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Friday
May302008

No Whine for Me

I was all set to whine and whine and whine about the middle of the night Attack of the Toddler Mouth episodes that have been going on as of late when I realized something.

It's Spring.

Almost Summer.

The temperature has been hovering mostly between the 40s and 70s, give or take a few days when Mother Nature forget to take her happy pills.

Guess who likes to keep the house windows open all through Spring and early Summer? The same people who live in a townhouse where we are ever so lucky as to have a fully attached neighbor. Who also likes to keep his windows open. Ten feet from our windows.

Huh.

I bet our neighbor is hating the middle of the night Attack of the Toddler Mouth episodes even more than I am. Last night he was ultra lucky and probably got to hear one side of a conversation that most likely sounded like this:

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I want Mommy."
"SIT DOWN."
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I want milk."
"MILK."
"No. I want water."
"NO WATER."
"I want Baby Shell."
"No Baby Shell!" *throws poor doll across room with enough velocity to take out an eye or two*
"I WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANT . . ."
"SIT DOWN."
"GO AWAY."
"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I want Mommy."
"I want candy."
"I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant . . . "
"I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant . . . "

If the neighbor could have heard my side of the conversation, I'm sure it all would have made even less sense. However, I'm sure he only heard one side because between the Toddler and me, there is only one of us that hasn't learned to respect the laws of inside voices and the regulations regarding very minimal speaking at 11 o'too late in the night.

Maybe I ought to close the windows tonight. I'm sure there will be another hour-long Toddler Screamapalooza.

Of course, this is the same neighbor that decided he should hang some pictures on the wall (the wall that we share, mind you) at 11 o'too late in the night a few weeks ago. The hammering was in the smaller bedroom. Less than four feet from our sleeping Toddler. Who was awakened at 11 o'too late by the sounds of a hammer pounding on the wall right next to her.

Screw it. If I ain't sleeping, ain't nobody sleeping.

Thursday
May292008

I Wish this Were a Paid Post

Dear Makers of Those Things I Lurve but that Cost More than a Gallon of Gas,



Hiya! Let me just start by saying I don't do paid posts. Nope. No way. In fact, they make me cRaZy. Won't do them.



But.



I think y'all are geniuses. Mind-reading geniuses. Mind-reading geniuses who crawled into my brain (scary place that it is) and figured out EXACTLY what it was that I so desperately needed last summer. You watched how I lurved seeing the Toddler enjoy popsicles. You heard my brain noise about how I was going to blow a gasket if she didn't eat the dang things faster. You saw the fireworks when she dripped popsicle juice all over every freakin' thing in the tri-state area.



And you solved my problem.



That mini thing? GEEEEENIUS! I mean, people, those things are EXACTLY toddler-sized! I know you knew that, but WOOOOHOOOO! I can give the kid a Popsicle and she will actually finish it in under 15 minutes! There's still a little drippy drippy going on, but I can live with a little drippy drippy as long as it doesn't lead to sticky sticky all over my floory floory.



So, thank you SO MUCH for creating the perfect solution for one of my many little problems!



But.



WTH? Over $4.00? For some juice on a stick? Are you serious? I know you know I'm going to buy them anyway. $4.00 is a small price to pay for a little bit of sanity. But. I'm going to moan and groan each time the kid downs five of those little buggers in one day (and she will--they are tiny enough for me to shove a whole one up my left nostril and still have space to breath). I'm going to whine that I could have driven to, um, a block or two with the gas I could have bought with that money. I will never let the world forget how ticked off I am that I am a slave to the over-priced Popsicles.



So. How about you send me some coupons? $1 off would be nice. Even $2 off. Heck, why not go all cRaZy and send some coupons for FREE Popsicles? If you do, I will say your name over and over and over and over and I'll tell all my friends to buy them and I'll rave about how fantastic miniature popsicles are for slower-than-molasses toddlers.



Pony up some coupons. C'mon, you know you want to.



As an added bonus, I'll do a much better job of capturing the Toddler singing your praises. I might even bust out the semi-decent and hardly ever used camcorder. Maybe some lights. I might even throw in some hair and makeup.



Love,

The Lady Who is Devoted to You, but Would Like to Save a Buck or Two



P.S.

It just occurred to me that you won't know I'm talking about you if I don't say who you are, Popsicle Mighty Magic Minis. So, Popsicle Mighty Magic Minis, did you know that I love you, Popsicle Mighty Magic Minis? Well, Popsicle Mighty Magic Minis, I do love you. However, Popsicle Mighty Magic Minis, you are too expensive. Work on that, will you, Popsicle Mighty Magic Minis? SEND COUPONS TO ME. ME, ME, ME. Please and thank you.



P.P.S.

I know I could make mini popsicles myself. In fact, I did last year. BE YE NOT SO STUPID! It was totally not worth all the effort. Or, maybe it's just me that ends up with a freezer full of assorted juices that are permanently frozen in place because the stupid Popsicle mold thingy got knocked over before it all froze into a solid sheet of red and blue and purple and green flavored ice. Speaking of which, I wonder what would happen if I were to defrost the freezer? Biggest sticky puddle ever? Better not chance it.



P.P.P.S.

I may be typing in run-on sentences because I may or may not have eaten about a dozen over-priced miniature Popsicles (Did ya' know that was a brand name and not the name of the stuff? You know, like Kleenex? I didn't either, but I do now!) and I may or may not currently be suffering from a sugar high. Woo-eeeee! So, how about some coupons? Go team Blue Popsicle! Coupons. Me. Me. Coupons.



Wednesday
May282008

What Happened to the Toddler-Eating Battery Acid?

I know kids change their minds about things with every breath they take. I know they outgrow fears, develop new ones, and can do it faster than I can scream LET'S GO PENS! But WTH? I could swear the Toddler despised, loathed, and generally feared all bodies of water larger than a sink last year (except the bath tub--nobody said phobias were logical). Oh, wait, I can actually prove she thought pools were filled with flesh-eating battery acid:

That would be the same HELP ME! I'M DYING! face that the Toddler wore when daycare brought out the sprinklers. She was having nothing to do with water play. So when she thought her water table (which I was preparing to "accidentally" dispose of) was a grand! new! toy! this weekend, I was suspicious. When she crawled in it and giggled with glee, I was hesitant. When she got all sorts of upset because her little water party was rained out, I thought long and hard. Finally, I figured I would see where this newfound love of "simming" was going to take us.

I went to the store and bought the cheapest inflatable pool of all time. $3.00, baby.

She loved it.

So now I'm trying to figure out if I should bother to buy the Toddler a swimsuit and/or a better pool. I'm thinking it might be nice to have a pool that will fit more than one of my butt cheeks. You know, just in case hell freezes over and I decide to swim with the Toddler.

I should probably wait until I'm bored to death of dragging the mini pool in and out of our garage before I buy anything. Especially since the Toddler will take a few breaths between now and then, meaning she'll probably be back to hating water.