Little B's Worlds Records (while on vacation at Granny and Grandpa's house)
The time it takes to throw every toy into the center of Granny and Grandpa's house climbing the pile screaming and thereby declaring it fully wrecked
The time it takes to trap baby sister under a milk crate when mommy goes to the potty
The time it takes to proudly knock baby sister down when she stands for the first time
The amount of time I can chant "Mommy I need my bobo (pacifier)" at 4:30am proudly waking everyone in the household
The amount of time it takes to declare "I have to potty" after being strapped into the car seat and rolling down the driveway with a car full of people
13 times per 24 hrs.
The amount of times I can give Granny the Mommy never feeds me look resulting in cookies cheese sticks or yummy fruit roll ups mommy would never give me at home.
The number of steps in Granny and Grandpa's house that I would love to shove baby sister down when she gets the aww sound for doing something I can totally do.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Little B's Worlds Records (while on vacation at Granny and Grandpa's house)
Thursday, August 28, 2008
My Dad and Susie’s Dad are first cousins and Susie and I go back a rather long way. I have a photo somewhere of her Dad holding me as a baby, under one arm and my Dad holding her under one arm..quite casually ..as if we were groceries. There are no other parental figures around which is not a good sign as our Dads were constantly ‘up to no good’. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were just about to play some prank where in public they would pretend to be meeting for the first time and then decide to swap babies.
‘What does your do?’
‘Not much yet..but if you feed it it might eventually start talking. It’s a bit expensive though.’
‘Mines a bit heavy…want to swap?’
Once, when Susie and I were about 7 years old, I stayed over at their house in Golders Green in London. In the morning her Dad asked us what we wanted for breakfast. We, having been up all night working on our naughtiness, began to shout lunatic orders at him. ‘We want..apples! And we want..chicken! And we want..coke! And we want…pickles! And we want…..chocolate! And we want ….whiskey!’ This last from me in a true attempt to shock him. A seven year old demanding whiskey for breakfast? I thought he would faint but oh nooo, not Susie’s dad. Five minutes later, without batting an eyelid, he had purloined everything we had requested from the fridge and set it up on the breakfast table instead of our usual cereal and toast. He’d even, to Susie’s mum’s consternation, tipped drops of whiskey into tiny glasses. Then he insisted we ate ..everything. I laughed so much I stopped making any sound….just lay on the floor clutching my stomach in silent uproar. And that was breakfast!
I loved staying with them.
Susie has her Dad’s sense of the ridiculous and her Mum’s thoughtful intellect. Both attributes as I am sure you can see from her posts have been essential in her survival as career mum and blogger.
I flew over the pond from Cambridge UK recently to see see Susie in New York and her folks took the train down from Philly for the day. Susie’s dad has transferred his fabulous and lunatic parenting skills to grand-parenting skills. He and B form an irrepressible ,hyper energised vortex while the serene baby S looks on with her lovely azure eyes. After decimating a seafood restaurant we traverse Chelsea with Susie’s dad haring off with B, shrieking with joy, in the push chair and Susie’s mum trying to guide me (I am visually impaired and use my cane..especially in New York where it doubles as light sabre) and point out relevant architecture at the same time.
Susie’s other half has long since gone back to work..with what looked strangely like relief to me.
We arrive back at the apartment looking as if we have just been battling tornados but there is still something called ‘bath time’ to get through. I am handed a glass of wine and told to stand well back and Susie’s dad rolls up his sleeves and wades in (literally) to douse B whilst Susie tackles the baby.
Half an hour later Susie’s dad is asleep on a chair, still soggy but blanketed in towels. B and S, pristinely clean and fresh nappied (sorry diapered) are asleep in bed and cot, Susie’s mum and the dog are out shopping for biodegradable trash bags and finally Susie and I sit, in the sudden calm, side by side on the couch and sip wine.
‘Have you ever thought about having kids?’ she asks.
I look around at the blasted room littered with towels, clean diapers, pacifiers, toys and snoring grandparent.
‘Not recently’, I say.
‘No kidding!’ she says. ‘More wine?’
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Since Labor Day is coming up I thought I would do a tribute to some the wonderful jobs I have been fired from though out the years. Please take my hand and join me for this wonderful trip down memory lane where you're fired is more than a catch phrase.
I was an ironing girl where I worked in a dank windowless basement with a hot press. I was surrounded by women who looked like life had just sucked the souls out of them all. Oddly enough I loved this job. I loved seeing the wrinkly clothes get nice and smooth. I loved it so much I sang. Yes I sung show tunes at the top of my lunges and apparently unless you are singing one of those galley songs from Ben Hur the soulless troupes who inhabited that basement just didn't like it. They glared at me with their beady red eyes wincing at the light I brought to the basement with my cheerful tunes. I mean who doesn't like to hear Oh What A Beautiful Morning at 7am? .....they didn't so I was fired.
