousness that you've missed over the past few days. Riveting, I know. Stay tuned for the remainder of the week as I tackle Chiro appointments # 2 and #3, and please pray that Dr. M and I are both able to escape these visits with zero inappropriate head-to-crotch contact. Oh, and if you could also please pray that this nasty stomach bug magically disappears by tomorrow morning, leaving the rest of my family unscathed, that'd be swell too...Thanks :-)
A) While explaining the towel exercise I was to be doing at home every night, Dr. M said to me (of the towel that I was to use), "Make sure it is at least a nice thick 6 inches in diameter and FIRM when you grab it. It will feel the best this way, especially while lying on your back." (Now if that doesn't constitute a Global "That's What She Said" award, or at least a close runner-up, I don't know what would...) I had to avoid eye contact with Jeff at all costs in the aftermath of this statement, as to not burst into completely juvenile, inappropriate laughter in front of a very classy, very professional, very crisp-collared Dr. M.
B) Let's just say that my first adjustment laying on the table could have gone...better. He first adjusted my spine, which meant that I was laying on the table on my belly. That was an easy enough position for me to get into, considering I was able to look down, see the table, gauge where I needed to position myself, and lay on it. Cake. However when he told me that he was then going to do my neck and that I would need to lay on my back on the table-- it was a completely different story. Mainly, because my neck and back are so ridiculously stiff & immobile right now, that I am unable to turn my neck at all to see where I am going. (think Tin-Man in Wizard of Oz: "Oil....oil...") That said, as I was attempting to lay on the table, I apparently over-shot the distance between the donut-shaped thingy (that your head is supposed to cradle itself in,) and--well-- Dr. M's crotch. Yup, that's right folks. Visit #1, and I lay my head directly upon his PENIS. With an abrupt "Whoops, let's just scoot you down a little more," and a humiliating few moments of silence that ensued, Dr. M and I both somehow ended up surviving this completely shameful ordeal. (Sidenote, I'm sure Dr. M's little patient file for me probably now reads something like "Watch out for this skanky little whore. She'll won't stop at anything, including faking "stiff-neck" to cop a back-of-her-head-feel of manhood regions...")
Now for those of you who may still be unclear as to the visual of this circumstance, I have taken the liberty of attempting to illustrate it for you. (MAJOR DISCLAIMER: I am not an artist. Not even close. My 4-year old daughter draws better stick people than I do, no lie.) Having said that....allow me to "illustrate" for you the turn of events that took place at the chiropractic office on Monday, March 15, 2010.
PHASE 1: Dr. M is quite happily waiting for me to lay on my back on the table. Please note how his crotchal region hugs the donut-shaped area where my head is supposed to lay:
PHASE 2: "The incident" occurs:
PHASE 3: Complete, painful awkwardness for many, many moments.
C) And for the third and final reason why this visit didn't pan out so well: I had a miserable stomach ache the ENTIRE duration of the appointment, but attributed it to a new medication that I had taken earlier that morning....I was wrong. Which leads us to tidbit #2 of "filling you in on my week."
2). Got slammed with the STOMACH BUG that everyone who is anyone in New England has acquired in the past month. I thought we'd escaped it here, but alas, no. Immediately upon arriving home from the Chiro, my stomach ache was way worse, waves of nausea were coming faster and faster, and I was shivering. Freezing cold. Add warm comfy jammies, a down comforter, a fleece blanket, a 74-degree house thermostat reading... and I was still freezing. This is when Jeff brought out the big guns-- also known as the Braun Thermoscan Ear thermometer-- and confirmed with a reading of 102.9 that this was, in fact, me being sick and not some freak adverse reaction to a medication. Crap. I proceeded to spend the better part of the evening next to a vomit bucket convulsing, shivering, having hot flashes, shivering more, dry-heaving, hallucinating, having every joint in my body ache (do fingernails count? they were aching too...), and--well-- expelling things from my body in gross ways that not only do you have no interest in reading about, but I have no interest in recounting in words. Therefore, Jeff had to take 1/2 the morning off from work today (which is less than ideal considering how much time he's already taken off this year to aid his perma-sick wife...) while I laid in bed unable to move. Fortunately my Mom was able to come for the remainder of the day so hubbster could get into work for a few hours, while I continued to lay in bed completely unable to move. (Until about 2 hours ago when I finally hobbled into the living room to slump in the recliner, now only partially unable to move...hey, progress is progress, right?)
And that, my friends, is all of the
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