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Sunday, January 28, 2007

Short Person’s Children

Short Person apparently has children. A LOT of children. They have laid themselves along the floor in her room, covered with a myriad of blankets and long-sleeved shirts.

When I told LJS about the shirt thing, I had mentioned that I thought it was cute because she'd been inventive when she ran out of blankets. She'd pulled all the shirts out and covered them up. Smart, really.

However, it was the plucky voice from the other room that called to me, "Mom! I did that because they TOLD me too! They said that they WANTED to be covered up with the shirts."

Fast-forward to yesterday morning. At 6am, the first thing she did was go into her room and start talking to all her kids to wake them up.

Today, when I asked if I could clean up her room and put her buddies back into the box, she responded, "But Mom! They are my kids!"

Tonight, she was quite upset because she needed something out of her closet and Bob the Builder was in the way. "He's sleeping in the closet and said he won't move!"

And later still, she was upset because (and she's pointing them out to me), "See Mom? That one and that one and that one and those two are all still awake! We need to sing them a lullaby."

Things that make you go "HUH" is playing in that empty space between my eardrums.

Thursday, January 25, 2007

I am constantly amazed by the Short Person

Last night, while Daddy made his lunch and mommy sat down to watch (or try to watch) television, the Short Person decided to talk to us. I don't remember the conversation, but I remember that Short Person didn't like the answer very much and replied, "Shut Up, Mom. Shut Up!"

Well, this caught both of us off-guard and the rebuke of "Don't talk to your Mom like that." and "I don't like those words." was quick to come.

I watched her face as it sort of crumpled and then transformed into total curiosity. "But... we say that to the dogs."

And she's right. We do.

Those little barkiologists that think that they are bigger than the boogie man love to bark. They love to bark at the cat, the birds, the next door neighbors dogs. They even love to bark at nothing. After awhile, it gets annoying-- especially when you can see that they are barking at the wind. It's common for us to stick our heads out the slider and yell to them to "Shut Up".

Her smarts and knowledge at the fact that she picked that particular phrase up from me... amazed me. I'm proud of her for knowing that and for catching us on it.

If you're wondering how I addressed it after that... I knelt before her, told her she was right and let her know that it wasn't a very nice thing to say to people. Then, told her that Daddy and I would try to remember not to say it to the dogs.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Hold the Medic! Send Some Oatmeal

So, I've mentioned previously that I'm raising a hypochondriac daughter. That she has flinstones for one ailment, vitamin c for another, etc. Well, we added a new one to the list.


She seems at times to have a constipation problem and with her new abilities at using the potty they have become more evident. I introduced oatmeal to her as a way of making her bottom stop hurting. Now, whenever she's having problems going *ahem* "Number 2", she requests oatmeal.

Don't get me wrong, this is great! She should be eating it anyway, plus we've added a new food to the group of "Short Person Accepted Foods". But this need for oatmeal whenever her bottom hurt came to a hilarious conclusion the other day.

Short person and her friend Ireland were playing in the snow-- sledding, making snow angels, dumping snow on babysitters head-- when Ireland got a boo-boo on her bottom. Ireland started hopping around and crying about her bottom hurting when all of the sudden Short Person got a frantic look on her face, turned to babysitter and said...

"Quick! Get the oatmeal!"

Oh wow... the ways I have corrupted my daughter...

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

I am a Master of Freudian Slips

Once, when I was in high school, I was sitting in speech class-- probably more correctly should have been termed my Forensics class since it dealt more with speech writing than with talking, although you have to learn to deliver too, I suppose. Anyway, I digress.

Once, which I was in high school, I was sitting in my forensics class and we were talking about an upcoming tournament. I was sitting on top of one of the desks facing one of the guys in my class that I had a little bit of a crush on-- more for his smarts than for his looks, so I wasn't quite as much of a dork as I normally would have been if he had been HOT! Hot! Hot!

The class was just prior to lunch and I was getting hungry. What I meant to say was, "You know, I'm getting really hungry." But instead...

I looked up at him and sighed and said, "You know, I'm getting really horny."

I don't know that I'd ever seen him move that fast before, but he suddenly hopped off of his seat and looked at me with this expression.

That tendency to slip has not left me, which is why today as I was bantering with one of the guys about being a Vindictive Bitch (his words, not mine, even though he denies he said it), what I meant to say was "You know, I have that whole VB thing happening for me." But instead...

"You know, I have that whole VD problem happening for me."

This, after an entire conversation about how I never make mistakes. Yeah... right.

My life. It would make for really good reality tv sometimes.


