Monday, June 30, 2008

A "Fairly" Good Post

Last night, Rhett was writing a paper for one of his classes, and I waited up for him. I don't generally like to sleep without him, it makes me vaguely uneasy and I sleep fitfully anyway, so it's sometimes easier just to wait for him to finish whatever he has to do and then go to sleep when he does. (This, however, does not apply when I'm pregnant, when he is kicked into the guest room at about four months along and doesn't return until I'm postpartum. I really need a lot of space when I'm pregnant, you know.)

Anyway, when he came upstairs and saw that I was awake, waiting for him, he said, "Oh, you're a fairly loyal wife!"

Which, of course, made me laugh. Because, what's with the qualifying "fairly"?

In other news, I discovered recently that the only reason my students liked me when I was teaching was because I dropped a few damns and hells every so often.

All that lesson planning for no good reason. So much time spent grading papers. So many summers spent in professional development. All for nothing! Who would have known that mild swearing could endear you to adolescents so easily?

Thursday, June 26, 2008

When Adolescence Hasn't Abandoned Me

Do you remember how when you were a teenager you used to do all sorts of stuff that had no logical reason and that was completely ridiculous? I still do that sometimes, and even though I know I'm not really thinking rationally, I can't help it.

Like tonight Rhett got a great new job offer and we should be celebrating and having fun together.

But we are in an argument that, if I remember accurately, centers on whether the crease on the cover of my brand new Georgette Heyer book got there because I left it on the floor near where the children play or if it happened when he started kicking the book in my direction so that I would pick it up.

Don't you dare side with Rhett. It happened when he kicked it, because I saw it with my own eyes. Creases in the covers of new books are no laughing matter in this house, and if you think that just because someone got a GREAT NEW JOB they should be let off from this rule, then you are no longer my friend.

I'm so glad that I only act like a teenager every once in a while now. It's tiring to pout over ridiculous things. Plus, I'm lonely here in my bedroom.

But don't think I'm going to apologize first. I'm not the one who put the crease in that cover.

Monday, June 23, 2008

I Hate Nature and Other Reasons I Will Never Be Anne of Green Gables

I've always been an avid reader. As a little girl, I would curl up with Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott and think, "That Rose is very much like me." She wasn't at all, but I liked to think so because she was such a nice girl--and so popular with her seven boy cousins!

I adored Anne of Green Gables and all the following sequels, yes, even Rilla of Ingleside. I used to think that Anne and I were kindred spirits. We were so much alike! We both loved nature! We both were adventurous!

Now that I'm a grown-up I can see that I was clearly delusional as a child, which makes me wonder if in thirty years I'll look back on me now and think, Poor delusional me--how could I have actually thought motherhood was hard? It was a freaking cakewalk compared to . . . I don't know, what will I be doing in thirty years? Probably living on a compound somewhere. I'm just saying. Communal living has always seemed so appealing, especially if everyone on the commune will just do all the work and let me read all day.

Anyway, as usual, that's not my point. My point is that I have never been anything like sweet Anne, and here's why:

1. I hate nature. My mom, who loves nature, would be all like, "Hey, let's go on a hike!" and I'd be all, "Um, can I take a book and wait for you at the bottom of the trail? Except, how about I wait in the car? Or even better, how about I stay at home?" Anne wouldn't have done that. She actually liked to see trees in blossom. In Anne of Green Gables, there's this line: "Look at that sea, girls--all silver and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn't enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds." Um, actually yes, yes, you could. You could enjoy it more if you were indoors looking at it and there weren't mosquitoes biting you and you weren't getting sand in your shoes. And if you had millions of dollars, you could get weekly pedicures, and I'm just saying that might make me enjoy any experience just a little more.

2. I hate cleaning. In Anne of Windy Poplars, Anne says dreamily, "It's fun to make dirty things clean and shining again." Um, Anne? Honey? It's not that fun. Especially when I look into my future, and cannot see a single day in the next twenty-nine years where it won't be necessary to unload and load the dishwasher. It's called monotony, sweetie--not fun.

3. I'm dramatic, but not that dramatic, thank you. You know how Anne says it would be "a romantic experience" to almost drown? Not buying it. I'm kind of thinking maybe it would be scary.

And now my baby is screaming to get out of his crib, so I have to leave this little list. But I think just the fact that my baby is screaming makes me a little less like Anne. I feel quite confident that her babies never cried.

