Fiddledeedee

Yesterday Fiddledaddy mentioned to me that we needed to change servers.  I knew immediately that he was referring to something internet related because the only one who does any serving around this joint is me.

If only they would fire me.

So I made the mistake of asking why.  Because, as we all know, this thing called change?  I don’t much like it.

He started throwing 4 syllable technical terms at me and when my eyes rolled up into my head just before it imploded, he mercifully stopped explaining.

Just tell me when it’s over.

Well, it’s over.  I was given strict instructions not to touch anything on my blog  which just nearly killed me.  Is he kidding me?  I can’t go back and obsess over grammatical errors and syntax mutilation?  I have to leave well enough alone?

So I found myself Twittering more than usual.  Because I can edit myself all I want there.  Oh.  Lisa Whelchel is Twittering!  Follow her.  She’s fun.

Anyhoo.  All this to say that during the server change, comments were lost.  Irrevocably lost in cyber space.  I believe this only affected July 1st.  Which is unfortunate because I had just posted a giveaway on Fiddledeedee Reviews. If you posted a comment to be entered into the giveaway, please just check to see if it’s still there.

And last but not least, I wanted to share a tender parenting moment with you.  I was softly singing “If I Were an Oscar Mayer Wiener” to Jensen before bedtime.  He found this hysterical.  Mostly, I suppose, because mommy cannot carry a tune.  And well, it’s a song about a wiener.  Fiddledaddy asked him, “What is your mommy singing to you?”

He replied, “A lullaby.”

I’m pretty sure this will be brought up in therapy years from now.  Along with a rather lengthy laundry list of parenting foibles.

Have a wonderful 4th of July weekend everyone!  I’m going to take a nice long weekend, but I’ve lined up some posts of questionable taste so you’ll never know I’m gone.

If you have a baby, or are going to have a baby, or you still feel the need to pack a suitcase before you leave the house WITH THE BABY, then you need to head over to Fiddledeedee Reviews to see what I’m giving away.

I’ll give you a hint.  It’s from the same site that brought you the totally awesome Stokke Tripp Trapp High Chair.  And the giveaway item in question has FOURTEEN pockets.  Oh, the organizational possibilities!  Check it out here!

When I first began blogging, I had minor aspirations of being a published magazine article writer.  I submitted maybe 2 or 3 articles to publications.  Never heard back.

And then I got over it.  Because I quickly discovered that as the author of my very own blog, ALL I HAVE TO DO IT HIT “PUBLISH!”  And viola, an article, no matter how mediocre it is, is out there for everyone to see.  Or in those early days, all 3 people who read my blog.  Including Fiddledaddy who was simply making sure that I got my facts straight.

And btw, he has long given up that endeavor.

I’ve not really thought about magazine publication since then.

Until this week.  I got an e-mailed rejection notice from MomSense (the magazine sponsored by Mother’s of Preschoolers – MOPS).  I stared at it.  And blinked.  I didn’t remember submitting to them at all.

And I looked at the date of the submission.

“September 12, 2006”

And I fought the urge to hit “reply” with ARE YOU SERIOUS?  IT TAKES YOU PEOPLE TWO AND A HALF YEARS to review your submissions?

But I didn’t.  And then I looked at the piece I submitted.  And I could see why it took them 2 1/2 years to get back to me.  Likely they were baffled.  Really baffled.   It’s a little odd, perhaps disjointed, and the humor is a tad dark.

But since this is my blog, I’m going to publish it now.  I’m sure it was a post in some form or another when I first began blogging.

Interestingly you might note that in the 3 years I’ve been blogging my writing is still a little odd, perhaps disjointed, and the humor is still a tad dark.  Or at best inappropriate.

At least I’m consistent.

A Crazy Little Thing Called Love

The following is an excerpt from a letter that my mother wrote to a friend of hers, circa 1967.

“We have a 7 year old girl – blonde hair and huge blue eyes. Her hair is to her waist. She’s a prissy little mess. Loves the boys…wonder where she gets that? Her Nun really gave me a lecture on Dee and the boys when I went up for her conference. I had to sit there with a straight face – then come home and lecture DeeDee with a straight face. Her Daddy won’t admit it, of course, but he’s really quite pleased he has one that attracts the opposite sex so much.”

Now for a glimpse into a letter that my mom wrote to her own mom in 1970.

“Dee came home last Friday, held out her left hand and said “I’m engaged!”. Tom gave her a ring (dime store, but darling) and it’s shaped just like an engagement ring. It’s silver with a big rhinestone. She said he wadded it up in a piece of paper and threw it at her. She said, “Mom, I smiled at him and told him ‘Oh, Tom, you shouldn’t have’.”

My very first love was a fellow named Jeff. For some inexplicable reason, I called him “my David.” I was 3. He was 6. To my mother’s horror, I would stand on my side of the street, waving a candy bar in his general direction, luring him with “my David, come play with me!”

