The Infinite Hallway

I imagine my life as an infinite hallway.  On the left side are doors that are unlocked.  These doors contain the things that are always with me as I travel.  Things like family, friends and experiences.  The doors on the left are always unlocked so when I need to access a memory or support from my family or friends they are always there.

On the right side is a blank wall.  On this wall I draw doors of opportunity.  I draw these doors with a pen of intention.  The ink in this pen is always flowing and never fades.  This ink comes from my thoughts and actions and imagination.  The door is drawn only when I give of myself without expectation of reciprocity. No strings attached.  Doors that may remain locked for a while haven't ripened.  It's not time to reveal what's behind it.  This part is hard for me.  I'm impatient. 

I am grateful for this infinite hallway.  I am grateful that I have the ability to create my life exactly as I want it to be.  I am grateful that I have the ability to deal with unexpected results. I am grateful...

Let's talk about sex...

So it happened.  Emma asked where babies come from.  This is how it went:

Emma: "Mommy, where do babies come from?"

Me: "Well, the daddy gives the mommy a special seed.  The seed grows in her belly and makes a baby."

Emma: "Like a nut?"

Me: {stammering} "Well...ummm...no. It's like...ummm."

Emma: "And how does it get in there? Do you swallow it?"

Ty chimes in with, "Go ahead Mommy, explain how it works." I knew at this point that the questions wouldn't stop.

Me: "Okay Emma. I'm gonna tell you exactly how this works.  But there are some rules.  One, you don't talk about this to anyone except Daddy or me.  Two, this is very private and only for grown-ups. Three, if you have any questions about this you don't ask anyone but Daddy or me. Okay?"

Emma: "Okay."

Me: {inhales deeply} "Okay.  So you know how a boy has a penis and a girl has a vagina?"

Emma: "Yes."

Me: "Okay, well...The man has a seed and it's called sperm.  It lives in his testicles."

Emma: "You mean his nuts?"

Me: {stifling laughter} "Yes, his nuts, but they are called testicles.  He uses his penis to put the semen into the woman's vagina.  This is called sex. Connected to the vagina on the inside is the uterus. Inside the uterus, the woman has an egg."

Emma: "WOW! Like a chicken egg?"

Me: {still giggling} "Well...no, not like a chicken egg.  It's a tiny little egg.  You can only see it with a microscope."

Emma: "Oh, like my pinky fingernail?"

Me: "No, even smaller than that. You can't see it without a microscope."

Emma: "Oh ok."

Me: "Ok so, the sperm goes into the uterus and meets up with the egg.  There is a chemical reaction and the sperm and the egg together make a baby.  The baby grows in the mommy's uterus for 9 months and then the baby is born."

Emma: "Do they always cut the baby out of your tummy?"

Me: "No, mommy couldn't have you the natural way.  Normally the woman pushes the baby out through her vagina."

Emma: {audible gasp}"Does it hurt?"

Me: "Well, I've heard it does hurt but they can give the woman medicine so it doesn't hurt."

Emma: "Oh."

Me: "Do you have any questions?"

Emma: "No. Hey Daddy! Can we go to McDonald's tomorrow?"

The next day I wanted to be sure that she had properly absorbed the information.  I pulled her aside after dinner and asked her if she remembered what we had talked about the day before.

Emma: "Yeah. I didn't talk to anyone about it."

Me: "Good. Do you have any questions?"

Emma: "Mommy? If you're a grown-up and you're married, {whispers} can you do it on the couch when nobody's home?"

Me: {trying desperately not to laugh} "Well when you're a grown-up and YOU'RE MARRIED and no one is home, you can do it where ever you want."

Emma: {giggles} "Cool."

And that is how I had the sex talk with my 7 year old.  It was actually a lot less painful than I thought it would be. 

Common Phrases in the Haus of Schaeffer...

Here is a top 10 list of phrases that have been spoken, or perhaps yelled, in my house on more than one occasion.

10. "Stop touching your penis!"

9. "Don't jump on the bed!"

8. "That is not a toy!"

7. "Stop running in the house!"

6. "Don't throw your toys!"

5. "Stop jumping off the couch!"

4. "Get your hand out of your milk!"

3. "No, you cannot pee in the bathtub!"

2. "Stop splashing in the bathtub!"

And finally...drumroll please...

1. "I LOVE YOU!"

Sorry for the mush. I couldn't help myself.

We're off to see the wizard...

...the wonderful wizard of...WTF?!?

They made me stop in my tracks.  The moment I saw them, I was drawn into the gravitational pull of their awesomness.  That's when it started...

Right Brain: "Oh my gosh. Aren't these beauuuutiful?!"

Left Brain: "Yeah, yeah...they're shiny and red and pretty. Keep walking."

Right Brain: "No, I have to touch them."

Left Brain: "No, keep walking."

Right Brain: "Come on, I just wanna get a closer look."

Left Brain: "You need another pair of red shoes like you need a hole in the head."

Right Brain: "Oh, but these are so much more shiny and sparkly than the ones I have."

Left Brain: "You don't NEED red shoes.  You need brown or beige ones.  For the wedding that you are going to next weekend...remember?"

