Evening Conversation: Body Fluids Edition

Lily: "I have poop."

Me: "Oh."

Lily: "I want you to change it."

Me: "Okay."

[we walk toward diaper changing area.]

Lily: "It's ouchy poop."

Me: "The technical term is diarrhea. This diarrhea happens to be green in hue and has a chunky consistency."

Lily: "IT'S OUCHY POOP!" [reaches to scratch bum.]

Me: "Don't touch the poop!!"

Lily: [angry stare]"IT'S OUCHY POOP!" [reaches out with other hand to touch the poop.]

Me: [yelling] "Why can't you just listen to me the FIRST time I tell you something! I'm not just being mean! Now you have FECAL MATTER all over your HANDS!!"

Lily: [starts to cry.][immediately starts rubbing eyes with poopy hands.]

Me: [yelling louder] "DON'T TOUCH YOUR EYES!! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY DON'T TOUCH YOUR EYES!!"

Lily: [angry glare] "NO!" [rubs eyes again.]

Me: [freaking out] "YOU'RE GETTING POOP IN YOUR EYES!!!"

Lily: [angry glare][rubs eyes while looking right at me]

Me: "Lily! OBEY MOMMY! She is not a meanie! She cares about your EYES!"

Lily: [angry glare] "I want Daddy."

Me: [finally get the poopy diaper out of the way so I can run her to the sink where much washing ensues.]

Lily: "You're mean. Daddy's not mean."

Did I go to bed and wake up in 1992?

Most. Annoying. Dream. Ever.

Last night I kept dreaming that my kids were at the side of my bed, poking at me. "Wake up, Mom!" they'd say. "It's morning! You have to wake up!" They would push my eyeballs open and shake me and yell in my ear.

Only...

Then I *would* wake up. It would be the middle of the night. There would be no babies poking, pushing, or talking to me. The room would be dark and I would realize, "Crap. It was a dream. I didn't *have* to wake up."

and so I'd go back to sleep.

and dream it AGAIN.

Creepy or not creepy?

Last night, I asked Sam if he wanted to watch a movie.

Sam: "that's a good idea."

me: "okay" [think to myself, maybe the Polar Express?]

Sam: "how about the Polar Express?"

me: "wow, I was just thinking that."

Sam: "I know."

me: "you know? how do you know?"

Sam: "I heard your voice in my head."

me: "you heard my voice in your head?!"

Sam: "yeah." [shrug.] "I hear your voice in my head all the time."

Don't have an idea for a Christmas present yet? Here's an idea: Buy a book! Save publishing! (okay, it's not quite *that* dramatic/dire)

(or is it?!...)

My microwave is trying to kill me

Every time I open the microwave in my office, it turns on. Like, the door is peacefully closed and the microwave is dark and then just because I decide to *open* the door, it decides to turn on--spewing forth waves of radiation directly at my abdomen.

My boss called to report the problem, but the techs couldn't reproduce it.

Meaning:

The microwave is trying to kill

just

me.

To the student who fell asleep five minutes into class and then continued to sleep...

through class

through the passing period

through people poking at him to see if he was alive and getting nothing back but a slightly louder snore

through 48 minutes of my next class (where we were loudly discussing papers)

before shooting upright, looking confused and rushing away from the classroom full of unfamiliar faces...

don't go out tonight.

you need some rest, honey.

Alright, alright. I'll tell you where the name of my blog comes from.

(hint: not Don Quixote.)

So, I've been commuting to work for, oh, getting towards a decade now. Hence: I've gotten to know the scenery pretty well. And on the drive to my office there are three windmills. (Actually, twelve now--when the sky is clear. Yay for green power!) Well, a couple of years into my commuting, I realized that I'd unconsciously developed a superstition about the windmills.

all turning = good day

all not turning = bad day

some turning, some not = a mixed day. probably one that included a lot of body fluids. (I had a baby.)

Pretty soon, watching for the windmills was an established part of my commute.

When it came to blogging, I realized that there was no way I could write a blog that was all good or all bad or that skipped over the body fluids. Not only am I incapable of *not* oversharing (my bff can confirm this), I actually think there's something to be *said* for oversharing.

Life is a mixed bag. Lots of it is good. (They don't put windmills in places where the wind doesn't usually blow!) Some of it is bad. And, inevitably, there are body fluids.

I don't know about the world at large, but I know that in the Mormon culture that I live in, there's a propensity to pretend that *everything* is good. We never admit that we're sad. We never admit that all this baby poop is driving us NUTS. And we never stop smiling.

But if life is sacred (and I really think that it is), it's not just sacred for the good parts. It's sacred for *every* part.

So that's where the blog name came from.

Acknowledging *all* of life, i.e.:

the good,

the bad,

and the body fluids

= Windmill Watching.

