This And That, And A Penguin

Now, admittedly I have gotten a bit lax on the childproofing as my youngest approaches the august age of 3; so there might be a small chance that maybe I left a tube of Vick's VapoRub in her dresser. And it is just possible that, in her desire to be just like Mommy (isn't she smart?), Susie may have decided - upon discovering what looked like Mommy's hand cream in her sock drawer - that her sweet little baby hands were in urgent need of some moisturizing therapy. And acted accordingly.

All of which may explain why Larry came home from church today complaining that everyone within 3 rows of our little mentholatum bomblet was blowing his/her nose constantly during the Mass. Maybe.

But I say there is just something going around.

Have I mentioned Susie's fat little legs lately? Her round little bottom? Her big brown eyes that stand out even though they have to compete with her extremely big, round cheeks? We squeeze her all the time and threaten to eat her up. Yum.

Round is so cute. Maybe it will be the new black...

And, boy, could I identify with Opus's anxiety closet today. I mean, the librarian part - not the Clinton part - of course.

Much About Mulch

This morning, Larry took the 4 oldest to assist at David's Boy Scout troop mulch sale. Anna, of course, was very excited about helping a bunch of creatures she considers to be the most disgusting beings in the known universe. And getting up at 6:30 in the morning? That was just the icing on the cake.

This happens to be the second mulch sale we've been conscripted to participate in this year. Apparently, mulch is a very popular item in inner suburbia; and I, for one, am glad, because the dads tend not to become involved when the kids are selling such namby-pamby items such as gift wrap or frozen cookie dough. Rent a few forklifts to move several tons of landscaping material, however, and you've got the menfolk swarming like bees around a honeypot.

I guess the gift wrap was just too emasculating.

So all you Girl Scout moms who are sick of running the cookie drive year after year after year? Get that monkey off your back by having your little green-skirted darlings sell something more manly - like, landscaping materials, say, or huge barbecue grills, or maybe even huge 4-wheel-drive trucks. The guys would be all over that. And we womenfolk wouldn't be stuffing our mouths with those blasted Thin Mints and Trefoils and blowing our diets all to heck.

Anyway, Larry left me alone with just the 2 little girls this morning, one of whom let me take a shower in blessed solitude while she looked out the window and said cute little things like, "Hi, birdies! Tweet, tweet!" (Really.) It's times like these that I enjoy having tiny little girls running around the house. Of course, they do grow up into great big girls that don't sound quite as cute (particularly when they are snarling in a most unbecoming manner at their little brothers); but I just try to take the good with the bad. We live in a fallen world, after all.

After my shower, and after picking out pretty outfits for everyone, and braiding some hair with some pretty hair ribbons, we took a leisurely walk to buy some bagels for breakfast; after that we sauntered over to the book store where my sweeties forced me (nicely) to read several Berenstain Bears books to them. I think there must be a special circle in hell where there is nothing to read but these particular books. And I really hope I do not end up there because, let's face it, I've suffered enough already.

I would have bought the Yarn Harlot's new book with my educator's discount card, but I couldn't think how to convince whatever nitpicker was at the cash register that a knitting humor book is essential to my children's academic studies this spring. [Larry just read this post and exclaimed, "Home Ec, of course!"] Nevertheless, my morning was quite pleasant, walking to the stores in the chilly spring morning and spending quality time with my 2 precious little girls. Rachel even rode her bike.

So now that we are home, you would think that all that mommy time and all those bagels and all those darn Berenstain Bears books would have translated into their leaving me alone for a bit, wouldn't you? But, as I type, Susie is lying on the floor underneath my chair, squeaking incessantly. Rachel keeps falling over and injuring herself, and I swear it's on purpose. I've tried bribing them with cookies, but it didn't work. And, really, I'm done being a nice mommy for now - I've been doing it all week.

Why am I working a job where I don't even get Saturdays off? Someone remind me...

Parenting For Dummies

To close off our discussion of politics, VE suggests that we waterboard all the candidates to see if they have outstanding library fines. Not a bad idea...such a process could avoid an expensive special counsel investigation down the road - you know, Librarygate...

But my specialty is parenting, not politics. So let's get back to what I know best, okay? No one needs my opinion on the presidential race when I could be dispensing valuable advice on how to ignore one's children (hmmm, maybe next week's list?). Incidentally, I've put all my advice lists on the sidebar to the left there, under "Parenting for Dummies." See? Now no one has to waste good money on books by child psychologists and other novices - you can just look up an answer here on my blog. Questions about childrearing? Send them to me - I may not know the answer, but I can always make something up. Heck, that's what I do with my own kids, and they're all right. Sort of...

