Month: August 2007 (page 1 of 3)

There Once Was A Girl From Ohio…

So, there’s this contest going on over at Weebles Wobblog. A limerick contest. Actually a Limerick Chick Contest. You have until September 5 to enter, so get rhyming! C’mon, it’ll be fun.

Here are my contributions.

Number one:

There’s a guy some people call Grimm
I often have sex with him
But after some lovin’
A bun’s in the oven
And now the pickins are slim

Is that offensive? I can’t help it. Limerick lends itself to the sexual. You should’ve seen my first version.

Number two:

My friend Karly asked, “Why not?
Come write at Wiping Up Snot?
I’m taking a rest
Just do your best
And use all the cuss words you’ve got.”

What can I say? I’m sort of proud of that guest post.

Number three:

There’s a girl I love called Mackey
We’re so alike it’s just wacky
I’d give her my heart
You know, the half necklace part
But when you’re a grown up that’s tacky

Yeah, we’re totally friends like that. I’d even let her have the “Be Fri” part of the necklace and I’d wear the “est ends.” That’s how much I love her.

So, those are my entries. There may be more later. I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. We’ll see.

It’s Official!

Today, the doctor confirmed that I am pregnant. The baby is due around April 25, 2008. My love of even numbers tells me this is a very good thing.

I have my first ultrasound in about three weeks. (Or 19 days to be exact.) I’ll be glad to get to the ultrasound and see that little heart beating. It’s true that I’m a little anxious after my miscarriage earlier this year, but I think that’s natural. My gut tells me everything is okay. I’m gonna roll with that.

Now, names. We’ve picked names. “Already?” you ask. And I will tell you that when you’ve been trying to get pregnant for a while, you find the time to work this stuff out. Like after sex when you’re lying on your back and your husband is holding your legs in the air because you’re willing to do just about anything to help things along. You’ve got at least ten minutes of good talk time there.

Anyway…back to the names. We’ve picked names. Or, I’ve picked names.

If it’s a boy, Dave and I are in complete agreement that we will name him Jackson. Jackson John Grimmett. It’s really fabulous, isn’t it?

If it’s a girl, I believe with my whole heart that I will name her Lucy. Dave is trying with all his might to come up with a name I’ll like better than Lucy. He’s really cute about it all. He comes to me, filled with hope, certain there’s a winner in the list he’s compiled. One by one, I shoot them down with a sigh or an eyeroll until finally he throws up his hands and says, “So what? It’s gonna be a boy anyway!”

Julia also believes the baby will be a boy. She loves to touch my tummy, look into my belly button, put an ear against my skin and say, “Mom, he’s laughing! The baby is laughing! I hear him!”

As for me, I don’t have a feeling about whether it will be a boy or a girl. Right now, I’m just looking forward to that ultrasound and hoping for a heartbeat.

Making My Outside Look Like My Inside

Today, I had my hair cut and eyebrows waxed. At Wal-Mart.

It turned out like this:

The Haircut

Then, I went to the Health and Beauty department and purchased a product that would enable me to mess my hair up. On purpose. Because it is my strong feeling that a hair style that makes me look like I belong in pajamas is the right one for me.

*Edited to add this picture, by request:

The haircut - a look at the back

Because I like to give you what you want.

Construction Toddler For Hire

Today, I came around the corner of our house to see this:

Working On The House

“Julia! What are you doing?”

“I”m workin’ on my house!”

She does pretend roofs, fake siding and imaginary windows.

At one point while she was “working” I heard her say, “You dang gum varmit!”

That’s my daughter, the aspiring construction worker.

The Fallout

Around the time I had my positive pregnancy test, Julia began to complain about the pain in her tummy. You know, because there’s a baby in there. It lasted all of Friday night and through Saturday. On Sunday evening, she emerged from the family room with a doll wrapped in the arm cover from the couch. She proceeded gingerly and with great pride and sincerity announced, “My baby is born.”