Right Brain: "But these are so much more exciting than BORING brown or BLAND beige. Besides, you wouldn't let me get the RED dress that I wanted for the wedding."

Left Brain: "Remember what happened last time you wore a RED dress to a friends wedding?"

Right Brain: {sigh} "I know, I know...that's why I let you talk me in to the dreary, lifeless thing on the hanger in the closet."

Left Brain: "Seeeee...now let's go. I'm hungry."

Right Brain: "Shut up, I'm just looking." {turns shoe over to look at the price}

Left Brain: {audible gasp} "$300?!?"

Right Brain: "Yeah but it's Stuie."

Left Brain: "Who?"

Right Brain: "Stuart Weitzman."

Left Brain: "Stuart Who? Who is that?"

Right Brain: "You know, Stuart Weitzman. The shoe designer that has a magical ability to make the shoes that we, {scoff} I mean...I dream about at night!"

Left Brain: "You don't need to spend $300 on shoes that will make you look like the second coming of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. You have nothing to wear them with anyway."

Right Brain: "So what, they're beauuuutiful."

Left Brain: "Put the shoe down. What would Ty say?"

Right Brain: "Who?"

Left Brain: "Ty, you know...YOUR HUSBAND, the father of your children. What do you think he would say if you spent $300 on red shoes that go with nothing in your closet."

Right Brain: {sigh of defeat}"Oh...yeah. Gosh, don't you have anything better to do than crushing my dreams?"

Left Brain: "When's the last time you wore heels anyway? Like what...a year ago? Forget it. Just put the shoe down and walk away."

Right Brain:  {puts the shoe down}"Ugh...fine."

Left Brain: "You'll thank me later."

Right Brain: "Whatever."

Schaeffer Sh*t-Chat

Ty and I have some very strange and interesting conversations.  I wanted to start a section on my blog with transcripts of these conversations.  I knew I wanted to name this section 'Schaeffer (word that starts with 'S')".  So I started the recorder and asked him, knowing that it would be good blog material. 

Me: "What is another word for talking that starts with 'S'?"

Ty: "Soliloquy?"

Me: "Isn't that some sort of poem? Or some kind of like way of writing, or..."

Ty: "It's when an actor talks to himself."

Me: "No wait, lemme rephrase the question. What's another word for a conversation that starts with 'S'?"

Ty: "What's another word for conversation? Dialogue? Is that what you're talking about?"

Me: "No like another word for talking, conversation, chit-chat...but something that starts with 'S'."

Ty: "Ummm repartee?"

Me: "Yeah, that's an 'R'."

Ty: "Ok...shit-chat?"

Me: {laughing} "That's actually pretty good. Shit-chat?"

Ty: {using his new found word in a sentence} "He wasn't saying anything, he just wanted to shit-chat with me."

Me: {starting to laugh hysterically} "Thats actually really good."

Ty: "Ty's made up words of the day!"

Me: "Uhhh, it's not really a word. Well, you didn't make up the word shit."

Ty: "I did make up the word shit-chat."

Me: "No you didn't, it's not a word its a phrase."

Ty: "It's not a phrase its a word there is a hyphen. Its one word."

Me: {scoff, sigh}

Ty: "Hyphens don't separate words they combine words."

Me: "Ok but, you didn't make up the word shit..."

Ty: "No."

Me: "...and you didn't make up the word chat."

Ty: "No, no."

Me: "You married the words."

Ty: "Chefs don't like, make up spaghetti..."

Me: {giggling again}

Ty: "...ok? They use it in a special way. {imitating someone arguing with a chef?} 'This is just spaghetti...'"

Me: {speaking through laughter} "So you made a word recipe???"

Ty: "Yes...yes, trademark Ty. {imitating the person arguing with the chef again} '...all you did was season tomato sauce.' {imitating the chef} 'Yes, that's what I do.'"

Me: {still laughing}

Ty: {imitating the person arguing with the chef again} "'Its not like you made a tomato.'"

Me: {hysteria} "I love you"

Ty: "I love you too."





Some time goes by where I think I'm actually going to have the opportunity to go to sleep.  Then he starts again.





 Ty: "I need another word for...laxative...that starts with an 'R'."

Me: {laughing again} "What???"

Ty: "You don't have the patent on making rules." {pause} "Pantalones."

Me: "Wait...pantalones is a word that starts with 'R' that also means laxative?"

Ty: "This is my game and my rules."

Me: {giggling again} "Ok..."

Ty: {sighs} "Secrets."

Me: "That's pretty good actually, that might work...I think I still like shit-chat though. It's hard to say shit-chat without it sounding like shit-shat. Ya know?"

Ty: {laughing}

Me: {speaking through laughter} "Like shit in preset tense and shit in past tense." {laughing again}

Ty: "Brittany, it doesn't just talk about all types of content, it transcends time. Present and past."

Me: {still laughing} "Ok..."

Ty: "Shit-shat."

Me: "Shit-shat."

Ty: {imitating} "'We were just sitting around shit-chatting.' No you can say it, I can't say it, but you can say it. I bet Nancy can say it."

