Weasel Of Doom

Yesterday on the freeway, I passed a semi with “S & M Trucking” proudly emblazoned on its side. And of course my mind executed a dive into the gutter, and made me wonder how THAT name came about. Really naive co-owners, Smith and Murray? Or does the company actually truck around S&M stuff? And if so, what kind of S&M stuff requires a semi? Mobile torture chamber, perhaps…

On Saturday, we made the mistake of letting the cordless phone headset out of our sight, and into Squeeker’s. To make up for the subsequent cruelty of separating Squeektar from his new amazing toy, I gave him my cellphone to play with. Disaster averted.

Now, I have been letting my kids play with my cellphone (keypad locked) whenever they want to. Usually, DemonChild would pretend-talk to it, and Squeektar would do a taste-test, an impact-test, possibly a blunt-weapon test, and then lose interest. The cellphone, a Nokia “brick” that came free with our calling plan, survived the attentions of my children for two years now, and have come in handy as an emergency toy a number of times. One might go as far as call it “kid tested, Mom approved.”

What I neglected to take into account is that Squeektar is currently going through a drool-monster stage. The amount of drool the kid generates is amazing. (He also has a cold; nothing like a snot-drool-tears mixture being wiped all over your face to test that unconditional love parents are supposed to have for their children, I am telling you.)

But back to my cellphone. When I tried to locate it a couple of hours later it was not, surprisingly, hard to find. In hindsight, that should have been the first sign that things were not going according to plan. Instead of hiding among toys or stuck into a shoe, the phone was on the kids table, in plain view. When I picked it up, it was damp. I wiped it with my sleeve a few times, but instead of diminishing, the dampness increased. The phone was literally oozing drool. Hmmm. It was also saying “battery low,” so I went upstairs, plugged it in, and forgot all about it.

Fast forward to Saturday evening. I heard odd noises coming from our bedroom. Investigation revealed the sources off the odd noises to be my cellphone, boasting condensation on the inside of its screen. Not good. When BelovedSpouse stopped laughing at the water-drops where no water-drops ought to be, he took the cellphone apart, and discovered that the battery was soaked, too. We left it to air-dry for the night, and hoped for the best.

Sunday morning. The parts were all dry, so I put the phone back together. And it seemed to work. Until I noticed that it kept dialing 7 all the time. And refused to respond to buttons being pushed. And randomly switched profiles. And attempted to connect to the internet. You get the idea.

On the plus side, it still rings. On the minus side, that’s about the only thing it does. My attempts to answer the phone have so far been a spectacular failure. I think my phone now things it is an alarm clock.

For those of you keeping score at home:
Squeektar: 1. Cellular technology: 0.

What’s really surprising is that it had taken this long.

It’s around 5 pm, I am half-asleep on the couch, Alan and his daughter are playing videogames on the PS2, BelovedSpouse is watching the kids and cooking dinner. Kids are roaming around the first floor. Kids get suspiciously quiet. After a brief search, kids are located in the bathroom, giving Squeektar’s hat and DemonChild’s “monkey” (knitted Easter egg) a bath in the toilet bowl. Water everywhere.

BelovedSpouse: “DemonChild, stay RIGHT THERE! Wife, get the camera and take a picture.” So we have photographic evidence. Then BelovedSpouse and I told the kids exactly what we thought about their bathroom activities. BelovedSpouse cleaned up the floor, then the boys got an early bath.

Here’s hoping dunking things into the toilet won’t become their new favorite activity. Little miscreants :-)

(overheard this morning, as BelovedSpouse is getting the kids ready to go to daycare): “NO, Squeeker, NO! This is DemonChild’s poopy, DemonChild gets to flush it!”

1. Set your vocal expression default to “Scream head off.” Proceed to scream head off for any and all reason, including no apparent reason at all.

2. Throw temper tantrums on hard surfaces. If possible, attempt to slam head into a wall, door, or cabinet for emphasis.

3. Go for things you are expressly forbidden. Scream head off when thwarted in your attempts to do yourself bodily harm.

4. Freak out every time your parents step away from you. Scream head off, slam head into floor. Look hurt when parents start screaming back.

5. When not interested in the food given to you, attempt to throw it as far as possible. Bonus if you can hit the carpet. If the food in question does not lend itself well to throwing, try to smear it over all available surfaces, and some surfaces that technically are not available.

6. Scream head off the moment you are put in bed. Fall back asleep the second you are picked up. Repeat until parents give up and put you in their bed. Once there, proceed to roll around and kick them in the face.

7. Ignore board books. Instead, find the ones your parents read, fold the pages over, and chew holes in the middle. It’s art! Also, they would not have made them paperbacks if they haven’t meant for you to be able to rip the jackets off.

8. Declare happiness anathema. When with Daddy, demand Mommy. When with Mommy, demand Daddy. When both parents are around, leave the room and scream your loneliness to the world. Have a full-blown tantrum, bang head on something in case they are not getting the message.

9. Sneak behind your parents when they are distracted. Then, as they accidentally step on you, scream bloody murder. Watch them freak out. As soon as parents turn around, sneak behind them again, gather breath for blood-curdling screams. Repeat until parents develop a disturbing habit of sidling along walls in order to get anywhere.

10. Undergo a total personality transplant when at daycare, becoming a perfect little angel full of lovings, hugs, and good behavior.

Today I had my annual OB-GYN visit. I have a great doctor. He was very supportive when I had complications after DemonChild’s birth, came in on his day off to deliver Squeeker, listens to my concerns, and has a good sense of humor, which is always a bonus when having to deal with me. So he is paging through my chart in preparation for spelunking in my nether regions to a rendevous with my cervix, when

OB: Hmmm… You weight changed in the wrong direction since I saw you last. How did that happen?
Me: Sitting on my ass and eating candy had a lot to do with it.

