The newest addition to our family...

This is Mr. Wili.

She is almost 6 years old and my big-furred kitty (3 years ago I took her to the vet. They told me that at 12 pounds she needed to loose weight. I took offense and haven't taken her to the vet again).

This is Thomas.

We adopted Thomas Monday night. The boy named him. He looked at the cat and said, "That's Thomas." Since he was naming a cat and not attempting to name his sister RudolphtherednosedreindeerFionna, we didn't argue.

Mr. Wili is scared to death of Thomas. I can see why. Thomas has got to weigh 2 pounds, maybe. Thomas had Wili cornered under Zippy's desk last night. The big cat was growling and hissing at the little cat. Baba said, "It's okay, Wili. Thomas is a nice kitty. He is a friend for you." Wili wasn't convinced.

This is Baba and Thomas taking a pretend bath.

The boy wanted to take a bath with his kitties tonight. I told him that kitties don't like water. He said they would take a pretend bath since they were pretend dirty. Thomas obliged, Wili sat in the doorway and growled. The boy had real fun in the pretend bath. Then he decided he should be the doctor and Thomas should be the sick boy. Thomas did not obliged.

My roots are showing....

Tonight a telemarketer lady called to offer me all kinds of things I would be a fool to refuse. Somehow I managed to refuse the bulk of her offerings.

She wanted me to sign up for some book club. I said I wasn't interested. She said it was really important to read to my children. I said I still wasn't interested and my mom is a teacher so I get books cheaper than what she could offer (the library also offers really cheap books, which I mentioned when she tried to get me to join a different book club).

She then said, "Do you rent or own?"

Not realizing that she had changed topics, I said, "my books?"

She was referring to my house.

Oh and PS, dear telemarketer lady: I understand that your job sucks, but please don't call me at 8:30 on a Saturday night. Although I listened polietly for 11 minutes and 36 seconds it was only because I felt bad that you were telemarketing on a Saturday night not because I cared about your exciting offers chosen just for me.

And the great naming debate continues.....

Trying to name a baby with the help of a very stubborn 3 year old is no easy task. While Baba was in the tub, Zippy and I were going through our list.

Me: Zalyssa?

Boy: No. That name is yuck.

Zippy: Maybe.

Me: Zjosh?

Boy: No. My sister's name is RudolphtherednosedreindeerFionna. That's a good name.

Zippy: We are not naming your sister Rudolph.

Boy: But that's her name.

How can you argue with that? Especially since his cuteness trumps Zippy and my combined cuteness.

HONK!!!!!

Zippy was in the bathroom shaving this morning and heard a door shut. He opened the door and saw Baba sitting at the top of the steps. Baba said, "I woke up Dad."

Baba then opened his bedroom door, pointed to his bed, and said, "See."

Baba raced to our bedroom where I was still sleeping (it was 5:58, I still had 2 minutes to sleep). He stood so his face was about 6 inches from my face and yelled, "HONK!!!!!"

I woke up. He thought it was funny. I wanted my two minutes of sleep. He then said, "C'mon Mom. Let's go watch a movie" and raced down the hallway.

I don't move as fast as he does especially after being awoken with a zealous honk so I didn't follow him (I still had 2 minutes, remember?). He made it half way down the hall, stopped, and said, "I forgot Mom!"

He high-tailed it back to my room and I was up for the day. There is nothing quite like a good honk to get you out of bed.

Super Human Strength

When I was super-pregnant with Baba (like 8 and a half months about to pop any minutes pregnant), I decided that I could no longer live with the way our living room furniture was arranged. My loving husband watched from his computer as his wife, the newest super hero "Pregnant Girl" moved couches, end tables, entertainment centers, and a super heavy steamer trunk that came from the old country around the living room. His only comment was about the temperature of the house when I became warm and turned off the heat so I could open the front door for some air. I fail to see what his problem was, just because it was January in Minnesota.

Today "Pregnant Girl" and all her hormonal glory and strength made her return. I could no longer live with the current arrangement of furniture in the living room. The boy kept asking why I needed to rearrange the living room (he was watching Toy Story and got a ride on the couch and the recliner while I was moving them). Rather than explain hormones and the nesting instinct to him, I just told him I was tired of the way the furniture was arranged.

This time, Zippy helped. I'm not sure if he didn't want his pregnant wife rearranging alone or if he was afraid I would get overheated and freeze Baba to the couch. Either way, I had help.

Cleveland

Thursday, March 13:

Besides for the boy locking himself into a bathroom stall in a gas station in Wisconsin (my deepest apologies for anyone who desperately needed to use that stall, but I wasn't crawling under to unlock it) and his obsession with eating at "Talking Bell" the trip to Cleveland was uneventful. When we got to Zeagan's house, the boy announced he was hungry and she should cook him supper. Zeagan doesn't cook - she makes reservations, so he got an apple instead.

