July 09, 2008
The Spare's New Kink
People say that I most closely resemble my father. The list of traits that I have inherited from him include:
1. My hair, both in color and texture.
2. My height.
3. My shoulders.
4. My uncanny ability to sweat through any set of clothes in under 3 minutes.
However, there are also many things about me that were passed down through my mother:
1. My ample bosom (God bless ya, Mom!).
2. My excellent hostessing capabilities.
3. My tendancy to laugh hysterically when most inappropriate.
4. My weird elf-toes.
That's right. Weird elf-toes.
My Mom and I (and I think, one or both of my sisters) have big toes that kind of... curl up. The toenail points up at about a 45 degree angle. It's bizarre.
In high school, in the 80s, when canvas Keds were all the rage, I would burn through mine with unnerving ease. No matter how short I kept my big toenail clipped, I always rubbed a hole through the top of my shoes.
And socks. That's always the first part of my socks to go, way before the heels.
I'm sure that my ugly-ass toes contributed to my hatred of toes in general. (But they look good on you, Mom!) Feet are grotesque and alien, and I don't like to acknowledge that they are actually part of my body. They're like the help. I know they're there, doing their job, but I'm certainly not going to have a relationship with them.
"But, Wenchie," you ponder. "What about all the luxurious slendor that you lavish upon your feet? Certainly you wouldn't do that for appendages that you don't like!"
Interesting train of logic, but you would be wrong. Pedicures are the only thing that make my feet even remotely tolerable. I consider going out in public in sandals and unpolished toenails to be THE HEIGHT OF SAVAGERY!
Needless to say, I don't understand foot fetishes, shoe fetishes, or what the hell is so erotic about having your big toe sucked. That's just gross.
Now, I've told you all that so I can tell you this.
I was at Billi's house last week, and we were watching "WIPEOUT" after dinner -- a show that I am ashamed to laugh hysterically at, but the Suckerpunch Wall really has to be seen to be fully appreciated.
The Boy Child was on my lap, so all I could see was the back of his head and most of the t.v. Suddenly, there was a strange and unpleasant sensation on my foot. I looked down to see The Spare with his chompers set into my big toe!
The Spare was biting my big toe! BITING! The same toe that was inside of my shoes all day!
GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
He kisses my sister with that mouth!
I couldn't very well snatch my foot away without taking some of his teeth with me, so I just screamed until he released my toe from his treacherous maw of his own accord.
"That's weird," mused Billi, callously unphased by my torment. "He's never bitten anyone before."
WHAT?! So the boy who had never before set tooth to flesh, saw MY TOE as so succulent as to be irresistable???
In the inargueable words of Hank Hill -- That Boy Ain't Right.
Posted at 07:00 AM | Comments (0)June 05, 2008
Breakfast Conversation with the Spare
TS: Auntie? Auntie? Auntie? AuntieauntieauntieauntieAUNTIE!!!!
PW: Whaaaaaaaaaat!
TS: I want to come up into your lap.
PW: Dude, I just poured myself a bowl of cereal.
TS: I know. I want to stick my hand in it, and then in my hair, and then wipe it on your face. NOW!
PW: Good God, child. [puts him in his high chair and sprinkles Cheerios before him] Here. Have your own cereal.
TS: Hey, Auntie.
PW: What.
TS: Aren't I cute when I smile at you?
PW: Yes, you're adorable.
TS: Aren't I even cuter when I giggle and wrinkle my nose?
PW: You know, I didn't think it possible, but you really are.
TS: Bitch, please. Check out my peek-a-boo. It's so sweet, you'll need a glass of milk to wash it down.
PW: Don't tell your brother and sister I said this, but you're definitely the cutest.
TS: Yeah? How 'bout when I do... THIS!!! [sweeps arms violently back and forth, sending Cheerios everywhere]
PW: Dude! That is SO not cool!
Lucy the Dog: Sweet! I have been waiting all morning for this!
TS: But look! I'm wrinkling my nose!
PW: Mommy just Swiffered! She's gonna kick my ass!
TS: I don't know why you're getting so upset. [drops his sippy cup on the floor]
PW: You're not getting any more cereal.
TS: But... mine is gone!
PW: What am I -- an idiot? You're just going to throw it all on the floor again!
TS: I can't believe you would think that of me! I want more cereal!
PW: No.
TS: Oh, that is IT. SHRIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEK!!!
PW: Will you just give me a small break? My cereal is getting soggy!
TS: You used to be cool.
Billi: [enters the kitchen] What's all the screaming?
PW: I won't give him more Cheerios to throw all over the house.
B: Are you still eating? We have to go in ten minutes!
PW: I can't believe that YOU -- of ALL PEOPLE -- just said that to me.
B: [smiles] I know. It felt awesome.
Posted at 06:22 AM | Comments (2)December 18, 2007
Three Lists of Three
Things I Had to Remove From Stella's Mouth While Boy Child & Girl Child Were Over
1. A Bionicle.
2. A nickel.
3. A piece from Jenga.
Things I Can't Find Since The Spare Was Carrying Them Around
1. My comb.
2. My roller brush.
3. The ornament my boss gave me for Christmas, still in its box.
Things Boy Child Enjoyed Playing with While at Our House
1. The lazy susan where we keep the breakfast cereal.
2. The sliding door that separates the dining room and kitchen.
3. My Harley Davidson Barbie.
October 01, 2007
Frosting
Nearly six years ago, The Girl Child turned one. As tradition dictates, she got her own little cake to do with as she pleased.
If memory serves, she was initially confused. She poked it with her round-tined fork a bit, looking quizically at the expectant audience surrounding her.
Billi got a little bit of the frosting on her pinky finger and shoved it in Girl Child's tiny, trusting mouth. Girl Child then plunged her entire head into the cake, and thus began her life-long love affair with buttercream.
Two years later, The Boy Child was in the same situation. He enjoyed the frosting... as long as Billi was feeding it to him. But when he got some on his hand, he immediately demanded a washcloth to get the sticky goo off his fingers.