I was fired from being a go-go girl. Yes, I danced in a night club. (Slutty huh?) We were told to dress in skimpy clothing so I showed up in a full dress that went down to my ankles and up to my neck. I danced like a goth (I was pretty darn gothy at the time) waving my arms wildly and putting my hand to my forehead in mock gothy grief. I thought I was being sexy but apparently I was being just sort of strange so ...yup I was fired.
I was also a coat check girl. I worked at a fancy theater. One night in the middle of the allergy season I got a terrible nose bleed. It was the end of the night and hundreds of patrons came rushing out to get their coats. As I handed an old lady her fur coat the tissue I had shoved up my nose to stop the bleeding came loose. They thought I was making a statement for Peta I was actually making a statement for Clariten. So by by coat check girl.
Thank you for joining me on this trip down the lane of jobs I have lost. You may ask, "Suzie are you ashamed? Being fired is pretty awful." No I say No! I will continue to hold my head high and say yes I have been fired not once not twice but a whole bunch of times and yes they were pretty awful job to begin with. But so what? What makes you so great? Who do you think you are anyway? Sigh....
Monday, August 25, 2008
On Friday we took a class trip to the aquarium. I hate these trips. I know they are great for the kids and families but as an administrator I get all sweaty just thinking about them. My mother put the fear into me with stories of her teaching days as she lost a child on the subway (the child was found later at his home he had apparently taken the subway back to his house). On trips I count kids like someone with OCD. And taking the subway with two classes of 3-5 year old ages me about the same amount. But I went.
The trip involved a long long subway ride to get to the fish house. I spent the ride counting compulsively and stopping children from licking various parts of the subway car. Everywhere I looked a child was absent mindly licking something, poles, windows even seats. My son of course was a repeat offender licking everything while sporting a big black smudge on his moth and nose.
We got there and had a pretty nice time. We saw fishies and penguins it was all a lot of fun. It was hot though and by the time we left everyone was pretty whiny and tired (the kids were too).
We walked back to the subway were greeted with one of those gates that looks a little like a cheese grater we all groaned preparing ourselves for an unpleasant entrance to the train. One of the parents walked through and opened the door for the kids to make thing easier. An alarm went off. The next thing I knew all the parents and kids were jumping the turn style and going through the gate(I paid! I'm no vagrant) Suddenly two police officers came running down the stairs. They looked at us with squinty knowing eyes.
I went into panic mode. I saw all of us, kids included, being handcuffed and taken downtown. I saw kiddy mug shots. I saw the six o'clock news headline:
Who steered them wrong? Who's to blame? Was it this woman?
More at 6.
I broke into a flop sweat. Just when I was ready to confess and turn in everyone else (I paid after all) the train came. I gathered all my hooligans and shoved them quickly on the train. As I pried my sons tongue off the plastic subway seat I took a deep breath and vowed never again to take one of these rotten trips .
Friday, August 22, 2008
After careful preparation by a licensed winner picking guy (my son) the winner has been chosen at random (I named my desk random by the way) get ready here goes
And the winner for an all expense payed trip for two to the Caribbean to spend a weekend with a naked Justin Timberlake on his own private yacht goes too....
And the winner who will have a year's worth of maid, nanny, and home bar tending service is...
Nope not right either...
And the winner of three lousy DVD...sorry I mean wonderful terrific Baby Einstein DVD's is..
Erica at Mom's Journal
Yes Erica you are the proud winner of three DVD's guaranteed to give you at least enough time to go the the potty while your child is mesmerized by these DVD's.
Now the question you have all been waiting for "Suzie do you feel cheep ho-ing yourself for comments? Do you feel dirty? Do you feel ashamed?"
And the answer is...
NO No I feel great! I feel rich and sassy! I have so many comments I'm swimming in them. Weee!!!!! I'm a Ho and I don't care!!!
Now please be sure to comment (I'm sick I know it) and have a great weekend.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Today I am out of bloggy ideas I tried I wrote and wrote and erased and wrote. I mean I'm at work people. This is too much pressure!!! I need a manicure and a massage not an empty blog page saying do it write on me be creative be funny. I hate you empty blog page! Why do you say create on top? Its like a taunt! I am trying! I am! But I am only human. I cant I cant I have nothing left to give...sob...sob...
