Monday, December 29, 2008

my own romper stomper


These boots were made for stomping...


And that's just what they'll do...



One of these days this Sith is gonna make cookies for you!

Yes, it is an excellent segue, thank you.

Quote the Biscuit, regarding these sugar cookies that we baked and iced together:
"I don't really like these cookies. I would like another kind of cookie."

Then she licked up all the icing and kissed her brother on the head, leading me to believe that he had some sort of nasty head scabies.

Nope. Just icing.

Friday, December 26, 2008

prolonging the magic

Yes, Biscuit has been alive for 2 previous Christmases, but this is the first one for which she was conscious of the magic. Last year, she waddled around and looked vaguely interested in the presents we unwrapped for her, but she didn't really get the all-important concept of major American consumerism. Our main joy was watching her face light up each morning in December when she saw the tree again and shouted, "Tee! Baws! Tee! Baws!" Because everyone loves a tree covered in balls.

This year, she was shrieking, "Oh my goodness! Oh, wow! There is a present for me, probably!", and when she tore into a gift, it was reminiscent of an alligator ripping into a bloated 'possum carcass. Seriously. The kid is rabid with joy and enthusiasm. And we love it.

We loved shopping for her gifts. We loved replacing all the ornaments she pulled off the tree. We loved dramatically staging her stocking for maximum excitement. We loved eating the giant ham from Target that we got so we wouldn't have to cook this week. And we really loved setting out milk and cookies for Santa, and then gulping the milk and taking strategically placed bites out of the cookies.

To be honest, Christmas hasn't been magical since 1989, known around our house as "The Year of the Nintendo". Imagine, if you will, the two of us at the high point of pre-teen awkwardness, separated by 250 miles. Dr. Crog is gangly and pale, wearing a Guns N Roses t-shirt. I am short and pudgy with a Dorothy Hamill haircut, wearing a Maggie Simpson shirt. And we are both cracked out on the original Super Mario World. Little did we know what the future held for us, outside of beating Bowser on level 8.

But I digress.

Christmas is magical again. That's what matters. Seeing Biscuit's eyes light up when she saw the tree. Watching her deliver gifts to her great-grandparents. Listening to her play with her new globe with her grandmother. Hearing her ask her grandfather to read her a new book. Dr. Crog and I, sitting on the couch, bloated with ribs and peanut candy, watching Gross Pointe Blank while Biscuit enjoyed her new shopping cart and blissfully ignored us. And just watching T. Rex look around with that cross-eyed, bewildered, Winston-Churchill-on-LSD look that all 4-weekers share.

Life is just so much richer than I had imagined possible.

Kinda like those 7-layer cookies that my friend Christine made last week. But without the toothache.

Sunday, December 21, 2008

is it munning?

For no identifiable reason, my oldest child pops awake before 6am each day. Her first question, upon looking outside at the inky blackness of night: Is it munning?

Our unequivocal answer: NO, IT IS NOT MORNING. GO BACK TO SLEEP!

That ploy rarely works. One of us generally has to get up, bleary and annoyed, before 7am to avoid a constant, shrieking chorus of MOMMY! DADDY! MOMMEEEEEEE! Despite two alarm clocks, too many toys, and complex algorithms involving naps, bedtimes, and yogurt as variables, it's always pitch black when she's rarin' to go. UGH.

So today, with holiday spirit abounding, we turned lemons into lemonade. Or, to be more precise, stinky beans into coffee. We all woke up, got dressed, and went to IHOP to feast.

And you know what? It was lovely. The excitement of doing something different; the opportunity to watch the sky slowly change from black to blue and talk about when the sun would peek out; the peaceful drive down a curvy, empty road; the lack of crowds. T. Rex slept calmly, Biscuit asked intriguing questions, and Dr. Crog and I bantered back and forth under our breath. Again, lovely.

Even breakfast was delicious. It was fun watching the Biscuit spoon her grits all over everything, mainly because it occurred on Dr. Crog's side of the table.

And after breakfast, we went to Target, where I loaded the cart with stocking stuffers for my little dudes. Hello Kitty features prominently. Compared to all the other current commercial toddler obsessions, she (at least) doesn't have a mouth and therefore can't say things like, "Don't swipe, swiper!" or "I'm a beautiful, anorexic princess!" Here's to hoping the $1 bins at Target are made in the Chinese factories that don't use lead or melamine, if they actually exist.

When I first heard her little voice at 5:45am, I cringed internally as I tried desperately to get T. Rex back to sleep and find my own oblivion. But by 7:03, I was eternally grateful for a beautiful sunrise, a happy family, and some whipped-cream-slathered pumpkin pancakes.


Saturday, December 20, 2008

my magical sock

You know why Christmas is so magical? It's the pageantry. Lights, trees, decorations, songs, cookie icing, family traditions, Santa and the reindeer-- all the events and lore we've made up for a holiday that nowadays has very little to do with a scrunchy little guy in a manger.

