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2006 February

It’s All A Learning Experience

February 28, 2006

1) You should never use the toilet paper holder as a bar to hoist yourself up onto the toilet, or use it to vault off the toilet seat. It is not designed to hold your weight and it will be pulled right out of the wall.

Should you chose ignore this warning and do it anyway…

2) You should never hold the entire roll of toilet paper over the toilet bowl while you try to completely wrap your arm in a mummy-esque fashion in preparation for wiping your butt.

Should you chose to ignore this warning and do it anyway…

3) When the roll falls into the toilet, as it inevitably will, you should NOT try to flush the roll. It will not fit.

Should you chose to ignore this warning and do it anyway…

4) You should not grab the plunger and try to stuff the roll down the hole. It will not fit. Well, it might fit part way down, but it will not go down all the way, which is a problem.

Should you chose to ignore this warning and do it anyway…

5) You should not close the bathroom door and go merrily along your way thinking that the plumbing fairies will come along with their friends the cleaning fairies and clean up the mess. Leaving the scene of an accident is a felony, remember that.

Should you chose to ignore this warning, and really why wouldn’t you at this point given your track record…

6) You had better be upstairs packing your bags to run away. I’ll know it was you. The wet footprints that lead from the bathroom to you will be the initial tip off. The stench of poo and the wet cuffs on the bottom of your pants will confirm it.

Should you have ignored all the previous warnings, there really is no hope for you, but I’ll give you one last piece of advice…

7) DO NOT, Under any circumstances, deny that it was you and say, “I didn’t do it. Not Me.” Unless of course you want to see your mother’s head spin around and her eyeballs pop out of her head, dangling down onto her cheeks by springy tendrils. Contrary to how it sounds, this will not be cool.

If it has come to this it means you have ignored all the previous warnings and there is no hope for your redemption, and the baby Jesus is crying.

8) You should be prepared to do a lot more chores around the house because you mother is now blind. Also, she is dead.

What is the lesson in all of this is …to always be cautious, honest, courteous, or ask for help? No, that would be wrong.

The lesson learned from all of this: ‘Tis better not to wipe at all than run the risk of having to do more chores.

Posted by Chris @ 9:52 am | 29 Comments  

Random Thoughts From A Weekend

February 27, 2006

I went to the bridal shower on Saturday for my niece, where there was no nudity involved. At least none of which I was aware.

I realized at the party that I am thankful I have no female friends close enough that I would ever have to throw a party like this for them. I would totally suck at this type of thing. Games to play? I think I have expressed my feelings about games enough. It just wouldn’t occur to me to buy a BRIDE bingo game or play a musical present game.

And then there was a trivia game about cake. I should have done better at it since I love cake. But it was a deceptively tricky game, deceptive because it was so easy and I was overthinking the entire thing. I thought those sorts of things ended once your kids hit second grade. But I guess not.

It would never have even entered my mind to buy helium balloons to decorate with, for the same reason. And don’t even get me started on the adorable little mint container party favors that her friend made by herself. I would be a failure at this sort of thing, and everyone should be thankful that I am not their best friend also.

But now, if I ever make a friend and have to throw her a bridal shower, I am ready. Though I think I will do things my own way. Much more alcohol consumption would be required.

Pin The Penis On The Groom- a variation of the pin the tail on the donkey game. Only instead of being blindfolded and having to spin around three times, you have to do three shots of tequila. This will render the blindfold unnecessary.

And serve pasta salad made from these,

which the directions say to cook until they are firm.

I am going to hand out random party favors like kazoos. Simply because I would think it was funny.


Quotes from the day:

i) Shortly after my niece asked me who some old woman was at the party that neither of us recognized. My niece was accosted by the woman and crushed into her overflowing uni-bosom.
My niece said to her, “Oh my goodness, I haven’t seen you in so long.”

Which prompted me to say, “It has been so long in fact, that I have no idea who the hell you are. Are you sure you are at the right party?” But she didn’t hear me. All the old people there were slightly deaf, slightly senile, and slightly tipsy from their half glass of pink wine.

