Creativity, Boogers, and Dental Hygiene

Creativity is a virtue I hold in high regard.  I admire it in others and try to cultivate it in my own children. I want to encourage their creative minds when they bubble up, but sometimes it appears in strange ways.

Exhibit A.

Both of my kids go to swim school once a week. At swim school they sell cookies. Sometimes I get them one after lessons, sometimes I do not. Kenzie began asking me about whether we would be getting a cookie from the moment she realized it was swim class day. When we got in the car to drive there and she still couldn’t get me to commit, she tried this tactic.

“Momma, I have a booger in my teeth,” she told me.
“A booger? In your teeth.”
“Yes. I can’t get it out. Can you get it?”
“I can’t get the booger out of your teeth while I’m driving the car.”  I would say about once a day I have a wow-that-really-just-came-out-of-my-mouth moment. That was the moment.
“I think I need a chocolate chip cookie. I think the cookie will get the booger out of my teeth.

Now this is just smart. Four out of five dentists will tell you that boogers are worse for tooth enamel than coffee, red wine, and certainly worse than chocolate chip cookies. One out of five dentists is a booger eater. Incidentally, booger-eating dentists are the reason we are hounded about our flossing habits every 6 months. It’s the guilt.

Anyway, we got a cookie that day. Anyone willing to eat her own booger or to just come up with that excuse deserves a cookie in my book.

No boogers in those teeth.  (And don't worry, I was parked when I took this picture.)

My Super-Duper Big Exciting News

Last year I auditioned for a show called Listen To Your Mother. Listen To Your Mother is a series of live staged readings about motherhood. As my friend put it, think Vagina monologues except about the mom experience in all its various forms and each piece it written by the person reading it. Anyway, last year I didn’t make it, so when I got an audition this year I kept my expectations in check and tried not to get too excited.

I drove down to Oklahoma City and read my piece in front of the three producers while trying to control my shaky hands and voice. I prepared myself to not make it. I told myself it was an honor just to be nominated. Then since I made this trip sans kids I left and went to the outlet mall.

I shopped, I spent too much money, I ate lunch, I ran into a friend and then I got ready to drive back.  I called my mother-in-law to tell her I was headed back. The kids wanted to stay another night and since my mother-in-law is the best she let them stay. Really…she’s the best. She took my kids and my two nieces to Chucky Cheese…on a Saturday.

I went home and went wild. And by wild I mean I ate an obscene amount of chocolate cake, stayed up late and watched movies.  It was wonderful. Just this would have been a great day, but then I got a call.  I made it into the Oklahoma City cast of Listen To Your Mother! All week long I’ve been saying the words “I’m sooo excited” like a valley girl, but I can’t help it…I am sooo excited!

So if you are in Oklahoma City, please come out and see me and this cast of wonderfully witty women on May 4th! Tickets go on sale soon!

She's Got a Fever

Kenzie goes to swim class every week.  It’s at the same time as the baby swim class.  Really it’s just the parents moving their child’s arms and legs because these babies are lazy, but anyway, it got Kenzie thinking…and wishing.

“I wish we had a baby,” she announced in the locker room.

As my dad would say, we need a baby like a fish needs a bicycle.  He also says something about putting socks on a rooster, but I’m not sure that one applies here.

“Really?” I said and then continued to get her dressed hoping that she would forget about the whole baby thing.
“Yeah, I really wish we had a baby.”  Nope, she didn’t forget.  She didn’t forget all day long.  She talked about babies in the car, during lunch, at Target.  This kid had serious baby fever.

It’s not that I’m opposed to babies.  I have a 6-month old niece that I love very much.  I just don’t want to raise another baby.  I’m enjoying the stage that we’re in now, the one that doesn’t involve diapers and does involve everyone wiping their own butts (most of the time anyway).  I like that my children can use words to tell me what’s bothering them.  Sometimes while throwing themselves on the floor or to tell me how mean I am, but words nonetheless.

I thought that I would eventually just have to tell her that for us, there would be no more babies.  Instead she changed her mind on her own while driving home from the grocery store.

“Momma,” she said, “babies freak me out.”

Me too, kid.  Me too.

This is enough.

My Secret Life is Hidden in My Purse

You might think that just because I’m a suburban stay at home mother of two that I am boring.  What if I told you that at this very moment in my purse are a glow stick and a pair of panties?  Who’s boring now?

Ok, so the glow stick is from a birthday party.  A kid’s birthday party at Bounce U.  I was there though and there were strobe lights and everything, so I’m pretty much a raver.  Not to mention with this glow stick in my purse I could rave anywhere I want.  I could rave at home, I could rave in the pick-up line, I could rave at Target. I’m so crazy I could just call up Miley have her bring some Molly and pull this glow stick right out of my purse and party like it’s 1999.  Alright, so the fact that I just used an outdated Prince reference might show my uncoolness, but there’s still the panties.

