"DOH!"

Oh, man. I was sort of kidding about the ambulance thing, but I may not have been far off.

My toe is still healing from the "bookcase incident", but somehow it left me with a bruised foot and swollen ankle, besides. I've been favoring it for the past few days, trying to keep the swelling down, but clearly, with all the effort to be careful with my right foot I have badly neglected the left.

All I did was walk into the bedroom with a diaper, getting ready to change Sofia who was easily about 3 hours past due for a fresh nappy, when I strode past the pine blanket chest, on which I accidentally caught my left foot, pinky toe. I whacked it good. I had no idea I was so close to the thing. I've walked by it dozens of times and never stubbed my toe on it once.

Well this was a bit more than a stubbing. I thought, "wow, that really hurts!", looked down and dropped the diaper, covering my mouth so as not to scream in front of my very impressionable children. My little toe was sticking out from my foot at a clean, 45 degree angle. Pardon me, but oh mother-puss bucket. It really, really hurt. Two glasses of wine and four ibuprofen later it still really, really hurts. David asked, since now neither of my feet work, if I would need a wheelchair. Hmmm. Maybe a Segway. Or at the very least a nice go-cart.

Will someone please save me from myself?

Potty Talk

In the midst of a very nice dinner at a swanky, local restaurant, celebrating E's mom's birthday,(Happy Birthday, Abue!) David leans in toward me from our seat at the table and whispers, "I have to poop."

Okay, no big deal. This happens a lot when we go out to eat. The actual entrees haven't arrived, so we've got plenty of time for that, or at least a few minutes. We make our way to the ladies' room and David settles himself comfortably in the loo and I wait while he does his thing. We make small talk. He asks why the toilet tissue is hanging down, all askew. I tell him that's just what happens when you tear the paper off. He looks all around at the stall walls and then down to the floor.

"This floor is dirty."
"No, hon, that's a slate tile floor. It's supposed to have all those colors in it. See the pattern?"
"Yeah, but this part is broken." He points to a worn area in one tile that does seem to be missing a chunk of slate. Apparently he's never looked at our kitchen floor.
"Well, that happens. Floors get worn out from people walking all over them."
He looks under the stall walls and notices the space between the floor and the bottom of the stall partition.
(Pointing emphatically) "Hey, somebody could just crawl under there if they wanted to!"
"Yeah, but don't worry, nobody is going to want to. People don't usually do that."
He looks around a bit more and notices a drain in the floor of the larger stall next to ours.
"What's that drain for?"
"Well, it's to let water drain down it in case the toilet leaked or a pipe burst or...in case there was water all over the floor. I guess. It would keep the floor from flooding."
He thinks for a moment. "You mean like if someone spilled their glass of milk on the floor."
"Well, no, we wouldn't bring a glass of milk in here."
"Yeah, we'd just pour it in the toilet," He says, nodding to himself.
"What?" This is nice pre-dinner talk. I'm wondering if my steak is waiting for me at the table.
David looks like he's thinking hard, or maybe working on the business at hand. Then he smiles like he's just hit on something brilliant.

"I bet if we put a ham in the toilet, that would really clog it up."
"Yes. Yes, I bet it would."

We'll try that next time we're at McDonald's, but not a nice joint like this.

Soup Du Jour

Last week while I was wrestling weeds in the back yard, the kids were brewing up this delightful concoction which is made from water, fine sand, a little dirt, wood chips, grass, bits of clover and perhaps a few, small ants. They call it "bird soup", which is good because it meant I was not intended to consume it. Bon apetite, little birds!

Bookshelves And Blood Loss

I think it may be that time of year again. Summer, when I seem to be the most accident-prone. Maybe it's because I'm more active with the kids, or I'm more motivated to do things around the house. It's dangerous whenever I get moving a lot. I'm very, very clumsy. My parents actually called me "Boo-Boo Baby" as a young child. I had a knack for injuring myself and my specialty was falling upstairs. No, not down like regular kids. I was special.

So I'm rearranging the kids' playroom upstairs, not going too crazy or anything, but just trying to open up a bit more floor space for building with blocks and doing puzzles, that sort of thing. I decided to move their bookcase which is pretty large and is of course, packed completely with books. Now a smart person, one who thinks things through, might have removed all the books to make it easier to move. I was only half-smart and removed the heaviest and biggest books from the bottom shelf. It made it a lot easier to shuffle around, but I still wasn't able to pick it right up off the floor. So I'm dragging and pushing this thing while the kids are reading some books and I manage to get my right foot stuck under the unit and as I wrench it free I feel something slice into the skin of my big toe. It stings a bit but I keep working with the bookcase and then I catch sight of lots of redness, gushing from my foot. Now it hurts. And the bleeding is not stopping.

My first thought is, I'm going to bleed all over the carpet. I don't want to clean the carpet today...anything but that. So I pick up my foot and hop out of the room, calling to the kids, "Mommy's got a boo-boo. I'll be right back...Don't go near that bookshelf!!"