A fact that was never more apparent than during the game portion of the party, where I had plenty of time to ruminate on the fact that my children are made of the same genetic material.

ii) Then as it was time to leave, Rob’s aunt asked me for a plastic bag. I told her I didn’t have a plastic bag. Then she said, “Well can’t you get one?”
Thinking she might be slightly confused I said, “I don’t live here.”
To which she responded, “Aren’t you the help?”

No, but thank you for remembering me. I guess it is payback for not remembering the other aunt. Also, I am rethinking the outfit I chose to wear.

In keeping with the random theme:

I was wearing my new black leather high heeled boots, and thought they were very hott (with two t’s such was their hottness) and then I fell off of them. One minute I was standing there and the next I just fell, almost like a strong gust of wind blew me over. You know if a gale force hurricane gust came blowing through the house. I hurt my knee and was hobbled. And the limping in the new black leather high heeled boots, so NOT hott.

This prompted my husband to ask yesterday, “Does your incessant complaining make your knee feel better?” With sympathy like that, how could it not.

The Bride To Be

The bride to be with my sister in law who refuses to be photographed. I am not sure I can adequately explain how annoying that is.

Posted by Chris @ 8:46 am | 30 Comments  

Giving A New Meaning To Bridal Shower

February 25, 2006

My niece is getting married next month and today is the shower. I have been talking about it all week, mostly in terms of how I really need to go buy a card, wrapping paper, and scotch tape, because it would seem that my children eat these things. I still haven’t gotten around to it, but it is 9:30am and I don’t have to leave for another two hours. Plenty of time.

I decided, in an act of mercy towards my husband, to bring my two year old daughter with me to the shower.

“Why can’t I go, Mommy?” the 5 yr old wanted to know.

I try to think of a nice answer, because sometimes the truth– I don’t want to bring you– is better kept to one’s self.

“I’m sorry honey, but it is just for girls.” I answered.

“But why?” he asked again.

Before I could answer my 6 yr old piped up. “Because it is a shower. Get it? A shower. Who wants to go see a bunch of girls showering? ”

“That’s stupid, why don’t they shower at home?” the 5 year old responded.

“I don’t know. Girls just like to have parties and shower together.” the know-it-all 6 year old said.

I didn’t have the heart to set them straight, mostly because no one was bugging me to come along anymore, such was their revulsion.

One day they will figure it out on their own that it is the kind of stupid party men would like to have.

Posted by Chris @ 9:34 am | 23 Comments  

25 Easy Steps:

February 24, 2006

How To Take A Trip To The Restroom With A Two Year Old

1) Take the elevator to the floor in the store that has the bathroom and is, of course, different from the one you are shopping on

2) Walk through the little girl department where your child insists she needs several pocketbooks, a noisy baby toy, and a pair of pink capri pants that are 2 sizes too large

3) Stand patiently, and go to your happy place, while your two year old opens the door to the rest room ALL BY HERSELF, a door which is too heavy for her and requires you to wait for five minutes while she screams, beats on the door, and berates anyone who tries to help her. Then she will finally grant you the privilege of opening the door for her. It’s a privilege, don’t forget it.

4) Upon entering the restroom she insists on singing loudly to hear the echo

5) Then will begin the dancing portion of the event, in front of the full length mirror while you try to convince the her that taking off all of her clothing is not an option

6) She must check every bathroom stall before picking an acceptable one

7) Then change her mind
8) She will loudly wonder what the people in the other stalls are doing and try to peer under the stall door to see for herself.