Friday, March 14:

We went to Mongolian BBQ for lunch - my child ate crab, baby corn, and 5 tortillas. He also taste tested everything that Zippy and I got, but that's not unusual. He is really into sharing - which means he eats everything you have.

After lunch, we went to the Children's Museum which had a Galapagos Island exhibit. It was basically a room filled with sand that the boy could dig in to his heart's content.

Saturday, March 15:

We went to Mama Santa's for lunch (yum) and then road the Rapid downtown to visit Zeagan at work. My child ate a butter sandwich and made Zeagan "Hot Cocoa" which was chunks of bread, spinach, and whatever else he could throw in his cup when we weren't watching.

Sunday, March 16:

We had lunch at Panini's (a panini, that is, a real panini, is a beautiful thing), wandered around Coventry, and then headed back to Zeagan's to play with Zabby. The boy impressed us with his mad verbal skillz:

Boy: (gives Zabby brown marker) You can color with this one.

Zabby: Thank you.

Boy: Do you like brown?

Zabby: Yes. Do you like brown?

Boy: I like making in the potty. Do you like making brown in the potty?

Zabby: Yes.

Zippy and I were rolling on the floor. Zabby is 5. I wish I would have had a video camera on those two.

Monday, March 17:

We drove to Wisc. Dells to spend the night at the Atlantis Water park. It is the perfect place for Baba to play - the deepest part of the kiddy pool is 1 foot. The boy runs around the pool (seriously) for a couple hours, goes to bed, wakes up and repeats.

Tuesday, March 18:

We get up and go to IHOP or the pancake store, depending on who you ask for breakfast. The boy "shares" breakfast with Zippy and I. We swim some more and return home.

The Cat

I believe Mr. Wili misses Baba. My mom said she sat in this position for 20 minutes last night.

Don't worry, Wili, we will be home soon and Baba can't wait to see you. He misses you, too.

(By the way, Wili, the back view is not flattering, you look very big furred. Remember, the paparazzi is always watching you)

The Farm Room in all its glory

The bed is revealed

Pa built Baba a wagon bed, complete with wheels and a hitch.

I wish I was almost three and got so excited about stuff that I forgot words.

Baba's New Room

Mr. and Mrs. Zooker came down to paint this weekend. We aren't finished, but this is the boy's reaction to what we've done so far (Pa built the barn).

Routine OB check

There is nothing routine about a routine OB check with an almost three year old. Baba has accompanied me on almost all of my appointments so he knows the routine. He knows how many receptionists are supposed to be working ("Where'd that other guy go?" I guess there were three "guys" last time, and only two today), how many nurses there are, how many lab techs are in the lab, and where the good toys are.

We got to the doctor and checked in. Baba played with the toys until they called for our turn. As we walked back, he said, "Hi jelly man," to the ultrasound tech (he hasn't seen her since Jan, how does he recognize her?). Then, to his wonder, I got to be pee in a cup. He asked if he could pee in a cup. I said no. He asked if he could see my potty. I told him to look with his eyes. He said, "Wow, Mom! You made lots of potty." I felt like taking a bow.

We walked across the hall to the lab and waited for it to be 4:30 so they could draw blood for the glucose tolerance test (I passed, hooray!). Baba asked the tech why she didn't take blood out my arm and why she didn't take more blood.

Then we got to go to the "little room" and wait for the doctor. During our last trip, he was fascinated by the stirrups. I told him they were so the doctor could look at a patient's feet. Because he's almost three and I know everything, he believed me.

As soon as he finished his sucker (I was so prepared), the doctor came in. He said, "Doctor, why is there no little potty in the bathroom for me to go potty in?" I thought it was a fair question and the doctor said he didn't know why there was no little potty, but he would check into it.

The doctor had me hop (relative term) on the exam table. Baba asked, "Are you going to look at Mom's feet?" Luckily, my doctor has a sense of humor and remembered Baba from last time and said that he wasn't going to look at my feet today.

He put the fetoscope on my belly and asked if Baba knew what that sound was. Baba said, "Yes! That's Rudolphtherednosedreindeerfionna." The doctor looked at me and I explained that the boy is convinced that's his sister's name. He said he's heard a lot of unique names, but that is by far the most unique.

After playing with Baba's trucks for a few minutes, the doctor said he'd see us in four weeks. Baba asked, "Where are you going?"

The doctor said, "I've got to get back to work."

My child said, "Get to work, mister!"

Life is definetly more exciting with an almost three year old.

The most important thing I learned.....