So I bleed down the stairs, trying to not fall down them as well. I'm annoyed that I'm getting blood all over the staircase now. Then it occurs to me that I might have hit some major blood vessel and I wonder if I should call 911. And then I notice how grubby my feet are from walking around outside barefoot and decide there is no way I am calling 911. I would rather lose my toe.

By the time I get to the bathroom the flow of blood is now down to more of a trickle, less like gushing and I realize I am going to be okay. I get it all cleaned off and David comes in to see what happened.

"Did you hurt your foot, mommy?"
"Yeah, pretty bad. It hurts but I think I just need a Bandaid and I'll be okay."
"Did you cut your toe off?"
"No, nothing like that. I just cut it kind of bad."
"Oh." He sounds a little disappointed. "I'll call the hospital, just in case!" He picks up his play phone and makes the call.

Don't worry there, David, the summer's young yet. I'll bet you'll be needing to make that call for Mommy before too long...

Opossum, Where Art Thou?

Imagine my surprise to see a big, fat possum waddle across our little, city neighborhood street this morning. I was outside with the kids, inspecting my new windshield that had been replaced by the good people at Safelite when something catches my eye across the neighbor's yard. A big, fat, hairy beastly thing shuffles its way across the grass and into the street, dragging its long, rat-like tail behind it. It moved much the way Danny Devito did in his portrayl of the Penguin. For a few seconds I just stare and then yell for the kids to come out of the car and see this thing. David jumps out and comes running onto the lawn.

"Oh, what IS that, mommy??

"I don't know, David."

I really didn't at the time. I'd seen one before but in my head I'm thinking, is it a muskrat? There's really no water nearby, so no, can't be that. Is it a mutant sewer rat?? Oh, I hope not. I knew I'd seen this thing before but I couldn't think of where and when. Then later this evening I was describing it to E and he said it was likely it was a possum. He reminded me of the one he'd caught in our dirt basement in our old Nashua apartment years ago. He had trapped it and then let it go in a forest a couple towns out. When he tried to take a picture of it staggering off it made a face kind of like this. Scary, huh? Damn right it was!

So I don't know where that thing is now, but it looks like no matter how far we move from the country, it always seems to find its way to us.

An Ode To Daddy

Roses are Red, violets are blue,

I love this Daddy,

and so would you.

He works really hard,

he rarely complains,

he play wrestles with me,

though it gives him sharp pains.

Us kids never leave him

any room in the bed,

but he doesn't mind

getting kicked in the head.

He's tough and he's strong,

he's smart and he's funny,

Mommy loves him a lot,

like he's a cute, fuzzy bunny.

I've got a great Daddy-

it's not a quandry.

Mommy said he'd be perfect

if he'd only do laundry.

We love you! Happy Father's Day, Daddy!

A Love Affair Ends

It ended last night.

There was a space in the air, filled with a kind of white noise and it measured the distance between Ernesto and I on the couch. We looked at each other, knowing things wouldn't be the same, ever, and that what we had shared together would be remembered more like a dream, images so clear and real for a while and then slowly evaporating, until only bits and pieces remained in our memory, making us doubt we had been through any of it at all. I'm going to miss all the drama, the laughter, the passion... even the violence. I'd bring it all back if I could.

But we've watched the last episode of Firefly on DVD and I don't know what to do now.

Damn you Fox. You had the best thing ever and you blew it, and you can't get it back now.

I Spy... A Freak!

The other night I was getting Sofia dressed for bed and she asks to play "I Spy". This is usually reserved for the car, but the bedroom is not moving, so I figure this will actually be easier.

"You first," I tell her. She looks around the room for a bit.

"I spy...uhhhh...som'fin green...and big...and it goes like dis," She makes a strange, whirring sound then kind of spits in my direction.

"Um...I'm not sure Loaf. What is it?"

She points. "It's youuuuuu. HA!"

Ahhh...that's my little angel, straight from heaven.

As you can see the look of my site has changed. It changed once and then today E changed it yet again (as I had predicted). He wasn't completely happy with the finished product so he hunkered down in the office for a while and fussed with it some more. Of course what I call "fussing" is actually quite a bit of work and I appreciate it much more than I let on here. Anyway, we were going for something playful, with a little more character than the old template allowed. Strangely enough, David was able to recognize himself in the picture, even with all the photoshop work. He thought it was pretty funny. I'm sure there will be some more tweaks along the way, so please excuse the construction. I'm also hoping to enable a very silly feature for the "comments" section. You'll know it when you see it...

Questions Concerning Caillou

I thought Dora was going to ultimately drive me to an early grave, but it seems "Caillou" (with an equally large head, oddly enough) has taken her place amongst the shows that make me grind my teeth the most. Airing on PBS, "Caillou" is a four year-old boy who lives with his mom, dad and younger sister, Rosie. They have a cat named Gilbert who has his own little side show between each short episode, in which he is featured as a puppet and hangs out with Caillou's favorite stuffed animals who are also puppets. This part is a little confusing for the younger kids. It also seems to bore them to tears. Anyway, the show follows Caillou throughout his day to day life and he learns lessons and shows his emotions and all that good stuff. It's also narrated by some older lady who is constantly telling us how Caillou is feeling, from moment to moment. I can see why the kids enjoy this, but it drives me bonkers. Yeah, we see that he's crying. He's frustrated that he has to pick up all his toys before he can eat his pudding. It's okay to feel that way. Oh, his dad is frustrated now, too. Better pick up those toys, Caillou! Daddy looks like he could use a drink!