9) She will scream “FART” when she hears the inevitable , while you chant, “happy place, happy place” to yourself

10) You will put toilet paper all over the toilet seat, while trying to prevent her from touching the “little garbage can” in the stall

11)You pick her up to put her on the toilet, which activates the automatic flusher

12) All the toilet paper falls into the water and is sucked away, while your child screams hysterically at the sound of the whirling vortex of terror she is sure will suck her down the toilet next. If only…

13)Repeat the toilet paper process, while she does the pee-pee dance and screams, “I not have to go”

14) She will now refuse to sit on the toilet papered seat, forcing you to hold her over the bowl while she dangles from your hair

15) Realize that those child birth classes you took long long ago were actually in preparation for moments like this. Practice lamaze breathing as your back begins to cramp

16) Eventually, she pees on back of her shirt and your shoe. This will cause her unimaginable amounts of angst. You, on the other hand, are just glad that you are wearing absorbent socks.

17) Exit the stall and head over to the sinks to wash your hands, where you discover that the sinks have some sort of new fangled faucet that requires you to push the handle with one hand in order to make the water come out. How is handwashing with one hand even possible? Additionally, you are holding your child with one hand and can not seem to locate your third hand. Where is that third hand, dammit?!?

18) Feel confident enough to shout out to anyone who is listening, “This was obviously invented by a man WITH NO CHILDREN!”

19) Hold daughter up to the hand dryers to try and dry off the back of her shirt where she peed on it.

20) She doesn’t like the hand dryers and lets you know by kicking you in the mouth.

21) The taste of blood tells you it is time to exit the restroom.

22) Reverse the process to get back to the section of the store where you were shopping. Once there, pick up exactly one item off of the clothing rack to examine before your daughter says, “I need to go pee.”

23) Heave a heavy sigh, say a few expletives through your smiling clenched teeth, and holding your daughter’s hand head back to the elevator.

step… squish… step… squish… step

24) Scream, “Noooooooo!” when the person getting on the elevator with you attempts to push the floor button himself. Then smile weakly at them in hopes they don’t beat you up when the doors close.

25) Wonder why you were so excited to have your child potty trained

Posted by Chris @ 7:44 am | 49 Comments  

Running On The Inside

February 23, 2006

I really had no idea that people felt so strongly about the name of my blog. To everyone who emailed me venting their disappointment, I say, “I’m sorry. But change is good. Embrace the change. And um, I love you too, even though you frighten me a little.”

Also, the rate I do things it will be a long, L-O-N-G time before anything changes.

Moving on. Yesterday I had another root canal, where I told my endodontist he really should throw this one in for free considering all the work I had given him over the course of the past year. Afterward, he told me not to engage in any aerobic activity or lift anything heavy for the day. He said it would make it hurt more. But did I listen? Did I?

Of course not. Because I was still numb and not feeling anything. And I have a little black dress to wear next month. Also, why would it make it hurt more? I’m tough. I can handle it.

But then after running my jaw began to hurt. It could just be a co incidence, the timing of running and the novacaine wearing off. For me, however, it is just another check mark in the column of why I hate exercise. It still hurts this morning. Today I’ll just be running on the inside. I wonder how effective that will be?

Not to be deterred by my relentless teasing, Rob made up a spreadsheet for the grocery store. Some of the things on the spreadsheet made me laugh, like frozen fish fillets, tartar sauce, and dry gravy… I don’t think I have EVER bought those things. I opened my email on Tuesday afternoon to find this along with the request that I add the items we need to the list:


Rob went to the grocery store that night and drew a schematic of the store, with the aisles and food items listed in the aisle where they would be found, in the order that he walks through the store. I thought he was going to have to spend the night there it took so long.

He is finishing up working on it and is then going to print it off and hang it on the refrigerator. Which seems great, in theory. But given the way that things get ruined or disappear in this house, coupled with my laziness, I don’t think it will be long before the grocery list is scribbled with crayon on the back of a random used envelope.

I know it pains my husband that I can’t be as anal retentive as he is. Maybe I’ll change. Change is good, right?

Posted by Chris @ 8:15 am | 28 Comments  

Motherhood: Where The Insurgents Wear Diapers

February 22, 2006

I have to admit something that has been bothering me since the Frey story came to light.

My house is not yellow.