I spent the past weekend painting. I spent the weekend before this weekend painting. I like painting. You see, I've come to the conclusion that the belly is not getting any smaller, and panicked. This house will be painted before Rudolph makes her appearance. Paiting around the toilet in our bathrooms (I've got one bathroom left!) is quickly becoming not an option.

I've discovered something during the hours I've spent high on paint fumes - the most important thing I've ever learned is to properly clean a paint brush.

A college degree, a brain brimming over with useless facts, working knowledge of Microsoft Office suites later and the most important thing I know is something I learned in 7th grade art. That and I love my paint brush. When Zippy told me that my little paint brush (stolen from the art room when I was a senior in high school) was "broken" I almost cried. I couldn't imagine having to replace that brush. It'd be like finding a new leg. The replacement might work, but it just wouldn't be the same.

I wonder what my parental units would have said had I told them I wasn't going to college - I had already learned the most important thing I could ever learn - how to clean a paintbrush.

What I did last night.....

My super exciting evening:

I got off of work and picked up the boy from day-care. Apparently, he had been standing at the window saying, "Want you here now, Mom. Hurry up," since he got up from his nap. Everyday it gets tougher and tougher to want to go to work. We went to 'Great-Donalds' to celebrate the day's potty success (can I help it if I wanted ice cream?).

Then we ran around Great-Donalds for a while. A local Great-Donalds used to have a gas station attached. The gas station went out of business, but the gas station part of it is still there - so basically its one big room. Lots of fun for running. Then Baba decided he wanted to go to the library and pick out a Thomas movie. We went but arrived at the library 6 minutes after it closed. No Thomas movie. Darn.

So we went home and watched Clifford instead. We had a lovely dinner of soup and grilled cheese (um, Zennie, I hate to admit it, but Patty-Lou was right, I totally got heartburn from soup. Of course, I get heartburn from breathing because I'm pregnant.....) when Zippy came home and then it was time for Baba to go to bed. Baba disagreed. We made a deal - if he went upstairs and got ready for bed, then we could watch one (1) Thomas story. We watched one (1) Thomas story and then Zippy shut off the TV. You would have though Zippy threw Baba's Pudgie (favoritest stuffed animal) out the window. Baba demanded justice - Dad needed to go in time out for shutting off the TV.

After the fit was over, we went upstairs to read books. I was invited to lay with the boy and accepted. I'm not sure who feel asleep first - me or him.

I woke up to the worst heartburn in the world, took a couple tums, and then got to do my favoritest thing of all: BALANCE MY CHECKBOOK!!!!!! It took me longer than it should have because I pulled the number I was supposed to be balancing to out of my arse. It balanced perfectly once I realized that. Then I went to bed.

The End

Most exciting evening ever?

My quest

Maybe its the hormones talking, but I have decided that Rudolph will not be happy unless she is sleeping in a lime green crib...

And my crib needs to be cheap. I'm not spending a ton of money on something that the child will be sleeping in for maybe 3 years (Baba lasted a year. Apparently, scaling the wall of the crib, balancing on the edge, yelling "Baba jump!" is more fun than sleeping. I suppose hearing/seeing Mom and Dad run into your room after each crash would be amusing).





I mean, really, I've spent at least 5 minutes looking. If they can make a crib like the above, why can't I get a simple, lime green crib. And, its kind of creepy that you would put your child in the belly of a horse to sleep. Of course, Rudolph will be sleeping in the roar room, but still.

Side note. Baba still insists we should name his sister "RudolphtherednosedreindeerFionna." I'm all for unique names and Rudolph is unique, especially for a girl. But can you imagine learning to write that in Kindergarten? The other kids are Joe, Jane, Bob, Kayla, and your name is RudolphtherednosedreindeerFionna.

The Apple and other quick stories

Zippy heard Baba singing "Old McDonald" (always a favorite) in his room tonight when he was supposed to be sleeping. Zippy went in to check on him and found Baba sitting under his nightlight reading one of his farm books.

I so used to do that. When my sister and I used to share a room, we would take turns reading under the night light. And take turns tattling on the other for reading under the night light when we were supposed to be sleeping. Sometimes, he is so much like me, it scares me.

Baba mentioned tonight that he would like his Bob birthday party, please. I asked who he was inviting to the party - Ma, Pa, Mr. & Mrs. Zooker, Ziz, Zicah, Harvard Zosh, and Wili (the cat). It's going to be one heck of a party!

And, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Fionna is still, by far, Baba's favorite name for his baby sister. We have until May to convince him otherwise.

Baba's Rocking Chair

Baba has a rocking chair, which used to be my sister's rocking chair. There is a picture of my sister sitting in what used to be her rocking chair on the wall at my parents house. Baba didn't really notice it until Christmas. And then became obsessed with why Mrs. Zucher was in her rocking chair and "what can we do to get her out my rocking chair?"

