An Easy Diaper Fix, Dad Style

I walked into the garage this evening to give G and Pumpkin their "five minute warning" (Read: "Five minutes until dinner is on the table - come in and wash your hands!") This is what I saw:



Somehow, he lost his shorts and tee shirt. Plus, not he's not wearing Pampers Cruisers. And the blue strip? Yeah, that's painters tape. G's response to my look of horror: "You don't want to know."

Yep, I still don't know why. Probably never will.

Should've Done This Years Ago

I woke up Saturday morning at nine o'clock - NINE O'CLOCK, that's like noon in pre-Pumpkin days.

Me: Oh my God! Did Pumpkin have breakfast? Did you change his diaper? I can't believe it's nine!

G: Everything's fine. I just thought I'd let you sleep in a little bit this morning.

Me: That was really nice - I needed it. What's the occasion?

G: Well, you have a blog now...

Why God Created Black Panties

The fly on my black pants was open from 7:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. today. Classy.

This is Pumpkin

He's two years old. He loves books, tractors, and his three blue blankies. He likes giving kisses and "kugs" and then saying "wuv woo."

He had his first taste of strawberry shortcake this week. He thought it was "nummy."

This face...it makes everything worth it. I love being a mom.

I'm (Not) a Little Bit Country

Confession: I hate country music, at least that's what my parents, my sister, my husband, my friends, my...well...everyone thinks. See, I don't really dislike country music. I've even been known to have country stations programmed on my car radio.

(G: Is this a country station? When did you start listening to country music?

Me: Oh, they, uh, they changed the station format yesterday, and I, uh, can't figure out how to program a new station... So, how was your day?)

(Yes, I've really had that conversation with my husband - more than once. Yes, I've actually played dumb, pretending I don't know how to change the radio programming. Yes, he really believed it. Love you, honey!)

This charade started in the fifth grade. It was my first exposure to peer pressure, and I gave in.

SCENE: Typical fifth grade classroom. Enter Robin, the popular girl. She had dark hair, styled in a Farrah Facett-type, feathered style. She wore Jordache jeans and left the buttons on her polo shirt undone. She was cool. On the other hand, I refused to wear jeans; I'd only wear pleated skirts, ruffled pastel blouses, and ballet flats. I straightened my hair, had really crooked teeth, and sported Coke-bottle glasses.

Robin: Hey, Jilt! We were just talking about that new song, you know, the one with the phone number?

Me: I don't know it.

Robin: Of course you do! It goes, "867-5..." I can't remember the last few numbers. Do you know?

Me: I've never heard that song.

Robin: Sure you have. It's all over the radio. You do listen to the radio, right?

Me: Yeah, but I don't really listen to rock music.

Robin (laughing): What do you listen to?

Me: I listen to what my parents have on the radio - usually country or oldies...

Robin (rolling on the floor laughing): That's so dumb!

From that day forward, Robin and the cool kids made fun of me - everyday. They called me "Country."

I tried changing my wardrobe - gone were the skirts, replaced by Izod polos and Jordache jeans. I asked my parents to listen to rock stations whenever we were in the car. I asked for and received my first rock album (Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger"). I stopped listening to country music - at least as far as anyone knew.

Today, I grabbed one of the CDs I received in my BlogHer swag bag. Song two: Dolly Parton's "Nine to Five." I cranked that puppy. I sang proudly and loudly (and badly). I loved it.

Fuck Robin from the fifth grade. I'm loving me some Dolly. I might even add a country station to my car radio - and I might not even deny that I did it on purpose.

Where to start?

Life has suddenly exploded:

• I've spent the last two days working in a dark office - I've literally been too busy to turn on the lights. Actually, working with the lights off means fewer interruptions because people assume I'm out of the office. Ha!
• I spent the weekend and last night cleaning my ass off. I'm a bit of a neat freak, but until last night, I had never dusted a furnace or hot water heater. Damn, potential buyers better appreciate a *sparkling* HVAC system.
• The house officially goes on the market tomorrow night. Fingers crossed that this will be quick and painless. (I'm trying to be positive. The house down the street just dropped its price by $10K after being on the market for two weeks. That does NOT help... Ahhh, just learned from the realtor that the house down the street is a foreclosure. That 'splains the low, low price.)
• Pumpkin is not adjusting well to our newly "staged" house. This morning he moved the Kleenex box from the bathroom closet to the nightstand in the bedroom. "Goes here," he told me. Well, yep, it's much more convenient at my bedside, but apparently potential buyers are put off by thoughts of nose blowing in bed. Whatever. Pumpkin has also relocated his potty chair (moved from the bedroom closet back to the bathroom), garbage cans (from the garage back to the driveway), and his toy box (from the hall closet back to, well, everywhere).
• Maybelline is dead, again (maybe). The dealer uncovered the source of the fire - the "engine exploded." Fixing the engine alone will be twice the value of the car. If the dealer can get a hold of someone at the insurance company, we should have a check by the end of the week. Thank goodness G works for them!
• Pumpkin has been officially diagnosed: he's two. There's nothing wrong with him other than frustration with his communication skills, typical of a someone who's two years old and doesn't always get his way. Thank goodness we didn't have to pay for that bit of wisdom!

Maybelline LIVES!!

The insurance company is not going to scrap Maybelline. They say she can be fixed. On the plus side, I don't have to rework the budget to accomodate the (still-to-be-found) dream house and an unexpected car payment.

Who am I kidding? I don't do budgets. I was an English major. But an unplanned car payment would have cut into my weekly Target shopping sprees. And that would suck.