(We worry about Boy Child.)
This weekend was The Spare's first birthday. It took him a while to get going with the cake. Personally, I think he was playing to the crowd and drawing it out on purpose. But once he got going, it was pure art.
He bulldozed the top layer of the teeny cake right off the bottom layer. He slapped it and stirred it until his entire fork and right hand were indistinguishable from the frosting.
Then he started flinging the mess onto his surroundings, which quickly caught the attention of Lucy the dog. It was at this point, out of fear for her walls, that Billi decided to take the cake away from The Spare. And the wailing commenced.
I love that kid.
Posted at 05:53 PM | Comments (0)September 24, 2007
Phone Ettiquette Lessons from the Girl Child
The Girl Child is currently six years old. In November, she'll be turning seventeen. This is a surprise to no one who has a daughter. However, being technically childless myself, it was a bit of a shock to actually witness it myself.
I'll explain.
Girl Child wanted to have a sleepover with her friend Grace. So Billi dialed the phone and handed it to Girl Child, assuming she'd takeover in a minute to hammer out the details with Grace's mom.
Fifteen minutes later, Billi's like, "Where's Girl Child? Does she still have the phone?"
Seeing as how Billi was, at the time, trying to stop the now-very-mobile Spare from pulling the refridgerator down on top of himself, I galantly stepped forward to quest for the phone.
So I looked around the living room and dining room, called down to the basement. No Girl Child. Then I noticed the light was on in the powder room, with the door standing wide open, of course. I peeked around the corner to see Girl Child standing in front of the toilet, valiantly trying to pull up her undies and pants with one hand, while still talking on the phone.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Girl Child peed while talking on the phone to her friend.
Like mother, like daughter.
Posted at 01:34 PM | Comments (4)August 22, 2007
Treasure Hunt
"Get her some Webkinz trading cards," she says, like it's sooooooooooo easy.
I'm having The Girl Child and The Boy Child overnight tomorrow, and I'm doing a treasure hunt for them. And since there has to be treasure at the end of the treasure hunt -- hence the name -- I asked Billi what little goodies she thought they might like.
Webkinz trading cards. Why don't I just go locate the Holy Grail, for God's sake?!
Billi secretly hates me and is passive-aggressively making me drive around the globe on a hot, sweaty day. I had to go to three Hallmark stores before I found Webkinz trading cards. Three! Oh, the humanity!
And then, when I went to get a few groceries at Jewel for dinner, it was closed due to a power outage. So Husband is getting last night's leftovers tonight because, after running around the 'burbs looking trading cards, I didn't feel like driving to a different grocery store.
So there's where Husband's dinner lies on my list of priorities -- right after Little Things That Amuse The Girl Child. I'm so her bitch.
I bought five packs of something that I have no idea what they are. (Is that even a sentence?)
Oh, I know what Webkinz are. They're the little stuffed animals that lie on your bed, seemingly innocent and harmless, when really they have this whole secret life inside your computer! With games and fashion shows and fifteen room homes!
I really resent the fact that some stupid plushies have a more fulfilling double-life than I do. My double-life is: administrative assistant by morning, blogger by afternoon!
Oooooooh. Gripping.
Damn Webkinz.
I want one.
Posted at 03:49 PM | Comments (1)April 09, 2007
Moose In Control
This year, The Boy Child and The Girl Child expressed their faith in Our Risen Lord by re-enacting, for our viewing enjoyment, an excerpt from the movie "Grease."
Yes, they are six and four -- we're well aware of the inappropriateness of the material contained in "Grease." So we fast forward everything but the music. And they don't get to watch "Blue Moon."
[Interesting "Grease" Tidbit #1: Back in 1978, when "Grease" was in theatres, my Norwegian immigrant grandmother had a cousin visiting her from Norway. My Gramma was in her 70s and spoke English... amusingly. Her cousin was in his 50s and spoke no English whatsoever. They went to see "Grease" because they thought it was a documentary. About the country. Needless to say, they were surprised by the movie, but they stayed for the whole thing and actually enjoyed it. But not more than I enjoy that mental picture.]
Now, when Boy Child came out with his jacket on, started singing "You're the One that I Want" and whipped it off while singing, "I got mooooooose... in contro-hol!" I thought that was my favorite part.
But I was wrong.
[Interesting "Grease" Tidbit #2: The group called Johnny Casino and the Gamblers in the movie is actually a 50's cover band called Sha-Na-Na. Whom I saw in concert back in grade school. And dudes? They fucking ROCKED! So did Liberace.]
No, my favorite part was when he switched octaves and sang Sandy's part, "Meditaaaay... on my erection! Feeeeeel your way!"
That's what happens when you're four and have to learn the lyrics phoenetically. There wasn't a dry pair of pants in the house.
I'm not even going to talk about "Greased Lightning." We'll all be arrested.
Posted at 04:33 PM | Comments (4)April 01, 2007
I Can't Escape It
Chit-chatting with Billi on the phone this evening.
Billi: Yeah, we just stayed home and -- Oh my GOD!
PW: What?!
B: The Boy Child just tooted! Boy Child, was that you?
PW: Holy crap, that was him?
B: Did you hear that?
PW: Dude, Marlee Matlin heard that!
B: Oh, my God, it reeks! Boy Child, do you have to poop? It smells like you have to poop. Go poop! Now!
PW: Like father, like son.
B: Well, go sit on the potty and try.
PW: So. You were saying?
B: What were we talking about? That toot erased my memory.
PW: I think, what you guys did this weekend.
B: Oh, yeah. Actually, we didn't do much. Brad went to... Did you flush? Do you need me to wipe you?
PW: What?
B: Boy Child.
PW: Oh. Did he poop?
B: He sure did!
PW: Excellent.
Never did find out what she did this weekend, but there was probably tooting involved. And poop.