Me: "Say what?"

Ty: "F*cking shit-chat. Say it like that."

Me: "Oh like from my class?"

Ty: "Mmm hmm."

Me: "What??? That doesn't work. I guess I woul...{sigh}"

Ty: "Sharing, sharing can be..."

Me: "No, no it's like an action, it needs to be a noun."

Ty: "Talking is not a noun, it's a verb."

Me: "That's what I mean." {laughing again}

Ty: {laughing}

Me: {laughing}

Ty: {imitating me} "'Wait, wait, wait it doesn't have to begin with 'S'...that not what I mean. It just has to be a color.'"

Me: {hysteria}

Ty: {laughing}

Me: "Ok...I love you. Goodnight."

Ty: "Sharing is a verb too, by the way."

Me: "But that's not the kinda verb I meant.  I meant like a..."

Ty: "Do you want an adverb?"

Me: {laughing again} "I meant like, uh...I don't know." {yawn}

 
 


At this point I've given up my argument and have finally decided to succumb to slumber.  Or so I thought...
 
 
 


Ty: {the sheets are rustling as he tosses and turns}
 
Me: "What are you doing?"
 
Ty: "Getting under the covers for a few minutes before..."
 
Me: "Oh, stop whining."
 
Ty: "...you steal them."
 
Me: "I don't steal the covers. I lay very still all night long. You toss and turn and flip and flop and kick your feet all night long. And I wake up in the same position that I fell asleep in. Almost. I am perfect. Sort of."
 
 
 
There is silence for a little while, but that's just the sound of the delirium kicking in.  This is where things stop making sense.
 
 
 
Ty: "Sorbet. Sorbet is a word that starts with 'S' and is a noun that can't be a verb."
 
Me: {laughing} "Stop it! I have to go to sleep."
 
Ty: "It could be a color too."
 
Me: "Sorbet is a color?"
 
Ty: "Could be. Pudding is a color."
 
Me: "Really? But, what if it's like pistachio pudding?  How could pudding, all by itself, be a color?"
 
Ty: "Red."
 
Me: "Red pudding?! What???"
 
Ty: "Red's a color...could be red pistachio pudding."
 
Me: {laughing} "I've never heard of...OK! Shut up because I have to go to sleep. I love you."
 
Ty: "Now I'm hungry."
 
Me: {giggling}
 
Ty: "You know what you never have in pistachio flavored ice cream?"
 
Me: "No Ty, what do you never have in pistachio flavored ice cream."
 
Ty: "Nuts."
 
Me: "Sure you do."
 
Ty: "No, there's never pistachio nuts."
 
Me: "Oh my god, I am going to go to the store and buy pistachio ice cream and show you that there are pistachio nuts in pistachio ice cream."
 
Ty: "Maybe I'm thinking yogurt."
 
Me: "Ewww, nuts in yogurt?"
 
Ty: "Is that what the problem is? It's just the flavor huh? That's what it is. Yogurt."
 
Me: "I guess they have nuts in granola."
 
Ty: "Not in yogurt."
 
Me: "And granola goes good with yogurt."
 
Ty: "Well, frozen yogurt, I should have said."
 
Me: "I don't know...No, I like granola in my yogurt yogurt. Not frozen yogurt."
 
Ty: "As a topping?"
 
Me: "Yeah."
 
Ty: "But, it doesn't come in it."
 
Me: "Right, yeah...that would be weird if it like sat on the shelf for a really long time with the nuts and the..."
 
Ty: "It's not on a shelf, it's in a machine."
 
Me: "No, I'm talking about the yogurt that you buy at the grocery store on the shelf."
 
Ty: "I'm talking about frozen yogurt. I said ice cream but I meant frozen yogurt."
 
Me: "Oh. No, there's never any nuts in pistachio flavored frozen yogurt. You are correct. Where do you get this stuff?"
 
Ty: "You're the one that brought up pistachios."
 
Me: "No I didn't! Did I? How did I bring up pistachios?"
 
Ty: "The pudding."
 
Me: "Oh, right. That's right. Ok."
 
 
Then we both fell fast asleep.

Spam Wars: Part 2

From: Brittany Schaeffer
To: Raught Legassie
Date: Fri, Sep 10, 2010 at 8:08 AM
Subject: Re: Your wife photos attached


Dear Mr. Legassie,


It seems as though I've received your message in error. I do not have a wife, as I am female and heterosexual. I'm not sure who's wife is in the photos you have attached. She is quite beautiful. Did you take them? If so, I'd like to inquire about hiring you to photograph my husband. Is it a requirement that he be naked? I'm not sure if he'll be up for that. I'll make it a point to ask him when I get home from work.

I'm not sure why your email ended up in my spam folder. It is quite clear that you are trying send proofs of the photos you took of someones wife.  You may want to check to make sure that the intended recipient got what he needed.  How serendipitous is it that I receive your email at the same time I need a photographer?! Thank goodness I check my spam folder regularly to make sure I don't miss anything important.
I look forward to hearing from you about your pricing and availability.
 
