9:30-11:30am - Time Warner is scheduled to hook up the cable and internet.

1:26pm – Time Warner arrives.  Or the pothead in the creepy blue van that Time Warner has contracted the job out to arrives.  His laptop has the Southpark Mr. Hankey, the Christmas Poo for a screen saver, I shit you not.  Emblazoned on his screen are several turds in Santa hats with “Happy Holidays from Time Warner” written amongst them.   Is it February?  But really, the fact that Christmas was two months ago mattered significantly less than the dancing turds on the screen.

1:38pm - My sister inlaw announces that they need to head out (they had come by with the ultrasound pictures).  Caleb leans against his auntie looking up at her and wrinkles his brow.  “You have stuff up your nose.” I hide my face in shame.  “Well what is it?!” she begs the answer.  “Buuuggers!”  He’s mine, he’s all mine, wouldn’t pay the gypsies to take em.

3:52pm – Phone rings, it’s dad.  He’s calling for permission to rain check on helping with the move.  My mom informed him he should help.  But I know that we have plenty of help and he needs to go home (away from his apartment where he lives during the week).  He needs the mental and physical separation from the extreme stresses of his job.  Permission granted.  He asks what I’m doing.  I’m throwing stuff in boxes like it is going out of style.  I know there is a 24 foot truck inbound.  Caleb is…well…keeping himself entertained.  Okay, okay, you got me, I’m taking pictures instead of throwing stuff in boxes like I should be doing.

Here’s one of those sentences you never knew you’d say before you were a parent:  “Caleb you got stickers on the dryer when you were crawling in.  Please get them off.  And get out, I need to put the clothes in there!”  Yes I was still scrambling to do laundry in the ‘eleventh hour.’  I was determined we would move with all clean laundry in case I didn’t recover my washer and dryer for a week.  Scott squashed my determination by putting an immediate halt to the laundry campaign and loading the washer and dryer on the truck first.  And yes, it was nearly a week before that campaign resumed.

5:17pm – Everybody in the car, we’re going to Dominos.  No, wait, that was lunch Saturday.  Hardee’s!  Nope, breakfast Saturday.  McDonald’s, we’re going to McDonald’s.  Mom of the year, right here. *points to self*  One child covered in stickers wearing gigantic bear slippers in carseat, one Bat-a-raffe (giraffe dressed like a bat) in child’s lap.  I am digging through my purse for something when a little voice pipes up from the backseat.  “Mommy?  Where’s Charley’s penis?”  Thinking.  Thinking.  Ummmm. Stall tactics.  I forgot something in the house.  That’s it.  I forgot something.  I look up as Scott is opening the driver’s side door.  “Ask your dad!” I exclaim and slam the door to retrieve something from inside while congratulating myself on passing off that question.  Also, I may or may not have been laughing hysterically.

5:19pm – Back in the car.  “What’d ya say to that one?”  “I told him it was between his legs!  Where else would it be?”  OKAY.

5:26pm - She’s taking pictures in the drive through.  Why did she have to go back in to get her camera?  Why, why, why?  One day, when your son or daughter asks you the location of his/her lovey’s manhood sweetie, you’ll understand.

I’m embarrassing him already, he’s only three.  Hey buddy, I’m not the one wearing stickers and bear slippers with the bat-a-raffe

The people behind us probably think I’m nuts.  Oh well, we’re moving.  Who cares?

Don’t worry, the night got less and less funny as it went on.  Reality set in.  I’m a pack rat.  And a procrastinator.  Not a good combination.  We stayed up late loading 75% of the house into the truck.  The only pieces of furniture left were the beds when we got in them that night.

Saturday, February 21, 2009

8:37am - Hardee’s new country potatoes suck.  What were they thinking replacing hashbrowns with those???  I don’t want hacked up steak fry tidbits at 8:37am!  That’s all.

1:15pm – Caleb hugs and kisses the baby.  My heart explodes into a million pieces. Read more here.

2:52pm – BJ helped us move.  He needs to be on his way home by 3:15pm at the absolute latest, as he is playing the piano for a wedding at 5:00pm.  His car as at our old house.  Crap.  20 minutes away.  Crap, crap, crap.  Realize that we need to hightail it.

3:13pm – BJ tucks and rolls when we get to his car.

8:29pm - Caleb passes out with his little knee in the air (foot flat on the bed) he is so exhausted.

8:39pm - We are too tired to even hook up the computer ( the first time we’ve ever moved without hooking up the computer and TV on the same day).  Grab the laptop and cram the ethernet cable in the side.  Check email to reduce internet withdrawal jitters.  I was in the dark for 31 hours.  Scott made it 39.  So it’s only fair that he get first dibs.  I’m impatient anyhow.  Oh great internet, how I missed thee.

8:53pm - Lights out.  Scott slept on the couch, I slept on a mattress (no boxspring) in the floor in Caleb’s room.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

6:47am - Rise from the dead.  Or actually Caleb did.  Despite the early hour, I actually feel well rested and slept amazingly well on the floor.  Are you bored yet?  I’ll skip ahead.

Monday, February 23, 2009

10:16am - Trying to return to a sense of normalcy.  AKA we have no groceries, so instead of unpacking, we’ve taken a trip to “Law-mart,” as Caleb calls it, for provisions.