For example, today, I asked Dr. Crog to watch the Biscuit while I went to the $1 bins at Target for stocking booty tomorrow. He didn't understand why it was necessary for me to hide these purchases from our astute little dude, and I explained that Santa needs to be more secretive than, "Hey, look at that elephant!" while I drop stickers in the grocery cart. And he wasn't sure we wanted to "do" Santa.

Blasphemy!

My basic argument was this:

Magical: Santa came down the chimney and put stuff in my stocking!

Non-magical: My mom put some crap in a sock.

See how that works?

Religious or not, creative or not, whoever you are: you've got to admit that Santa is pretty cool.

Friday, December 19, 2008

quote n' dote

First, the quote.

The Biscuit has a wonderful friend, practically a twin. They are on the same level physically, mentally, and cute-tastically. And her mama is a wonderful friend to me, and we both have scrunchy little newborns, so it's basically a triple date. We met them at the boggy playground yesterday to run some energy off our toddlers and commiserate on mothering two, and I overheard this conversation:

Biscuit's buddy: Ow! You bumped into me!
Biscuit: I am sorry I bumped into you.
Biscuit's buddy: I am sorry I bumped into you, too.
Biscuit: You should be more careful next time!

And then the Biscuit fell backwards off a big kid swing, landing on her head. She got up, crying, dusted herself off, and said, "I AM TOUGH AND STRONG!" And then she quit crying, wiped up her tears, and went back to swinging.

See why I love this kid? Funny, cute, and resilient. And she has her daddy's rock-hard skull.

* * *

Now for the dote.

I dote on Celestial Seasonings Candy Cane Lane tea. I just want to drink it hot, bathe in it, turn it into lotion, turn it into cookie icing, turn it into room deodorizer. It's like peppermint crack. And i'm koo-koo for peppermint crack.

And i'm going to drink a cup right now, even though it's 70 degrees outside and doesn't feel a blasted bleb like Christmas. I'm going to drink it with a shot of stevia in my newest hand-thrown mug, because everyone knows things taste better in handmade pottery.

Man, that was a really boring blog entry. I've been reading www.thepioneerwoman.com too much, because now i'm all blogtimidated. Isn't that just blogical? I'm going to go drink my blogea and read more Twiblog. Blog blog blog.

Seriously, though. Do they put crack in this tea? I think they might.

Monday, December 15, 2008

Dr. Crog, pwned!

Daddy: Biscuit, who's your favorite Star Wars character?
Biscuit: Dat blue robot, probably.
Daddy: R2D2?
Biscuit: Yeah. He was out in the rain. He got dirty.
Daddy: Mommy, who is your favorite Star Wars character?
Me: I know it's unforgivable, as someone who's read all the books and watched all the movies 1000 times and claims to be a fan, but I just love the Ewoks.
Daddy: Biscuit, do you know a good divorce lawyer?
Biscuit: (puts her head down on the table, embarrassed by her mother)
Daddy: Yeah, that's definitely unforgivable.
Me: But they're all attached to my youth and magical Christmas mornings and getting to stay up late for the stupid Endor special with that little curly haired kid. They were my first bridge into Star Wars. But I'd say Boba Fett is definitely #2, especially once I learned more of his Mandalorian background.
Daddy: Well, that's more reasonable I guess.
Me: Who's your favorite character?
Daddy: Jar Jar Binks. He's just so funny! Although I also like C3PO.
Me: You are the lamest person ever. Like, ever. You also have a 3rd nipple. But, really. Jar Jar Binks? I think I just threw up in my mouth.

***

See, that's what we call revenge. I just told all 34 people who read this blog that you like the 2 lamest characters in the Star Wars universe. And then they'll tell two friends, and then they'll tell two friends... and then, like, 58 people or so will know your awful secret. And they'll have to make a Lifetime movie about it. Meredith Baxter Bierney in "I Love JarJar Binks, and I'm Not Afraid To Tell The World, and Also, I Was Kidnapped by Ice Cream Salesmen: The Dr. Crog Story".

In conclusion, quit showing off your flat belly while i'm lamenting my postpartum floppiness, jackass!

ps. I love you, Dr. Crog.


Friday, December 12, 2008

C is for cookie!

I'm not the most domesticated woman. Sure, I'm potty trained and turn up my nose at store-brand cat food, but I don't generally excel at the whole "home-cooked meal every night" thing. Truth be told, by the time dinner rolls around (mmm... dinner rolls....), I'd rather just have a small bowl of cereal, tidy up the kitchen, and collapse into bed.

Now you know why Dr. Crog doesn't have a pot belly. It's all my fault.