The other highlight of Christmas was my handsome little man in his suit (refused to wear the tie - wonder where he gets that from) and him tearing the paper off every present at my parents house and then carrying it over to Great Pa to show him.

Survey Says

I take a lot of online surveys. Its a great way to earn some extra cash, but please stop asking me if I would be friends with a certain brand if it came to life. I honestly don't know if I would like Target the person as much as I like Target the store.

An update on the plastic hot dog....

When we were in the bathroom getting ready for bed tonight, Baba noticed the plastic hot dog and said, "That don't belong in the bathroom. The bathroom is for people, not for hot dogs."

The hot dog has safely been relocated to Baba's room.

In my bathroom.....

The following items have taken up residence in my bathroom. If they are yours, please claim them.

1. One red tractor.
2. One green tractor with dual rear wheels.
3. One watch that is 1 hour and 15 minutes fast (it is 15 minutes fast so you think you are running 15 minutes behind and don't dally in the morning. It is an hour fast because we got the watch a couple years ago in a Happy Meal and can't figure out how to change it. In a couple months, it will only be 15 minutes fast).
4. One puzzle book.
5. One hardcover copy of John Gresham's the Rainmaker.
6. One green step stool.
7. One plastic hot dog.
8. One copy of "Let's Build."
9. One blue cup.
10. One super old copy of Fortune magazine.

Haircuts

Zippy and I had been thinking Baba needed a haircut for a while. But its so hit and miss with that one - he either screams the entire time or is as good as gold, so we put off the hair cut as long as possible (I trim the back when it starts looking mulletish - no child (or husband) of mine is leaving the house with a mullet).

Last Saturday, out of the blue, Baba announced he wanted Mrs. Mooker (he has taken to calling my sister Mrs. Mooker and nothing else) to cut his hair. I called up Mrs. Mooker and told her to bring her clippers.

After a few minutes, Baba decided he no longer wanted Mrs. Mooker to cut his hair. I asked if Pa could cut his hair. He said no. I asked if Ma could cut his hair. He said no. I asked if Mom or Dad or Mr. Mooker or Pudgie (my parent's dog) could cut his hair. He said no to all of the above.

I asked who could cut his hair.

He thought for a while and then said Harvard Zosh.

In the end, he settled for Mrs. Mooker (who's haircutting name is Dalia, by the way. I think she's adopted).

Swedish Cooking for the Sophisticated Urbanite

Ziz, who fries everything (seriously, fish, zucchini, green tomatoes) in butter flavored Crisco has been insisting that us Swedes are weird since she arrived. We are weird because we eat lefsa (technically, that's Norwegian, but its still darn good), Lutefisk (what's wrong with cod soaked in lye with some nice white sauce? And boiled potatoes, can't forget the boiled potatoes), and pankakor (egg pancakes - they are delicious).

But we throw down tonight. Zippy used my great grandma's recipe and made Swedish meatballs. Yeah, she's coming around. Lutefisk here we come!

Waiting for Christmas

We put up the Christmas tree at our house Saturday night. We were snowed in and had nothing better to do. Since then, Baba has been trying to convince us it is Christmas and it is time to open his presents. Every night he says, "We porgot to open our presents." We take turns telling he we didn't "porget" and he has to wait until Christmas.

Tonight we were talking about why he needs to learn all the letters in his name - so he can "read" the packages on Christmas and pick out which are his. I told him that he would have presents at Great Ma's house, Ma and Pa's house, Grandmy and Grandpy's house, and Baba's new house.

He said, "Wow."

He paused and then asked, "Will Harvard Zosh have presents for me at his house too?"

I told him he can hop on a plane and find out. :-)

Heartbreaking Woogies

The boy has mom/dad cycles. For a couple weeks Zippy will be his best friend and Dad has to do everything. Best of luck to you if you try to serve him breakfast in the morning and you aren't Dad. "Want Dad to pour my cereal." "Want Dad put me in my car seat"

Currently, he is on his Mom cycle. Which means I can do no wrong and Dad can do nothing. He wakes up in the middle of the night and Zippy, being a good husband/father goes to check on him. Baba yells, "No Dad! Don't want you. Me want Mom!"

There are plus sides of being his current favorite. He literally dances for joy when I come home from work, or down the stairs, or leave a room and come back. And he has an abundance of kisses, hugs, and woogies for me.

My child is the inventor of the Woogie. A woogie is a pinch to the cheek done while saying, "Woogie, woogie, woogie." Not really sure where that came from. But, since woogies are rather painful (especially when his sharp little claws get involved), I like to sic him on Zippy. "Go Woogie Dad, Baba." And, since I'm the current favorite, he complies.

