I Scream

I needed some alone time tonight. Just five minutes. Maybe ten.
I settled the baby in her bouncy seat and stationed her next to her very hard-working daddy, who is working lots of overtime due to the storms last week.
Pedro and I trotted down to the car and headed to Dairy Queen.
I spent a large portion of this evening making up my own new Blizzard flavor. Turtle with brownies. I was so excited!
The girl in the window managed to stop flirting with her co-worker just long enough to ask me if I wanted a lid. (I think it's important to mention that I did NOT lay on the horn to get her attention. Don't get between me and my alone-time-ice-cream, teeny bopper.)
I said no.
(JUST! GIVE! ME! MY! ICE! CREAM!!!!! HURRY! UP! HURRY! UP! HURRYUP!!)
I put the long-awaited-four-and-a-half-dollar Blizzard in the cup holder and put the car in drive. When my right hand was free again, I reached for my treat and got dog-head instead. Pedro liked my made-up flavor, too.
Good thing I ordered a medium.

Half of my Blizzard is splattered on Lexington Avenue, and the canine, the dog, the miserable cur is currently hiding under the bed with a sore bottom and a heavy heart.

Finished!

When my mom found out I was pregnant, she started working on a "Westie Quilt" for my baby.

We finally finished it together this weekend!

Dear Past Erin,

Your friends and family have been extremely understanding and forgiving to you since the baby was born, but if you don't start brushing your teeth soon, none of them are going to talk to you anymore.
A child is no excuse for poor hygiene.
I'm warning you, brush. your. teeth.
Twice a day.
Every day.
Sincerely yours,
Future Erin

Half of my Foot

I broke my phone.
Again.
Twice in two months now, the screen on my cell phone has exploded and I can only see half of the display.
I am a decent enough texter that I can send a text message and basically know what I'm sending, but I had a brief panic attack today when I sent a message to a male friend saying, "I have mad texting skills," because I was worried I might have told him, "I have mad sexing skills." Thankfully, I don't think I did.
So...I will be with half a cell phone until I get home on Tuesday.
I might as well have cut off my foot. Or at least half my foot.

McClain is no Monk

My brother started a blog.

Does life get better?

Single

Mom: Paul says, 'To be single is to be blessed.'
McClain: Paul Myers?
Erin: No, the apostle.
McClain: Oh.

Pimp My Ride

Lauren got a new car last week.

Richard helped her find a good one (because he's a good guy like that), and then did the work on it that needed to make it an even nicer car. He fixed the front bumper and fenders and painted it for her.

Mom and I pimped her ride.

We bought a shoe rack and organizers for the backseat. If you know Lauren at all, you know that this is perfect for her.

Richard did such a great job on the car, but he was very worried that it wouldn't turn out nice enough. It turned out just beautifully (of course). When Lauren came to pick it up, she was thrilled.

Rich sent her on her way and came upstairs. "All she noticed was the shoe rack," he said.

Oh, the differences between boys and girls.

Lost then Found

Then lost again.
Then found.
I lost my curling iron. Gone. Disappeared.
I tore the house apart looking for it. Who loses a curling iron? Honestly. I'm ashamed to admit, friends and brethren, that I took the Lord's name in vain.
Finally, I went out and bought a new one. I was so proud of myself. Only $11 to replace it! I was expecting to spend $20!
I brought it home and used it once before it broke. The buttons popped out. Can you believe that? Just popped right out. I couldn't even turn it off. I had to unplug it!
So, I returned it and bought a much fancier curling iron on sale for 50% off! Only $15! I am an amazing shopper.
Then, true to lost-item-buy-a-new-one-to-replace-it form, I found the old curling iron. I discussed it with Richard and decided to return the $15--slash--$30 curling iron (that I had never used yet at this point) to get my money back.
But then we couldn't find it.
So, I went to use the old one.
Couldn't find it either.
Just when I started to think Richard was playing a cruel joke on me, I found both of them.
I think I'll keep them both, just in case.

* * *

This just in: A fancy curling iron will burn your ear just as fast as an old one.

Parade

Tonight, Rich and I decided to walk the baby and dog to Dairy Queen for a little outing and a treat. We live about one tenth of a mile from Lexington Avenue, which as you probably know, is a very busy street.

The four of us set out toward Lexington (on which lies DQ), and realized that we were not alone. Trotting about ten paces behind us, came Kitty with his collar bell jingling and talking to himself...or us, I'm not sure.

Jingle, mrow, jingle, mrow, jingle, mrow.

We thought for sure that when we reached Lexington, Kitty would turn around and go home. We even crossed the street.

Instead, he sat on the corner, waiting for a pause in traffic.

Richard said, "Let's go home. If he gets hit by a car, you're going to freak out."

"That's true," I said.

So, we paraded back home.

It was a nice walk anyway.

It ain't easy being green.

I invested in one of those reusable grocery bags.