Upon further questioning it was revealed that the baby had grown out of her belly, so there was no baby in her belly anymore. She hugged her baby and nursed her baby, complete with sucking sounds. Her baby took naps on the kitchen floor with an open book for a blanket. Her baby got a boo boo and required a band aid. Her baby ate cantaloupe.

I felt pretty confident that Julia was excited that we’re going to have a baby.

Dave, who is also excited, expresses his emotions in a different way. He has decided that it is his duty to ensure that I am not hurt or upset in any possible way. In between his regular check ups, “Are you okay? Do you feel alright? You look like something might be wrong? Are you sad?” he is working hard to make sure I don’t have to. Yesterday, when I began to gather up dirty clothes to toss down the laundry chute, he nearly fell over himself rushing to my aid, “Hey! I’ll do that! I’ll do that! You don’t have to do that! I’ll do it!”

Later, when I announced that we should probably get started on some lawn mowing, he jumped to his feet and enlisted the help of my parents so all of the mowing machines we owned were in use by the time I got outside and I could do nothing but sit on the front porch reading Life Among The Savages while Julia was in labor nearby.

Normally, I’d feel a little offended by the implication that I’m no longer able to do anything now that I’m pregnant, but this weekend, I took advantage. To be honest, I needed the extra rest having given up all forms of caffeine cold turkey. I’ve even replaced my flavored water beverages with a bag of lemons I can slice and toss in my natural, chemical-fee water.

Today, as we get back into our normal routine where my lack of caffeine headache is gone, Julia’s baby is tossed legs up in the toy box, Dave is at work and I am left to throw the dirty laundry down the chute myself, and when the new Garden Tractor arrives I will be the first to take a spin, everything is still, somehow, different. There’s a new baby on the way. I couldn’t be happier.


Photo Hunt


You Can’t Always Get What You Want, But If You Try Sometimes, You Might Find, You Get What You Need*

I’ve gotten into a habit of grabbing a little time to myself each day. I slip into the bathroom and soak in a bubble bath for about ten minutes and complete a Sudoku puzzle. Often times, I don’t get my ten, sometimes even fifteen minutes, until 2 or 3 a.m., but still I get it. I like it. It’s nice.

This evening, I was bold and attempted to take my ten minutes while Julia was still awake. We had finished dinner and the rest of the family had settled into their evening activities. Julia and I had played some Strawberryland, Memory, did a Lite Brite thingamabob, and read a few books together. She took off and busied herself with a puzzle, so I jumped at the chance to get some low-guilt tub time.

It didn’t last long.

About four minutes in, the door slammed open.

“Mom, I got da pick ups,” Julia said hiccupping, “and I wanna baff wiff you.”

Her clothes were already off and down the laundry chute before I could even respond. She jumped over the side of the tub and splashed my Sudoku book. She wet a washcloth and placed it on my head.

“I am Ariel. You are Prince Eric.”

And we played The Little Mermaid for a very.long.time. After I finally convinced Ariel that it was time to get out, I dried her off, combed her hair and sent her to her room to put on pajamas. She said she wanted to play a while and I said ok, went to my room and got comfortable with my iPod.

Halfway through “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”* by the Rolling Stones, my headphones were being pulled off by tiny toddler hands to the chant, “I need Woohooo Weeehooo. Wooohooo Weeehooo.” (That’s Julia-speak for “The Sweet Escape” by Gwen Steffani.)

I was tired and just wanted a little peace, so I found the song and handed it over. I went and grabbed my Sudoku book from the bathroom and sat next to Julia to complete my puzzle. She was propped up on my pillow, my headphones almost engulfing her head, little feet bouncing gently as she sang along. I was staring at her when she looked up at me, scrambled closer to put her head on my shoulder, patted my leg and said, “You’re da bestest mommy in da world,” and planted a kiss on my chin.

I thought, “That’s easy for you to say, you little tub-hijacking iPod burglar.”

After her requests for The Cars (specifically “Shake it Up”) and “I Love Rock and Roll,” she returned my iPod, “Tank you, Mom. I go to bed now.”

And she did.