Ok so in honor of my nothing to say day I turn to google. Thank goodness for google and the wakey people and perverts who use you daily. According to google not only do I have nothing to say but I tend to say it in quiet a random way. I mean look at how people found my bloggy goodness on a keyword search:
why does my pup lick his paws and butt
poem for crabby hubby
bad bugs killer
how to make bad bug go away
how to get rid of water bugs
getting rid of my scale
how do you know when you've lost yourself?
dog leaves wet spot at night
water bug killer
And my all time favorite :
big wet butts in high hills
Hmmm...... strange. I seem to be obsessed with bugs and dogs. Who knew. I don't recall writing about big wet butts in high hills but who knows I feel like Ive been blogging since I was a wee lass or at least since last year so it could have happened.
So if you came here for big wet butts in high hills you are outta luck. Its just little me hoping for comments and maybe a little love and some peanuts and maybe a frozen Margaretta.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
What do you do when you run out of in the middle of the night?
I've heard of using
Sometimes in parenting you need to be creative but some things just do not work such as:
and its not for lack of trying!
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
I was walking down the street and heard someone say , "You're born alone you die alone." I got so angry wanted to stop and yell "What you crazy man? Are you nuts? Who is born alone? Wasn't your mom somewhere in this birth scenario? In fact I guarantee being born is as not alone as you can get you ungrateful person now go call your mom and apologise" Its just like moms are invisible and don't count at all.
There are signs all over.
Do mom's get recognized for 15-48 hours of labor on their child's birthday?
Are stretch marks the new sexy must have appearing in all the fashion magazines?
Are leaky nipples a status symbol?
Well why the hell not?
Since writing this blog I have heard such tales from the pit it would make your head spin.
Who gets so tired staying up with the baby they mistake their husband shaving cream for toothpaste?
Who wrangled, pantie liners, moths, condom wrappers and toilet soaked toothbrushes from their children's mouths?
Who improvised using a sanitary napkin and a pair of Speedos for protection for their baby's new pink dress when they ran out of diapers?
And what about my own mother? A great woman, very smart, lovely and very forgiving mother. Very very forgiving and so so great. So forgiving in fact that she would totally not hold a small comment made innocently on another's blog against her own daughter. Who is so secure in her daughters love and admiration that she would not get upset even if it stated something like "I know I just spent a week with my mother and it will take weeks to get over it." A mom who would laugh and throw back her arms and say "thats my silly daughter". Now that is a mom truly a mom worthy of praise.
So lets hear it for mothers(and my own wonderful forgiving mommy)! We are truly the superheros of the universe deserving of praise and lots of money and a few first class tickets to the Bahamas. Go Moms! (I'm so ashamed)
Monday, August 18, 2008
This weekend we went to the park as all city families are forced to do by that rotten family guilt fairy who loves to make you do things that kids love and parents hate
Hubby and I entered the park (or as we call it the time warp, life sucking, place where all light and joy are funneled out its wrought iron gates) Little B entered Nirvana (i.e. the park)where petting unicorns and swinging by his feet on bars made of candy canes is an every day experience. Little S apparently entered a buffet of yummy filth and grime.
If you haven't figured it out already we aren't those kind of parents that monitor a child's every move. We are jaded second time parents who assume a kid will get into some trouble another words were too tired and sleep deprived to keep a really good eye on our little darlings.
An old lady who was sitting behind us first alerted us to Little S's first trip to the buffet as she shouted "Hey your baby has some old chewing gum in her mouth!" In horror and some slight annoyance I thanked her and shoved my finger into her mouth (the baby not the old lady) and removed an old nasty piece of grape gravel covered bubble gum.
I sat back again staring into space hoping time would move along faster or a cart filled with frozen cocktails pushed by greased up mute muscle men would mysteriously appear before me. When again the old lady piped up , "Hey your baby is eating an old band aid." I hoped up and again shoved my finger into her mouth. S yelled in anger reciting baby law number #32 section c. which clearly states that any old band aids found by said baby were clearly hers for the eating.
I sat back again keeping more of an eye on the old lady than the baby knowing in my heart of hearts it was only a matter of time before I heard , Hey lady your baby is eating a : an old toe nail (this one did happen no kidding it was a big one too) cigarette butt, baby wipe, doll head and or crack vile.
Crumbling under the pressure of the old lady's stare I made an executive decision and decided the scum buffet, Nirvana land, life sucking time warp park had served its purpose. We were all tired out hot cranky and filled with lots of trash. Taking the crack pipe from S's little hands and giving the guilt fairy a smack our little troop went on to greener pastures and had a healthy dinner at old Mc Donald's instead.
Friday, August 15, 2008
You guys are great. I am sitting here with a warm Dr.Pepper with lemonade eating fire balls and snubbing the NyQuil that no longer contains the good stuff. My throat still hurts but I do feel very loved.