Posted at 09:38 PM | Comments (1)March 16, 2007
Good Thing There's a Spare 'Cuz I Think the First Born Is In Jeopardy
Brace yourselves for the frogs and boils, people. Billi is not letting God's people go, and she's taking us all down with her. The plague is currently afflicting her household, and no amount of lamb's blood on the threshold is going to stop it.
The Boy Child has pneumonia and is on some serious antibiotics. On the bright side, since laughing and running makes him cough, he gets to spend unlimited time playing "Lego Star Wars," so he's never been happier.
The Girl Child was up from 12:15 to 4:00 a.m. last night with a fever, coughing and throwing up. Billi took her to the doctor today. The strep test was negative, and the chest x-ray didn't show any pneumonia, so doctor thinks it's just viral. All she got was a strong cough medicine.
The Spare has thrush. So he's on antibiotics and some other medicine and a cream that Billi has to put in his cheeks four times a day. Oh, and his pacifiers must be boiled after every use.
Plus, Billi has a fever. I'm sure Brad will come down with the clap any minute now.
But the fun doesn't stop there! Within two minutes of receiving her email, I got one from another friend who currently has divorce lawyers circling her house, and from Heather, whose root canal got infected, just before she threw her back out.
What the hell is going on, people?
I'm afraid to leave my house.
Posted at 07:02 PM | Comments (10)December 27, 2006
Ping-Pong This!
I saw an interesting little piece of The Girl Child's personality on Christmas Day. I think she's going to do just fine in the world.
Some mildly-retarded crackhead -- I don't remember which one -- gave Brad and Boy Child a gift to share. Or rather, they each got their own identical one.
A gun. A gun that shoots ping-pong balls. So that they can shoot at each other. And people, if you think ping-pong balls are harmless, you've never had one coming at your head at 75 mph.
Dessert and educational computer games were soon forgotten in lieu of drive-by ponging. Mayhem ensued and became what will forever be known as The Great Ping-Pong Massacre of '06.
Boy Child donned his Darth Vader helmet and hid behind Husband for proction. The men in the family quickly learned to cover the 'nads with shirt boxes. It was a long and senseless war with many casualties. But a hero was born that day, my friends.
It was Brad's turn to duck and cover while Boy Child (with the aid of Husband) launched a fierce attack on Brad's ass. A lone, stray ball (ping-pong, not Brad's) hit Girl Child in the eye.
I sat up straight in my seat, poised to lunge forward and rescue her at the first sign of tears. She is a delicate flower, after all. But something... unexpected happened.
Even though she was clearly still hurt and on the verge of tears, Girl Child picked up her father's gun and started firing back at Husband and Boy Child! It was incredible! The stuff legends are made of!
Well, her glory was short-lived. Full-scale war is never a good idea in a crowded living room, and we had to settle the kids (and the fathers) down for less-bloody activities. But Girl Child, again, surprised me with her actions.
Having gotten her first taste of sweet, sweet revenge, she decided a little target practice was in order. See, the guns are kinda hard to fire and require a bit of arm strength and coordination. So Girl Child took one of the guns into the other room, away from all the people.
But I could still see her. She took aim at a closed door and fired away. Three or four times she picked up all the balls and reloaded the gun. And by the time she was done, she was an expert with that weapon. I tell ya, if that door was Doc Oc, he'd be protecting his 'nads with all eight arms.
Giving me a small smile, she walked quietly back into the living room and put the gun back in its box. But next time, people. Next time, she'll be ready for them.
Yup, she's gonna be juuuuuuuuuuust fine. Hmmm, how young is too young for a new recruit on my ship...?
Posted at 10:20 AM | Comments (2)October 03, 2006
The D Man
Just let me be That Person for one day, okay?
I have to think of a name for my latest, adorable, perfect newphew. I can't tell you his real name, but I will tell you that the obvious nickname is Double D. However, Billi won't let me use that one.
I was also thinking of Back-up. I mean, they have one boy and one girl, and now one boy in reserve. In case they have to sell The Boy Child to the gypsies. For his own good.
(It's a well-known fact that, as a child, my father sold me to the gypsies, but the gypsies brought me back.)
Then I was toying with the idea of making the new one The Boy Child, and changing the current Boy Child to The Unholy, or simply Spawn. But that would just get too confusing, I think.
Any good name ideas floating around in your brain cavities?
Some possibly helpful factoids:
* He was 8 lbs. 9 oz. at birth.
* His hair forms a natural mohawk.
* Dude has a sucking instinct that impressed even the longtime nurses who thought they've seen everything.
Yeah, he's a big boy. Size being relative, I'm always terrified of newborn infants. I have purses bigger than he is! On the other hand, I look at this big chunk and think, That came out of my sister! Oh my God! And then I buy her presents.
Posted at 02:29 PM | Comments (5)September 18, 2006
Luke and Han, Sittin' In a Tree
For Christmas, I want to get The Boy Child one of the Lego Star Wars video games, but I've been having trouble deciding which one. I'm leaning towards the classic Luke/Han/Leia trilogy, but since he attaches no sentiment to either set of movies, I know I should get him whichever one would be easiest for him to play.
(Although it is dang funny to hear him wail, "I diiieeeed-ed!")
I was reading through the reviews and leaning towards Lego Star Wars II: The Original Trilogy, when I came across the following:
WARNING Game has homosexual overtones September 16, 2006Reviewer: Zachary Buckholz (Mesa, Arizona United States)
"I loved playing the first Star Wars with my 5 year old. We got the second one, and from the beginning I had a weird feeling about letting him play it. In the game itself (during game play) naked male characters are taking baths together. Also in the instruction booklet they show you being able to dress characters and one of the examples is shown with a womens bra being put onto a male character. While this is a great game for my son and myself to play, if I had known about these gay overtones I would not have let him play it. It's rated E for everyone. Very bad choice Lego."
Now, from other reviews of the game, I have learned that Chewbacca has the capability to rip peoples' arms off. Verrrrrrry slooooowwwwly.