There I have said it. Shocking, I know. I am sure many of you feel duped, misled,because you related to me as the owner of a YELLOW house. In fact, my house is Linen White.

Somehow that did not have the same ring to it.

When I picked the blog name I really didn’t give it much thought. I had opened up the blogger page. Clicked where it said create your own blog and typed in the first thing that came to mine. In retrospect it is probably an unconscious theft from Bear in the Big Blue House.

For about 9 months now I have been thinking of moving away from blogger and setting up a new domain name. Althought the name choices seem endless, they are not. In fact every single domain name that I thought of and thought it was so clever and original is already taken. That would include thebigyellowhouse dot com, dot net, dot biz and variations thereof.

I enlisted friends, who were not all that helpful… you know who you are no need to single you out for public humiliation. And in another rash moment I bought a domain name.


But, no sooner had I replaced my credit card into my wallet, I realized that I hated it.

When it popped into my head I thought it was sort of funny. A play off of the old lady who lived in the shoe.. You know, the one with too many children? The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t want to define myself that way.

I do love shoes. But yellow shoes… not so much.

I thought it might grow on me. Unfortunately, my post purchase remorse continued to grow.

All I could picture was a cartoon shoe with little cartoon children and a cartoon old lady. I hate cartoons. It’s the reason I have never been able to sit through an episode of the Simpsons, Family Guy, or whatever those other cartoons for grown ups are called. In the interest of full disclosure, I also don’t like unicorns, rainbows, fairies, or any of that mystical make believe Lord of the Rings type stuff. Moving along.

Today while I was driving home from the dentist, why yes I do live there, I thought of a domain name that I like. I also thought of taglines I liked. I was certain that it would already be taken. I rummaged through the car and my pocketbook for a pen and scrawled my idea on the back of my hand, just so I would not forget. Oddly, I have lots of fabulous ideas when I don’t have a pen and paper handy and within moments I promptly forget them all. I should start wearing a pen around my neck like old people do with their glasses.

I almost drove my car off the road in my quest for a pen, but it was worth it because no one else had picked the domain name. It was all mine. And faster than you can say American Express I bought it up.

And so, the big yellow house will be packing up. I am trying to decide what to pack and move, what to toss, and what price I can get for the god awful tsotchke we got as a wedding present and have been dragging around ever since.

There I go lying again. I have no wedding gift tsotchkes since we eloped and no one bought us a darn thing. We have no one to blame for the ugly crap in our house, but ourselves.

Motherhood Unmasked: notes from the trenches (notesfromthetrenches.com)

right now it just redirects you here.

Tell me how much you love it. If you don’t, well keep that to yourself.

I hate to disappoint, but I have no dentist stories for today. I did nothing to embarass myself. I’ll try harder next time, I promise.

Posted by Chris @ 3:56 pm | 48 Comments  

Things I Have Learned Today

February 21, 2006

1) Exercise is hazardous to your health. When you are running on your treadmill and your children start fighting near you, turning to yell at them will result in you misstepping and falling. You will be flung off of the back of the treadmill and the ear phones will be ripped out of your son’s Ipod. As you lay broken on the floor, your son will rush to the aid of his Ipod.
Also, the black and blue bruises will match your new black dress perfectly and giving the entire ensemble a level of classiness you never could have imagined.

2)You can not turn your music up loud enough to mask the screams of a two year old. Unless you turn it up so loud as to cause your eardrums to burst. In which case you will rendered deaf. Not that it would necessarily be a bad thing.

3) Before telling yourself that you will run until the next song is finished it would be wise to know how long the next song is. I can run a half a mile to Californication by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. I didn’t really want to. The song kept going on and on and I was screaming in my head, “Just shut-up already, Anthony” alternating with “God, I hate exercising”

4) Similarly, singing out loud to this song while trying to run will result in a sound that resembles a wounded sheep and will cause your family to gather ’round and stare at you, slack jawed. They will imitate you later on.