Thankfully, my girls aren’t following in Mommy’s footsteps. Well, not exactly. Cailey (the 4 year old) is in the “boys are yucky” phase. I hope that lasts another 14 years. But to date, Emme (the 6 year old), has had two noteworthy crushes. Her first was Mr. Rogers. When perched on the edge of the couch, watching “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood”, she would often remark dreamily “Look Mom, he’s so handsome.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her that he was far too old for her. Much less that he was dead.

This year our church put on an Easter musical. Emme developed a full blown crush on Nick, the guy who played “Jesus.” We acquired a CD of all the music. After Emme had seen the show a couple of times, we began listening to the CD at home, ad nauseam. She talked about Nick constantly.

“Mommy, do you think Nick will notice my loose tooth?”

“Mommy, can we have Nick over for dinner?”

“Well Emme, shouldn’t we invite his wife?”

Details. “Um, I guess so.”

Daily, she would set up all of her Barbies and recreate “Eyes of Faith, the musical.” The most handsome of all the Ken dolls portrayed Nick/Jesus. Then she wrote Nick a note asking him to come to the “doughnut room” (a favorite locale of hers, to be sure) after church service. I have saved that note for future generations to enjoy. When she spotted Nick/Jesus at the church rummage sale, she hid behind me and giggled like a school girl.

All of this has not escaped my husband’s notice. It strikes fear in his heart to think of his girls as teenagers. It is humorous to note that Nick/Jesus’ mom went to high school with my husband. However, he has yet to see why I think that’s amusing.

I really must applaud my daughter on her taste in men. I mean, Mr. Rogers, I guess really was a dream boat in his day. And such a snappy dresser. You have to love a guy who takes his shoes off at the front door.

And then there’s Jesus. Well, a girl can’t do any better than that!

P.S. I really think I ought to submit this post to the magazine.  That should take them a good 3 years to get back to me about.  In fact, it could shut the entire submission process down intirely.

Of my 3 children, Cailey is by far superior when using creative means to exact revenge on hapless siblings.  One such incident was chronicled here.  And another one here.

Today she astounded even me, her seasoned mother.

In an attempt to keep Jensen’s skin hydrated because of his Atopic Dermatitis, he has to take two 20 minute baths a day.  He knows the drill.  When he first arises, he trudges into the bathroom and gathers up his favorite bath toys for the ritual.

Let me pause here to explain that Cailey and Jensen were cut from the same mischievous cloth.  Mutt and Jeff.  While they tolerate love each other dearly, they also achieve extreme delight in pushing each other’s buttons.  In fact, they both have the others buttons on speed dial.

Seizing a prime opportunity to torture her brother, Cailey sauntered into the bathroom during Jensen’s morning soak.  He had only 5 minutes logged in the tub, and another 15 to go.  Cailey announced she intended to have her morning constitutional, and it couldn’t wait.

Those are not the words she used, I’m just attempting to be delicate.  She is, after all, the child that taught her brother how to burp on command.

When Jensen, who is in possession of heightened olfactory senses, realized what was happening just a mere 12 inches from where he was sitting, he began voicing his displeasure.

EEEEEWWWW.  GET ME OUT OF HERE!  THAT STANKS, CAILEY.  EEEEEEWWWW.

Followed of course by much gagging, and he even went so far as to stick his finger down his throat in an effort to hurry her up.

Cailey was unfazed, as she is suffering from a head cold, and is void of her usual keen sense of smell..  She derived a good deal of pleasure in taking her sweet time.

I stayed in the kitchen, rather enjoying Jensen’s predicament.  Because, hello?  You can’t pay for this kind of entertainment.  I would call into the bathroom at 5 minute intervals, “Cailey, are you through?”

To which I would hear a small satisfied, “Nope.”

And then more gagging and complaining from the younger brother.  THAT STANKS.  YOU’RE STANKY CAY-CAY.  EEWWWWWW.  I’M GONNA FWOH UP!

When at last she bored of the game, or her legs fell asleep, she finally left the bathroom.

Jensen continued choking and sputtering in the aftermath, as the paint was peeling off of the wall.  His 20 minute soak had concluded, and I had absolutely no trouble getting him out of the tub.  Which is not always the case.

I’m going to partner up with Cailey.  Imagine all we can accomplish if we join forces.

I know for a fact that I never want to be on the receiving end of her revenge.

A few days go, I was seeing traffic coming in from this site.  Because I’m curious, I checked it out.  And we all know what curiosity did for the cat. I found out that I had been nominated for this award in the category of funniest blog.

And that tickles me.  Especially my inner dweeb.  Well.  There are some pretty awesome bloggers nominated.  The voting continues until July 6th, wherein the five top finalists will go on to final voting.

So far, I have racked up 6 votes.  Which is way better than ZERO.  Again, my inner dweeb who was always the last one picked in sports, is doing a happy dance.

With the curtains drawn this time.