Dismemberment? Good! Personal hygiene? Bad!
And I seem to recall Princess Leia wearing next to nothing at one point. On a leash.
Objectification of women and bondage? Good! Consenting adults enjoying each others' company? Bad!
Men pee together all the time. So what's wrong with bathing together? Maybe the people on that planet just have different customs!
I contend that Mr. Buckholz's "weird feeling" was in his pants because it brought back shameful memories of how a very young Harrison Ford made him feel all funny down there.
And really -- he didn't see anything wrong with Anakin's hair-do in the first game? C'mon. GAAAAAAAAAAAAY!
I am totally buying this game for The Boy Child BECAUSE of this guy's review. I want to see naked Lego men in bras getting it on!
I hope this guy knows better than to buy any of the "Lord of the Rings" games. I don't know if you've heard this, but Sam and Frodo might have been more than just friends...
Posted at 01:57 PM | Comments (4)September 14, 2006
Ever Singing, Ever Dancing
My friend, Marty, is currently in rehearsals for a Gilbert & Sullivan play called "Iolanthe." It's about fairies. No, he's not a fairy; he's a palace guard. But I can see how you might think that. After all, he watches "Gilmore Girls."
(One year, many eons ago, Billi, Older Sister and I were all fairies in a production of "Iolanthe." The other fairies called us Shimmer, Glimmer and Dimmer. Guess who was which.)
His beautiful and charming Thing One (10) is going to be in the show, too, as one of the mini-fairies. Which makes my teeth fuzzy just thinking about the cuteness.
She's quite enamored with her little fairy costume, replete with flouncy, sparkly wingy-ness. I believe she has crazy glued it to her body. Or maybe she's just naturally that sticky. The crowning touch -- and the current bane of her siblings' existence -- is, of course, her fairy wand.
She uses it for everything: Putting spells on the dog, smacking her sister and brother in the head, spreading peanut butter, bestowing papal blessings...
I was having dinner over there, and Thing One was skipping around the table, gently tapping (because we're grown-ups) everyone with her wand, saying with each tap, "Baptized by Jesus! Baptized by Jesus!"
Except it was more like, "Bap-taaaaaaaahzed bah Jee-zuuuuuuuuuus!"
So, yeah, a Christian fairy with a southern drawl.
I'm adding her to my very short list of Children Who Amuse Me More Than They Annoy Me.
Posted at 02:32 PM | Comments (2)September 13, 2006
He's Too Sexy For His Shoes
I haven't seen the sun in days. I appreciate the cooler weather, but I'm slowly losing my will to live. (Although not my will to shop because I bought two pairs of blissfully soft yoga pants at lunch. I have mastered the position called Sleeping Dog On Couch.)
With motivation down 79%, it's all I can do to muster up this photo of The Boy Child, reminding you that "America's Next Top Model" starts again in a week.
Note the shoes.
September 01, 2006
And It Moves Us All
The other day, eleven-months preggo Billi commented that The Boy Child thinks she is carrying twins and wants to name them Superman and Batman. Frankly, I'm surprised he doesn't want to name them Yoda and Darth Vader, as he is very into Star Wars lately.
He and his dad, Brad, were watching "Star Wars: The... Um... One Where Yoda Dies" the other night. (My nerd powers do not reach far enough to retrieve which episode that is.)
Yes, he's only three, but Brad fast-forwards the really scary parts, and this is not your child! So shut up. At least Brad's not taking him to the theatre to see grown-up movies. I have no qualms with parents terrorizing their children in the privacy of their own homes.
So, Yoda's on his death bed, and he's making his dying speech, complete with moans and groans that sound (for obvious reasons) like Miss Piggy on a three-pack-a-day habit.
Boy Child was not all that concerned with Yoda's impending doom, but he was concerned with all the noises.
He turned a serious face to Brad and asked, "Is he trying to poop?"
For the Boy Child, everything comes back around to poop. It's his own little Circle of Life.
Posted at 01:25 PM | Comments (0)March 31, 2006
Boy-Child-K-Bob
If you ever go to Disney World, I heartily recommend the Dining Plan. It's convenient and a great value.
No, this blog is not sponsored by Disney (although I would totally sell out, if they offered). I'm serious. You get one snack, one counter service and one table service per day.
A snack is anything from bottled water to ice cream. Counter service is some sort of sammich/burger, two sides, a drink and dessert. (I can't believe Food isn't a category in my sidebar.) Table service is appetizer, beverage, entree and dessert. And 90-95% of the time, it's truly yummy-licious. I dare you go to hungry on this plan.
The Disney Dining Plan -- or -- Why America Is Obese. Seriously, there'd be a lot more damn room on the Jungle Cruise if there wasn't an ice cream stand every twenty feet.
We ate in Mexico, at a steakhouse, in an Olde Tyme Inn with Minnie & Friends. One particular evening, we were supping at an Italian restaurant (where I had pumpkin creme brulee for dessert, arghlrghlrghl...). We hadn't gotten halfway through dinner when Boy Child announced he was cold.
Now, when Boy Child says he's cold, it can mean one of two things. It can mean he's really cold because he has 0% body fat. Or it can mean he wants to snuggle but doesn't want to sound like a Sally saying it.
Billi flat-out refused to eat yet another meal with Boy Child in her lap, so Boy Child climbed into Mr. Billi's lap (I think I dubbed him Brad?).
And promptly konked out.
We were in a full restaurant during the dinner rush, and little dude was out cold. Seeing him asleep there, right next to Brad's steak, reminded me of my favorite line from the movie, "The Addams Family."
Said Morticia of Pugsly, "How sweet. He looks like a little entree."
So I said it. And Billi laughed and proceeded to garnish him. With the lemon from Dad's iced tea. On his forehead.
Boy Child didn't even flinch.
Well, the whole table died laughing, except for Brad, who was [pretending to be] horrified. But you know he wanted to laugh, too.