Somebody get me a paper bag--I'm so excited I'm hyperventilating!

My favorite store has opened an *American* branch. No more suffering at the hand of the exchange rate! No more paying overseas shipping more expensive than my purchase! Merry Christmas to ME!

When you let your four year old make your grocery list...

it ends up being really short:


(translation:)

I know it's a little early to go all Christmassy, but sometimes you can't help yourself

Send your own ElfYourself eCards

Christmas is coming, y'all...

which is why I made an ornament out of my favorite christmas pic EVER.**

if you want one, you can go to http://www.cafepress.com/WindmillWatcher.330954588

unless I'm technically inept (a possibility) there isn't a markup on this (meaning I get $0/sale), so the overpriced nature of the ornament is Cafe Press's fault. So if you only want to buy it to make *me* rich, well, maybe you should just send cash to me directly, since that'd be more efficient. but it's still an awesome ornament, so maybe buy it from the CP people AND send me cash. ;-)

**for those of y'all who haven't been around more than a year, the pic is of my baby, Sam (when he was still a baby). we had taught him sign language. in the picture he's making the sign for "help." awesome, right?

Oh, and here's a few more pageant pics

Someone tell me, why do I think beauty pageants are creepy?

Because I'm so confused. Every time I try to think of a reason, I also think of something to invalidate it. Like:

me: they're creepy because they celebrate outer beauty and beauty is just something you're born with and have no control over.

me2: but the ability to do math? that's also sort of a talent you're born with. and math contests aren't creepy.

me: yes, but math you have to work really hard at.

me2: but Miss Provo works out 2-3 hours a day. and if working out for 2-3 hours a day isn't work, I don't know what is.

me: yes, but math is actually useful.

me2: well, beauty is useful, too. people enjoy things that are aesthetically pleasing. when you have beautiful people working for you, people like them better and then they like you better and you can do your job better. (or sell products better or teach classes better or finalize deals better.) So beauty is highly useful, too.

my bff thinks that they're creepy because they're selling beauty as sex.

that might explain part of it, but there is still no light bulb clicking on in my head that says AhHA! THAT's it!

So y'all tell me. What about beauty pageants is so dang creepy?!

Things Students will do for Extra Credit

they will take each other out on deeply romantic dates.

Kung Fu Bubble Monster

Praise the Beauty Gods

the Miss Utah pageant is over.

Miss Provo placed in the top 12 and got stalked by the photographer.

Pictures of Miss Provo looking creepily pageantized coming soon...

Things Sisters of Beauty Queens Say

"Oh, Lily is so cute! She looks just like I did when I was her age!"

Some things need to be documented because I won't believe them next summer

Yeah, I'm alive, sorry

just finishing a really boring sinus infection.

seriously boring. the only interesting thing that's happened is that yesterday I was at the bookstore and the lady behind the desk said, "You're kind of sniffing a lot. Do you have tissues? Why don't you buy some tissues..."

and then she handed me a package of tissues with flamingos on them. she said they were her favorite. They cost $2.12.

more when I feel less like a walking corpse.

No deep meaning in that last post

I just have a cold.

in case you were wondering.

How I feel today:

I'll admit it

I got a little weepy at the polls. Especially as I was trying to explain voting to my four year old. Who knew, right?

Just curious about y'all

when you get back from the polls, I want to know:

I was thinking of making a pot roast tomorrow night

but now I'm just so tempted by the hilariously irreverent undertones of pigs in a blanket...

Election party tomorrow: details

1) almost everyone is welcome to come. students, lurkers, friends, enemies. no one with a felony is allowed, though. cause you can't vote, anyway.

2) if you don't know where I live, send me an email: shewhoislikeuntoaphrodite at gmail dot com.

3) bring food

4) party starts at 6:30PM

5) everyone gets kicked out at 9:30PM (babies. they need to sleep.)

6) republicans: wear red

7)democrats: wear blue

8) people who couldn't care less: wear tie dye. or purple. or whatever. you don't care, right?

so far the only people who say they'll come are republicans. I guess that means that my democrat friends are afraid of getting their trash kicked. can't say I blame them, but they should come because some of us know karate. sort of...

No matter who wins the election tomorrow

I would like to say, thank you. Thank everyone. For the most. entertaining. election. EVER.

Well, somebody's gotta pay the mortgage

At our house we believe in making the babies earn their keep.

I feel like having a party. Anyone feel like coming to a party?

I've been wanting to have an election-night party. You know, the kind where you watch the news and eat food and yell/cheer/dance/protest/etc.?

But Steve says that all of my Republican friends and my Democrat friends would try to kill each other and we don't have good enough liability insurance for that.

But y'all can be nice, right? Or at least pretend?

If I had a party, who'd come?