Sincerely,
 
Notstupid Enough
 
______________________________________________________

From: Raught Legassie
To: Brittany Schaeffer
Date: Fri, Sep 10, 2010 at 8:08 AM
Subject: Your wife photos attached


Your wife photos


divulsion.zip

11K Download

Things I've learned and some I have not

NOT LEARNED: Be careful when standing up after sitting indian style, oh wait, criss cross applesauce (stupid political correctness). Apparently, after the age of thirty, you are not so easily able to recover from sitting in this position. Both of your feet fall asleep and when you stand up, you inevitably...fall down. And at age 31, falling down is not graceful. Gravity is the enemy in more ways than just this one.

LEARNED: Children under the age of 4 should not play with scissors for 2 reasons. Reason #1: IT'S DANGEROUS. Reason #2: If the child playing with the scissors also has paper, they will probably make a HUGE mess cutting the paper into tiny little pieces resembling confetti that will somehow end up all over the place making it look like you just celebrated New Year's eve even though it's May and you will continue to find said pieces throughout the house for the next few months.

NOT LEARNED: Pull up's don't work. Despite this profound knowledge, I continue to use them.

LEARNED: Do not send sexy messages to your husband via text message. See example here

NOT LEARNED: You cannot have a reasonable conversation with a person that has an altered sense of reality.  The moral of the story 'The Little Engine That Could' doesn't apply to this situation.  No matter how many times you say "I think I can!", it just won't happen.  I don't know why I still bother.

LEARNED:  Walking into a child's bedroom in the dark will result in some sort of foot injury.  This will wake up the sleeping child which you were trying to avoid disturbing by not turning on the light in the first place.


NOT LEARNED: Asking Ty questions is like having dental work without Novocaine.  Ty only gives me the precise answer to the question I ask.  He does not infer. Example in BOLD PRINT below:

Ty: "Hey, remember how you said you wanted to go camping?"

Me: "Yeah."

Ty: "Well, it looks like we are gonna go camping, but the house is gonna stay in the tent."

Me: "Huh?"

Ty: "The house is going to be in the tent."

Me: "Yeah, I heard you but what are you talking about?"

Ty: "It's worse than we thought."

Me: "What do you mean?"

Ty: "Well, we thought it was bad, but it ended up being worse than we thought initially."

Me: {audible sigh} "Yes, Ty, I understand that. But, what do you mean about the camping thing?"

Ty: "Oh, yeah the house."

Me: "Mmmm hmmm."

Ty: "Remember how I said we have termites?"

Me: "Ohhhh, the house has to be tented."

Ty: "Yeah."

BEWARE: Ms. Smarty Pants

Ms. Smarty Pants is the type of person who feels that everyone must know how wonderful she is. Like their purpose on this earth is to make sure that everyone looks at them in awe. In other words, a narcissist.  Ms. Smarty Pants wants more than anything for people to say things like, “Wow, Ms. Smarty Pants really knows what she’s talking about.” or “Look at what an amazing job Ms. Smarty Pants is doing.”.

Ms. Smarty Pants thinks that the only ideas that are good ideas are ones that she has come up with. If anyone else presents ideas to make things easier and more efficient, Ms. Smarty Pants shoots them down. She will explain to you in great detail, all of the things you should be doing in lieu of this idea that you’ve come up with. Her tone will be condescending and chiding. She will list out all of the things that you “should or could do”. Here presents a problem, because this list of things that she presents contains things that you are already doing or have already tried. Ms. Smarty Pants is not your superior. You are not her subordinate though she speaks to you as if you are. Ms. Smarty Pants may try to laugh off her 'superiority complex' by making light of the situation with a joke.  This is to try and make it seem as though she is the bigger person.  In reality, this only makes it more obvious to the other parties involved that she...is a nincompoop.

Ms. Smarty Pants will take advantage of every opportunity to make you look foolish. This peacock-ish performance is conducted in an effort to make herself look more advantageous. She is the hunter and you are the prey.
 
Below is a list of ways to fend off Ms. Smarty Pants and her arch.
 
1. Respond to her 'suggestions' with gibberish.
 
Ms. Smarty Pants: "You should be doing this."
 
You: "Flurple schmack woot."
 
2. After she lists out all of the things that you 'should be doing', that you are already doing, list them all back to her in reverse order. Also known as 'Yoda Speak'.
 
Ms. Smarty Pants: "Well, what you should be doing is calling, talking, emailing and coaching."
 
You: "Coaching, emailing, talking, and calling, I am."
 
3. When she tries to laugh off her behavior, respond by laughing with a grossly overstated chuckle.  Agree with her but be sure your agreement is dripping with sarcasm.
 
Ms. Smarty Pants: "Ha ha ha. Aren't I cute and funny with what I'm saying to try and salvage the impression people have of me?"
 
You:  "Ha ha ha haaaahhha  ahhhahha haahhha haah ahhhahh! You are so funny Ms. Smarty Pants."
 
Of course, the best thing to do is avoid Ms. Smarty pants entirely.  Unavoidable situations do occur so hopefully these suggestions of defense will help you if you ever find yourself in the company of Ms. Smarty Pants.