A Freudian slip, or parapraxia, is an error in speech or memory that is believed to be caused by the unconscious mind. Some errors, such as a woman accidentally calling her husband by the name of the other man with whom she is having an affair, seem to represent relatively clear cases of Freudian slips. In other cases, the error might appear to be trivial or bizarre, but may show some deeper meaning on analysis. A Freudian slip is not limited to a slip of the tongue, or to sexual desires. It can extend to our word perception where we might read a word incorrectly because of our fixations.

The Freudian slip is named after
Sigmund Freud, who described the phenomenon he called faulty action (Fehlleistung or parapraxis) in his 1901 book The Psychopathology of Everyday Life. Freud gives several examples of seemingly trivial, bizarre or nonsensical Freudian slips in Psychopathology; the analysis is often quite lengthy and complex, as was the case with many of the dreams in The Interpretation of Dreams.

Popularization of the term has diluted its technical meaning in some contexts to include any slip-of-the-tongue phenomenon, often in an attempt by the user to humorously assign hidden motives or sexual innuendo to the mistake. It is not clear, however, what Freud considered an "innocent" mistake, or if he thought that there were any innocent mistakes. The enormous quantity of slips analyzed in
Psychopathology, many of which are banal or apparently trivial, would seem to indicate that Freud felt almost any seemingly tiny slip or hesitation would respond to analysis.

The most popular way to explain a Freudian slip is "When you say one thing, but mean your mother", a reference to his
Oedipus Complex.

Monday, January 22, 2007

You Haven’t Lived Until You’ve Had 3 Nurses Inside You!

I was thinking back to the day that the short person joined us in this world on St. Patrick's Day nearly 3 years ago. I don't know why or what brought it on, but I was thinking about labor.

There used to be a guy at work that kept telling me how much it would hurt and how I'd be screaming for drugs before it was over. I'd just laugh and say... "Na! It'll be fine. No drugs for me." And he'd laugh with the all knowing eye of a husband that watched his wife give birth.

When I checked into the hospital I was already dilated to a 5, but I wasn't in labor. They still had to give me petocin. Contractions started... well, contractions that I could feel... started after about three hours and soon I was dilated to a 7.5, but still no pain. I could feel my belly tighten and that was weird, but no pain.

By that time my Doctor was joking with me about whether it hurt me if I cut myself open with a rusty knife. She also kept asking me if I needed to push. I thought it was such an odd question because as far as I knew my water hadn't even broken yet.

About an hour later the nurses decided that the little baby short person needed to have something on her head. Three of them stuck their hands in there and started moving things around.

Oh pain... Pain, pain, pain. I don't think my internal organs are back in place yet, after three years, from that excursion.

Like I said, you haven't lived until you've had 3 nurses inside of you.

And after all that, I wound up having a C-section. The uh... best of both worlds. Right?

Anyway, like I said, I don't know why I started thinking about that. Probably because I'm really excited about her birthday party this year and have already started the planning phase. I can't wait!!!

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Short Person and the Mascara

What do you do when...

Your daughter comes up to you and in a depressed voice says "I couldn't get it in my eyes right." And then...

Asks you if she looks like a Strawberry, in a rather hopeful voice. And all you can think is...
Oh my goodness! It's the Bride of Chuckie!!!

Saturday, January 6, 2007

More of a visual than I needed; and, the Resurgence of "Damn It"

A few days ago, I made an appointment for the husband to have a cyst on his back looked at. He's had it before but it came back. The last removal not so complete as it should have been.
Anyway, he goes to the Doctor who decides that they'll just remove it right then and proceed to lead him back to surgery.

The room is not that large since it is meant for minor operation only. You walk into one doorway from one hall and directly across from that doorway is another leading to the other hallway. The bed is positioned in the middle of the room and there are chairs at the head of either side.

I have a 50/50 shot at choosing the chair with the least visual impact. I choose the one on the right side of his head-- or the one on the other side of the room.

My husband lays down face first on the operating table and they pull out this needle to numb his back. If you know me, you know how absolutely terrified of needles I am, but I figured since the needle was being used on HIM, I would be fine.

I was wrong.

I had to look away while they numbed his back so that they could cut into it-- and I still got queasy and light-headed.

The Doctor leaves to let the anesthetic go to work and then returns about 10 minutes later and sets up position, you guessed it, on the opposite side of me. I have now a full and complete visual of everything that is happening. The nurse meanwhile is laughing about this because she remembers my muttered comment about choosing the chair that will have the LEAST visual and is telling the Doctor about this, who in turn starts laughing.

