Five Things that Scare Me More than the Swine Flu

1. Mystery wet spots--Get your head out of the gutter, I'm not talking about THAT kind of wet spot. I'm talking about the kind that I sometimes step in during the middle of the night while walking down the hall. Every time it happens, I'm frozen in fear. Was it one of Cody The I Refuse to be Fully Housebroken Pup's fabulous pee spots? Did the cat puke up five gallons of dog food? Is it poop? If so, who was the pooper? Is Nashea Davenport hiding in the closet? The fear of not knowing if it is in fact some sort of bodily discharge that has squished up around the bottom of my nekkid little feebie is the stuff of nightmares. *shudders*

2. Creepy dolls--Oh, I've shut up about them, but that doesn't mean the things aren't still frightening enough to make me want to sit in the corner, curled up in the fetal position and whimpering. Who could ever forget this face? *whimpers*

3. Bulldog farts--It starts with the unmistakable sound of a wet stream of air puffing out of the Bulldog's ass. When I hear it, I freeze in place, afraid to so much as blink for fear that any movement whatsoever will cause the air to shift and will force the odor to waft my way. *cries*

4. Zac Efron's eyebrows--Have you ever really looked at those things? They totally give me the heebie jeebies. They look like two giant, well-pruned, hairy caterpillars. Every time I see him (and that's a lot since we live and breath High School Musical these days), I cringe, just waiting for those caterpillars to spring to life and attack me. *winces*

5. Herds of small children--I am petrified of picking Alexis up from daycare early because I know that the second I walk in that door, 20 short people will surround me. They bring with them screaming, interrogations, snot, and enough energy to power New York City for years. If they were to get organized, I'm positive that a large group of 3-year old kids could take over the universe. Just imagine the things they would make us grown-ups do. Like watch hours and hours of High School Musical. *runs away screaming*

PS--Never, ever do anything JanePitt tells you to do, or you'll need to expand your list to six things that are scarier than swine flu.


Maturity Sucks the Obama Out of Things

I do like our daycare. Sometimes people there make me insane, but overall it's a good, safe, positive environment for Alexis. It's just that once in a while, something completely stupid will happen there and I am forced to blow my top.

Take, for example, a few weeks ago when Alexis came home all sorts of upset with a particular teacher. Let's call her Mean Bird Lady because she just HAD to go and make fun of Alexis in the worst way possible. You see, Miss Alexis has this thing about birds. Like, she hates them. A lot. To the point that I'm pretty sure she already needs some major therapy. So, telling Alexis that her funky rainbow ponytail holder makes her look like there is a peacock on her head? Causes tears, tantrums, and weeks of sleeplessness. Seriously. The kid has had nightmares about a peacock being on her head.

Gee, thanks, Mean Bird Lady. Can I punch you in the face now? Please?

Even better, though, is that apparently Mean Bird Lady has decided to make it a habit to mock 3-year olds for their choice of attire. Or, I suppose, their parents' choice of attire (I am, after all, the one who bought the crazy rainbow ponytail holder). That would be the case with one of Alexis' classmates who showed up for school wearing an Obama t-shirt. Apparently Mean Bird Lady has a little bit of a problem with letting people openly have a different political opinion than her because she made the 3-year old turn her shirt inside out.


Now, the shirt got fixed not long after, so apparently someone had enough of a clue to figure out that making a kid bawl by forcing her to wear her shirt wrong might just be a teensy bit out of line. Or, you know. WAY FREAKIN OUT OF LINE.


(Just so we're clear, I don't care if the shirt had Obama on it, Cheney, Bush, a Clinton, Palin, Reagan, or even the Flying Spaghetti Monster, it ain't cool to impose your political beliefs on somebody else's kid. Period.) (Also? I'm really not a fan of imposing one's political beliefs on your own kid. Putting an Obama t-shirt on your little kid is kind of squicky to me, too, but at least it's THEIR kid. So, whatever.)

