Sometimes I wonder

It must have been the third or fourth time I fed Tornado A with solid food.  Because no one else was there to witness it and therefore to calm me down.  I was left to my own devices, which is not always a good thing.

As I got the spoon in place to shove rice cereal into Tornado A’s mouth, Tornado A opened his mouth wide like a hungry bird.  While his mouth open, out shot a stream of “spit?”

I naturally gave out a tiny, high pitched screech and jumped back.  In case, it was venom.

Because all that flashed through my mind was that scene in Jurassic Park where there cute, tiny dinosaurs all of a sudden start to shriek and spew out poison.

Then I realized it was the weekend, so I couldn’t call the pediatrician.

And my parents were out, so I couldn’t call them.

I started formulating my question for the magic box.  “Baby Venom.”  “Antidote to Baby Venom.” “Help my baby spits venom.”

Of course, the logical part of my brain clicked in at that moment.  You know, the part that reminds you to pay bills, shut the oven off, lock the car, not to walk the half of block to get the mail and leave the kids in the house alone (even if they are cranking and you NEED to get away), not to say “what” and give your dad the opening to the joke he is setting up, that a ton of feathers and a ton of bricks both weigh the same amount.

“Um, did you just actually assume your child just spit out venom?  Please tell me how many years of education you have.  Please promise me you will not mention this to Dad because he will never let you live it down.  Jesus, some days, I’m embarrassed for us both.”

Right.  Thanks.

So I returned to spooning rice cereal into Tornado A’s hungry mouth.

But it is weird my son shoots out a thin stream of spit, right?

Sometimes I worry myself

Dear Brain to Mouth Connection. 

We need to talk.

We need to add a few things to those censors of yours, other than religion (because with your very liberal Catholic ways, you’ll offend someone) and politics (because with your very liberal and every once in a long while conservative thinking, you’re bound to offend someone).

I know.  I know.  You’re better than Mom’s, but that’s not saying much.  It’s like the guy who teaches his kids racial jokes but tells himself he’s better than his dad because his dad was a card caring KKK member.  So yeah, comparing yourself to Mom’s lack of censoring isn’t saying much. At. All.

Please don’t tell any one that you don’t need to clean for your in-laws because you have a “Program.”  Sure, you’re house is cleaner, but you often forget to follow all the way through with the Program.  Like when was the last time you dusted?  Or even swept the bathroom floors?  “Don’t ever speak ill of the Program!  The Program is rock solid!  The Program is sound!”  But only when followed precisely.  That goes for the Bill Program.  So when you laugh and say you have a “Program,” you sound f-ing smug and forget to mention your house could fit into someone else’s house with room to add a basketball court.  And no one likes a smug mama.  Including me.

While we’re at it, what the hell were you thinking when you told another mom your family doesn’t qualify for the scholarship AFTER she was talking about her financial woes?  Now you look like an @ss.  The sick thing is that when you add in the bills you probably have less money to kick around than she does.  AND she already thinks your rich.  I don’t know what gave you away; the lack of haircuts on the boys, the Target maternity pants that you’re praying don’t get holes in them in the next two to three months, the fact you haven’t gotten a hair cut when you needed one three months ago.  At least you tried to mend the burning bridge you just torched with adding, “but we have a lot of bills, a LOT of bills.”  Yeah, I should have made you slap your forehead for that stupidity.

Remember how you were complaining to your BFF, who understands the stupid things you say, about not being able to close the deal on friendships?  This is the stuff that’s probably f-ing you up.  I’d make you read Dale Carnegie again, but that dude f-s you up too.  What with the complete change of every technique you learned to start a conversation and make friends. 

So let’s review:

No talking about religion. 

No talking about politics. 

No talking about having a clean house (Since you’ll eat those words when the baby comes any ways.) 

No talking about money (Just listen and nod). 

And maybe we can have a friend we can actually meet for coffee or something.  You can Thank Me Later.

Thank Me Later Thursdays are brought you by parenting By dummies.

And is any one else getting worried that I have complete conversations in my head?

A Journal Entry

The other week Inktopia did this interesting journal meme, which I thought was really cool.  But I didn’t participate because I don’t journal anymore.  I used to.  I loved it.  I would seat by one of the college water fountains and write every day.  It got to the point that not only did my friends and teachers know where to find me but that random strangers would stop and talk to me, to tell me how neat it was that I wrote every day.  But life happened.  Babies happened, so I slid my journals away with the promise that my best friend would burn them when I died because no one needs to know how silly I was, how stupid I was, how horny I was as a young woman.  Basically if my boys find them, I might die of embarrassment.



‘Bout ten years old, hide and seek
I found me in the closet
Ready or not I stumbled on
And opened up that box of
Yearbooks, letters, black and whites
A hundred, maybe more
Next thing I know my brothers and me
Got ‘em scattered on the floor (Yeah)

There was one of her, flippin’ the bird
Sittin’ on a Harley
And a few with some hairy hippie dude
Turns out his name was Charlie
Her hair, her clothes, her drinkin’ smokin’
Had us boys confused
I’ll never forget the day us nosey kids got introduced

To Mama, ‘fore she was Mama
In a string bikini, in Tijuana
Won’t admit she smoked marijuana
But I saw Mama, ‘fore she was Mama

-Clay Walker “’Fore Mama Was Mama”




But I digress.  In the comments, Ink decided that we should publish an entry.  So I plan to anti up and force her hand.  A random journal and a random entry.






        It’s a beautiful day.

                Sun shine

                Not too hot, not too cold

                A cool breeze.


        Spring returns; we dance to welcome her gentle presence

                more gentle in some areas.

                        like here.


        I don’t want to do my school work because I would rather enjoy the day.

        Honoring it as we all should

        Breathing in its beauty, glory.

        Enjoying each day like the last.


        How do you take each day like it is your last if you must prepare for the future,

                doing all those mundane things that keep the world turning?

                bills, schoolwork, grocery shopping.

        I guess you have to make the most of it all,

                finding the worthwhile moments,


        Drink in it all like some precious liquor.


        I feel relaxed.

                        Like a cat waking from a nap,

                realizing I can just lay here to watch the world go by.

        But will I be content to just watch?

                Most likely not.

        Only in my outside human existence was I content.

                Those never last long.

        I need activity,

                        to stretch my muscles,

                        to push my mind.

        Seize the day.

        Seize the night.


Only Monica and I were excited over having more powerful jaws than sharks.

        Because we know we’re amazing.

        Everyone else laughs, calling it useless information.

        But we are so wonderful, complex, powerful, beautiful.,

        Humans are awe-inspiring.

        What animal is as beautiful as we?

        With the self-realization of that beauty.

        We are unique.

        Why is it a joke?

        Monica was so excited, just like me, with a mouth gasping for air, eyes filled with awe, power, excitement.

        We are the princes of the universe.





And yes, I wrote like that.  Yes, I do think I’m a nerd.