So while the kids occasionally enjoy the show, they do have some questions about him:

"Why does Caillou keep saying each day he grows some more but he doesn't look like he's growing, ever?"

"Why does everyone on Caillou always wear the same clothes?"

"Why is Caillou bald? What happened to all his hair? Will I be bald when I turn four?" the creators seem to think kids don't notice that.

"What kind of crazy name is that? I don't know anyone named that."

"Why does he have such a whiny voice?" Okay, that one was mine.

Have you got cartoon questions you'd like answered? Well, I most likely can't help you with them, but I'd be happy to commiserate.

When She Hisses That Means She Likes You

It was another rainy day so I got together with a good friend of mine and her son. The kids and I played for a bit at her house, then made our way over to the local library where we were planning to meet up with my friend's friend and her daughter who is about 9 months younger than Sofia. The Loaf has never really spent much time with other little girls. She has two girl cousins who live in Ohio and we don't get to see them much. The rest are boy cousins and my friends all have boys, so Sofia is just used to boys in general. While she has no problem keeping up with the big guys, I often think it would be nice for her to have a little girl about her own age to play with. This seemed like a good opportunity for her to make a new friend and she's so easy going that I thought for sure they would hit it off great.

So we're all reading stories and having snacks and the three kids are romping about having fun when in walks my friend's friend and her adorable daughter. We all start chatting and her daughter toddles over to the crate of board books and brings me one, and then another and another, until I've got a heaping pile and I begin to read to her from one and she's making toddler talk and smiling at me with these huge, brown eyes and then I turn to Sofia, about to ask her if she'd like to sit on my lap while we read with her new friend when I noticed that she was staring at this little girl with an intensity that suggested she might be putting an evil hex on her. Her head was cocked to one side, eyes fixated, her mouth drawn down in a sour, sneer of disdain. My stomach lurched. Hmm...this can't be good.

"Hey, honey, are you okay?" I try to slip my arm around her waist but she pulls away and just kind of grunts at me. "Don't you want to read a story...it's 'Kipper'!" Again, more pulling away and a firm "No" from her.

Meanwhile the little girl is paying no mind and she's investigating the library while talking to other little kids and checking out the busy beads. Sofia's watching her the whole time, like a cheeta eyeing a gazelle. I begin apologizing to her mom who is like, "oh, don't worry about it" and I'm like, "oh but she's not usually like this" which is completely true and I don't know where it's all coming from. Sofia then moved on to the busy beads and the other girl reached up toward the same bead Sofia was holding and Sofia did some sort of air swat thing at her face, somehow never actually hitting her. Kind of like a cat warning a small child to "STEP OFF!" after it had been poked one too many times. I was horrified. I've never seen her do that to anyone, except me once or twice when she was very angry, but even then you could tell she'd felt badly the second she did it. Not this time. The little girl tried to make another grab and Sofia gave her several "air swats" right at her nose, stirring up a lot of wind, but managing not to actually make contact. I could almost see her thinking, "You know, I don't have to miss..."

Well, it just kind of went downhill from there and she had a bit of an outburst and just began crying and she couldn't seem to verbalize what was wrong but I think that's because she really didn't know how to describe this kind of feeling. Could have been a combination of shyness and a little jealousy. Whatever the reason, I think she'll get over it in time and we'll be able to forge a friendship with the little girl and her mom.

Or we'll just be known around town as that mom and her red-headed "devil spawn".

Tag, You're It

I got "tagged" recently by Phil to list these groups of "favorites with kids"...

Four places I'd like to take my kids on vacation

1. Yellowstone
2. Ireland
3. Spain
4. Some sort of "super-happy-funland cruise" that goes around the world and doesn't cost me any money

Four shows I like to watch with my kids

1. Dora the Explorer (do I have a choice?)
2. Big Adventures series
3. National Geographic- Ocean Drifters
4. Zoboomafoo

Four restaurants I like to go to with my kids

1. Blakes
2. The Olive Garden
3. Finkerman's (But alas we are too far away now)
4. Carrabba's

Four things I want my kids to be good at

1. Loving
2. Forgiveness
3. Compassion
4. honesty (I guess the last three are really just part of the first one)

Four websites I visit daily

1. The Union Leader
2. Flickr
3. Ernesto's
4. Area 603

Four people I'll tag with this

1. Southstreet
2. Out Of My Blog
3. Ernesto
4. Bilik Family

And feel free to add your own "four favorite" to this. Phil's had 4 favorite movies with the kids, but our oldest is only just now interested in watching feature length films. Cheers!