A Few Things That Should Not Be

The name "Vanessa Hudgens" and the words "singing career" should not be used in the same sentence.

There should not be any such thing as a pink NFL anything . . . except maybe a Cowboys jersey. For some reason that makes sense. But, there most definitely should not be a pink Terrible Towel. (Thanks, Gina)

Dancing with the Stars should not be on at 9:00. There are almost no family-friendly television shows anymore, and playing that one after the kid goes to bed gets a big fat FAIL from me.

There should not be a need to turn on the furnace in September. WTH, Mother Nature? 53 degrees?

Dolls should not be capable of sucking your soul out of your body, even with their eyes closed.

(If you're brave, it gets worse. That thing has an evil twin.)

Since I already went down the path to gross and frightening, this should not be. Rhonda is hysterical, but the whole concept is just . . . ewwwwww!

There should not be evil, disgusting bugs with more legs than Jon and Kate have kids in my shower. I'll spare the world a photo of which I speak, only because then I would have to look at it. Again.

The world should not be filled with GPS systems that scold you for refusing to follow their directions, even when their directions tell you that you should head right on down that railroad track and into a river. Who needs a road when you can hop aboard the oncoming train?

My inbox should not be filled with hundreds of emails promising that the sender can help me get the bigger, better penis that I've always desired.

There should not be people who think it's a good idea to clip their toenails at work.

Children who keep talking about how fun it would be to be a tiger should not be left unattended with markers. Guess how I figured that one out . . .

Project Holiday Brainwash is Going Splendidly

There was a time in the not-so-distant past when encountering Christmas junk on display in September would have made my eyes roll right on out of my head, down the street, and off a cliff. I'm very weird about my seasonal stuff; I only like it when it is contained within its designated season.

Snow? LOVE it. From November to February. If I see so much as one flake outside of that window, I am not amused.

Skulls and witches? LOVE LOVE LOVE them. In October. The rest of the year they seem more awkward than kind words out of Simon Cowell's mouth.

Fireworks? The calendar had better say July 4th. If it does? YIPPEE! Sparkly, pretty stuff! If not? I might have to take that bottle rocket and shove it where the sun doesn't shine.

So, you would think that my head would have exploded when Alexis and I walked into a store today and we spotted a fully decked out Christmas display.

It didn't.

Part of the reason I was all, OH! SHINY STUFF! is because Alexis was all OH! SHINY STUFF! We were still easily 100 yards away from the Christmas crap when Alexis shrieked, "IT'S TIGGER AND POOH!" and went running towards the light-up sculptures. She then drug me up and down every aisle of glitter and glitz and glam, geeking out over every little thing.

I've never been prouder.

The other reason I was all, OH! SHINY STUFF! is that frankly, I can't wait to decorate this year. I've been itching to freak out the neighbors with my Halloween excess, and I don't think October 1st can possibly get here fast enough. As exciting as that is, it's the Christmas crazy that has me REALLY excited. Could it be November 1st now? How about now? Now? PLEASE?

Every year I hit the clearance aisles after Halloween and Christmas and procure lots of fun stuff for cheap. By the time it's the right moment to drag the stuff out, I have long forgotten what I bought the previous year. It's like I get two extra birthdays. Opening up those storage tubs filled with unknown goods is the most funnest thing I get to do.

Last year I bought stuff with a glimmer of hope that we would have moved by this point in time. Since we did, I'm now itching to see what treasures I have hidden from myself. Is there a new tree? Ornaments? Lights? WHAT WILL I FIND?

Can it be November 1st now? How about now? NOW? Please?

A Gold Hoop Would be Lovely

It turns out that if you want to see me violently gouge my ears out with a spork, all you have to do is suck on your bottom lip. Just one tiny little blip of the gawd-awful sound that is produced when one tucks their lower lip over their teeth and starts suckling is enough to launch me directly into a straight jacket-worthy fury.

OF COURSE Alexis had to go and decide that sucking on her lip is the most wonderful thing she can possibly do. It's better than watching High School Musical. It's better than eating a can of Lima beans. It's even better than watching a Penguins hockey game from Mario's box at the Igloo. It's the bestest, funnest, most wonderful thing EVER. YAY!

I've lost all patience with it. Not only is it annoying, but once the weather gets cold, it's going to lead to an epic case of chapped lips. I do NOT have the patience to deal with a person complaining about something that they 100% brought onto themselves.

I've tried EVERYTHING to get her to knock it off. I've begged, pleaded, yelled, scolded, punished, whined, cried, screamed, whispered, laughed, joked, and bawled. SHE KEEPS DOING IT. Over and over and over.

I get why she's doing it. She's one of those kids whose mouth has to be doing something at all times. When she was a newborn, she had to be eating or sucking on a pacifier. Later, she had to be blowing raspberries or cooing. Then she went for talking. Nonstop. After that, for a brief moment, she thought it would be fun to suck on her thumb/fingers. That lasted about 5.4 seconds after I saw her drag her hand along a rail at the zoo and then stick about 21325315098 germs directly into her mouth.

It's funny how you can get a kid to stop a behavior just by going completely nuts on them. Too bad once they've seen your eyes pop out of their sockets, they become immune to it as a means of persuasion.

Dammit.

In my quest to make the madness end, I decided to start giving the kid "lipstick" all the time. It's really nothing more than Chapstick, but I delivered it with a message. "If you suck on your lip, the lipstick will come off and it'll end up in your belly and you'll get sick."

It sounded like a good idea. Really.

Even Alexis said it was a good idea. After I let her slather her entire face with the shiny stuff on Saturday, she cheerily said, (and I QUOTE), "You're a genius, momma." See that? My kid knows her stuff. I AM a genius.

(I might be including that part solely because there will come a day when Alexis will glare at me and declare me the dumbest person on Earth, screaming something like, "You don't understand anything. You're so dumb," and I'll be able to accurately remember that she was smarter when she was three years and nine months old because truly, I AM a genius. There is not taking it back once it has been said.)

Right after she declared the truest fact ever, she started sucking on her lip. Genius or not, I cannot for the life of me figure out a way to convince the kid to Stop. freakin. sucking. on. her. lip.

I think the next logical step is to just pierce her lip. Surely some pain and blood and gore will get her to knock it off.

(This is me not talking about the fact that the kid might just be wearing jeans in that pic because talking about it would be like talking about your grandparents having sex. YOU JUST DON'T TALK ABOUT THESE IMAGINARY THINGS.)