5)As much as I like my large, relatively speaking, nursing boobs they are a pain, literally, when trying to run. And running while holding them in place is not very easy for the uncoordinated like me. (see number 1 above) Thank God I run inside my house where no one can see me feeling myself up.

6) I have a new body part to fixate my hatred upon… I have deformed ears. The reason I know this is that the ipod earbuds will not stay put inside my ears when I run. I have not noticed any one else having this problem.

7) Bladder control is something I should have appreciated more. In fact I think that might be my new tagline, Gaining A New Appreciation For Bladder Control. Too much information? Yeah, I thought so.

Posted by Chris @ 8:00 am | 37 Comments  

Does This Count As Justifiable Homicide?

Murder Committed Over Toliet Paper

And my family thinks I over react when they leave the empty cardboard tube in the bathroom.

Posted by Chris @ 6:41 am | 5 Comments  

My Kingdom For A Burkha

February 20, 2006

Yesterday I went to the mall to try and find something to wear to my niece’s wedding next month. My criteria were simple. Must be able to whip out the boobs for nursing without having to lift the entire dress over my head, as that is still socially unacceptable in most circles. That was about it. I was open to anything else.

As luck would have it, all the holiday party dresses were on clearance. So I gathered up all the ones I could find in my size, that weren’t too ugly, too skimpy, too garish, or too old lady like, and headed into the dressing room, my 1 yr old and 2 yr old in tow.

Here is where I think stores go wrong. What is with that bright fluorescent lighting that highlights every single body flaw and makes your skin appear sallow and as if you have been living in a dark cave with no exposure to sunshine for at least a decade? Wouldn’t stores sell way more clothing if the dressing rooms were lit by, say, candlelight? Everyone looks good by candle light.

Or even better, pitch black darkness with just a tiny hand mirror to look in.

And now, thanks to my two year old,everyone in the dressingroom store entire mall knows the color of my underwear, the fact that I don’t have a Brazilian, and they are all wondering what the “that” refers to when my daughter screamed, “why does your stomach look like that?”

I picked out a dress that I hated the least and figured if I didn’t eat from now until next month I might be happy with how it looks. It didn’t have a price tag on it, so I had no idea how much it cost. The rest of the dress were clearanced down to around $75, give or take a few. Then they all were an additional 20% off for the President’s Day Sale. I assumed this dress would be right around there also. The sales girl went off with the dress and when she came back she told me she would sell it to me for $14.99. I congratulated myself for my mad bargain hunting skills. Also, I professed my love for the dress and vowed to buy some hand weights.

But now began the quest for a bra to wear with this dress. It requires a strapless bra.I have never owned a strapless bra. I always worried it would slip down around my waist and end up looking like a loose belt, or worse yet, bring my boobs down there with it. I still am unsure about the whole thing as I don’t quite understand what is going to hold it up in place where it belongs. These here are working boobs. They are tired from all their work and like to have some support.

At this point, my daughter was going to DIE if she did not have a sugar coated pretzel like some people she saw behind us at the cash register line. So we exited Filene’s and bought some crack sugar coated pretzels. They were so yummy, and also so calorie laden that I will need to run non stop from now until the wedding to burn them off. Yes, them. I couldn’t let the one my daughter didn’t finish go to waste. Or my son’s either.

So if you are wondering where I am, I am running my ass off, literally.

By popular demand, here is a photo of the dress:

The Dress

I still need some new shoes. My black heels are circa 1999, and as much as I try to convince myself that they are still stylish, they are not.

Posted by Chris @ 11:20 am | 37 Comments  

Smartass Is More Like It

February 18, 2006

After having a heated “discussion” with my eleven year old, in which he insisted his stupid ridiculous thoughts on alien abductions were undeniably true and refused to hear any evidence to the contrary, I said:

“You know what, I wish I was half as smart as I thought I was when I was eleven years old.”

“Yes, but the difference is I am smarter than you.”

Who is this kid? And what kind of price could I get for him on ebay?

Posted by Chris @ 7:40 pm | 16 Comments