Boy Child's new nickname is Lemonhead. And we've made a pact to call him that for the rest of his life and never tell him why.
Until his wedding day, when I will include it in my toast.
Posted at 02:33 PM | Comments (1)March 27, 2006
Quick Pictoral of Wenchie's Disney Trip
At work, I was greeted by 59 emails, which really isn't too tough to tackle. No, what's going to eat up my entire day is all the catching up I have to do on my favorite sites! Not to mention all the drama with Nicholle. Thank God my bosses are out for a couple of days! Isn't that considerate of them? I love them so.
[For those of you who don't know, half the fun... okay, maybe not half. But maybe a ten to twenty percent portion of the fun of my photos is the captions. If you put your pointer on the photo (Mom, you don't have to click it, just leave it there for a second.), you'll see a caption pop up. I always do that with my photos. And granted, some are funnier than others, but if you've got some time to kill and this is your first introduction to the beauty of roll-over captions, go back and check out some of my past photo-laden posts. This has been a public service announcement. We now return you to your regularly scheduled crapfest.]
We stayed at the Caribbean Beach Resort, which was really nice, and blissfully void of all the snooty Floridian Resort people who are too good to give us their bus seats for TWO ELDERY PEOPLE AND A PREGNANT LADY!!! FUCKERS!!!
Oh, for God's sake, no. I'm not preggo. Billi is! Visibly! And yet? NO SEATS OFFERED! It's amazing how the "Happiest Place on Earth" can make you hate people so much.
Anyhoo, we were near the resort entrace, so our bus stop was always the first one -- nyah-nyah, selfish people! And we were right by the restaurant, so we didn't have to take a bus in order to eat. Again -- nyah.
The weather was PERFECT. Never went over 85 or under 60. Not that I got any hint of a tan, but at least I got to wear short sleeves.
Boy Child LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVED the characters. He would run up to any character -- in full-on costume or make-up -- and practically hump their leg with joy.
If I took a photo of every character he assaulted,... well, I'd just have too many damn photos. And we'd have two of them all. Here's Billi ruining my photo op.
Girl Child, on the other hand, would only wave from a distance or slap them five. But it wasn't so much a hey-brothah-slip-me-some-skin as it was a run-up-and-touch-the-creepy-old-house-without-the-creepy-old-lady-who-lives-there-seeing-you. She preferred the rides.
One night, we had dinner in Japan, at one of those places where your table is the grill, and the guy makes it right there for you. It was fantastic! Best dinner there! But kind of humbling that Boy Child is more adept with chopsticks than I am.
At Animal Kingdom, we went on the safari ride, which was really cool, and this giraffe came so close to our car, I could have reached out and touched it, I swear. But I didn't. With my luck, it would have been the only carniverous giraffe in recorded history.
And my husband. God bless 'im. He'll do anything I tell him to. He stuck his tongue to the lamppost in the Narnia display. Any stupid thing for a photo. Here he is fondling Triton in Epcot's Italy.
Of course, there will be much more Disney-esque rambling in the coming days, and a review of Dame Edna's show, and we have to catch up on all the America's Next Top Model we missed! So much to blog, so few work hours in the day!
Posted at 11:10 AM | Comments (3)March 01, 2006
Adventures In Babysitting the Boy Child
Since Husband and I don't have little kids, we don't really have a lot of toys in the house.
Okay, okay, yes, I have a room full of Barbies, I know. But most of those Barbies are for looking only. Of course, that didn't stop Girl Child from taking down Juicy Couture Barbie and Naughty Catholic Schoolgirl Barbie and making them perform "The Lonely Goatherd."
Boy Child, on the other hand, made a beeline for my Bruce Campbell as "Ash" 12" action figure. *sniff* I was so proud! Even more so since Ash was brandishing his chainsaw and abducting a scantily-clad Belle at the time.
But since Boy Child was likely to get bored in 30 seconds and start playing with my mascara, I figured I should probably stock our home with a cornicopia of kid-friendly items. After all, there's only so many times I can watch SpongeBob without hurling myself headfirst into a wall until my head becomes a bloody pulp.
SpongeBob: "Squidward, I used your clarinet to unplug my toilet! Nah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!"
*shudder*
So I loaded up the kids and headed to the Mecca of All Things Wonderful & Cheap -- Target! For Boy Child, Whack-a-Mole. For Girl Child, The Duckie Game. Plus a couple o' puzzles, a doll, some plastic dinosaurs, and "The Wild Thornberrys Movie" (cuz it was only $5.50).
So they played Whack-a-Mole for five minutes. And then they played The Duckie Game for five minutes. And then they started running up and down the hall from the living room to my office.
Just running.
Back and forth.
After a little while, they added yelling while they ran, "Meatball! Meatball! Meatball! Meatball!"
They don't even eat meatballs.
But they seemed happy, so I let them be. I just sat in my office and played Zuma, and every couple minutes, they'd run in and catch their breath before running back into the living room and crash-landing on the couch.
And one time, as they both stood panting and giggling, Girl Child goes, "This is great!"
Great? Running down a hallway and getting sweaty is great? WHY DID I JUST BUY YOU FIFTY DOLLARS WORTH OF TOYS AND ENTERTAINMENT?!
Later on, they continued to ignore all the items that they just couldn't have lived without that very morning, and played with our chess board. Of course, they don't really know how to play chess, so they were playing house using the chess board and chess pieces. Every piece was assigned a role, usually by Girl Child.
"This is my guy."
"Dis is my guy."
"This is his daughter."
"Dis is his son."
"This is his wife."
...
"Boy Child, where's your guy's wife?"
"She died."
Nice.
I'm gonna see if I can scrounge up a big box and some twine and packing peanuts for next time they come over.
Posted at 02:53 PM | Comments (2)February 28, 2006
Adventures In Babysitting the Girl Child
Friday night, we had Boy Child and Girl Child over for a sleepover. 'Cause it's fun, and we're nuts, and they're hilarious. So hilarious, in fact, that I had to write two posts to cover the hilarity. Today it's her turn, tomorrow is his turn.