Tonight we were watching "Santa Claus is Coming to Town" for the 97th time this weekend (okay, so realistically, it was only the fifth time (which is 5 hours of Christmas fun) since Saturday morning, but my tolerance for bad late 60's Christmas cartoons is waning. The "classic" Christmas shows are shows you watch once a year, not once an hour, but I digress. At least we've moved on from Frosty the Snowman. That sucker is only 20 minutes long. That's three times an hour. You do the math). Baba turned around and said, "Me want to watch backwards so I can look at you Mom."

Yeah, just about made me cry. Little stinker makes it so hard for me to leave him.

Christmas Tree Decorating

Every year we put up the Christmas tree Thanksgiving weekend. It used to be Thanksgiving day as soon as we got home from Grandma and Grandpa whoever's house, but now we have a 7 PM bedtime to think about. We'd pull the tree out of the box (artificial all the way), throw on the ugliest ornaments we could find (you know, the crap you made in kindergarten), and then crawl under the tree and scream Christmas carols at the top of our lungs. Silver bells has always been a favorite.





Not much has changed. We are our all older, but we still come home to put up my parent's tree on or about Thanksgiving day. We still crawl under the tree and scream (last year, Baba was terrified of our, um, singing. This year he thought it was hilarious). And we still find the ugliest kindergarten crap we can find. Pickings were slim this year as my stinking mother has started to throw away/hide some of our "best" work. We'll make up for it throughout the Christmas season by putting various crap (empty beer cans is always a favorite) on the tree.





Nothing like a family tradition to put in you in the holiday spirit.

I wish I would have had a camera....

My poor little neglected blog.

Tonight, Zippy and I took the boy out to a neighborhood Chinese food buffet. The food was most excellent, thanks for asking. The boy wanted to try everything. And I mean everything. He tried crab Rangoon, beef with broccoli, sesame chicken, Peking chicken, stuffed mushrooms, lo mien (his favorite), and all the other dishes that were there. He out ate Zippy and almost out ate me (what can I say? I'm eating for two). I ate so much that I had to call my mom and make sure she fed him while he was at her house (she did, and surprise, surprise, he ate a ton there, too).

Some of the other parents were amazed at my child's lack of pickiness. I just shrug my shoulders. I don't know why he is willing to try everything, but I'm not taking credit for it. The way the belly baby is acting, there is going to be a lot of food that it won't eat. I love broccoli, but since getting preggers, the thought of it is enough to make me yack.

When I walked in (I was meeting Zippy and Baba there; I came right from work), I was looking around trying to find my boys. The little Chinese greeter lady saw me and walked over.

Greeter lady: You looking for someone?
Me: Yes (looking around).
GL: You sit there.
Me: (looking there) I don't know those people.
GL: You sit there (pointing at a different table).
Me: I don't know those people, either.
GL: I find table for you.
Me: That's okay. I'll wait by the door.

I promptly called Zippy and told him to hurry up or I'd be eating with some random people.

Algebra

Today Zennie let me do a few of Zalyssa's algebra problems. Call me a nerd, but algebra is way more fun that work. Actually, if given the opportunity, I would do algebra all day long.

Anyone want to hire an algebra problem solver? I wonder if Zennie would let me do algebra problems at the basketball game Saturday night.

So my sister will get off my back....

Baba was supposed to be a cow for Halloween, however, Zippy's co-worker failed to locate the costume in time for Halloween. He was a farmer instead. Zicah went as a bumble bee, which oddly enough, Baba had been his first Halloween (I went as a homicidal maniac or a crabby pregnant lady - your choice).

At first, Baba did not want to go trick-or-treating. He wanted to stay home and watch Curious George. But alas, Curious George was done for the night and his other option was going to bed, so off we went.

After the first house he was hooked. Ring the doorbell, say "trick-or-treat," and get candy. Who wouldn't love that?

Fun with Pa

My child is not spoiled.

My father did not spend several days figuring out how to make his lawn mower run super slow without dying.

I wonder why Baba loves Ma and Pa so much.

I've Never Licked a Spark Plug (even though Zippy offered)

We're back from Boston. Sadly, I can no longer be a Pirate Who Don't Do Anything (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxLza2Lq1-g), but the trip was fun and worth giving up the title.




Paul Revere's House


We left Thursday afternoon, sort of. We finally got to Boston around 1 AM Friday morning after spending an hour bonding with the MSP tarmac and the O'Hare tarmac. Harvard Zosh escorted us to his bed where we promptly feel asleep.

We woke up bright and early Friday morning and started our day with breakfast (I had a Portabella and pesto omelet - yum!) followed by a stroll around Harvard, Mount Auburn Cemetery where my great, great, great Uncle Newell is buried, and several stops along the Charles river to watch the crew teams practicing. We had dinner with Harvard Zosh and his girlfriend Zory and a neat restaurant (I had fish. I like fish - they are tasty).