Yeah…I’ve got panties in my purse.  What?!  I know.  I am insane.  It’s like I’m leading a secret life.  If the panties weren’t Minnie Mouse and belonging to my daughter.

Wait, wait!  I have a sponge in here!  My mom gave me a sponge that my grandmother sent from Germany because it’s scratchy side is superior to American sponges.  If I went through customs with that thing I would have to declare it because it far exceeds the abrasiveness of anything found on the shelves in this country.  Then I would tell them if they just wanted to go ahead and search me for Cuban cigars and illegal drugs I would completely understand since I obviously fit the profile.

If you want to come over and hang with me just give me a call.  I am warning you though, things might get a little crazy.  I’m talking cleaning pots and pans with illegal German sponges while listening to some pretty hardcore electronica crazy.

Oh, who am I kidding?  I’m going to call Miley and tell her to get her life together and make sure she’s getting enough sleep.

Caption This Donut

-It's ok.  It's whole grain.

-When potheads bake.

-This donut brought to you by sugar diabeetus.

-That donut in the back is just a donut, but that donut in the front is a DOOO-NUT!

-The donut for when you want to indulge.  The loops for your daily recommended serving of "froot".

-Ran out of milk.  Improvised and used a donut instead.

-I don't know, seems a little too heath food-ish.  Can we try deep frying it as well?

-Take three bites of a Froot Loop donut in front of a mirror and Wilford Brimley will appear.

-Froot Loop Donut.  Contains 2% of daily fiber and 100% of I don't give a fuck.

And if the "froot" is just too healthy and you really want to indulge I give you...

The Cocoa Puff Donut.  Why?  'Merica.

The Scary Dog That Isn't

Photo by Ann Pinson

This is my dog.  He is a big dog.  He most recently scared the shit out the AT&T people trying to sell me the U-verse.  They told me what a nice dog he was as Cooper gently sniffed their crotches, but their faces said, “Dear God, please don’t let him eat me and/or bite my balls.”  Well, one of them said that with their face. The other was a girl so I don't think she had balls.  I guess you never really know...anyway, that's not the point of this story.

Rottweilers get a bad rap.  I get it.  Before my husband suggested we get one, I was one of those people.  Why didn’t he suggest we get a baby cougar or a rabid monkey?  That’d be nice.  I came around when I met his uncle’s rottie; a 120lb guy named Rogue whose highest aspiration in life was for you to pat him on the head. Side note: if you are going to talk your significant other into getting a dog, do not wait several months later after she has forgotten about said discussion and make her Christmas present a dog leash and collar.  You might think you are saying “Hey, I found a dog!  Let’s go get her!” but she will think it means you are now into some kinky shit.  True story.

We brought home our furry bundle of joy, a female that we named Shelby.  My mother sent her greetings by mailing newspaper clippings of Rottweilers that had eaten people.  Shelby never did eat anyone and we loved her so much that we got a second rottie, Cooper.  (Shelby sadly passed away from cancer 2 years ago.)

Here’s a story about a Rottweiler that won’t end up in the newspaper.  My big scary dog once hid behind my legs on a walk because a Chihuahua barked at him.  And I was pregnant at the time.  He stayed firmly planted behind my legs until we were out of view of the killer Chihuahua’s yard. He was only a year old at the time so maybe his confidence would grow with time.

Nope.

Just the other day, this same big scary dog had a big scary nightmare.  At least I assume that’s what it was by the twitching and whining.  The big scary dog then jumped up and ran to me and pestered me until I held him.

I’m just glad the AT&T people didn’t see that scene play out.  Their sales pitch was considerably shorter when they thought I owned a man-eater.

I don't have the heart to tell him he is not a lap dog.

It Was a Brilliant Idea Until It Wasn't

Have you ever had an idea that just for one fleeting moment was the most brilliant idea ever?  So brilliant that you wonder why nobody had ever thought of it before? And then you realize it's because it's a really, really dumb idea?

Yeah.  I had one of those tonight.

Eric and I shipped our kids off to grandma and grandpa's house so we had an evening to ourselves. We decided to try out Upper Crust, the new pizza place in town.  This is a huge improvement over our last date night where we ended up at Target.  I wish I were joking about that.  Anyway, I ordered a pizza margherita and as I was chowing down I was thinking about how awesome crust is.  In my opinion, it is the best part of the pizza.  Maybe is was the glass of Pinot Noir or maybe I was high on my newfound freedom this evening away from snotty noses and butts that needed wiping, but this got my creative juices flowing.  Somebody should make an appetizer out of this.  How great would that be? Just a plate of pizza crust.  If I ever open a restaurant, I am serving a plate of pizza crusts as an appetizer.  This is the best idea in food since somebody decided to deep fry macaroni and cheese.

Then I remembered that they have that.  They're called breadsticks.

I am a fucking genius.