Mister KissyFace strikes again………and again….

September 16, 2005 family

So I taught MistaT what a kiss was and now he is addicted. He started out yesterday by running full toddler speed at me with his mouth open wide and slams his toothy grin into my mouth. OUCH! It took him an extra day to work up to kissing Daddy but he has learned in one day that a closed mouth kiss is what we were looking for in the first place. Now he comes over to me while I’m lying on the couch watching Dr. Phil today and plants the cutest pursed lips on me and grins and giggles, running away. MAN I LOVE THAT KID!

Here Fishy Fishy!

September 12, 2005 family

Okay so recently I bought Little D a fish. Yes, he has a dog, but in a weak moment I figured that I have bestowed an annoying, smelly baby brother unto him, therefore I should compensate him somehow. So, enter Ninja.

Ninja is a Siamese Fighting Fish, a beta, whatever you want to call it. He is a gorgeous blue colour with long flowy type fins and I’d love to have a skirt made from him, albeit he is way too small for my big ass.

So along with Ninja comes the task of cleaning his little tank. It is quite small, and has a million tiny purple rocks in it which have to be strained and rinsed properly in order for that tank to be cleaned to my liking.

Tonight I ventured into fish tank cleaning world and experience tells me those tiny little rocks will indeed go through my strainer and down the drain if I don’t have something there to catch them. The first couple times I did this, the tiniest of rocks were equivalent to purple sand and they made quite a mess. I figured these little ones would disappear after a time but no, they are always there…..maybe Ninja is a Siamese MINING fish….I mean, what DOES he do all day? Maybe we should have named him Fred Flintstone and employed him with Mr. Slate.

So I get the strainer all ready and I set out the 4 bottles of water that Ninja needs in his tank. Yes, our fish lives in bottled water. Call us yuppies, freaks, whatever, but something about tap water does bad things to fishies and I wouldn’t want the Compensation Fish to die and have to be flushed.

And so begins the task of fishing Ninja out of his tank and into tupperware for a few minutes so I can dump his purple rock/sand into my paper towel-laden strainer. Well I cheaped out and did not buy a net for him, so I have to use a plastic cup and a large spoon to coax him into the cup.

If you know anything about the Siamese Fighting Fish, you know that they fight other Siamese Fighting Fish to the death. Upon seeing his reflection in the spoon, Ninja decides he can, well, take himself out in a fishy battle. It took me FIFTEEN minutes to get this little thing into a giant cup! FIFTEEN minutes of punching, headbutting, kicking, screaming fishie war……good gawd!

I finally get the little viking into the tupperware, dump out the water into the strainer, wash the rocks and his little tree and begin to put everything back. He realizes he is alone and calms down some.

I dump 3 bottles of water into his tank and ‘pour’ him and the remaining water back into his tank.

He must have spoke to Thomas earlier, because as he swam about in his pristine tank, he had a big fishie DUMP.

Thanks Ninja, you asshole.

What a SH*TTY DAY!

family

Well Mister Thomas,

You have really MADE MY DAY! First of all, you are lucky you are cute, because I would have thrown you into Daddy’s Tool Bag and sent you off to work today, had I known THIS was going to happen.

I can forgive the crying, the fussiness and such, because I know you are teething. I mean, I REALLY KNOW….you never let me forget it. Ever. Your screams can be heard at the depths of hell…..and upstairs in the bathroom when I’m trying to brush my teeth…..at 1 in the afternoon when I finally have a chance!

I can forgive the food you throw on the floor, even though I’m not a huge fan of bending over, especially to pick up chewed up pickle particles. Never mind that I am physically ill at the smell of pickles, but to have the surface area of the pickles expanded by your monster chompers, makes the smell even more rancid. BLECH! I give them to you not only because you love them, but also because the cool sensation on your red gums give me the 4 minutes of peace I need each day.

So when I heard you playing upstairs after your ‘fake’ afternoon nap (I know you never fall asleep you little trickster!), I figured, well, ‘he is quiet and I can continue my little break.’

Then it got silent.

I crept upstairs to listen and figure out if you were sleeping, and you heard my footsteps with your CIA-training-type-hearing and began to cry. I open the door to the most disgusting stench and the sight, well sir, the green poo all over your crib was un-freaking-believable to me. You had removed your diaper and had smeared it all over the entire crib, yourself and your innocent little teddy bears, who, by the way, have never done anything to you, as far as I know. Now these poor little creatures who watch over you at night are spinning in the washer in very hot water…..I sure hope they know how to hold their breath! I sure do now!

People, we have a

CONTAINMENT BREACH!

I stood and surveyed the mess you had created and formulized a plan to get you back to cute, non-poopy status.

Once I picked my jaw up off the floor, I ran from the room to run a bath (all the while wishing I hadn’t seen any of it and could ignore you until Daddy came home, but no….)

Having the patience of the crotchety old man that lives across the street from us, you screamed bloody murder. Child, I can hear you….but he who must be washed, must shut thy mouth. PLEASE.

I flipped the tap on, squirted an entire bottle of Huggies baby wash into the tub, and ran back to strip you down. Upon closer look, I spotted the mass of pickly green goo in your hair and tried to pull it out with your t-shirt…..no dice. It was stuck there and would not be coming out unless you let me wash your hair. Well we all know how much you LOVE that. Since you already had your diaper off, I picked you up and cursed your father for having longer arms then me….oh and for passing on to you, his lovely gene of digesting food in such a manner that Daddy’s Draft Drinking Butt would smell like Febreeze, compared to this.

In the tub, I scrubbed you until there was no more pickle-poo and indeed you emerged a smily, content little ‘turd.’ PUN INTENTED!

Thank you for creating some excitement in my day so I don’t have to go on wwwDOThot-and-sexy-men-from-CanadaDOTcom and have an affair on your smelly, long armed father with the defective bowel system.

Love,

Mama