Saturday morning we got up to celebrate Harvard Zosh's birthday and then went into the city to walk the freedom trail and go to the aquarium.

Ben Franklin's parents, John Hancock, Paul Revere, Samuel Adams, and others are buried in the is cemetery. A lot of the graves have skulls and cross bones on them. Kinda morbid, isn't?





Irish Potato Famine Memorial






USS Constitution aka Old Ironsides


My new penguiny friend from the aquarium. He is standing with his arms out to cool himself off. He doesn't like swimming because he has cataracts and the other penguins pick on him. Penguins are mean!

I had two goals while in Boston: eat clam chowder and eat lobster. I succeeded Saturday night when Harvard Zosh took us to the Blue Dolphin for dinner (although misleading, they don't actually serve dolphin or porpoise). I became rather attached to my lobster friend and pulled his head off so he could watch me eat.


And finally, for you Miss Zou. I didn't go in, but I did take a picture, just for you:

The Farm: The Happiest Place On Earth

On Saturday morning, after a whole week of listening to Baba say, "Want go Great Ma and Great Pa's house," we gave in. We lost power around 6:30 AM Saturday, so Zippy and I decided to stop at McDonald's for breakfast.

The boy loves McDonalds. We can get him to do almost anything in exchange for a trip to McDonalds. "Sit really still for the doctor and we'll go to McDonalds." "Sleep in your room by yourself for 3 nights and we'll go to McDonalds."

We stopped at McDonalds expecting to hear how Baba wanted French Fries and Apple Dipples. His reaction was quite different. "No want go to McDonald's! Want go Great Ma and Great Pa's house."

Zippy got out of the car to run in and place our order. Baba screamed, "No Dad, get back here!"

I wonder what I could get Baba to do in exchange for a trip to Great Ma and Great Pa's house.

Highlights of Como Zoo

Driving the cars.





Driving the firetrucks.





Driving the dump truck.





Riding on the choo-choo train (not made for anyone over 3 ft. I think I have a scar).





Oh, yeah. And the monkeys. The verbal boy stated that the monkeys were silly, goofy, and funny.

Baba want go Ma and Pa's house.

I wonder why Pa (my father) is Baba's favorite person in the world.

Me want apple

If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, what will 4 to 5 apples a day do for you? Baba is obsessed with eating apples. He wants an apple for a pre-breakfast snack, and apple for the car ride to day-care (its at least a 12 minute drive), an apple at day-care, an apple when he gets home, and an apple before bed.

And, you can't cut it up. He likes to eat it whole and eat the whole thing. Seeds, core, stem, you name it. The first thing he talks about when he wakes up in the morning is eating an apple.

Zippy met us at the clinic for Baba's 2 week post op (the tubes are in and working - hooray!). Baba hadn't napped all day (not so hooray, I desperately needed a nap). He fell asleep in the car and slept through me taking him out of the car, walking to the clinic, getting into the elevator, and pressing the "2" button. When the elevator stopped, Baba woke up and saw Zippy. He said, "Hi Dad, Baba ate apple."

Nursery Rhymes A La Baba

As overheard outside his door while he was singing instead of sleeping.

Dumpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Dumpty Dumpty broke. No horses.

Old McDonald had a farm. Ee-i-o. Horse here. Horse Everywhere. Hee-haw. Horse no say hee-haw. Baba funny. Neigh here.

Baba is funny. I had a very hard time not cracking up.

Poor little blog....

Its hard to find time to write something when you are working a million (give or take a couple hours) a week. I leave the house around 7:15 and usually don't get home until 6:30 or 7 at night. Oh yeah. I also like to work on Saturdays.

I just found out about a new Gap, I mean, Zap roll out. I emailed Zippy and said, "You don't really like seeing me in the evening right?"

Zippy replied, "Nah. Can I invite my mistress over?"

Miss ZennieZou's wedding is on Sunday and my big toe has a chip! It's terrible. I guess my only option is to get another pedicure. Darn the luck.

For Crimes Against France

We butchered chickens with Zippy's parents today. Perhaps because Zippy, Ziz, and I have seen The Addams Family way too many times, we repeated the scene where Wednesday and Pugsley try to behead Pubert for crimes against France several times. We got quite good and hmming France's national anthem. "Woe to the Republic."

Today was a big day of "firsts" for Ziz. Her first time shooting a BB gun (she did not shoot her eye out, we just shot cans), her time riding in the back of a pickup truck (come to think of it, I'm not sure she has ever rode in the cab of a pickup truck), her first time holding a live chicken, her first time holding a beheaded but still moving chicken, her first time plucking a chicken, her first time gutting an animal of any kind, and her first time washing chickens. We'll make a farm girl out of her yet!