I reclaimed my iPod, hit shuffle and soon “Sweet Cherry Wine” by Tommy James and the Shondells was filling up my ears and I was taken back to the bedroom I knew in junior high school. I could almost feel the uneven squares of the carpet samples that covered the floor beneath me where I would sit next to my stereo speaker and listen to that song again and again. It was on a vinyl record album I had taken from my mom’s collection without asking. I remembered how I used to follow my mom into the bathroom before bed, sitting on the side of the tub while she bathed to talk her ear off about everything I cared about. I remembered how good it felt, just to be near my mom, to be listened to. It felt so good; I’d go on talking and talking, about anything, just to make that feeling last a little longer. And I remembered how that music we shared became the only thing that kept us talking for a while as I grew up and further away.

I got up to move close to Julia. I put my hand on her back to feel it rise and fall with each sleepy breath. I felt thankful for being too exhausted to act annoyed by her interruption of my “me time.”

Best Mommy in the world? Hardly, but I’m working on it.

Here’s Your Invitation To The Profanity Picnic Under The Fucking Friendship Tree

I’ve received a lot of wonderful advice from so many of you regarding the big guest post over at Wiping Up Snot today. This, however, was by far the best:

Leslie, just be yourself. But, better.

Okay. The post is up. Please, go read it.

It just may be the one and only time I get to guest post.

It’s Wednesday. That Means It’s Time For A Neurotic Post From Me! Whee!

Don’t get me wrong. It isn’t as if I’m only neurotic on Wednesdays. It just happens that this is usually the day on which the pressure from the crazy has become so great it explodes out of me like a volcano. A word volcano of hot, fiery run on sentences, sentence fragments and exclamation points. The focus of my neuroses is usually playgroup, and while we did have playgroup today and there was a point where I was the only one of five mothers not involved in a conversation and felt all left out and stuff, I cannot worry about that right now. I have bigger fish to fry.

Tomorrow I am slated to be the guest poster at my friend Karly’s blog Wiping Up Snot.

A normal individual wouldn’t even mention it to their readers until the post was up and even then, they’d be all nonchalant, like “Hey check me out.”

Not me.

People, I’m totally freaking out! I can’t possibly write about anything else until I’ve worked all this out.

A normal individual might also pull out one of those, hmmmm…what are those called? Rough drafts? You know, of something they’ve already started writing. But, no! Not me. Rough drafts, schmough drafts. I’m a write-by -the-seat-of-my-pants…um, writer. I know, you’re saying, “How can that be, Leslie? The things you write are so well-thought out and polished?”

Ah. Okay, okay. That was a good laugh, huh? Whew! That’s funny.

As you are likely aware, I write almost daily. If I posted it today, I wrote it today. If I posted it at 3:15 p.m., I had just finished it at 3:14 p.m. And yesterday at 3:15 p.m., if you asked me what I was going to write today, I’d be all, “Huh?” Because I’m very academic about all of it, really.

The idea of a draft sitting in a folder somewhere bothers me, anyway. When I have something to share, I do it right away. Some people call that impulsive. I call it enthusiastic. I’m also one of those people who will call you up to say, “Hey! Sharon! I just saved a bunch of money on car insurance!!!” Those commercials were made about people like me. It’s no coincidence that they’re only 30 seconds, if it went on for 45, you’d see that I’ve forgotten all about the insurance because, hey! The mail is here! There’s something for me!

So this guest posting thing. You may suggest that I ask Karly to simply do it later rather than sooner. Good advice. Thank you. However, I can assure you that I’d be going through this very same thing, just later. Again, the write-by-the-seat-of-my-pants thing. Even if I wrote something I perceived to be brilliant, I couldn’t wait to post it. It’d be up right now.

Now I am sitting here and I can’t think of what to write about. I want to do Karly proud. I want her readers to like me and I’m worried. I don’t think I’m a win-you-over-in-one-post kind of girl. It takes some time for me to grow on you. It is possible I could destroy that blog’s entire readership in one entry just by being me.

