I feel like whining

so here:

whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine whine

and some toast.

Sam: Watching American Idol

Sam: [points to Ellen] "Mommy, I think it is just so amazing that a girl who just showed up on the Tonight Show once is now sitting there, one of the judges."

Steve: "How on earth did you know that she started on the Tonight Show?"

Sam: "Have you SEEN the size of my head, Daddy? My brain is HUGE. Like, amazingly huge. I'm a very smart boy."

me: "I agree, kid."

Sam: "You know what I think, Mommy? I think you should be on this show."

me: "I'm too old. You have to be 28."

Sam: "And you're what? 31? Close enough. I think it could work."

me: "You also have to sing."

Sam: "You've got a good voice! It's almost as good as mine. And I'd be willing to help you practice. In fact, here's what we're going to do. Tomorrow, when I get back from kindergarten, we're going to sit down and I'm going to teach you what it takes to be a great singer."

me: "You're going to teach me?"

Sam: "Of course! I think you have potential. I've gotta warn you, though, you really are going to need to do some work. But I think you're up for it."

As long as I'm posting pleas to the blogosphere

is anyone interested in helping me proofread my (hopefully-close-to-the-final-draft-but-you-know-how-these-things-linger-on-and-on-and-on) dissertation? All the pre-surgery drugs I'm on are making me a bit loopy. xo to you all.

ps: writers of YA literature might find it actually, like, *useful* (I hope) if that helps.

Morning Conversation: Guilty as charged

me: [typing away frantically, trying to meet a deadline]

Sam: "Hey, mommy, did you know that FastBoy has a lot of enemies? Some of them have eight arms."

me: "Mmm Hmm."

Sam: "And did you know that me and FastBoy have a lot of the same superpowers? I really am FastBoy, actually."

me: "Mmm Hmm."

Sam: "So, do you think that I should work on FastBoy 7 [Sam's latest missive: he writes 'books' now. He tells everyone he meets that he's an 'arthur.'] or maybe I should write something about when the villains take over?"

me: "Mmm Hmm."

Sam: "Hmm. I think I know what's happening here."

me: "Mmm Hmm."

Sam: "You've got your invisible earplugs on. Again."

Humor: 5 year old variety versus 3 year old variety

me: "Sam, did you wash your hands?"

Sam: "Yes."

me: "With Soap?"

Sam: "Here's what I did, Mommy. I washed my hands with soap for thirty seconds."

me: "Ok."

Sam: "And you know what I heard? I heard the germs calling for their mommies."

me: [Laugh]

Sam: [Laughs]

Lily: [wanting to have us laugh at her, too.] "I washed my hands, too, Mommy."

me: "Awesome."

Lily: "And when *I* washed my hands, the germs turned to... BUTTS."

me: [Laugh, again. Hey, butts are always funny.]

Sam says: "Hey, you want to hear a joke?"

Sam: "So why are there pregnant women? and why do they need to pee?"

me: "I dunno, why."

Sam: "Because babies kick!" [laughter ensues.]

and seriously, what is WITH all the poop nightmares?!

last night it was about dog poop.

all over the carpet, all over the shower, all over my bed and all over everywhere I tried to walk so that I was trapped, surrounded by poop, with poop on my feet, and a deep urge to vomit, if only I could make it to the bathroom without stepping on poop and if only the poop wasn't smeared all over the bathroom.

ps: I don't have a dog.

Dear Closet

I know you think it's funny
to change all of my clothes with smaller ones
so that they don't fit when I try them on
and I think that it's me who's getting fatter
when it's really you being all tricky.
So I'd appreciate
if you put all of my actual clothes
back in the closet
so I can wear something other than skirts
hiked up to my boobs (because they don't fit around my waist)
and people will stop thinking
I'm secretly a fundie
who doesn't believe in trousers.

xo me

Did you not get the memo? 5 year olds = Not Allowed to Judge Me

[Sam and his friend are walking through the house]

Sam's friend: "Why do you have so much stuff everywhere?"

Sam: "Want to play legos?"

Sam's friend: "Is this the room your cat sleeps in?"

Sam: "I don't have a cat."

Sam's friend: "Why does it smell like cat poop, then?"

Sam: "We had a dog once. And a fish. The fish died."

Sam's friend. "Your house is really a mess."

Sam: [says nothing]

Sam's friend: "Why is your house such a mess?"


It reminded me of this one time a few years ago when we all had parasites and no one cleaned the house for two months. When I could finally stay upright for twenty minutes without fainting, I called one of those cleaning ladies in the phone book for help.

She said no. My house was too messy for her.

Grrr.

Have you ever had the nightmare where you're just innocently hanging out, trying to get this invisible spirit/ghost girl to tell you something that's

really important, when suddenly you turn your head to the side and cough and BAM: you give birth to a baby? And then you realize, OMG, there's another one coming, so you stumble out to find a nurse, but she's at lunch and says she'll help you when she's done, so while you wait you decide, well, I guess I better start breastfeeding. And something about that thought makes you bolt up awake, and then you have to sit there staring in your bed for two hours?

that nightmare sux.

Evening Conversation

[Sam has taken his sock off and decided that it might be fun to lick his bare foot.]

me: "Sam, that is disgusting. Get your foot out of your mouth."

Sam: [laughs and sticks a toe in his mouth.]

me: "Sam. Seriously. That is disgusting. Get your foot out of your mouth."

Sam: [laughs harder and sticks toe farther in his mouth.]

me: [raise my voice.] "SAM! I've told you TWICE. Get. your. foot. out. of. your. mouth. It's disgusting and will make you sick!"

Sam: [sighs loudly][finally takes his foot out of his mouth.] "Seriously, Mom. I think you need a doctor."

me: "For what?!"

Sam: "For your anger issues."

Dear Word 2007

I know you think you are being helpful.
When you randomly add tabs and change the style of sections I didn't ask you to.
Or maybe you think that you're smarter
than people like me.
And maybe you don't know
that
is why
people come after you in alleys
with sticks
and torches
and various implements of torture.
Because that's what dealing with you is like.
torture.

ps: u suck

Does anyone know what day of the week it is?

and is it bad that I don't know?

Was just woken up by a nightmare about poop

poop on the bed, poop in the bath, poop on my face and clothes.

it was like an echo of just a few years ago when the babies were littler.

yuck.

Lily: On Knowing Your Limits

me: "So, Lily, how's the pooping in the potty thing going?"

Lily: [sigh] "It's going ADAGIO, mommy. Very, very adagio. I wish it would go allegro. Or even andante. But it is going adagio."

me: [fascinated by her word choice.] "Oh, I see."

[some time passes. I catch Lily watching TV right as a sad song starts to play and her eyes just well up with tears.]

me: "Oh, Lily, baby. Did that song make you feel sad?"

Lily: [cries uncontrollably.] "It's just so sad! I'm so sad! That mean song made me feel so sad!"

me: [get her to calm down, then say...] "You know, I think you really like music. It makes you feel a lot of emotions."

Lily: [nods]

me: "Would you like to learn some music? Maybe an instrument?"

Lily: "The flute! Or maybe the DRUMS!"

me: "What about the piano? I could give you piano lessons."

Lily: [shakes her head] "Oh, no, Mommy."

me: "Why, don't you like the piano?"

Lily: "Mommy, I won't be able to learn the piano unless I *listen* to you." [looks away to find something to play with.] "And that is just something I don't know how to do."