Spam Wars

From: Brittany Schaeffer

To: Mr. Utondu

Date: Fri, Sep 10, 2010 at 4:45 pm

Subject: Corrected: PLEASE READ CAREFULLY AND REPLY

Dear Mr. Utondu,

I have received your letter and was a little bothered by the excessive grammatical errors. One would think that if anyone had dealings with large amounts of money, such as the one you speak about in your letter, he would make sure that the letter is written using proper grammar and spelling. I have taken the liberty of making some suggestions on the email you sent me so that, going forward, you will have a more professional appearance to those you send this letter to. After all, a good scam artist must present himself well to the ones he is attempting to swindle.

In response to your letter, I must tell you that it caused considerable concern. I appreciate you telling me to calm down, but as I have seen letters like this before I was not surprised to receive it. I have been offered propositions similar to this one and because I already consider myself extremely wealthy, I have no need to participate in transactions such as these. Secondly, it seems as though you are asking me to lie about being the 'care-taker business associate' to Mr. Jin Sun. This is not something that I am comfortable doing. Lying, cheating, stealing and scamming are not activities that I participate in. I have learned that taking part in these sorts of dealings only manifests problems.

I would like to thank you kindly for considering me for this "transaction". I'm so honored that you took the time to select me out of the thousands of random email addresses I'm sure you have access to.

I hope that you have a wonderful day.

Sincerely,

Duchess of Reality

From: Mr. Ashley Utondu

To: Brittany Schaeffer

Date: Sun, Sep 5, 2010 at 4:51 pm

Subject: PLEASE READ CAREFULLY AND REPLY

The Desk of Mr Ashely Utondu
Audit/Remittance Department of
African Development Bank (ADB)
Auagadougou Burkina Faso

Dear Friend,

(CONFIDENTIAL)

I know that this email will be a big surprise to you, but i (The letter 'I' is always capitalized when speaking about yourself.) want you to calm down and read very carefully.

I have a business which will be beneficial to both of us..(It is not necessary to use two periods at the end of any sentence, one usually does the trick. Unless you are using ellipses which is a whole other topic entirely.) the amount of money involved is ($5,700:000:00 (This should not have colons between the numbers.) five million seven hundred thousand US dollars) which i (Again you should always capitalize the letter 'I' when speaking about yourself.) want to transfer out of the country to your bank account, all to my financial benefit and yours too. (It would read better if you said ", for our financial benefit.") and also to take my wife abroad for treatment of liver damage. (I am curious to know how said liver damage occurred. Cirrhosis perhaps?)

This money is owned by a man called JIN SUN, a business commercialist in west-african regions. he (At the beginning of every sentence, you should always capitalize the first word.) has been dead since four years ago (2005) and since then, no claim has been placed on his bank account balance.

I want to transfer this money out of the country but such fund (Being that you are trying to transfer more than $1.00 {one US dollar} the word fund should be plural and therefore have an 's' at the end.) cannot be transferred without a next of kin attached to the fund. the (Seriously, you need to capitalize the first word of every sentence.) fund (The word 'fund' needs to be plural.)could be transferred in these (I think you mean 'this' way.) way; you shall present yourself as a business associate to the deceased person[JIN SUN) as details shall be that you are the care- taker business associate to mr. jin sun and his properties. (There are too many things wrong with the rest of this paragraph for me to list them all.)

I shall make available to you materials and information with which a successful claim shall be placed on the fund. i (Please capitalize the first word of every sentence.) shall also be your guidiance and instructor throughout the duration of this transaction so as to ensure a swift and sure transfer of the fund to your bank account.

As to your benefits, you shall be entitled to 40% of this fund for your co-operation in this transaction while 5% will be set aside for expences incured during the course of this transaction.

So if you are interested, send a reply to me immediately and in your reply please include your [private phone and your fax numbers] urgency has to be implied and this business must strictly be a deal between both of us.

Waiting for your urgent response so that i (The letter 'I' needs to be capitalized when speaking about yourself.) can move ahead and give you the indept (Do you mean 'in depth'?) details concerning this transaction and also the steps to take for a smooth transfer of the fund into your bank account.

Best Regards,
Mr.ASHELY UTONDU

Scents of Smell

One of the greatest compliments a child could give to their mother is taking a big whiff of you and then saying "Mommy, you always smell so good." I know this might sound weird but, it's true. If you think about it, you can almost smell all of your memories. Fond or not. I know exactly what my mom smells like. I remember exactly how my grandmother's crawfish etoufee smelled (that I have tried without success to duplicate more than once). I can recall the smell of the homes of each one of my family members and friends.

Who doesn't love the smell of a brand new baby? The emotions associated with that 'new baby' smell is happiness and excitement. (Ty, your comments are not welcome here.) I believe that scents can be associated with almost every emotion. When you're feeling happy, chances are you'll remember what scents you smelled when you were happiest. Such as Thanksgiving dinner and being surrounded by family and friends. The onions and garlic, the turkey...you get the idea.

Such a simple phrase may seem so meaningless. But it's not. To me, it means that she feels safe. That my scent is comfort and warmth. Happiness and contentment. That she loves me so much that she wants to take in every last drop of me right down to the smell. I must say that it makes me feel like I'm doing something right.