I know.

Honestly, it was for more selfish reasons than green reasons. I'm so tired of plastic bags everywhere. Ev.er.y.where.

I've used it four times now, and I have to say, it's a refreshing change, AND it holds twice as much as a regular plastic bag.

Here's the thing, though: typically at Walmart, I use the "self-check" aisle, which is not green bag friendly. After the fifth item that "skipped bagging," I had to get special approval from the head cashier. By then, I had smashed my bread, the toddler with her mom in line behind us had thrown a frozen pizza into my pile of stuff on the conveyor belt, and my baby had woken up.

As I walked out, I realized I had forgotten the item I went in for.

Sigh.

I didn't go back.

I mean, I can live without maxi pads. Less waste in a landfill, right?

Nothin' Doin'

We are both still in our pajamas.

I'm not doing anything today. We're taking the day off.

Can I take a nap yet?

Rabies?

No thanks, I'm full.

This morning, Pedro was going crazy outside so I went out to see what was causing the problem. I stepped on to the deck in time to see something fall from the top of our oak tree. I walked to the fence to see what it was, only to see the cat at the base of the tree, and watch him hop up over the fence back into the yard.

He trotted toward the door as if he was going to take the BABY SQUIRREL IN HIS MOUTH inside the house.

I don't usually get too upset about this kind of stuff (huge lie), except that the squirrel was STILL. ALIVE. and batting it's arms and legs in a swimming motion, surely as it slowly died in Kitty's mouth.

I yelled at the cat and stomped my feet and watched him run under the deck with his lunch.

I have a bad feeling that there will be a partially digested squirrel baby in the middle of my living room by morning.

Good thing we went to the vet yesterday for that distemper combination.

Gr. oss.

It's a Dog's World

Shirley Girly and I have been going for walks through the neighborhood. We usually go during the work day, so I don't see many of the neighbors, except for the retirees (Paul, Gertrude, Barbara) and the one other SAHM on the street (Kim).

From now on we will be walking during the daytime hours ONLY.

Why?

I was completely humiliated tonight when everyone we passed said, "Hello Erin and Pedro! Who's this new little girl?" And I was only able to respond with things like, "Hi! You're Lulu's mom, right?" Or, "How's Ollie doing?" Or, "Rocky is getting so big!"

It's NOT. COOL. that I only know the names of the neighborhood dogs.

Sister Time

I spent two hours alone with my sister tonight. Among the normal girl stuff we usually talk about, we covered the following:

-The guy who came in to the GAP to try on a bikini.

-The guy who came in to Perkins and asked Lauren if she liked his new breasts.

-The girl at the restaurant last night who tried to lick Lauren. Twice.

-The guy at the golf club who sold his nail salon and gave Lauren ten free nail polish bottles out of the trunk of his car. (This one isn't quite as weird, but when you look at the other things that happens to Lauren, it just sort of fits.)

-Watching a man eat the worm out of the bottom of the bottom of the tequila bottle (OK, mezcal, if we're gonna get technical) and telling Lauren all about the texture--it's more like a grub than a worm, but not as soft as a caterpillar.

And you guys thought my work bathroom stories were crazy.

This girl needs a blog, am I right?

Not again!

Seriously. Someone come do my laundry.

Trade Ya

Richard and his friends frequently trade labor.

For instance, Aaron helped fix our roof and Rich, in turn, helped fix Aaron's truck.

Good idea, right?

Well, I have a proposal for the SAHM world.

I'll clean your bathroom(s) once a week if you'll fold and put away my laundry. You don't even have to wash the clothes. I'll have everything fresh and clean and crammed into a laundry basket for you ,and on the day of your choosing we'll go to each other's houses and trade labor.

Deal?

Potty Time

Kitty gets to go outside now that it's nice out. I have no idea what he does during his hours upon hours in the back yard. I know that once he spent some time in the neighbor's back yard because she called me thinking that he was a runaway.
He thinks he's STEALTH Kitty, but in actuality, he's bright white and glows in the moonlight.
I'm over my paralyzing fear that he would be hit by a car (I never recovered after our family cat died when I was 8-ish), mostly because if we don't let him outside he makes us C.R.A.Z.Y. by getting our attention and then trotting toward the door repeatedly until we let him out.
I digress.
When the cat is ready to come in, Kitty scratches at the screen door until someone hears him over Guitar Hero and lets him in. He immediately runs to the basement to use his litter box.
I ask you, gentle readers--why can't he potty outside?

A sickness.

It's 12:19am.
I've been up since 6am.
I did substantial running around today.
I am beyond exhausted, and judging by the way the baby ate about an hour ago (not well), she's going to be up in another hour.
I'm zoning out while sitting here, but I have to stay up JUST long enough to see what everybody blogged about today.
Sick.

How tired am I? I just went to type my username and password in my "Labels" section.
That. Doesn't. Even. Make. Sense.