He laughed. (I gained 10 pounds since Squeekery one was born. As I type this, I am munching on Halloween candy, and eating a bag of bagel crisps. Yup, wonder where the 10 pounds came from ;-)

After my child-bearing parts and a spatula had their joyful reunion, we had The Talk about calcium.

OB: Are you getting enough calcium?
Me: Ummmm….
OB: Are you a milk drinker?
Me (deciding that honesty worked pretty well so far): I am Diet Coke drinker.
OB: Nope, does not count.
Me (hopefully): I put creamer in my coffee!
OB: Still does not count. Try three glasses of milk a day.

And then I went home and spent the rest of the day cleaning in preparation for Squeek’s Very Belated First Birthday Party tomorrow. Yay.

I spent all weekend at work, with short forays home for dinner, lunch, and sleep. B. watched the kids (and did a wonderful job).

Me: “Thank you for watching the kids all weekend. I know it’s hard. I owe you.”
B.: “Oh, do you EVER. Probably the only way you CAN pay me back is if you install a trapeze [in the bedroom]….”

*************************

B. is teaching D. that “No” means “You are not getting whatever it is you just said ‘No’ to.” D. seems to think that “No” means “yes” in certain situations. So there is B., asking D. all those leading questions:

B.: “D., do you want milk?”
D.: “NO”
B.: “D., do you want beans?”
D.: “NO”
B.: “D., do you want bread pudding?”
D.: “nooooo…. BREAD PUDDING, BREAD PUDDING!!!!!”
B.: “Well, you can’t have bread pudding.”
D.: “BREAD PUDDING, BREAD PUDDING, BREAD PUDDING, BREAD PUDDING!!!!!”
B.: “Nope, can’t have it.”
Me: “Hmmm, that’s a bit mean. To put it in terms you will relate to, it’s like me asking you if you want to have sex and then saying that you can’t have it when you answer ‘yes’.”

Him [out loud]: I never would have married a smoker!

Me [thinking]: Well, I never would have married a passive-aggressive asshole with a fucked up family, and look at me now!

(full disclosure: I shared what I thought with him later, a few days after that fight, and he was amused. So this is posted with permission.)

(had this sitting around as a draft for a couple of months now; past time to release it into the wild)

• “When you pick up DemonChild, ask if he has been rough housing more than normal today? Don’t mention video games or Hulk if possible.” [I guess if he starts stomping on other kids and saying "Hulk Smash," we will know something is amiss]

• “so far, we decided that I suffer from ED (Extreme Directness) and that
  we need a Snuggle Room.” [why yes, it is hard for me to take team-building exercises seriously]

• “Time to go fly the cow.” [trust me, you are better off not knowing]

Months ago, when DemonChild was just starting to get into repeating occasional things said to him, he hunkered down next to me and poked a finger at my stomach. “It’s mama’s fat,” I told him, amused at the serious way he was prodding the love handles. “Mama’s fat,” DemonChild repeated, and grinned.

Once every couple of weeks since then, he’d come to me, lift up whatever shirt I happened to wear to belly-button height, give the revealed rolls a poke, and pronounce, “mama fat!” Figures, right? ;-)

Yesterday was E.’s last day at work. She is entering the exciting world of freelancing. Before leaving, she “promoted” me:

“Chief Priestess of the domain. Thou shalt smite those unworthy websites that gnaw at the underbelly of our holy site.”

Two E. quotes to go:

• “Send me the assless track photo when you get a chance”

• “I think we should all start writing e-mails in 1. the third person and 2. like we’re from an Arthurian legend.”

Good luck, E. Without you here, it’s a lot less fun.

C: motivation is so lacking today

O: i bet your motivation is hanging out in a bar somewhere, with my motivation

C: probably…when it will return, God only knows

O: and even if it does, it is gonna be so drunk it will be useless for DAYS

C: and then it’ll have to enter rehab. which will mean it’ll be checked out for months

O: so we might as well not miss it

C: it’s true, it’ll be a very long time til it returns…if it does

O: yeah, plus rehab might not even work

Email conversation on Tuesday, May 22:

[B.] PS Happy two days before our Tenth Wedding Anniversary. PPS I don’t plan on cooking Thursday, want to order out at Applebee’s?

[me] want to ask (our friends) if they can watch the kids for a couple of hours Thursday evening? ;-)
(oh crap, oh crap, totally forgot we have an anniversary coming up! wonder if I can get my hair done in the next two days)

[B.] Sure we could drop them off or they could come to our place either way.
(hmmmm….. I don’t think he is getting it)

[me] ummm…. what if we want to use our place for something? unless you’d rather go to a Motel 6….
(I doubt work will appreciate if I spell things out for him)

[B.] I didn’t know they had Asheron’s Call at Motel 6. :-) I did say “drop off” first for a reason. :-)
(nice save there, B.)

Upon hearing,

“You want my hot meat, baby!”

Do you:

a) run to the bedroom to jump your spouse

b) run to the bathroom to throw up

bonus options:

c) get ideas

d) get a bottle of Lysol and spray your computer screen and your eyeballs in a desperate attempt to get the mental image this post conjured out of your head

e) wonder what the big deal about sharing meat at dinner is all about

A guy driving an old beater car. The car appears to be an odd, mottled orange/white color. As I get closer, I realize that the orange/white stuff is Hooters bumper stickers. Apparently, he is using them to replace paint. Another 100 or so stickers, and his life work shall be complete.