Anyway, after a stressful day like yesterday (don't ask) and an insane night like last night (involving fire alarms, shrieking babies, blood, urine, and Lost), I woke up to a sinus cavity filled with early-90's-era Nickelodeon slime. I seem to have caught that hideous cold that turned my child into a demented, spastic snot-monkey for two weeks. Hurray. So that's one cold for November that saw me through exhaustion and labor, and now a new cold to plague me as I try to get through December with a newborn and a toddler on preschool break. Vitamin C and probiotics have surely failed me.

So there's the boring digression on how I'm a bad housewife with a cold. That's not the point.

The point is: staring down a day at home with two children, I decided to bake cookies with my daughter. And it was wonderful! My mom tells me that as a child, I loved to bake cookies. I think she's remembering that I mainly like to *eat* cookies. Which is still true. So here is the story of our cookies.

Step 1: I found a recipe for "Easy Oatmeal Cookies" on www.allrecipes.com, an excellent site
recommended by my fabulously talented friend, Christine, who can actually cook real recipes. Like, for food. I'm always impressed.

Step 2: The Biscuit posed with her "CHEEEEEEESE!" smile, which really just looks like she's saying "cheese".
Step 3: We mixed some junk together.


Step 4: Into the oven!
Biscuit's Public Service Announcement: "It will burn me!"


Step 5: EAT!!! pwned! She's trying to wink with a thumbs-up and somewhat failing.


So we had a nice morning, and i've hosed down the kitchen, and now we're mainlining oatmeal cookies.

Heck, I might even cook dinner!

Great googly moogly! Next thing you know, I'll be walking on my hind legs and wearing a girdle.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

whoa, a la Keanu

Okay, stay with me here.

With a little outside help, I made two people.

Basically, out of nothing. Some cells, some Lucky Charms, some time, and... POOF! Little people.

And now one of them is walking, talking, singing, playing, begging for TV and fruit leather.

And that one can actually hold the second one! Like... like... like little nesting dolls!

Like freakin' abracadabra, man!

It's just too meta for me. See?


Yes, I know my standards for utter mind blowage have gone down a bit, but it's still pretty amazing, when you think about it. Dr. Crog and I have basically replaced ourselves in the muddy pool of humanity.

...because we need someone to continue our plans to take over the world via robot army, remember?

You don't remember? You obviously do not read this blog often enough.

I will tell the robots.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

don't be a Vader hater



That's right. Dr. Crog took the Biscuit to Target this morning, and she returned in a Sith costume carrying a lightsaber and two sheets of Hello Kitty stickers, most of which were stuck to her Star Wars shirt.

Today will be her official inauguration into the utter dweebitude that is our love of Star Wars. Since her favorite things in life are robots, fuzzy creatures, and Daddy, I suspect it will be a hit. I have been threatened with removal if I comment on "how violent New Hope is", to quote a stern Dr. Crog.

My only demand is that she understand from the start that there is nothing cool about JarJar Binks.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

yes, we have no placentas

Well, I was going to show you my placenta. Not that anybody asked or dared me, but just because...

Because i'm proud of it. I mean, it takes a lot of work to make a big, meaty organ like that. And the picture is just fascinating.

But then I realized that my husband might not like his work colleagues to see my bloody guts. That would totally destroy any claim I had to dignity, poise, and grace. Right?

Because nice, well-mannered girls simply don't go around showing people their gooey afterbirth.

At least, I think that's what Emily Post said.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

not the mama!

No, just kidding. I totally *am* the mama, and I have terrifyingly gross pictures to prove it. Don't double dare me. I'll show you my placenta!

But here's a picture of T-Rex, just because he's so darned good-lookin'.



Monday, December 1, 2008

I owe it all to Kotex

Yes, Virginia, sometimes we all have those "not so fresh" days. Especially in the weeks following childbirth, when a woman can feel like some sort of bodily vending machine.

Disgusting, but true.

Luckily, the fine people at Kotex have gotten on the advertising bandwagon to make our trips to the loo both interesting and instructional. I am speaking, of course, of their "Kotex Tips for Life" campaign, which is handily printed on the sticky backing of their fine maxi-pads. Because when you're in severe pain and peeing lightning, you might want to get some health tips from your feminine hygiene products.

Here are today's handy tips:

* Avoiding caffeine may help reduce cramps and headaches.

* Drink 6 - 8 glasses of water daily to help keep you hydrated and feeling fresh.

* Staying active during your period can help relieve cramps.

* Try Kotex Lightdays Pantiliners... also available in Longs, Extra Coverage and Purse-Paks.

Wait, you don't speak English? Ne t'en fais pas! The tips are also listed in Francais and Espanol.

I am just flabbergasted. I have always considered billboards to be the most ridiculous form of advertising, as the last thing a driver needs is to take their eyes off the highway to read the 1-800 number of a cheap divorce lawyer. But now i'm entranced by the marketing geniuses who think that reading bathroom trash should be enlightening. Or influence my purchasing agenda.

Oh, drink more water? Thank you! MUST. BUY. KOTEX!

Harumph. Just another reason to go cloth.