I am...I love...I have...

I am beautiful. I love my family. I have everything. I am thin. I love life. I have gratitude. I am wise. I love sleeping. I have happiness. I am helpful. I love my job. I have power. I am honest. I love people. I have a home. I am intelligent. I love peace. I have wealth. I am at ease. I love my body. I have a wonderful heart. I am sucessful. I love laughter. I am thoughtful. I love myself. I have ability.

Exterminating Rats

Now that the warmer weather has shown it's face, the rodents and other critters have come out of hiding. And they're hungry. Ty and I found these really cool rat traps at Lowe's that you can set with one hand. I am not brave enough to set the other kind. It might have something to do with the fact that they can break your fingers. Anyway, since last weekend, we've caught 8 rats. The kids like to 'help' my coming with me to check them in the morning. One of the traps can be seen from the window in our kitchen. This is the one that we usually check first because we don't have to go outside. This morning, Tommy got up and I asked him if he wanted to check the rat trap with me. He agreed and so I opened the blinds in the kitchen. He climbed up on a chair and looked out the window. Sure enough, we caught number 9! While I was silently 'WOO HOO-ing" in my mind, Tommy says "Mommy! The rat is stuck! He's crying...He want's his mommy!" I didn't know how to respond, quite frankly. But, it was so cute that he felt bad about the rat being 'stuck'. Gosh I love my kids...

Obsessed Much?

As most of you already know, Tommy is potty trained. Except at night we put him in pullups. More often than not when he wakes up it's wet. You might also remember that Tommy is a growly gus when he wakes up. So he woke up this morning yelling from his room, as usual. Ty told Emma to go and get him. She said "He's gonna yell at me." but being the good girl that she is she did as she was told. The moment she stepped into his room he started yelling "No, Emma, go away!". With a defeated sigh, she walked away and said "See...he always yells at me.". I thanked her for trying and got him out of bed myself. We walked back into the kitchen where the smell of breakfast cooking was rapidly filling the air. That seemed to lighten his mood so I put him sitting in the chair to wait for breakfast. Being a little boy, he is obsessed with his ummm, member. I think for boys it's like a built in toy. He still had his pullup on and it was wet but not wanting to bombard him with bathroom talk I waited until he was ready. I've gotten pretty confident that he'll tell me when he needs to go rather than having an accident. He was sitting in the chair slapping the pullup and he blurts out "Look mommy! I have a big penis!" Wow... All I can say it that I'm glad that this was said in the privacy of our own home rather than in line at the store.

Playing with Scissors

So, when most kids get their hands on a pair of scissors they cut paper or, worst case scenario, hair. Well, not my kid. Tommy was sitting at the kitchen table cutting paper scraps into tiny little pieces. It looked like he was using the scissors properly so, I let him (also avoiding a potential meltdown). Jose walks in while Tiffany and I are in the kitchen making dinner. He carefully asks "Do you know Tommy has scissors?" In unison, Tiffany and I flippantly answer "Yes". Jose shrugs his shoulders and returns to the beer making activities in the garage. Not a minute later Tommy starts whining "Oh No! I beeding. Owie Mommy!" Earlier in the day he had a terrible nosebleed so I initially thought that his nose had started bleeding again. I look over and sure enough Tommy was bleeding. But not the same way he had been earlier. He had taken the scissors to his nose and sliced a perfect "U" shape into the tip of his nose. See exhibit A below. Oh the adventures we have in our home. (Please Note that this was and extremely minor incident with the potential for serious injury. We have since taken the proper precautions to prevent such things from happening again.)

In the middle of the night he starts crying and yelling. I go into his room to see what the matter is and when I ask, he just lays there and yells and cries. I plead with him to stop yelling and crying and to just tell me what's wrong. Why can't he just tell me what he needs?!? He just lays there looking at me and crying. Finally he says 'Ice water!'. I get his ice water, and he settles down. I kiss him goodnight and close the door. The moment I get back under the warm covers he starts at it again. I lay there for a minute silently hoping that he'll stop; trying desperately to telepathically communicate with him: "Tommy, shhhh, it's ok. Just settle down. Drink some water. Shhhh. You'll wake everyone up." I come to the realization that I have no telepathic abilities whatsoever because it is clearly not working. So, I get up and burst into his room and say "Tommy! Stop Yelling!" and when I reach his bed I notice that his nose has started bleeding again and it's all over his face and his pillow. I felt terrible. I cleaned him up, made him drink some ice water and turned his pillow over to the clean side (Yes, I should have changed the pillowcase but it was the middle of the night and I don't know if I have any extras anyway). So I asked him if he wanted me to hold him in my desperate attempt to clear my conscience of feeling like a bad mommy for yelling at him. He said "woking chair". So I took him into the living room and rocked him until he went to sleep. It was just what I needed. Looking down at his sweet face while he slept I thought about how these moments become less and less frequent as they grow older. I was astonished at how all of a sudden he was so big. The last time I rocked him like that he was half the size he is now. And, it wasn't very long ago that his head, that is now the size of a large melon, was once the size of a softball. I sat there rocking him for as long as I could keep my eyes open and told him that I was going to bring him back to his bed. He whispered "OK" and went right back to sleep. We both slept soundlessly for the rest of the night. I learned that what he needs is sometimes what I need too.

