Saturday, August 29, 2009

I really want one of these. I find that interesting. And somewhat disturbing. It's so...suburbia. But then again, if it lives in a cul-de-sac and drives an SUV...

Mr. G would probably never in a million years be on board with having one of those on our car. And that's probably a good thing. I like how he keeps me edgy. (Bwaahahahahahaha. Heh. Hahahahaha. Sigh. Ok, sorry. Thought I could type it out without laughing. Snort.)

There's something really appealing to me about broadcasting to the entire world that my family is fabulous and so very important to me via some stick people on my back window. Kinda like, "See! See, people in the mall parking lot! I am a MOM and a WIFE and I AM GOOD AT IT!!" Because, lets face it, that last part has come as quite a shock to me.

And I think we make cute stick people. Although that dog is waaaaaay too skinny...


Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Check it out! We totally annoyed a famous person! Well, marginally famous. Given that I don't know his name. And he was flying coach on a Horizon Jet from Seattle to Boise, Idaho to play the Western Idaho Fair. But hey. We will take our famous people interactions as they come. Normally I like to klutzily run into famous people. As in, literally RUN INTO them. But we mixed it up this time with a little "toddler on a plane" action. I bet I got at least 6 nasty glances. That is a LOT of looks from a famous dude.



Tuesday, August 18, 2009

I am not exactly sure what this says about me. But after having quite literally N.O.T.H.I.N.G. to say for a couple of weeks, I now have enough fodder for a good long post. And it is yet another tale of my total failure as a parent. Ouch.

Good weekend in McCall with friends. Lots of laughing and eating yummy things. A few bottles of wine put to their rest. Golf for the big boys. Kids played well together. Great pictures in Charlie's Garden. And, um...Willkindalockedhimselfinmybedroomforaboutanhour.

Ahem. So anyway. Yeah, it was cold up there. Unseasonably. Felt like fall and...Wha? What did I say when? Oh, up there? No big deal. Just, uh, you know. Standard kid gets locked in a room for an hour. Happens to everyone, right? No?


Ok. Well. It was naptime, see. He was so tired. I took him in my room and put him down on my bed. I layed with him and rubbed his back for an hour in a totally quiet house. The conditions were spot on for naptime. No dice. His sister actually volunteered to go lay down for an hour, but the baby was not gonna take a nap. So I put him in the middle of my bed with a blanket and a kiss on the head and left the room.

At first he wasn't very happy about it. Because even though he can get off my bed now, he can't turn the doorknobs to open the doors. But after a minute or two he was quiet and just playing with the dog. I let him chill for a few and then thought I would go back in and get him to sleep. But when I tried to open the door it was locked.

No big deal, right? We have this little allen wrench looking thing that I was told long ago was a key for the inside doors. Well that is the biggest crock of you-know-what ever. Because IT DID NOT WORK EVEN A LITTLE BIT. And let me tell you, when your 1 year old is locked in your bedroom you really want that door key to work.

I was fighting the urge to panic. Given that 1) he didn't seem freaked out in the slightest. And 2) he was, afterall, locked inside a room where there was a big bed just waiting for a little napper...

I tried for about 20 minutes to get him out without making any progress. So I put a call in to Mr. G, who was golfing, and then I started to bake cookies. Seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Will played with the dog, and occasionlly stuck his fingers under the door for me to kiss and hold hands with him.

My friend Sandy was even more determined. She fiddled with the key and tried to get Will to turn the lock while I baked. She would say, "Turn the lock Will!" And he would say in a slightly bored and irritated tone, "I DID!"


Occasionally Mr. G would call me from the golf course and say annoying things like, "Have you tried the key?" Or, "Can you find a way to get into the crawlspace from outside the house?" To which I would have to remind him that 1) I am not stupid, and 2) there is going to have to be a much bigger crisis situation before I go down where the spiders live. This is the woods for Pete's sake. The spiders are the size of cats.

So of COURSE all was fine until suddenly it wasn't. I am not sure what caused him to hit his limit. I think that it was kind of a 6th sense type instinct telling him that an opportunity to make Mommy look like a deadbeat was at hand. So suddenly he is crying and screaming and saying, "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommmmmyyyyyy" in that hearbreaking tone and there was not a thing I could do about it. I had already tried just flat out breaking the doorknob off the door, so it's not like I wasn't committed. But I could not get him out.

Just then Mr. G comes leaping over the deck railing (our house is adjacent to the golf course) and flies through the slider. He hears the screaming, sees the baking, and regards me like he is a little unimpressed with my level of calm. He and his buddy Chris start barking orders at each other brain surgeon style. "Pipe wrench! Screwdrivier! Sterile towel!" (Ok, maybe not sterile. This is a STORY afterall.) And in about 45 seconds they have figured out how to pop the doorknob off to get to the lock mechanism.

The door opens, the crying baby runs into my arms, and the SuperDaddies leap back over the deck railing and play the last 2 holes.

And that is exactly how it happened. More or less.


Friday, August 14, 2009

Pathetic. Sorry. I know.

I really am trying to come up with something to write about. I guess I have blogger block. Or I am just not that interesting.

Le sigh.


Thursday, August 06, 2009

Pillow Talk

Him: "You are so sweet."

Her: "Really? You don't mean evil?"

Him: "No, you're sweet."

Her: "Sweet like Devil's Food Cake? Or sweet like vanilla ice cream?"

Him: "Yes."

Her: "Sweet like pink cupcake? Or sweet like pink lingerie?"

Him: "I like lingerie."

Her: (Sigh) "I'm not very good at lingerie."

Him: "How do you mean?"

Her: "Well, the last time I went shopping at Victoria's Secret my friends told me the one nightie I liked looked like a drop cloth."

Him: "I like things that drop. You know, to the ground. Like lingerie that drops to the ground."

Her: "You didn't really have to spell it out like that."

Him: "Shhhhhhh..."