A meme for me

March Day tagged me with this meme! I like to be tagged, cause I like to be picked for stuff. But being tagged doesn't mean I will do it. I believe in freedom of choice for things like this...

Here are my 8 random facts:

1. I recently had the best day of my life. After almost two years of saying "I love you!" to Dillon every day, every night at bedtime, and numerous times after scolding him (ha!) he put his hands on either side of my face and said "I loh LUU, mama!" He must have been practicing when I wasn't around!

2. I want to open a therapy center for kids with autism. We don't have one in our area, and I think it would do so well! I just need some money to start with - donations, anyone?

3. I got my first job at a grocery store when I was 16. I didn't even tell my parents at first, but it was kind of hard to explain six hours of absence every day after school!

4. When someone tries to erase with a pencil that has no eraser, and the metal part touches the paper and scrapes across it, I have a very physical reaction that causes me to retch and cough. I have never actually thrown up from that, but I have come close, so don't push it.

5. I love to be tan, but I won't go to a tanning bed, and I don't have time to be in the sun. Once I got a spray-on tan, but it was too orange, and too expensive. So I am resigned to paleness.

6. This summer, I am addicted to Ellen. She is so funny, without being mean. How can you not like her???

7. Yesterday, I spent six hours on the tile floor of a bathroom, holding a student on the toilet while we watched movies and read magazines. Everything "came out okay," and we count the venture as a success. Except that my tailbone is bruised.

8. No tattoos or extra piercings here, but I used to wear a toe-ring that my dad thought was the biggest disgrace EVER.

I am not tagging anyone, so I guess I am not playing correctly, but again, freedom of choice!!! Tell us some random stuff about YOU!

Beds in hell

This has got to be the epitome of comfort - a real must-have for the posture-conscious among us.

Gadgets, again

Me: You didn't tell me.

Him: Tell you what?

Me: *sigh* Before all this started, you didn't tell me about all the gadgets.

Him: Oh. But you should have known.

Me: How?

Him: Well, number one, I am a man. And number two, I am Asian.

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We got a new car.

Okay, okay - not a "car." It is a mini-van. A mommy-mobile. It is the most gadgety thing you have ever seen. The doors all open and close by themselves, the seats fold down into nothing, there are compartments for everything under the sun. There is room for Dillon to have a step-stool to help him into his seat. There is room for Dillon to get a running start before flinging himself across the backseat and giggling like a maniac.

We love it. As hokey as it sounds, we are going from a compact VW to something with space! And built-in grocery bag hooks!

Daniel, the gadget-man, is enthralled. He is trying to come up with a name for it. Not just any name though. A name befitting the ultimate Transformer, because that is what he is telling himself this is, in order to still walk away feeling cool.

Any suggestions? Optimus Prime is taken.

Mounds of it!

Guess what I am doing today?

C'mon, it isn't that hard. I actually do it every. single. day.

Give up? Okay, I am doing ... laundry!!!

I can never seem to get ahead when washing clothes. Never. Because people in my house keep wearing more clothes! Stop it! It is summertime! Too hot for clothes!

Daniel has actually taken to sabotaging my efforts to "finish" the laundry. He has a pile of clothes that he holds hostage in our room. These clothes are not quite dirty enough to put in the laundry ("NO! Those aren't dirty! I just wore them out to dinner!"), and if he has the opportunity to wear them again, he will. Hello? And he is keeping these clothes ON THE FLOOR???

Occasionally, he decides to release hostages. He usually only ever does this when the laundry baskets are looking suspiciously empty and he has an abundance of (real) clean clothes to choose from.

So all this laundry is never ending. Sometimes I just want to dump all the clothes out on the floor in a big pile, climb into a laundry basket, and cry my heart out.

But I guess I can leave that to Dillon.

Out of the mouths of babe's parents

Dillon is becoming very aware of language around him. He usually won't try something the first time he hears it, but he practices by himself a few times before sharing it with others, usually with surprising articulation.

This could be disasterous.

Even little words like "stupid" or "crap" that sneak into everyday conversation would be so much uglier out of a toddler's mouth. I just don't think that is cute!

Daniel and I talked about it, and we decided to have a code word. The catch-all word is "bobo." Not "booboo," but "bobo."

Used like this:

"Look at that guy! He is driving like such a bobo!"

"I felt like such a bobo when I forgot her name!"

It has become rather hilarious around the house since putting the new rule in place. We usually end up cracking up at how dumb we sound saying such an elementary word. Saying "bobo" has become so automatic, that when I hear cuss words, I mentally replace them with some form of "bobo."

So far, Dillon hasn't picked up on it, but I figure that time's a'comin', and it should be way more fun than having to un-teach him "idiot."

Ants

Yesterday, I cleaned the kitchen. I moved everything off the counter, scrubbed the toaster, and wiped down the blinds. During my frenzy, I saw an ant struggling with its load as it headed across the window sill. I squinted and leaned in close.

It was carrying one of its own - a brother, curled and hardened from lack of life.

Sometimes the ant would struggle so hard with his load that he would turn over, kicking his feet furiously in the air until he righted himself again. Then he would pick up the dead ant, and soldier on, intent on getting to his destination.

I probably watched that ant for fifteen minutes, thinking of life's lessons that are visible all around us, even in the behaviors of an ant.

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On another note, tragically, a friend's four-year-old son has been diagnosed with leukemia. This is their blog. Please include Gage in your prayers.

Advice

We sometimes TiVo movies that come on HBO, just so we will have something to watch later, when nothing is on cause it is summertime.

If we record something, Daniel feels the compelling need to watch it before it is erased, even if something better comes along. And we both hold out eternal hope that the movie is always going to get better, up until ten seconds before the credits.

Which explains how we managed to sit through Bill Murray in Broken Flowers. What IS this? You have got to be kidding me. Surely there is someone I can write to to request two hours of my life back.

So if you get the "opportunity" to watch this, pass it up. Take a nap instead.