EXHIBIT A:

Speaking of Christmas...

Tommy always runs down the hallway...always, no matter how many times we yell at him for it. I was sitting at the computer tonight and he runs down the hallway hollering "Mommy!". Did I mention that he only has two volume levels? Hollering and sleeping. I swear that child cannot speak without yelling. Remind you of someone? Anyway. "Tommy, you don't need to yell, what is it?" I respond. "I sit wit you?" I say "Sure!". So I pick him up and sit him on my lap. He looks over at the Christmas tree and says, "Look, a noman tree." I say "That's not a Snowman tree, that's a Christmas tree. Do you know who's coming for Christmas?" While he glares at me with his big brown eyes and his sly grin he says "Noooooo..." So I tell him that Abby and Paw Paw Woody and Grammy are coming for Christmas.
Pause for back story...
Me and my brother always referred to his godfather, the late Howard Bernard, as Nonc (Pronounced NONK). It's a derivative of the french word for uncle (Oncle). He couldn't pronounce Oncle, so he called him Nonc and it stuck.
Continue...
With hope in his eyes, he looks up at me and puts his hands together as if her were praying and says "And Honk too?!?"
I couldn't help it. I almost fell out of my chair laughing. These are the moments that I will cherish forever.

Love you little brother...and so does Tommy.

Tales from the Porcelain Bowl

Potty training is not for the faint of heart or anyone with a sensitive gag reflex. Both of my children were fairly easy to potty train. Remarkably, Tommy seems to have had an easier time of it despite the old wives tale that boys are harder to train than girls. During the first week of him being out of diapers, we started with just going pee pee in the potty. On day 2, while I was dozing on the couch, Tommy runs into the living room without pants on and his hands covered in poop. With tears in his eyes he says "Mommy, I go poo poo.". I follow him back to the bathroom and find poop and toilet paper covering his step stool. My heart swelled with joy at the sight. Only a mother would understand being overjoyed at the sight of a poop covered step stool. Let me remind you that we hadn't really talked about pooping on the potty and it was only day 2. He attempted to poop on the potty all by himself, missed, AND tried to clean up the mess by himself. Poor thing; he was crying with poop all over his hands and confused cause mommy was telling him what a good boy he was. He must of thought I was crazy. Tommy: "Who is this woman? Mommy usually yells when I make a mess, now she's clapping and jumping up and down like a lunatic! God, when can I move out of this mad house?"

This reminds me of a similar story from Emma's potty training days. The memory is a little foggy but I'll do my best to recall it.

I'm scrambling around the house doing something. As I walk past the bathroom I find 2-1/2 year old Emma on her hands and knees on the rug in the bathroom. She was scrubbing the rug with a piece of toilet paper that was rapidly disintegrating and softly sobbing to herself. She was clearly trying not to attract attention. I asked her what was wrong and she said "I poo poo." She was trying to clean up the mess she made cause she missed the toilet. Poor baby girl. Of course I consoled her, threw the rug in the wash and her in the bath.

So, throw out that old adage of 'boys are harder to train than girls' out the window. Run out of diapers and you'll see how fast your kids get potty trained no matter their sex. It's really amazing what YOU and your kids are capable of without the security of a diaper.

The Ten Tenors and Their Youngest Fan

One Sunday morning, Emma was watching PBS. I was doing some things around the house and hadn't really been paying attention to what she was watching. After all, PBS is safe enough, or so I thought. All of a sudden, she starts yelling "MOMMY MOMMY! They're coming, they're coming!". Panicked I ran to the room to see what was wrong. "Who's coming, Emma?" I ask. "The Ten Tenors! They're coming! Can you get tickets?!?" she yells jumping up and down. "The who?" I ask. "THE TEN TENORS! Look!" and she frantically points to the TV. PBS was broadcasting one of the concerts and she was absolutely mesmerized. I guess during one of the commercial breaks, there was an advertisement for the show in San Diego in December. So I told her I would look into it. I figured that it was quite a special thing for a 5 year old to be interested in something like this so I bought tickets for the evening show on December 12th and called it my birthday present. Even though we didn't have the cash, there are just some things you MUST put on a credit card. Since telling her that I bought the tickets, she asks me almost every night how much longer before we can go to see The Ten Tenors. How cute is that?

Horses and Hugs

Emma crawled into our bed in the middle of the night which doesn’t happen very often. Granted she was sick with a fever, but in the morning, she looked so peaceful and sweet I couldn’t help but lift her into my arms and hold her for just a few minutes. As any mother knows, there is nothing more beautiful than her sleeping child. She sleeps like a bear in hibernation, so I figured she wouldn’t wake up. Another thing that Miss Emma is known for is talking in her sleep. So I wasn’t surprised when she started mumbling when I picked her up. I held her for a minute and before putting her back down I gave her one last squeeze. She started to grumble again and as I laid her back down with her eyes still shut she holds up her hands and says “Woah, take it easy girl!”. If only I knew what she was dreaming. Horses?

