It's Kind of Breezy Around These Parts

I am thisclose to giving up on the concept of showers. I mean it's not like I'm trying to impress anybody anymore. Hello? Gainfully employed and married with child. No need to impress. The morning routine has become such an unpleasant hassle, I'm just not seeing the benefit of daily soap usage.

Every morning, Mr. Husband gets up a little before the buttcrack of dawn, takes a shower, lets the dogs out, and leaves for work. Every morning, the dogs come barreling back into the house like a herd of buffalo and wake me up just in time to take a shower, get the Toddler ready for her day, and head to work. I don't need no stinking alarm clock because I have a stinky flying Bulldog that jumps on the bed right on schedule. It's been that way for a looooong time and really has never in any way, shape, or form affected the Toddler.

Until now.

Now the perky little thing wants to wake up just a wee bit earlier than she used to. Her internal clock has been set for 7:00/7:30 for months. For some random incomprehensible reason (actually, I think the herd of buffalo might be waking her up, I just don't know why NOW and not always)(OH YEAH, because lately she refuses to stay in her own stupid bed and is mine when the buffalo come barreling through) the Toddler has decided she is going to reset that clock just a little bit sooner. To exactly 30 seconds after I set foot in the shower.

I don't know about the rest of the universe, but I kind of like it when I don't have a short person standing in the bathroom and interrogating me about what I'm doing while I try to pry my eyes open with some crap soap that claims to be invigorating (it's all lies--instead of Oil of Olay, the goop should be called Oh Lay Me Back to Sleep). As an extra special bonus, my interrogation comes complete with an extra special form of torture I like to call LET GO OF THE MOTHER TRUCKIN' SHOWER CURTAIN.

Oh yes, the Toddler stands in the bathroom with the shower curtain firmly clutched between her chubby little fingers as she asks, "What you doin, momma?" and "What dat?" I can't see the end of my nose without my glasses and don't wear them in the shower, so I have no idea what she's pointing at when she asks the latter question, but I imagine it's one of those bits that is really freakin' cold what with the air conditioning vent blowing air directly on it. Through it all I've concluded that it's not just men that suffer from shrinkage. I could probably even prove that to you, but that's probably not the kind of photo you expect to see around here.

Anyway.

If you happen to smell me around town, just know that the lady bits couldn't handle the breeze anymore and I gave up. I'm sure eventually I'll start showering again. Like maybe when the kid is old enough to be out of our house. In the meantime, I'm sticking a little Post-It note in my brain to remember this blog post. Someday I'm sure the Toddler will call me whining that her kids (ack! just typing those words is scary!) won't let her take a shower in peace and will be BEGGING me to stop by her house and help her out. I will promptly present her with this little collection of words and tell her, "Hmmm . . . let me think about that while I'm taking a nice warm uninterrupted by Toddlers Holding the Shower Curtain shower."

(Psst . . . the contest is still running so get over there and enter! You can enter as many times as you like, btw.)

Write Your Own Caption--And Win!

I have softballs to dodge this evening, sooooo I figured it was time for a another Write Your Own Caption kind of day. This time, however, there's something in it for you. Think of a caption for the photo below, leave it in comments, and I'll pick my favorite five this Friday at 8:00 pm Burgh time. Those five will go up for vote action and the winner will get . . . drumroll please . . . a $15 gift card from their choice of McDonald's or Starbucks.

And . . . go!

When You're Right, You're Right. And I Am.

I have a reputation around this house for always being right.

Because I am.

But it's not like I actually ENJOY being right all the time. I really don't. For example, when I tell Mr. Husband that putting a bowl of water out in the bedroom for the dogs will result in obnoxiously loud Bulldog guzzling that will keep me awake longer than necessary, I want to be wrong. And then along comes the obnoxiously loud Bulldog guzzling and I have to remind Mr. Husband that I was correct by nagging him for the ten minutes it takes for the Bully to quit guzzling so loudly that people in Kansas can hear it. If he would just remember that I'm always right, we could avoid the whole stupid ordeal every night.

When it comes to matters of Toddler safety, I would REALLY prefer to be wrong. I know, I know, Mom is always right. But c'mon, just once, JUST ONCE, I would like to be able to say, "Alexis, please hold the rail and walk down the stairs carefully," without the Toddler immediately following my statement by falling down the stairs. Seriously. It has happened EXACTLY that way more times than I can count. Just the other day, she was walking down without holding the rail and I was behind her. I fussed at her, she made it one more stair, then fell.

I want to be wrong about these things.

Two good things came out of the latest stair falling stint. For one, she was completely uninjured. Scared, but there wasn't a mark on her anywhere. So, I got to be right without there being a negative consequence. The other good thing was that she is currently compensating for her clutzy ways by sliding down the stairs on her butt, which makes me far less nervous, and is pausing at the top to yell, "I BE CAREFUL ON THE STAIRS!"

Thanks, kid. I'll be sure to be waiting at the bottom so I can catch you when you fall.