(if this blog post has word spacing issues or any formatting problems at all, it’s NOT MY FAULT! It’s stupid, communist, liberal Blogger.)
I’m a little concerned about Katie, our six month old lab-border collie-Australian shepherd-piranha mix. None of the traditional “teach your dog to potty outside” training methods have worked thus far. I think she actually holds her bladder for hours while she’s playing in the yard so that she can “treat herself” to doing business on the dining room rug. I give her credit for having good taste.
In one of his most brilliantly strategic moves yet, my husband James blocked off both dining room entrances in hopes that Katie would prefer the 1.25 acre backyard toilet over any other interior rugs. Within 20 seconds of losing dining room access, resourceful Katie decided that the foyer rug was a suitable substitute, squatted and peed three gallons. While urinating, she stared up at James with a puzzled expression as he stormed into the room screaming expletives at her like the dad in A Christmas Story. I expect James to be blocking the foyer off soon. By the end of the week, we’ll all be living in the master bedroom closet because the rest of the house will be Katie-proofed.
I’m also very concerned that Katie is an atheist…or perhaps Muslim. In the past two weeks she’s urinated on both my Bible that was lying next to my bed AND the boys’ sports devotion book. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the stack of Fortune and Golf magazines on James’ side was left untouched. I’ve never had a pet that attacked my faith before. And I find it strangely disconcerting. Tonight I’m going to bait the foyer rug with an old Joyce Meyer book Battlefield of the Mind, and a copy of Pilgrim’sProgress, if James hasn’t already blocked off the area with CAUTION tape.
It’s also been a difficult week parenting-wise too. Andrew got his first zit, prominently on his right cheek. He seemed rather proud of it, modeling it in the bathroom mirror and treating it like a portal to manhood. After plundering through the cabinets, I produced a four-year-old tube of Clearasil and told him to use it. Thinking he could handle the task unassisted, I left the room and moved on to number 477 on the to-do list. Three seconds later, I hear….
“Mommmmmm, can zit cream kill you?”
ANDREW: “Because I accidentally drank some.”
I seriously didn’t want to have to call the Poison Control Center and tell them that my 11-year-old, who isn’t in special education classes, drank Clearasil. It’d be terribly ironic if he died from it, and had to be buried with a massive pimple on his face. That totally should’ve been a line in Alanis Morrisette’s song Ironic
It’s like drinking zit cream
And dying from it
And at the viewing, people are pointing out
the huge zit on your face.
Isn’t it ironic, dontcha think??
But he didn’t die…and I’m very glad. I don’t want to think about such unpleasant things anymore.
What’s more pleasant? Ah, I know. Girl drama. It still happens even in your 40’s. That should be comforting for all of my teenage, mean girl readers.
My friend May got mad at our friend Wanda, who’s always been better friends with May than me. (It’s obvious that these names have been changed because I don’t really hang out with people named May or Wanda, although I had a college roommate named Wanda once and we did hang out.) I like Wanda a lot. Don’t get me wrong. Wanda’s great, but May’s always liked her better than me. Anyway, I secretly and insecurely wanted May to stay mad at Wanda because it would move me up a rung on the friend ladder. Sort of like in middle school band when they have challenges for first chair each week. I’m a very mature person that way. Well, then May had the audacity to call Wanda and apologize. And now they’re back best buddies before I even got to sit in first chair. I was all ready to go out and buy May one of those “Best Friends” charm necklaces that’s broken in half and I’d wear the “Be Frie” and May would wear “st nds.” But alas, it’s not meant to be because May is terrible at holding grudges.
me and May (or maybe not)
I think I’m going to stop speaking to both of them.
The problem with not speaking to people is that sometimes you have to make tremendous effort to get them to notice that you’re not speaking to them. To get James to notice, I’ll sigh REALLY LOUDLY, like 100 times in a row, until either he asks what’s wrong or I start hyperventilating and pass out. And then when he does ask why I’m angry, it’s never like “Oh, Honey, what have I done to upset you? And more importantly, what can I do/buy to make it up to you?”
Heck no! He’s like “What?” all defensively. And I respond all snottily “nothing.” To which he replies “ok.” And turns the volume to the football game up louder to drown out my sighing. I think he secretly likes it when I give him the silent treatment.
In her blog, destination unknown, my friend Nicole does a recap every Friday of the things she’s learned throughout the week. I will now attempt to do the same.
Things I’ve Learned this Week
1) Clearasil, if ingested in modest quantities, is not life threatening.
2) Diabetic candy can effectively be used as a laxative. (I picked up this little info jewel giving out diabetic candy as Bingo prizes in a nursing home. Several people won three and four times. The next day, they were too weak to get out of bed.)
3) If you soak a raw egg in vinegar, the shell will dissolve and the “naked egg” looks really cool.
4) That sixth grade science homework is much too hard for me. I actually resorted to handing Andrew back his study guide the night before his chapter test muttering “good luck. Here’s $20. Go hire a tutor.”
5) That even in sixth grade you have to learn a ton of stuff that you’ll NEVER again use in your whole life. Like the absolute value formula for figuring out the distance of stars from each other. I don’t know about you, dear readers, but in my professional life I haven’t once had to tackle equating the distance between Betelgeuse and Rigel. And I bet I never will.
6)That I don’t learn a whole lot in the average week. I’ll try much harder to pay attention next week. I promise.
(footnote: from Andrew: “I didn’t drink the stupid zit cream, Mom.!!!! I licked it off my finger on accident. That kind of thing happens. If you’re gonna write about me, get it right!!!”