Girl Child Following in Auntie's Footsteps
Billi called Friday evening to make sure the kids were okay and behaving and ate dinner and all that jazz. Then she had me put Girl Child on the phone, and Girl Child did what Billi always does when she gets on the phone -- went into the other room to get away from those damn, noisy kids.
I forgot about it for a while, figuring she had eventually hung up, and I'd find the phone the next time someone called. I noticed the bathroom door was closed and heard the sound of tinkling. Girl Child had some "mushy poop" issues earlier in the evening, so I knocked just to make sure she was okay.
A minute later, she emerged from the bathroom. Stuffed dog in one hand, phone in the other.
"Here," she said, handing the phone to me. "It's Mommy."
"Girl Child! Were you talking to Mommy while you were on the potty?"
"Yeah."
BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!
Well, Billi and I laughed our asses off at that because we always pee while we're on the phone with each other. In fact, I'm kinda nuts about multi-tasking, so I often pee while on the phone. In fact, if you're reading this and you've talked to me on the phone, I've probably peed, and you didn't even know it.
Except for you, Matt. You're still too new. But your time is coming, mark my word.
When we were done laughing, something occurred to me. Dog in one hand, phone in the other... WHICH HAND DID SHE WIPE WITH?!?!
Girl Child as Theologian
Before bed Friday night, I read to the kids from one of my favorite books, Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends, "Ma and God."
* * * * *
God gave us fingers -- Ma says, "Used your fork."
God gave us voices -- Ma says, "Don't scream."
Ma says eat broccoli, cereal and carrots.
But God gave us tasteys for maple ice cream.
God gave us fingers -- Ma says, "Use your hanky."
God gave us puddles -- Ma says, "Don't splash."
Ma says, "Be quiet, your father is sleeping."
But God gave us garbage can covers to crash.
God gave us fingers -- Ma says, "Put your gloves on."
God gave us raindrops -- Ma says, "Don't get wet."
Ma says be careful, and don't get too near to
Those strange lovely dogs that God gave us to pet.
God gave us fingers -- Ma says, "Go wash 'em."
But God gave us coal bins and nice dirty bodies.
And I ain't too smart, but there's one thing for certain --
Either Ma's wrong or else God is.
* * * * *
Girl Child, who is five, considered this poem for a minute, and then said, "I think they're both right. Because God is the Lord. And Mom is the boss of all kids."
Good answer.
Posted at 01:07 PM | Comments (2)January 04, 2006
Bedtime for Bonzo
Because I'm am old and lame and Husband has me in training to be a damn farmer so that I get up before dawn and go to bed at 9:00, we don't party on New Year's Eve. Oh, we threw a posh party on New Year's Day, with BBQ pizza and cocktail weiners by candlelight, but there were no roadside sobriety tests for us.
Billi, on the other hand, is a total party chick, so we had Boy Child and Girl Child sleep over at our house that night. We ate pizza and watched SpongeBob and spread all the toys in the house in an even layer over the basement floor, so it was a full evening for all of us.
Here is the account I have prepared for Billi:
4:15 Boy Child falls asleep for the whole one-hour car ride from Billi's house to ours. Gathering his strength. Biding his time...
7:15 Boy Child is hungry for some dry cereal, sees right past the Cheerios, Life and Oatmeal Squares and -- although he's never seen them before in his life -- immediately recognizes the Fruity Pebbles as his one true love. I shrug and give him a bowl. Hey, Billi introduced him to chocolate and marzipan, so she doesn't have a leg to stand on if she wants to kick my ass!
8:08 "Shrek" ends, and the four of us rock out to the songs playing over the end credits. Husband throws down some moves old school. I do my patented cabbage patch, and Girl Child follows. Boy Child grabs a pole, wraps one leg around and starts bouncing up and down. And, Billi, I just have to wonder -- WHO TAUGHT THE BOY CHILD HOW TO POLE-DANCE???
8:45 Wenchie: "Okay, who's ready for bed?" Boy Child: "Not me! Girl Child!" Nice try, kid. It's nigh-night time.
9:05 Boy Child hollers for me, says he's hungry. But I know better because he's been eating dinner for the past three and a half hours straight.
9:12 Boy Child hollers for me, says he wants a cupcake. What is he -- psychic? I didn't even start making them until AFTER I put them to bed. Could he identify them from the scent of the batter? Creepy.
9:17 Boy Child hollers for me, says he wants to sleep with Girl Child. I explain that there's no railing on the bed, so he would fall and hurt himself, and Mommy would be mad at me and never let them sleep over again. What -- you expected me to be above emotional blackmail?
9:22 If that darling, adorable boy hollers my name one more time, I'm gonna lobatomize him with a shrimp fork.
9:40 It's been quiet for a while -- too quiet -- so I check to see if they're asleep. The light is on, Boy Child is out of his pack-n-play, and Daisy is on the bed with Girl Child. Lucky for them, they managed to hide the keg and hookers before I saw them. All three get a firm talking-to.
9:44 Boy Child hollers for me, says he needs Husband. Well, perhaps he needs a stern father-figure to put him down. Riiiiiiight. Husband reports back that Boy Child is "very contrite." Well played, Boy Child. I brace myself for his next move...
9:46 For the next half an hour, the Stern Auntie Voice becomes more and more pronounced as I call from my bedroom such classics as, "Hey, pipe down in there!" "Don't make me come in there!" And the ever-popular, "I'm gonna knock your heads together!"
10:15 Silence. Finally. It is over. Amen.
So. Same time next year?
Posted at 02:31 PM | Comments (3)December 07, 2005
A Play in One Act
Setting: Wenchie's kitchen, late afternoon.
Phone: Ring! Ring!
Caller I.D.: BILLI
Wench: [picks up phone] Hello?
Phone: BEEP! BEEP! BEEP-BOOP-BOOP! BEEEEEEEEEEP!
