Your Poop Bag is SO CUTE!

I noticed a couple of women outside walking today. One of the women was walking a large dog and they seemed to be having a friendly, animated conversation. I normally wouldn’t have given much thought to such a scene except for one little detail that I can’t get out of my head.

As I watched my eyes went to the woman with the dog. She was gesturing dynamically as she was speaking—one hand wrapped up in the dog leash, the other flailing a white plastic bag full of—um—poop.

(Now, don’t get all huffy on me just yet.)

(I’m not OPPOSED to people picking up their dog’s odorous droppings. In fact, I’m sure if I think about it long enough that I will be quite ECSTATIC that I don’t have to STEP IN it, or SMELL it, or SEE it.)

THE THING IS, I was just curious if she was AWARE she was waving around a giant bag of POOP??

AND---did her friend observe the foulness that was swinging closer with every enthusiastic statement??

I watched in wonderment and yet, neither of them seemed to acknowledge the stench encased in a thin layer of plastic. They just kept talking like it was a NORMAL thing for people to have bags of poop around their wrists.

I mean its POOP for heaven’s sake! POOP!

And she was WAVING. IT. AROUND.

NONCHALANTLY.

Like she was carrying something UNOBTRUSIVE. Like a water bottle. Or a grenade.

Call me a stick-in-the-mud, but I get appropriately embarrassed when I carry poop around. I don’t FLAUNT my bags of poop. No siree.

Brandishing sizable bags of poop---now that’s just downright boastful.

I'm Still Not Okay

Dear Wendy’s,

Your square burgers…they freak me out. Please rectify the situation. Thank you.

Sincerely,

A customer that might or might not have OCD and run on sentence tendencies when she is forced to be okay with such purposefully flawed food stuffs as square burgers, especially when the buns are most certainly round and there could be no other possible reason for having a square burger unless the corresponding bun was also a square, but the buns can never ever ever ever ever be square because we all know deep within our hearts that that is against all laws of nature... and humanity... for people like me would surely die if such a thing existed.

Mr. Hyde is, in fact, a gremlin

The last couple of weeks have been chock-full of blogging fodder, the most delectable victual being the critical discovery that my son has a Dr. Jekyll/ Mr. Hyde complex. Nowhere in my pregnant “what-to-do-in-case-of-such-and-such” readings was there a footnote informing me that I would be giving birth to half pure evil. The heads up might have been nice. You know, a little “hey, congrats on the man-child…oh and, don’t forget to catch up on your Gremlins —that blender scene might come in handy”.

Thanks for that.

So the other day I had a doctor’s appointment. I, of course, took little Hyde with me as I was low on the amount of Benadryl I had left in the house and I wasn’t willing to leave him on the couch as a Seran wrap burrito without the added benefit of drowsiness. Oh the mistakes we make. Not only did my little rapscallion run out of the automatic doors and into the parking lot as I was trying to sign over the rest of the month’s food budget; but he disturbed all the little old people so much, I’m sure more than one had a stroke whilst in the waiting area. Seriously. I heard one guy snort and then…nothing.

This non-commitment to one personality is killing me and Hyde usually chooses to materialize in the most public of places. The worst part of the whole thing is that I have no idea what acceptable methods of public discipline are. I’m pretty sure they don’t involve my usual hog-tying, but what other options are there really? I mean really??? When we were waiting I kept trying to whisper in boy-child’s ear to coax him into reason....you know things like, “Please stop baby. Do you see all the scary old people with big noses? They will talk crazy to you if you don’t stay close to Mommy.”

Of course this didn’t work, and I didn’t really expect it to work. I’m sure Hyde was laughing inside at my pitiful attempt. I was really just doing it so that everyone else in the vicinity would think I was a very capable and consistent mother and that I had proper disciplining techniques. I could see the nurses behind the desk judging my skills because of his wild antics and then nod in serious approval when I pulled the boy aside and whispered in his ear. I’m sure they thought I was smiling patiently and saying, “Stop, or you will have a time-out” or other such nonsense. Really, I was digging for empathy, “I know Mommy is smiling on the outside, but Mommy is dying on the inside. You are killing your own Mommy, how does that make you feel?” Did you know two-year-olds don’t care if you are dying on the inside?

Initially the appointment started out as a means for me to find out how to get re-pregnant. By the time I left, the appointment had become a symbol of wonderment as to why I would actually attempt to have such a destructive oversight again.

In all fairness, I’m pretty sure I knew this was coming; I just didn’t think my “creative patience” powers were going to be strained beyond the ‘duct-tape-child-to-the-wall’ stage. I’ve had to come up with all new protocol, most of which seem a little too cruel or unusual to use on my little darling, and none of which seem cruel or unusual enough to use on my little hellion.

P.S. Mommies to be: I’m serious about Gremlins-- you can thank me later.

Snap, Crackle, Pop

It’s 5:11am my friends, and what am I doing? Not sleeping. Very annoying. Why am I not sleeping? Well, Luke woke up a half hour ago with his diaper half off, marinating in his own pee. Evidently, he was a little more than ticked that we put him to bed early last night, and he wanted to make sure the full effect of his disdain was felt by waking up just early enough that I should be going back to bed, but just late enough that I can’t. In other news, I’m blogging. Here’s an enthusiastic woohoo.

So, I can’t stop thinking about this lizard we found yesterday. We accidentally dug him up in our garden the day before and he got dumped in the wheelbarrow and couldn’t get out. Well, being the good Samaritan that I am, I lovingly extracted the poor little fella from death’s grasp and he responded to my good deed by freaking out. I, of course, dropped him on his little lizard head, and he slithered down the driveway dazedly. Not wanting him to remain on the concrete frying pan, I tried to shoo him towards the garden---a gesture to which he responded by Popping. Off. His. Tail. I then responded by freaking out. There was a lot of responding going on. It happens.

I’ve heard tell that lizards could do such things, but I always thought there was some sort of “pulling of the tail” involved. Nope. It just comes right off whenever the lizard feels that losing a limb might be a good thing to do. Oh, the mysteries of the universe. That high and mighty Geico lizard could do with some good tail popping, I’ll tell you that much.

Anyway, the whole incident got me thinking that the ability to pop off body parts might not be such a bad thing; specifically, the ability to pop off your backside. Think about it. Anytime you felt like it, you could just pop the thing off---have a little less junk in the trunk. Then you could do what lizards do and regrow a whole new one. A better one. One with a little less cellulite and bigness. I’ll tell you what, I’d be in like…..5^th heaven. Not quite 7^th heaven---which is supposedly the best of the heavens and reserved for things like eating Baskin Robbins ice cream and sleeping. Yeah, 5^th heaven is for new backsides.

Popping on body parts might be a handy-dandy talent too. You know, pop on an extra middle finger when you want to really let that…guy…know your thoughts on his inconsiderate driving. Pop on a new chest when you feel like actually wearing that cute training bra and not just wishing you could fill it. That’s Victoria’s secret…she can pop body parts on and off…a new bum here, a new chest there.

Hmm. I guess I’ll have to be content with 3^rd heaven…reserved for blogging and sugary cereals. I’m gonna go pop off my head so I can fit in the sofa. That’s all I have to say about that.