S-M-A-T

I like to think of myself as a smart (s-m-a-t) girl, but there is just a connection that I'm not getting. Every time I eat something with gluten in it, I spend an extended length of time in the bathroom, visiting my friend "el throno". No gluten? No getting sick.

So I go gluten free for a few days. I get to feeling really good.

And then I cheat. I alternate between having just a little gluten (a bite of a cookie won't hurt me, right?) and a lot (a whole pizza won't hurt me, right?) with the same results.

Have a learned my lesson? Kind of. Pizza, not worth getting sick over. The Belgian waffle roll dipped in chocolate, smothered with whipped cream and sprinkles I had at the State Fair today, totally worth getting sick for.

Hold me back....

I've discovered Facebook. Do I have time to get into MySpace to?

In a van down by the river....

We went to visit the Mighty Mississippi a couple weeks ago on the way to my aunts house. Baba started screaming, "Baba get out car now. Baba want to walk!" And since he has mastered the doors in Mom's car we took his threats seriously and stopped the car at a park.

Zippy would have been perfectly content viewing the river from afar. Baba and I wanted to get up close and personal with the river (and on the climb up I almost stepped on the dead fish that we had been discussing the smell of since we climbed down the bank to the river).

Baba wasn't content to just look at the river. We had to draw in the sand. Guess what we drew? What's that you say, tractors and wagons? Ding, ding, ding. You are the winner. Baba's tractors and wagons look more like squiggly lines to me, but I'll let it slide. He is only 29 months.

Ever since we moved to Baba's new house by the pond, Baba has been obsessed with fishing (it fits right in between his obsession with going to Ma and Pa's house, tractors, and trucks). So, Baba found a stick by the river and proceeded to "fish". We caught no fish.

The highlight of the journey down to the river (besides the dead fish, of course). Was the airplane that Baba spotted. I'm still not sure how he saw it. I believe the plane was a couple feet below orbit.

Romance

Zippy: You know, I've had a lot of fun with you since we dropped the boy off at your parents.

Me: You sound surprised.

Zippy: Yeah, I am. I mean, I just wanted to tell you that.

Its nice to know after almost four years of marriage (and eight years of being together) he is still surprised that he has fun with me.

Too Young?

Baba's tractor, bob-cat, and combine have been very dirty lately so have had to join Baba in the bath. Last night, Baba wanted me to put water in the lift of his tractor. I told him that water was a liquid thus would run where ever it could and he would need to put a solid in the lift.

We discussed the differences between liquids and solids for a while until I notice Zippy standing in the doorway smirking at me. He asked me if I thought Baba was a little young to understand liquids and solids. I said, "No, that's why I'm saving gas and plasma until he is three."

The Doings

A couple weeks ago, my dad's family had the annual get together referred to as "The Doings." The Doings are generally held at my Auntie Zue-Zue's house. We grill some sort of meat (this year it was pork - yuck. I had veggies and cheesy potatoes) and spend the afternoon drinking and bullshitting.

The highlight of the Doings is the presentation of the Zirving Zfrank Memorial Award, presented to the member of the Zhompson clan who exhibits the most "Zirv" like behavior during the year. My dad won the inaugural year for getting tired of waiting for the doctor to remove his stitches and removing his stitches himself. My aunt won last year for saying, "The bread was stale and the wine tasted like shit," on her way back from communion. My other aunt who was in church with her was afraid God was going to strike her down. This didn't happen. Yet.

There were 5 nominations this year. The first four involved instances of road rage. I was pretty excited that no one had nominated me for this years award until my aunt announced I had won. And what a prize I had won:

After my grandpa passed and his children were cleaning out his house they found what would become the Zirving Zfrank Memorial Award. No one knew what it was or what purpose it served, just that for some reason Grandpa had put it together and held onto.

Every year the winner adds their contribution to the trophy, kind of like the Stanley Cup, but more meaningful, I think.

You are probably wondering what I did to deserve such an honor. Well, I had some plantar warts on the bottom of my left foot. I wasn't particularly fond of my warts, but I didn't want to go to the doctor and have them frozen off. That sounded painful. So I decided my best option would be to gouge them out with an X-acto knife, which I did. I've been wart free ever since. But, what clinched the award for me was my statement to my father about the wartectomy I preformed on myself: "I am not paying some doctor $20 to freeze the bottom of my foot when I can take care of the warts myself with an X-acto knife."

In hindsight, I should have kept quiet about the wartectomy.

Done!

One main character is killed every 81.1 pages. Its by far my favorite of the Harry Potter books.