So, what should I write about? How long should it be? How long is too long and how short is too short and holy crap, I don’t even know what to write about to think that far ahead. Ugh! I just don’t know!

But, I do know this: you, the people who come here and read what I publish, you all inspire me. Sometimes reading through your comments is all I need to juice up to write a post and for that I am thankful because if I didn’t write stuff, I would have spontaneously combusted by now. Writing stuff feels good. And when writing stuff makes people write stuff back, that feels even better. And while I know I may never pen a novel or be a published author or earn money for what I write, even by doing simple data entry because my typing sucks (remember the great SOX debacle?), I do know that this interaction, this sharing of ideas is really what it’s all about. Even if those ideas are about poop.

Okay. I think the spewing is over. If you have any advice for the guest post, I’m all ears. Or eyes, since I’ll be reading them.

‘M,’ ’eme,’ “Meme”

(For a 3 second audio/visual interpretation of this blog title, click here.)

The thing I love about memes? They’re basically a couple of outstretched arms asking for a virtual hug. How can you say no to that? I certainly can’t. Of course, there are times when you aren’t in the mood for a hug or someone smells bad or holds on a little too long and then it’s awkward. But not this time. So, here we go!

Six Weird Things
Tagged by Sometimes Senseless Mom at Poignant Senselessness

  1. I am afraid of chiropractors and voodoo. Although, I do own a voodoo doll. And the song “Voodoo” by Godsmack. I’m not the one who’s so far away…
  2. I have a crush on Linda Rondstadt. But only 1970s Linda.
  3. I have had a plantar wart on my right foot for fourteen years. Three different doctors have attempted to remove it countless times by various methods and it never goes away. Never.Goes.Away. We’ve tried immunotherapy, liquid nitrogen, plain old surgical cutting, duct tape, an assortment of topical chemicals and creams and injections. I’m no longer convinced that it’s a plantar wart. I’m beginning to think it’s an alien invader. I’ve named him Wally.
  4. I have a difficult time distinguishing what’s weird from what’s gross.
  5. Somtimes I act out fake dramatic scenes in the bathroom while I pluck my eyebrows and then deliver my Oscar acceptance speech in the shower.
  6. I am convinced that my neighbor down the street put a curse on me.

13 Questions & Three Answers
Tagged by Trinity at Rooms of my Heart

Three Things That Scare Me.
1. That reverend guy from the last Poltergeist
2. Snakes
3. Dave’s toe (Trust me, it’s scary in a needs-to-be-amputated sort of way.)

Three People Who Make Me Laugh
1. My Husband
2. Jemaine from Flight of the Conchords
3. Bret from Flight of the Conchords

I’m kind of into Flight of the Conchords right now.

Three Things I Love
1. My Daughter
2. My Husband
3. The Baconator from Wendy’s

Three Things I Hate
1. Skid marks
2. Cat puke
3. People who insult you and then say, “Just kidding.”

Three Things I Don’t Understand
1. Thongs
2. Boobah
3. Why I can’t seem to stop watching Ice Road Truckers

Three Things On My Desk
1. My iPod
2. My cell phone
3. My camera

Wait, I don’t have a desk…

Three Things I Am Doing Right Now
1. Waiting for the mail to arrive
2. Annoying my husband
3. Cramping my daughter’s style

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die
This is hard…I don’t like to think about dying.
1. See Julia grow up
2. Renew my wedding vows to my husband
3. Travel

Three Things I Can Do
1. Say ‘Rubber Baby Buggie Bumpers’ three times fast
2. The Achy Breaky Dance
3. Burp on cue

Three Things I Can’t Do
1. Cross my eyes (And who would want to, I ask you?)
2. Yo yo
3. The worm

Three Things I Think You Should Listen To
1. Your mother
2. Your heart
3. The Beatles

Three Things You Should Never Listen To
1. A psychic friend
2. Anyone wearing a mullet
3. That song “Heartbeat” by Don Johnson

Three Shows I Watched As A Kid
1. Kids Incorporated
2. Scooby Doo
3. The Electric Company

And now we’ve come full circle.

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