Friday, June 20, 2008

Reading Blogs

Okay, I'm going to switch to GoogleReader, because this clicking on my sidebar and then clicking back to my page and then clicking on my sidebar again is just too much work for a lazy girl like me. If you don't believe me consider that I just fed my children cold hot dogs, watermelon, and goldfish for lunch. I'm lazy, people. More lazy than you might have ever imagined.

Plus, there are lots of blogs that I read but have been too lazy to put in my sidebar.

So. Should I be reading your blog? Why? Will it make me laugh? Give me the address.

Lurkers, feel free to delurk yourself. I want blogs and I want them now.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

World Domination

This little boy only has three teeth across the bottom, instead of four, like most people.

I kind of thought that was weird, and worried for his future, until one of our most stunning friends admitted that she, too, had only three teeth across the bottom. And I had never noticed. And she is stunning. STUNNING, I say. (Marie, start a blog already, so I can link to you whenever I say STUNNING! You won't regret it. Okay, you probably will.)

So, I'm not too worried to discover that this little boy also only has three teeth across the bottom.

In fact, I'm now planning on making three teeth the new normal, the new chic. Three teethed children will soon take over the world.

How will I achieve this?

There will be no discussions of abstinence or birth control in this house, thank you very much.

And that is how you take over the world, genetically speaking.

Thursday, June 12, 2008

So Much for Independence

You all know that I'm trying to raise an independent, strong woman over here. You'll also remember that some of our strong, independent woman chats have fallen a little flat. Here's the latest:

Veevs: Mom, who's your favorite princess?

Me: Mulan.

Veevs: (with a look of disgust) No, but who's really your favorite princess?

Me: Really, Mulan. Do you want to know why I like her?

Veevs: Sure.

AND SHE ROLLED HER EYES! Like whatever I said wasn't going to matter!

Me: I like her because she's independent and she solves her own problems. She doesn't wait for someone else to save the day--she thinks about what she can do to save the day. And she's smart and kind and resourceful.

Veevs: Oh.

MORE EYE ROLLING! Like being independent and smart sucks!

Me: Who's your favorite princess?

Veevs: I like Ariel and Jasmine and Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty.

Me: What do you like about them?

Veevs: I like that they wear such pretty dresses.

Just so you know, guys, being independent, smart, resourceful, and kind? SUCKS!

Wearing a pretty dress? AWESOME!

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

The Problem with the Internet

I think I may have mentioned before that Rhett is sickly. A lot. And sure, we could blame it on the fact that his mother didn't breastfeed him, but honestly, let's not get into that argument. It's a little too touchy for some people.

I would say that Rhett is a hypochondriac, except that doctors always seem to back him up. He's always diagnosed with a sinus infection or bronchitis or, most recently, a staph infection. Did you read that right? STAPH INFECTION. In one of my very first posts months and months and months ago, I mentioned that Rhett cheerfully keeps visiting StyleAmerica, even though they gave him ringworm on his head. Well, guess what? Months and months and months later, it turns out it actually was a staph infection.

We can all feel sorry for Rhett and stuff, but really, you guys? I've been sleeping in the same bed with him for months and months and months. So let's throw the sympathy my way, instead, okay?

But that's not the point of this post, although it proves my point about Rhett picking up sicknesses and disease from every possible source. (By the way, don't mention that I wrote about this to Rhett, okay? He's a little bit sensitive about contracting a staph infection from StyleAmerica.)

My real point is this: The other day Rhett was home sick from work with a fever, sore throat, and other stuff that was passed on to him by our children. Rhett's always like, "Heidi, be careful: Spe's sick and you just drank out of his cup." And I just roll my eyes and say, "It's just baby germs, Rhett."

And then I go lip kiss my babies and Rhett goes and sanitizes his hands. Then Rhett gets sick and I stay perfectly healthy.

Anyway, Rhett was home sick. He had weird red dots on his fingers and hands and so we called The Expert, my dad, the podiatrist.

The Expert said, "Hmmm. Well, if they don't go away in a couple of days you should go see a doctor. That can be a sign of some pretty weird stuff."

But Rhett wanted to know what kind of weird stuff, so he turned to our friend, the Internet. Following a simple yes or no questionnaire ("Do you have pus-filled sores on your back and face? Yes? Then you might have acne. See a dermatologist."), he finally found the perfect description for his symptoms.