11:24am - We decided to pretend it is a vacation and wandered around the store for an hour.  Checking out now.  I’m digging through my wallet when I hear giggling.  Both the kid and the cashier.  From the corner of my eye, I see neon green Buzz Lightyear tighty whiteys waving through the air.  “Put your underwear back in my purse,” I hiss.  More giggling.  Another one of those sentences I never knew I’d say.  Cashier raises eyebrows.  I avoid eye contact.

11:31am - Take shopping cart to cart return while on the phone with Scott.  Walk slowly past and come almost in arm’s reach of a little bird perched on the carts before he flits away.  Tell Scott about it as I’m getting in the car.  Caleb asks, “Did he crap on you?”  Sigh. I’ve taught him well, haven’t I?  “No Caleb, he didn’t poop on me.”

12:59pm - I fell upside down in a box with my feet waving in the air while trying to write this diary and decided it was time to give it up.  Nah, just kidding, I hadja going though didn’t I?  It would have been funny.  I would have laughed.  No honestly, the times are approximate, I actually only made a few notes here and there on a text document.  It actually looks like a strange code that could only be deciphered by a mommy blogger.

PS. I think I found my wit.

Oh that’s bad. Is that your phone?

Turns out this:

left outside in the middle of this:

directly positioned under one of these (which we now know to be completely stopped up and otherwise useless, thus creating a rain curtain):

…is not a good idea.

Whether it will work or not is yet to be determined. It does turn on now, which is a plus. The screen was all messed up the first time I checked it, so I put it back in to bake for another hour (no I am not recommending this, but should you decide to try it, we have the temperature set around 100 with the battery removed). The second time I checked, the screen was working, although foggy, and it appeared to work except for the end button. It called my phone, and to my best ability of talking to myself on two phones, it works. And I use the term “works” lightly.

Hubby is in one of these. Oh I kid. Sorta.

Edit: Believe it or not, it appears to work!  Like Val said (in the comments), the screen will never be the same, but with only a few months left on the contract, I think it will make it.  If not, I can join the rest of America in upgrading to a Razr (my contract is close to upgrade so I could get it free), and let Scott use my phone until he is eligible to upgrade.

Whenever your children are out of control, you can take comfort from the thought that even God’s omnipotence did not extend to His own children. After creating heaven and earth, God created Adam and Eve. And the first thing he said was “DON’T!”

“Don’t what?” Adam replied.”
Don’t eat the forbidden fruit.” God said.
“Forbidden fruit? We have forbidden fruit? Hey Eve…we have Forbidden fruit!!!!!”
“No way!”
“Yes way!”
“Do NOT eat the fruit!” said God.
“Why?”
“Because I am your Father and I said so!” God replied, wondering why He hadn’t stopped creation after making the elephants.

A few minutes later, God saw His children having an apple break and He was ticked!

“Didn’t I tell you not to eat the fruit?” God asked.
“Uh huh,” Adam replied.
“Then why did you?” said the Father.
“I don’t know,” said Eve.
“She started it!” Adam said.
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
“DID NOT!”

Having had it with the two of them, God’s punishment was that Adam and Eve should have children of their own. Thus the pattern was set and it has never changed.

But there is reassurance in the story:
If you have persistently and lovingly tried to give children wisdom and they haven’t taken it, don’t be hard on yourself. If God had trouble raising children, what makes you think it would be a piece of cake for you?

It plays music (I wonder how our parents ever potty trained us). So far it has collected more dust than played music. Caleb was giving it a thorough examination (I just cleaned it a few days ago), and pushing the button on the bottom to make the music play. He said, “My potty plays music! Does your potty play music Mommy?”

“Sadly….No.” I replied.

Which reminds me of a conversation of the day that I forgot to post last week.

I was sitting on the…err…throne. As my website says (at the top), I frequently enjoy company in the bathroom. And by frequently, I mean almost always. I’ve even had him climb in my lap with a book to read. ANYWAY. You know toddlers love to discuss…anatomy. He started rambling, “I have a penis Mommy. Boys have penises. But girls don’t have penises Mommy. But boys do. Do you have a penis Mommy?”

“No, I’m a girl and girls don’t have penises.”

In this concerned, low voice, as if taking pity on me, he said, “Oh, you don’t have a penis. Wish we could get you one Mommy.”

Ahhh. Good times. You never know what they are going to say.

Somewhat unrelated, when looking for a picture of the potty that we have, I found this one on Amazon:

Do you notice what the photographer in me noticed immediately?  I assume this is a professional/staged picture (because really, who keeps their bath towels right up against their toilet like that?  Ew.)  But did you notice the top of the lovely staged scene?  It looks like the photographer forgot to crop the picture or something.  You can see up in the rafters of the building and where the paint stopped.  It gives the sky and clouds that nice fake look outside the window.  As a photographer (by hobby), how embarrassing.

She has her paw down in a tree stump all the way up to her elbow!  Makes you cringe huh?

I seeeee you!

But alas, I am stuck with these.

The blurred lines on the horse pictures are the electric fence wires…I was standing right next to it holding Caleb on my hip with one arm and the camera with the other hand…easier said than done!

Shall I zap the gracefulness right out of the above horse pictures? Sure why not. Go ahead. I present to thee horse turd city, commonly referred to as the toilet of the pasture. Notice where the grass is greenest? Mmmm yummy. Lunch!

he had so much fun,

and even with time consuming editing I got one single decent shot. This concludes your imagination exercise for today.

Why dogs bite people: Part duex

You’re goin down

This is so me:

This is too:

Cartoon by Dave Walker. Find more cartoons you can freely re-use on your blog at We Blog Cartoons.