Anyhoo, once I got the whole story of the Inside-Out-Obama-Shirt, my head went KABLOOOOOOIE! There were discussions. There was talking. Now it's done and over with and it's very clear to anyone who needs to know that you don't openly criticize my kid's (sometimes very odd) fashion choices. Or else.

The only thing is that I'm one to hold grudges. Like, bad. So, when I put two and two together and realized that Mean Bird Lady was the very same teacher who was having a little wedding party at daycare this week, I started plotting. In evil, mean, inappropriate ways. We had several notes from daycare requesting that we send a small kitchen-related gift to school for that teacher on the day of the party.

I wanted Obama gear.


Towels, wine glasses, a cookbook, I didn't care. Anything with Obama's face on it. If I couldn't have that, then I wanted something with a peacock on it. Seriously. I searched online and, with the help of many awesome people, found many excellent options. The only problem was that I couldn't get them delivered in time for the party.

Stupid geography interfered with my evil plotting.

In the end, I ended up procrastinating too much and had to do an emergency run to Wal-Mart to scrounge up some sort of something. Didja' know that Wal-Mart is Anti-American? I can't think of any other reason that I couldn't find a single thing with Obama's face on it. No t-shirts, no buttons, no posters, no books, NOTHING. C'mon! There are eleventy bajillion things made with his face and Wal-Mart didn't have any of them? I smell a communist conspiracy.

Stupid Wal-Mart.

Then I learned that Wal-Mart is Anti-American AND Anti-NBC. There wasn't a single freakin' peacock thing in that entire store. I don't know what NBC did to Wal-Mart, but it must have been pretty bad for them to go all anti-peacock like that.

I had to settle for a lame cookbook. No Obama, no peacock. No fun.

But probably at least 301% more mature.


Baby Sisters R Us

Forever. That's how long Alexis has been best buds with "Abby." They have gone to the same daycare, been in the same class, and conspired to take over the world together forever. Forever and ever.

The two of them are like sisters. One minute they're hugging and squealing with joy at the very thought of being together. The next minute one of them is in time out while the other one stands across the room bawling and bloody after losing a fight. The love each other. They hate each other. They love each other.

For the most part, it's all fine and dandy. All the adults in their lives know that they have this wicked love-hate thing going on, and Abby's parents have a very similar parenting style to ours. So when Alexis comes home with a giant scratch on her face, I know it was Abby and I'm all "whatever" about it. Abby's parents do the same. Day in and day out, those two manage to make each other nuts, but yet they are good for one another.

They are best buds. Inseparable best buds.

Lately, however, I do believe Abby has become a bit of a bad influence. You see, Abby has a younger sister. I know for a fact that Abby's life at home with her baby sister is a lot like Abby's life at school with Alexis. They fight. A lot. Yet, Little Miss Abby seems to keep forgetting to mention the part where having a baby sister means sharing when you don't want to share, being ignored when you want attention, and generally having to deal with a smaller version of yourself. Instead, Abby apparently talks up the baby sister thing like it's the greatest thing on Earth. We're talking better than unicorns jumping over rainbows while puppies fall from the sky.

Alexis believes the lies.

And now Alexis is all about telling me how she needs a baby sister. Every. freakin'. day.

This morning as I was blow-drying my hair, Alexis started in on her usual attempts to lobby for a sister.

"Momma, I want a baby sister," she said.

"I know," I replied, just like the trained robot that I am.

"We should go to the store and buy one," she advised me.

"I'll think about that," I replied with a smile. If it were that easy? The kid might just get her way.

"We should go buy a baby sister with a stinky butt!" she clarified.

Abby may be upselling the baby sister thing, but at least she's being straight about the butt situation.


Thank you so, so, so much to everyone who has already helped to raise money for the March of Dimes in remembrance of Maddie and other preemies everywhere. Right now there are 21 incredible people scheduled to walk on our Pittsburgh team, and we've raised nearly $2800 total. With just 10 days left until the actual walk, I'm still $130 short of reaching my personal goal. If you have a buck or two you could spare, it sure would be appreciated!