We had the boys' and girls' clubs here this afternoon; and one of the mothers mentioned how important it is to know your child's love language. I thought she was kidding and I started to laugh; so now she thinks I'm a monster. But, really, what parent needs a book to tell them that their kid needs a hug, or some praise, or maybe some one-on-one time with Mom or Dad? Parenting is more common sense than rocket science.

Make that, common sense and endurance...eighteen-plus years of teeth-grinding endurance...

I escaped from the house again this evening, because Theo had a job interview at a local supermarket. For some reason it took almost 2 hours. What's up with that? I mean, the kid is applying to be a cashier, not president of produce or anything. I had forgotten my knitting, so I convinced my best friend to meet me at the nearby Barnes and Noble (that's why she's my best friend, 'cuz she'll do that) and we ate banana-chocolate-chip pound cake (low fat!) and discussed the similarities between teenagers and dementors. Then we read magazines together and I tried to figure out how to answer my cellphone.

And I wonder why my teens think my life is boring....

All Politics is Loco

One reader yesterday brought me to task over my assertion that waterboarding is indeed torture, pointing out that sometimes torture is sometimes necessary to elicit vital information from detainees. Actually, I wasn't arguing for or against the use of torture (although I respectfully disagree with his thesis, as do professional FBI interrogators). It's just that if you are going to torture someone, don't start splitting legal hairs and saying it isn't technically torture. They remind me of Anna arguing that she didn't really push her younger sibling, she was just moving him forcibly out of her way. Hello? Let's have a little personal responsibility here.

And, yes, I do think the current administration is a little short on that.

Don't think you have me pegged, politically speaking, simply because I dislike the Bush administration. I'm one of the vast number of swing voters that all the candidates are desperately courting these days. In fact, I still have no idea which candidate I am voting for this November. Every day I change my mind. If you're waiting in line for the voting booth, and you see the person ahead of you frantically flipping a coin? That'll be me, I'm afraid...

But I do think we've got a bunch of good choices, for once. And that makes me happy. If this campaign isn't making you happy, it's because you haven't listened to its front-runners take on the challenge of making an omelette, brought to you courtesy of Garrison Keillor and his gang. (Look for "Segment 5" and then "the omelette script")

It also makes me happy that so many other people in the blogosphere are library deadbeats. I think Jenn won the prize yesterday by admitting to "...the time I had $300.00 in fines and kept hiding the notices from my mom until the Marshal showed up at the door with an arrest warrant." There were a lot of good contenders, though; so I would like to thank all of you for playing "Why My Librarian Hates Me." You're great! What do we have for the winners, Johnny?

Excuse me, I'm just giddy because I am being allowed out this evening to attend Knit Night. And I don't even have to wear the ankle monitor this time. I've come a long way, baby...

No Kidding

I had to clean the stove today, since I can't even turn it on without setting off the fire alarm; so I thought I would make the task fun by taking before and after pictures. Well, I must be a lousy photographer; despite my best efforts , the after pictures really do not look much better than the before ones. Go figure. Maybe it is my camera's idea of an April Fool's joke.

I hate April Fool's Day. I have never understood what is so funny about making someone else (as in, um, me) feel like an idiot. Not that I resent it or anything, Another Gray Hair; but if you do end up actually pregnant at some point in the future, enjoy that morning sickness, okay? Humph.

I took the younger kids to the library this afternoon; I only had to pay 25 dollars this time to get my account thawed out. If any of you are keeping a running tally of how much money I have paid to that lovely institution this year, please do not share it with me - I don't want to know.

Remember the other dad Larry spent 24 hours with on the Boy Scout camping trip? The one whose son became best friends with David? Turns out Larry learned neither his last name nor where he lives. This incident just may explain why Americans resorted to torture* to get information out of detainees: the interrogators were male and had no idea how to gather information in a normal fashion.

*If you are one of those benighted individuals who doubts whether waterboarding is technically torture, I suggest you go experience it; then come back here and make your report. Make sure to bring pictures so we can see what a great time you are having.
[No one splits legal hairs better than our current Administration, I must say.]


And yes, I did let my toddler poop in her pants while I wrote this post - how did you guess?