"Do you have red dots on your fingers and toes that occurred after a headache or fever?"

He called me in to see the diagnosis.


And then I started laughing hilariously. And then I stopped laughing and said, "Hey, do you have something you want to tell me?"

He shot me a dirty look which meant Don't be ridiculous! so then I continued laughing hilariously.

I'm just wondering though, was The Expert trying to warn me that my husband had syphilis? Is that what he meant by "weird stuff"?

PS--The dots went away by themselves. And no, Rhett doesn't have syphilis. But I'm still laughing hilariously.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

And then the English Major in Me Got All Proud and Weepy

Today, at lunch, Veevs asked for bread and butter. She loves bread and butter, more than any other food. Whenever I get stressed about it, I always think about the book Heidi and how all Grandfather ever fed her was goat cheese, milk and bread and how she was the picture of health with her rosy cheeks and chubby arms. It makes me feel better. That and the fact that she also loves fruit and vegetables.

So today. Sorry, I'm so random sometimes. I don't know why I can't stay on topic. No, actually, I do know why I can't stay on topic. It's because I'm crazy. While I'm indulging this off-topic thing, I just want to say that I bought a disco CD to offset the BobMarley-Coldplay-Beatles-Queen music cocktail that Rhett is forcing on our kids, and it has worked a treat. My kids now sing "I Will Survive" and "Boogie-Oogie-Oogie" instead of "Buffalo Soldier" or "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds". I'm so happy.

But anyway. Today. I made Veevs her bread and butter and set it before her with a little impromptu limerick that went like this:

Little Vee-Vee once asked of her mother,
"Oh, please can I have bread and butter?
Spread it on quick,
and spread it on thick,
Just give me some MORE bread and butter!"

Veevs looked at me for a second and then she said:

"Don't feed me a dead cat,
And don't give me an old hat,
But mother, I LOVE bread and butter!"

Who knew that girl was a poet?

Monday, June 9, 2008

On Wet Toothbrushes

This morning, on my way to drop Veevs off at her kids' summer camp, I suddenly thought, Did I brush my teeth this morning?

And for the life of me, I couldn't remember. I remember reminding Rhett at 6:00 a.m. that our neighbors asked us to take their garbage out for them while they were out of town. I remember Spe rolling into my bed around 6:45 just to cuddle, NOT to sleep, and then starting the whole breakfast, get dressed, get your shoes on, hurry, we're late routine, but brushing my own teeth? I can't remember.

When I got home, I checked my toothbrush. It was wet. I think that means I brushed my teeth this morning.

Either that, or someone used it as a toilet bowl brush. Anything is possible.

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Professional Indian Queen

Today Veevs donned a pink bath towel as a cape, and carried around a purple pencil as a magic wand.

"Oh, hello," I said. "Are you a fairy godmother?"

"No," she said matter-of-factly, "I'm a Professional Indian Queen." I laughed, delighted.

Then she thought for a minute. "Well, maybe I am a fairy godmother. Do you have a wish you want me to grant?"

"I thought you were a Professional Indian Queen," I said.

"Well, that's just what my friends call me," she says airily, and waves her purple pencil around.

In other news, Spe was heard singing from the bathroom this morning, "Aaahhhh, FREAK OUT!" by Chic.

I think I'm doing an awesome job as a mom.

Sunday, June 1, 2008


You guys. This week I tried BORSCHT. And I loved it! It was so flavorful and PINK!

Some things that added to my enjoyment of borscht this weekend:

1) It was not made by me. It was made by a real Russian girl, Anya. And by Russian, I mean Russian, not Ukrainian. I do know the difference, although I always say my brother-in-law Jordy served his Mormon mission in Russia when it was really Ukraine just to bug him. I like to bug people. It's my major secret for endearing myself to people. Why don't I have more friends?

2) It has beets in it. I mean BEETS! I didn't even know you could cook with beets (I know, I hardly know how to cook, period.) and there was this whole wonderful soup made with beets. I feel healthier already.

3) I read War and Peace, Anna Karenina, The Idiot, and Brothers Karamazov. As such, I think I'm almost half-Russian. It would have been a shame for me not to love borscht.

Borscht, people. It's what's for dinner.