Wench: Hellooooooooo!
Phone: BEEP-BEEP!
Wench: GAH! [hangs up, grabs cell phone, dials Billi]
Billi: Hello?
Wench: Take. Your cell phone. Away. From the Boy Child.
Posted at 01:31 PM | Comments (2)November 21, 2005
Munchkin
I was staying overnight at Billi's, and I helped give Boy Child a bath. And by helped, I mean sat on the counter and laughed at Boy Child's first stiffy. I'm so proud!
Now, he had the beginnings of a bit of diaper rash, so after the bath and before the footie pajamas, Billi put some Desitin on the red spots and then doused the whole area with baby powder.
Boy Child looked down upon his wee little freshly-powdered package and exclaimed, "Donut!"
Posted at 09:30 AM | Comments (4)September 02, 2005
Hardcore
And his current favorite song is "School's Out" by Alice Cooper.
August 01, 2005
Sure, She's Smart, But Can She Spell "Precocious"?
Here's a conversation my sister Billi had with The Girl Child (4-1/2) while they were looking at kids' costumes in a catalog...
Billi: Awww, here's a baby dressed as Humpty Dumpty!
Girl Child: I don't like Humpty Dumpty because I don't like off-the-wall comedy. [points to a baby dressed as Elvis] Who's this?
Billi: I don't think you know him. That's Elvis.
Girl Child: Oh, I know him. He's sexy.
The Girl Child has plans to run for mayor next year, as long as the voters don't hold her Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue pictoral against her.
Yeah, Billi's screwed.
Posted at 03:56 PM | Comments (1)April 25, 2005
PEN15s & Pajamas
Oh, such a full and fun weekend, as is evidenced by the celebratory "Angwy Eyebwows" icon in my header! And is it inappropriate to have my sweet, adorable Boy Child in the same header as Heather's (nicely filled-out) "PEN15" shirt? I don't think so.
Actually, it's rather fitting. As I was giving The Boy Child and The Girl Child their baths on Friday night, The Girl Child pointed to The Boy Child's... um,... "manhood" and asked, "What do you call that thingy again?"
I couldn't remember if Billi had some creative nickname for it, like winky or doodle or manhood, so I just said, "Penis." Being careful to remain respectful and mature and not start giggling.
"Oh yeah. Am I gonna put on my pajamas after this?"
And just like that, she switched gears, the male member being far less interesting than Dora the Explorer on a cotton/poly blend.
And God forbid I'm ever able to just eat my dinner without Boy Child climbing into my lap, flapping his ridiculously long eyelashes and making baby bird open-mouth gestures towards whatever it is I'm eating at the moment.
Dude, this is my dinner! You just ate two minutes ago! I'm starving! Because you ate my lunch, too!
So I made him get off me and wait 30 seconds for me to inhale the hotdog (dirty!) and start one for him. When Girl Child gleefully entered the room to narc on her brother.
"Auntie, Boy Child has his hands in the toilet!"
"WHAT?! Oh, God! BOY CHILD! DO NOT PLAY IN THE TOILET!"
You can imagine my awe at actually hearing myself say the words, "Do not play in the toilet!"
Thank God he was wearing overalls, so I could just carry him by the straps and not actually have to touch him. (Yes, this was pre-bath, thank God. I'm telling this story out of sequence because the penis bit had to come first. You always lead with the penis.)
So Girl Child was all raring to go about she and I having a Pajama Party. Now, I know what I do during pajama parties, but I didn't think that margaritas and 2 a.m. t.p.-ing raids was what she had in mind, so, once I put Boy Child to bed, I let her call the shots.
Apparently, staying up late (past 9:00!) and having a snack (Smarties & goldfish crackers) at the little table in her room is the Height Of Decadence! I am officially The Coolest Auntie EVER! Behold my Coolness!
And now Billi is going to kick my ass for a) letting her eat in her room, and: b) giving her candy right before bed.
But it's totally worth it!
The next morning -- get this -- I fed the dog, let her out to poop, got the kids dressed and fed! I was, like, all maternal and shit! You wouldn't have recognized me, what with my very mom-esque hoodie-over-the-nightshirt couture and all. Dear Christ, I was tired.
How do parents sleep? Ever? Even when the kids are fine -- how??? They could be kidnapped by terrorists AT ANY MOMENT! I had the guest room door open and baby monitor with me so that Billi and Mr. Billi could sleep in. Every cough, every rustle of the sheets had me awake and on Amber Alert.
What was that? The boogeyman? The Spanish Inquisition? Stealth bombers? Chuckie? I must gather the children into my bed and tuck them 'neath my wings because only then will I get more than 15 minutes of sleep at a stretch!
God, this blog is long and random and completely out of order. I apologize. Blame it on the Nyquil because I can't breathe out of my right nostril, and that was the only cold medicine we had in the house. I'll do better tomorrow, I swear. Later this week, I'll cover Heather's Mom's surprise party and the Kane County Antique Doll and Toy Show!
Just kidding. I wouldn't subject you to vintage Barbie babblings. Well, maybe just a little.
Posted at 01:52 PM | Comments (2)April 04, 2005
Boy Child Is a Genius!
March 23, 2005
Lucy and The Boy Child
It just doesn't get any cuter than this.
Posted at 08:22 AM | Comments (1)February 04, 2005
Oh, God, She's Doing It Again
I'm talking about The Boy Child. I'm sorry, but the kid is just so friggin' hilarious.
His new thing is Angry Eyebrows. I don't know where he got it, but it's a new face he makes. He tilts his head down, furrows his eyebrows, and then just moves his eyes to look up at you. AND there's hand motions. He makes fists and puts them up about face height and shakes them. I have no idea why.
And he'll go, "Angwy eyebwoooowwws!" And run across the room. It's quite a sight, although probably not as intimidating as he might hope.