Harry's Here

My eyeballs may fall out, but I'm going to finish this book before the weekend is over.

Okay, I'll admit, I kind of sort of know how it ends because I couldn't resist and I read the last page. :-)

And now for something new and different for the afternoon.....more Harry Potter!

The Nooner which turned into a Oner that turned into a Twoer...

The cable guy was supposed to be here today between the hours of 1 and 3 - it was after 4 when he finally showed up. We've had the cable installed for just over a month and a couple weeks ago the remote stopped working. We tried everything - new batteries, hitting it, throwing it against the wall, letting the boy "fix" it with his hammer - nothing worked.

So last night, Zippy called the cable company. The unhelpful lady on the other end said we would have to pay either $12 to ship 3 day or $20 to ship overnight to get a new remote. I said to my dearest husband, "Give me the phone." He complied with my request.

Today the cable guy stopped by with a brand new remote for free. And I am now in love with the cable! Why? Certainly not due to the quality of crap on 24/7, but the greatest cable invention ever. Apparently I have on demand. Not only do I get to watch some shows and movies on demand for free, but I get to watch surgeries on demand. Tonight I watched robotic heart surgery for free while eating my gluten free snack.

The other's that share my house (not the boy, he was already sleeping) thought eating while watching surgery was disgusting, but they are weird like that. I'm tempted to get up early tomorrow to watch more surgeries.

Eggs are Nature's Hand Grenades

Isn't that lovely? I tried to eat eggs this morning but my child had other plans - namely eating my eggs.

I heart cereal - trying to go gluten free is making me a might crabby. I miss my breakfast cereal (and lunch cereal and snack cereal and dinner cereal) and I finally had an idea that sounded appetizing - an omelet. Baba also thought it was appetizing and tricked me into going back into the kitchen to get him a spoon. Apparently his cereal and blueberries weren't enough.

Hopefully I find out the results for this celiac business sooner rather than later.

Harry Potter and the Annoying Girl's Buttcrack

Tomorrow is Harry Potter day (yes, I realize that it has been out for over 24 hours but so what!? I am too old and tired to see it on a work night). So what is the fascination? Why am I so excited to see this darn movie? I know how it is going to end - I've read the book twice.

I am very much looking forward to spending the evening with my friends Zennie, Zobyn, Zon, Ziz, and Zippy (dang. How is it possible that I know so many people with "Z" names?) and eating popcorn (no butter, please).

Today was the best day at work ever. Big, the annoying girl, was gone! Who cares that several of my installs when to crap and I got yelled at by the DLPM from Toys in Texas (whatevs Rich, you are still my main LP man)? Big was gone. I could hear myself think. I saw no boobs or buttcracks. And, when I was on the phone, I could hear the person I was talking to. It was awesome!!!!!

Isn't she beautiful?

After we helped her into her dress, I stood back in amazement at the beautiful woman my sister had become. She was no longer the nerdy girl with braces, glasses, and a broken arm. She was a woman who was about to become someones wife. I was on the verge of tears when she motioned for me to come over.

She said, "Toey, I really got to poop. I thought the feeling would pass when I got my dress on, but it got worse."

I did my sisterly duty and guarded while she went about her business. Isn't that beautiful?

Wedding Weekend

Little Ditty married Poonch II this weekend. I have a brother! I've always wanted a brother. We started the weekend with a surprise bachlorette party for Little Ditty on Thursday night. 19 of her closests friends, relatives, and neighbors attended a Saints game. Our seats were literally on the field.

After the game we spent the night at my parents house (my bff from Kansas and a bunch of Ditty's Indiana friends). Friday morning we got up for nail fun (I got a French pedicure - my feet look fantastic) and ate lunch at a little cafe.

The rehearsal went well, despite Ditty's refusal to kiss her husband-to-be after the pastor told her to. The pastor told her they needed to work on their kissing before the wedding. That made me laugh, a lot. I heard the rehearsal dinner food was excellent. Seeing as how I don't eat pork, I had broccoli, carrots, and a sundae for supper.

Saturday morning, I had to be up at butt-crack to have my hair done. My hair looked fantastic, but it was done 6 hours before the wedding. Not a lot of fun, but it held well. We went to the church to get ready and take pictures. The ceremony was disappointingly dry eyed. Judging by the state of the groom the night before we figured we would all be crying. Poonch II is a sensative guy, but both him and Ditty made it through without crying. And my little cowboy made an adorable ringbearer.

Their reception was at a country club. The food was excellent. After dinner we shook our groove thing all night. The challenge of the evening was to polish of the 16 gallon keg my father had invested in. We were successful.

After several glass of beer, we were the greatest dancers ever. We invented such dances as the shopping cart, the walker, and lawn mower. Our dancing kept the band entertained for hours.