Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Just The Facts (Randomly)

I wait until my kids go to bed and then I eat ice cream. (Like right now).

My worst guilty pleasure is reality TV . Next worst: celebrity gossip. I have had a subscription to EW magazine for 5 years. I read it every week. I forget to water my plants, feed my dog, send thank you cards, or weed my garden...but I read an entire EW every week. Except the music parts which are boring to me, cuz, let's face it. I'm getting old and I just don't get the music that "kids" are into these days. This whole hip hop rock rap pop fusion crap leaves me cold. I miss the '80s. It's sad.

My son, Gabe, will be 5 in two months. He loves to be naked. Will this ever stop? Is this just his personality (open and free) or is this a kid thing? I really don't care...but others might mind. F 'em though. Why can't he be naked if he wants to? The house rule is that you have to be clothed to go outside. We live in a pretty small town, but our house is right across the street from the park. I am more concerned about offending someone else's sensibilities than actually worried that some pervert or pedophile will catch a glimpse of my child naked and then stalk him. Pediphiles chose children that they have accerss to or that need adult attention. Most children are not at risk from random strangers. Now, if you actually visit my home, you are pretty much guaranteed at least one view of a naked or partially clothed child. Between diaper changes, baths, dress up clothes, and random disrobing, my kids are probably semi-nude to nude about 63% of the time. In fact, I don't even notice that one is naked until someone comes to the door or I need to leave the house quickly.

My favorite food right now is chocolate. (duh!) Has been for about 33 years I'd guess. It tastes best when smuggled right past the kid's noses, so they are eating like tofu hotdogs...while I savor Dove chocolate squares. It's pretty sad when your major triumph of the days is sneaking somethng past a four year old and a two year old.

Otherwise, I eat whatever I am feeding the kids. Except PB & J. Gabe could live on PB & J, juice bars (fruit popsicles), pizza, hamburgers and cereal. Quin lives on soy yogurt, fruit, juice bars, and eggs (plus whatever Brian eats for dinner. His food is always what she wants most). Ribh still only nurses...so that one is easy (she loves chocolate too I think).

I pierced my nose (well I didn't do it. Some hip chic in San Diego did it while thinking I was a middle aged poseur with three kids. Ahemm. Moi?) It still hurts sometimes. Especially when it catches on Quin's hair. Someone told me the other day that they sell nose rings at Walmart. Shit! I am an old poseur. What does it take to be unique anymore?

My toilet is filthy. It is used regularly by a four year old boy. It was spotless last year because I was pregnant and nothing is worse than gagging a little and running to the toilet just in time to be grossed out in earnest by the nastiness of your own (you get my drift here). So, I cleaned that baby, like daily! I just noticed how dirty it was this week because Quin has been asking to go potty lately, which is great but she never actually does anything. I take off her diaper and pants. She sits for about 3.6 seconds and announces that she is "all done potty" and takes off diaperless (semi-nudity! Do you notice a theme?) while I am left to contemplate how filthy the toilet is. But I still haven't cleaned it. I have company on Friday, so I will have to bite the bullet on that one.

I was an English Major in undergrad (UW-Madison). I still leave things dangling all over (participle-wise! Let's not talk about my boobs right now) and other nasty little errors. I can't spell for shit and my pop-up blocker won't let me spell check this dratted thing. Enjoy!

2 comments:

Linda said...

LOL, Mar! I could have written quite a bit of that post. Thanks for the smiles. :)

karla said...

My participles are fine, for the most part, but my poor post-baby boobs are a shell of their former selves. I'm still the same bra size as before, but believe me when I say that the twins look nothing like they did last year at this time. My friend Teri just found out she's pregnant, and she asked me if I had any advice for her. I told her to run to the bathroom, lift her shirt and admire her boobs, because soon she'll be reminiscing about how great they used to look.