Anyhoo, he was doing Angry Eyebrows at the dining room table, while we were all eating pizza, when suddenly Angry Eyebrows contorted into Disgruntled Salamander. Although I'd never seen it before, it was easy to recognize it as his Poop Face.
Now, how I've managed to go two years, visiting twice a month, and never see The Boy Child's Poop Face, I don't know. Just lucky, I guess. Or unlucky, considering it made me laugh until I was a contorted, weeping mess. Poor kid is working so hard, and all I can do is laugh at him.
Now, when I walk past the bathroom to see The Girl Child sitting there (yes, the door is always open), reading Entertainment Weekly, all purple-faced and grunting, that's normal because it's in the context of the bathroom, and that's what people do in the bathroom.
But to see that spectacle at the dining room table, where people consume food, which is the exact polar opposite of what The Boy Child was dishing out, well, it's just disconcerting, to say the least. And apparently, it was quite a stiff poop because the back of his diaper was tenting.
And then The Girl Child started imitating The Boy Child's Poop Face, and all was lost.
Posted at 09:42 AM | Comments (0)December 20, 2004
That Little Stinker
So I was eating dinner over at Sister and Bro-In-Law's place, with The Boy Child and The Girl Child. And as usual, The Girl Child was not eating.
If there was ever any doubt, this totally proves that she and my Sister share DNA. When my sisters and I were little, we wouldn't eat ANYTHING. Nothing green, nothing with stuff in it, nothing too dry, nothing too wet, nothing that once swam, nothing with more than three ingredients -- you get the picture.
How we grew into the love-handled, carb-worshipping cream-cheese-whores we are today, I'll never know.
In an inspired move to get Girl Child to expand her menu beyond cheese, apples, chicken nuggets and ketchup, Sister let her pick out something from the store that she wanted to try. And she picked an orange.
What, are you kidding me? I still won't eat an orange. You peel off the skin, and -- hey! -- what's that white placenta stuff it's encased in?! EWWWWWWW! There was no way that kid was eating the tiny molecule of orange on her plate, and deep down inside, we all knew it. Still, we tried.
"C'mon, we'll both eat a piece at the same time."
"If you eat it, you get chocolate pudding!"
"Just lick it."
"You're not getting down from the table until you eat it!"
And you know what happened? My sweet, little niece; my cherubic princess; my life's heavenly light; my darling angel leaned over and whispered to her father,...
"Daddy, know what? You're losing, and I'm winning."
OH NO, SHE DI'INT!!!
Oh yes, she did. And even worse -- she was right.
Posted at 01:26 PM | Comments (0)December 15, 2004
Getting Coal In His Stocking
Apparently, The Boy Child speaks... Swahili? Tee-tah is his word for Yes.
Also, he learned to say Abominable Snowman from the Rudolph Christmas special -- which we all had to watch three times this weekend -- but he can't say Auntie.
Newsflash, kid -- Abominable Snowman didn't get you a talking Buzz Lightyear for Christmas! AUNTIE DID!!!
October 28, 2004
I Am Becoming THAT PERSON
That Person, the one who raves about the HI-larious antics of her niece and nephew, a.k.a The Boy Child and The Girl Child.
Recap: The Girl Child will be 4 next week and is a complete ham. The Boy Child is 21 months and most likely bi-polar. They live an hour away, and I'm there at least twice a month for my fix of snuggly cheeks and to-die-for eyelashes and unconditional adoration.
So I get to Sister's house and immediately change into comfy chillin' clothes. Even the bra and watch come off. The watch goes on the counter with my purse and ever-at-hand camera, for when they do something adorable. Which is always.
Now, Girl Child is a non-stop stream of random narration, which we generally tune out. Much like my blog.
So when she said, "I know where your watch is," I was all, "That's nice," and just kept snapping photos of The Boy Child eating a hotdog. Because, you know, no child in the history of the world has eaten a hotdog as adorably as him, so I must have thorough photographic documentation. Apparently.
"I can show you where your watch is!"
"I know, sweet pea, it's on the counter. Finish your chickie nuggets."
"No, not that watch!" she giggles.
Took a minute for the lightbulb to go on over this very blonde head, but then I start cracking up, and Sister is all, "Girl Child!"
"So, Sister, I guess I know what I'm getting for my birthday, eh?"
"Note to self: Don't tell Girl Child any more secrets."
Well, DUH! It's a beautiful watch, black and silver beads, she made it. She's very crafty, in addition to being smart, beautiful and funny. I hate her. But she gives me shoes, so I deal.
After their baths (I took, like, 30 photos of nakie butts, seriously, I was no help whatsoever), we tag-teamed the kids to get them dressed. I got The Girl Child. Sister said there was a brush on her sink, so I got it and did my best, but it didn't seem to be very effective.
"Sister, you may have to do her hair cuz I'm just not getting it."
"Um... that's a nail brush."
Reason #147 Why It's a Good Thing I'm Not Reproducing. (The other 146 reasons have lots to do with dressing them like the Amish, and home schooling, and survival training and such.)
Anyhoo, random topic change (nod to Girl Child) -- Older Sister gave me the soundtrack to "Mary Poppins" for my birthday, which I'm listening to right now. Balk if you wish -- I defy you to listen to "Mary Poppins" and be in a bad mood! It's just not possible! Except for "Feed the Birds." Damn, that one always gets me.
I had such a crush on Dick VanDyke growing up.
I also have more recent happy associations with "Mary Poppins." Like when I was babysitting the kids, and we were all watching it, and both of them curled up in my lap. Now to get one of them to sit still is a rare occurrence. But both of them -- SIMULTANEOUSLY?! The planets were in perfect alignment that day, my friends.
And I just sat there and cried with the happiness like a big, big baby, that I could sit and watch "Mary Poppins" and snuggle Girl Child and Boy Child both at once. Thank God it wasn't the part with "Feed the Birds," or I probably would have been sobbing hysterically.
[Please forgive my random change of verb tenses throughout today's post. I also got a big bag of Riesen chews for my birthday, and I'm in blissful delirium.]