Joda Wisdom

The conversation my 2-year-old and I had while changing her moments ago:

Me: Please don't touch your diaper. It's poopy.
Joda: Oh. It's yucky.
Me: Yes, yes it is.
Joda: I don't want to eat the poopy diaper.
Me: No, you don't. That's gross.
Joda: Yeah. I don't want to eat my poop. It's not a pancake.
Me: No, it is definitely not a pancake.
Joda: Yeah. (extending her finger to the counter) That's a nice pancake.

And there you have it. Eat the nice pancake, not human feces.

In case you needed a laugh.

http://www.hulu.com/watch/107500/saturday-night-live-digital-short-firelight

My captors

A chilled hand covers my mouth.
My muffled call for help carries to no one,
no one but my captors.
We're alone-
in my living room.
I've been wrestled to the couch.
Two on one.
With the chilled hand still quieting my mouth
the shorter, stronger one pokes me in the eye,
and I squirm.
His nail is sharp and painful on my eyelid-
possibly drawing blood.
The hand on my mouth tightens.
And then something wet... across my forehead;
It drips down the side of my face
I try to wipe it away,
But My captors force back my arm.
Instinctively I jerk and the hand on my mouth releases,
"I'll get you for this!"I scream in desperation.
But they laugh and the hand returns to my mouth.
How long will they torture me?
Suddenly, my adrenalin catches fire and I receive strength,
"Off you fiends!" I yell with courage!
And in one great movement I roll to the side and dive off the couch.
I'm facing the two of them from across the room now.
Who will move first...
Finally, and with great vigor, my 2 year old daughter yells,
"Mama, I get you!" and she runs me down our hallway
and I'm searching fast as I can for a good hiding place,
something not too difficult for them to find me.
I know my 14 month son is close on my heels as well.
"I gon get you!" I hear again.
I dive under the covers on my daughters bed.
And then they're there, they see the lump-
I'm ruined- this is the end.
They pull the blanket off my head with huge grins on their faces
laying on my arms, leaving me defenseless.
And then I see it:
One large blob of drool falling from my son's mouth.
"NOOOOO!" I yell, trying to wrench my arm free.
But I can't, and they've won, they're giggling over my scream.
The blob belly flops over my good eyeball.
And I'm blinded.
I throw them off and growl
"You better run!"
"Ahhhhhh!" They yell!
The tables have turned and it's my turn to torture my captors.

I heart yardsaling

In a big way. I love it. And yes, to any fourth grader reading this blog, I should probably marry it. But I kind of did since it was actually my husband who helped me discover this passion I now have for raiding other people's junk. This morning my little sister and sister-in-law and I spent 4 hours and came home with loads of goodness. With approximately $9.00 (all of which came from our change jar) I acquired a pretty cool mirror, a snowman decoration, a bottle for Tic, 7 shirts, 2 skirts, 1 sweater, a Noah's Ark stuffed animal toy, a cute stuffed bear, 2 hats for dress ups, a very nice coat and shorts for my honey, a kids book about the human anatomy, thee cutest peasant dress for my daughter, and one package of strawberry flavored Bubblicious! Beat that Savers or DI.

FYI: This is for anyone I have now tempted to join my ranks. There are three major dangers in yardsaling. One: not one object is safe in your neighbor's yard between the months of April and October (depending on the weather or course). It's been more than once that I've attempted to buy things people were not selling, in yards where a sale was not being held. Two: Whenever someone compliments anything I am wearing I cannot help but tell them where I found it and how much it cost. It's one of those annoying things about me that I totally recognize but cannot control. And Three: yarsalers are not out early Saturday morning to be careful, law abiding citizens. We drive slow, we don't always see stop signs, we park illegally, etc. Our eyes are on the lawns, not on the road:)

Dirty Rotten Villains

My 2-year-old just woke up crying really hard about a frog trying to get her. I think this is from Thumbelina, although she hasn't watched it for a month or so.

She watched Swan Princess yesterday. Does that have a scary frog? This past weekend she also woke up crying after a nap telling me that the scary man got her and hurt her ear. But "Da-Da" saved her. My husband was extremely pleased to hear of his heroic role. I think this one was from Anastasia which she'd watched before bed the night before.

I was thinking that maybe I need to go through our kid movies and put away the ones with frightening villains. I feel deeply responsible for her nightmares. I am her mother. I (along with her dad) create her world and how she understands herself in that world. I just don't feel that at 2 and a half she should be waking up with nightmares. She should have no clue that anything bad could ever happen to her. That's for me to worry about- not her. What do you think? At what age can kids handle scary villains?

Sad.

Today has been a depressing day. I'm not sure why I'm writing this post. It's not for sympathy or for compliments. I do not want people telling me how adorable I am. It just totally stinks to lose your smokin' hot bod when you have babies. Of course I would never in a million trillion years choose the waist over the babies. They are my life and I love that life. Tasted it, Loved it, Crave it. However, I spent the last couple of hours going through all of my clothes I use to wear which have been in boxes for... awhile now. "For a smaller me" is what I labeled them. Ha ha. I'm only 5 pounds from where I started which is great. The goal is in sight. But the hips are not moving back. And I don't know if I was a total skank before the child bearing began but skin tight clothing is not attractive over the love handles. Which seem to be a permanent addition to this bod. So I'm getting rid of the clothes. Sick of seeing them. Good-bye. This world is the pits. I kind of feel like I never ever ever want to watch another movie or look at another magazine in my life. I'm sick of seeing other women that may or may not be real and feeling like I'm never going to be that. Wish I could just kick the crap out of them. That would help me feel better right now. Since I can't, I am now going to support the new me and spend a significant amount of time with Ben and Jerry. 340 calories. They are so good to me.

Some more cheese

So anyone who knows me and my honey know we are incredibly chessey. And I just took it to the next level. I wrote our story as a fairytale. It was surprisingly fun. I'm hoping to learn calligraphy and write it in a very cool journal his parents gave him. It's just for him and me and our kids. But here are a few excerpts so you can taste what you shall never have to read:)

After ice cream Rayown walked Amikins back to her sleeping quarters. From hence forth this became their ritual at the end of each day. Rayown would walk Amikins home, she would try to get her bracelet back, and Rayown would do whatever he wanted behind her back: touch her hair, smell her perfume, brush her back. So scandalous!

One day Amikins found herself wondering how things had gotten this far. Rayown had invited himself over to her quarters and she couldn’t find a way out of it! “Just deal with it.” He chided, “I’ll be over after dinner. We can watch whatever play you want that’s showing in the kingdom tonight. Pick something depressing and pessimistic. You like that stuff.”

“You’re too kind!” Amikins glared. So she chose Charly and cried all though it and completely ignored Rayown’s overtly available hand and arms. Well, she saw them. But she made sure he couldn’t reach her by putting a pillow, a magic wand, and some treats between them.

“Do you always put up physical barriers between yourself and those you want to keep away?” Rayown asked the next day.

“No, ah… what do you mean? No, I don’t.” And she changed the subject once again. What was with his total, upfront honesty?!

I just love that we got married!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!