But that muffled laughter was nothing compared to the full bellied chuckles they got a few minutes later when my cell phone rang and I pronounced that I needed to leave to go pick up the baby-- their gnawfs of "Are you sure that call wasn't planted" following me down the hall.
Me on the other hand... I now have a visual of someone digging with scissors in my husband's back that I seriously could have lived without. Thanks!


We've gone through a few rounds of telling the short person that she needs to say "Darn it" instead of "Damn it". I finally cured it in a matter of speaking by telling her that when she looked like Grandpa she could say "Damn it" too.

For a long time that reasoning worked. It worked to the point that she was telling Daddy that only Grandpa could say it whenever those chosen words left his lips.

Tonight, the little character almost outsmarted me.

She comes into the living room, lounges against the couch, and looks up at me.

"I look like Grandpa now."

"You do?" God help me, I think I know where this conversation is headed.

"Yep! I do. So... can I say Damn it now?"

My mind races through response after response.

"Well, honey... I know you look a little like Grandpa but there are... other factors."


"Yes. Like, I still think you're a little young yet. And... you don't have as many wrinkles as Grandpa." I pause wondering if this will do it, but she turns her face up at me.

"Please? I want to say Damn it."

"Hmm... well, maybe you should ask your Daddy." The ultimate cop out for those times when you know you are outsmarted and need back up assistance. This unfortunately happens altogether too often in our house but between the two of us we've somehow managed to stay ahead.

The short person wanders into the hall, I hear the door to our bedroom swing open and I turn back to watching the basketball highlights on television. A few minutes later, she returns.

"What did Daddy say? Did he say you look like Grandpa?"


"Oh... well, what else did he say?"

"Dern it, dern it, dern it."

Wednesday, January 3, 2007

Time Passes Too Fast

Okay, so I just got done typing the post prior to this one and then hit submit and as soon as I did I got hit with this big wave of sadness. It's a great new phase, but also one of those huge reminders that time passes way too fast.

My baby's growing up. *sniff*

Potty Training

Apparently, yesterday the short person decided to potty train herself. She put on big girl panties and told the babysitter that she needed to go potty and then... actually did!!

We've been taking this trip to the potty chair for a little while now, but she hasn't quite gotten the link between what her body is supposed to do while sitting there until yesterday.

Yeah!!! We're so proud and happy that she got loaded up with presents yesterday (lol). Daddy got her a Mickey Mouse keychain, the babysitter got her a toy bear, and mommy didn't give her anything because she was asleep by the time she got home.


Isn't that always the way it works?

But don't fear! I am going to go buy a squishy Dora potty seat to put on the BIG potty and some more underwear for her.

Also, maybe some small Poise liners. I have this half formed thought in my head that maybe if an "accident" isn't quite so... extraordinary... it will lessen her fear of having one and we will just concentrate on getting her knowledge of when to say something up.

Or, maybe not. But, it's worth a try I think.

Woo Hoo!!!

Tuesday, January 2, 2007

Ten Little Goldfish... and Then There Were Nine

My husband and daughter went on a mission yesterday to buy 10 new goldfish. The last of her tiger barbs having passed away a week ago. They brought them home and put them in the fish tank and unfortunately, as often happens when shocked with a new environment, one of them died.

My husband, while believing that the short person was in the living room, fished the deceased from the tank and carried it to the garbage can.

"Whatcha doing Dad?" A little voice said just seconds before the fish hit the can.

"Well, one of your fish died so I'm throwing it away."

"Let me look." The short person peered into the garbage can and then wrapped her arms around her little tummy and in a dire voice said, "I think I'm gonna be sick, Dad."

"It's okay. It will be alright. Your other fish are still okay. Do you want to feed your other fish?"

In a low serious voice she answered, "No, I'm just freaking out right now, Dad."

"Oh, okay."

Awhile later (probably about three minutes), my husband asked again. "Do you want to feed your fish now?"

"No, I'm still freaking out, Dad." The short person walked over to her fish tank, climbed into the stool by the counter and watched her other nine swim for a few minutes before declaring that she was ready. Or rather, "I'm done freaking out now, Dad."

The other nine fish all still live happily ever after.

Monday, January 1, 2007

New Year's Resolutions

Ah, 'tis the time to write down that proverbial list of things we wish to accomplish but probably never will.

My New Year's Resolutions

1. Lose Weight (although really, I should just say get healthy- I need to get off of this flipping medicine that makes me gain weight )

2. Have sex (hopefully with my husband, lol) every day.

3. Start one of the four books I have plotted. By start I mean write more than 100 pages.

4. Organize, organize, organize. I really need to work on my time management.

5. Be less of a dork. I'm already off to a bad start

6. Be more like my grandmother.

I'm sure I have more, but those top my list for now.