As for Tommy, he’s a light sleeper just like Ty. If he wakes up on his terms, he generally wakes up happy (not always). If he is woken up by anything else, he’s a monster. And when he’s grouchy, look out. He cannot be consoled, spoken to, or touched. It’s as if something is causing him physical pain. He yells in his bed “MOMMY!!!”. I go in his room and say “Yes, Tommy?”. The only thing that he can seem to do is lay in his bed and yell at me. So I tell him, in my sweetest, mommy voice “If you need me Tommy, you have to tell me what you want. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me. What do you need?” He just lays there and looks at me with his sad eyes and yells “NO!” So I say, “Ok, when you are ready to tell me what you need, you can come out of your room and tell me.” I close the door and of course he proceeds to scream some more. “MOMMY, MOMMY, MOOOOMMMMMMYYYY!!!” I let it go for a minute or two and go back in his room and proceed to ask him if he wants a drink, a popsicle, something to eat, anything to try and figure out what he needs. With each calm question I ask, he responds with a resounding “NO!”. So I finally ask him if he wants me to hold him. He looks at me with his sad eyes and nods his head. FINALLY! So I pick him up and take him into my room. I sit him on my lap facing me and he puts his little arms around my neck and held on tight. After a few minutes, he pulls away and looks at me in the eyes and gives me a big kiss before going back to holding on to me for dear life. I sat there with him for a few minutes with him kind of whimpering the whole time. Finally, he sits up and says “Mommy, can I pay you done, peas?” Translation: He wanted to play on my phone. Seeing that he finally snapped out of it I said “There you are my sweet boy! Where did you go? I’m so glad you’re back.” Sometimes, all they need is a mommy hug.

It’s so strange and wonderful how the two of them are so different. Emma wakes up happy each and every day. Tommy is the wild card. I love them both so much that sometimes it hurts. Each of them has their own quirks, and I love every single one. They change so much that it’s hard to remember how they little they were. I do remember how perfectly their little heads fit in the palm of my hand when they were first born. Who knew that something so little could create something so big. It’s invisible, but you can see it. It takes no shape, but you can feel it. It’s powerful enough to take your breath away but gentle enough to make you feel secure. There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for them. In my very biased opinion, I believe that Ty and I have created the two most wonderful children in the world.

Fresh Baked Memories

As most of you know I just got back from a trip to Edmond, Oklahoma, Grapevine, Texas and Lafayette, Louisiana. While visiting Carol in Oklahoma, she made the most delicious bread. She told the story of the sourdough starter that she has kept alive for 13 years. Every Saturday, she feeds it potato flakes and sugar it's always ready for her when she needs to make bread. She said that when the kids were young, she would make bread every Sunday. This struck a chord with me. I instantly began thinking about something that I could make every weekend for my family. She offered to make me a starter but I declined for fear that I would somehow forget to feed it.

All throughout my trip I pondered on what I could make for my family. I tried a french bread recipe and ended up with 4 hard bricks. Then I found an old Amish sandwich bread recipe and decided to try it. I made the recipe as directed. Well, sort of, I substituted some of the white flour for whole wheat flour. After the first rise, I divided the dough in half, formed one and dropped in in a loaf pan. With the other half I rolled it out, lightly buttered the dough and sprinkled cinnamon sugar over the top. Rolled it up, jelly roll style and dropped it into a loaf pan. After letting the loaves rise one last time in the oven, I baked them. The result was stupendous! All I can say is YUM! I sliced the plain loaf and will use it for Emma's lunch sandwiches. The cinnamon loaf sadly didn't make it to the end of the day. I have never worked with yeast dough before and I am hooked. My next endeavor is to find the perfect cinnamon roll recipe.

I'm sure some of you are wondering why I'm babbling about my kitchen escapades. Well, I want my family to remember me in the kitchen. I want them to look forward to my weekend baking. I want them to say, "Oooo, Tomorrow's Saturday, Mommy's making Cinnamon Bread." or, "Let's go to my house, my mom is making homemade Cinnamon Rolls!". Our society is becoming more about instant gratification and fast food and less about patience and slow food. I want my kids to think back when they are older to the smell of fresh bread baking in the oven every Saturday morning when they were children. I want to pass down a memorized recipe to my kids that they can pass on to theirs and so on. I want them to appreciate the time that it takes to make something from scratch and appreciate it when it's finally done.

I've found the perfect bread recipe, now all I have to do is find the perfect cinnamon roll recipe.

PS: I calculated out the cost of making the bread and it's only 97 cents per loaf. What a deal!

I'm Leaving!

Last night, I was in the kitchen cleaning up the mess that seems to multiply anytime I use the kitchen. I was wiping down my stand mixer when Tommy walks into the kitchen sporting only a diaper and my car keys and says, "Bye Mommy! I'm leaving!" I said, "Where are you going?" stifling my laughter. He said "Work." Of course, I didn't want him to leave (not that he could drive off on a whim anyway) so I was able to distract him with a cinnamon roll. I love the way they try an imitate us. It surely is the greatest form of admiration.