I have decided one of the reasons my sore throat is only marginally better is due to distinct lack of chicken soup. When I was a kid I hated the stuff. My Dad used to make it for me as a child it always looked green and slimy although in retrospect I'm sure it was delicious. The problem was it was not Campbell's. I would desperately wish for the canned stuffed with its lily white noodles and salty broth. But chicken soup equalled love in my family so no canned stuff for me.
My Grandmother in Israel used to make it too. I would beg for some canned stuff but she poop pooed that idea instead I would receive real chicken soup. Nothing was more real than her soup. It was in fact more like a reality show soup than a chicken soup but that's the way Grandma rolled. This is her recipe:
1. Go to the nasty chicken farm pick a live chicken and grab it by the feet.
2. Take the live chicken on the bus. Give nasty looks to everyone who does not want to sit next to a very unhappy, doomed, bird
3. Go to the kosher butcher. Not just any kosher butcher thee kosher butcher. The butcher who can out kosher the kosherest butcher. Lets call him Super Kosher butcher man.
4. Watch Super Kosher Butcher Man kill the bird because who knows if he'll slip up and do something not...well..kosher
5. Get back on bus. Give nasty looks to anyone who does not want to sit next to an old lady holding a dead bird.
6. Pluck bird assuring everyone this can be done without glasses. No really I can see just fine.
7. Throw whole bird into soup ignoring the feather floating on the top.
8. Stir by grabbing onto feet.
9. Serve with pride!
Grandma did fill that soup with love...and feather... and chicken feet... somehow I could never get past the yuck factor to get a really good taste of the stuff but it sure gave you an incentive not to get sick.
Forget the soup I think I'll just stick to the Dr. Pepper instead.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
I no longer feel like an empress or the bell of the ball (although 33 comments yesterday weeeeeeee I do feel a little royal). But I also feel sick. I feel like a big ball of sick. I want some soup, some hot tea and my mommy. My ears hurt so does my throat and I'm so achy. I just wanna put my head down and whine and whine.
I know I've already mentioned this in my WW but I would love love some NyQuil. I remember being sick and taking that little cup of green nasty liquid and immediately falling on my face in a full out NyQuil stupor and waking up oddly refreshed and nowhere near as achy. But alas nursing and NyQuil do not mix. I imagine if I did take it my milk would immediately become green and minty my Little S would fall into a stupor of her own and while tempting (I bet I would get a full night sleep) it's a no go.
I told Little B I was not feeling well and that my throat hurt so I would not be doing much talking he responded with, "Why does your throat hurt mommy? Huh? Why? Why does it hurt? How did you hurt it? You can't talk? Why can't you talk? Huh? Why? Why cant you? Huh? Mommy? Huh?" Until I shrieked in my very patient and caring motherly way. "CAUSE I"M SICK!!!..umm..honey." Thus causing my throat to spontaneously bleed and sending me into spasms of pain.
So I guess I'm stuck parenting and working today with what seems like the flu. If you get a moment could you please get me a cup of tea with honey or a hot toddy would be great. I would get it myself but I don't know if I've mentioned this but I just don't feel good.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Oh OH Oh! So many comments. My precious my comments. I'm all a flutter. I can barely blog through all the greedy laughter all of your comments have created. I now realize I am one of the in crowd, I am one of the cool kids yes maybe I am empress of the BLOG WORLD!!!!!!! Yes I may have had to bribe some of you to comment promising you the riches of Baby Einstein DVDs but no matter it does not tarnish this moment. I AM JUST SO COOL.
I have tried to convince my family of this. As little S sits in the dog water bowl getting ready to drop the TV remote in the water I shout "Little baby do you know who I am? It is I Suzie the cool gal who got 29 comments yesterday. Please do not drop that TV remote in the dog bowl. Did you not read the Laundress's comment who said "I am not commenting because I want the giveaway...I'm commenting because I think you are frickin' hysterical!" You would think that would stop her in her tracks and cause her to gaze in awe at her wonderfully commentful mother. But she just laughed and dropped the remote.
My son who should really appreciate the wonder that is me has not veered away at all from riding the dog around the house or smearing yogurt all over the couch even when confronted with the comment from Vered "You KNOW I would leave a comment on your blog regardless of a giveaway!" I mean that proves I'm cool right?
Even my Hubby who can even read the comments has not picked up his smelly socks or taken out the garbage even when confronted with Sara's comment "Me, me pick me..........PICK ME"
Heathens all of them just wait until I rule the blog universe then they shall see yes then they shall see. (Please insert maniacal laughter here)
Monday, August 11, 2008
I love pizza and martinis. I love rainbows and sunsets and to hell with all that I love comments. Yes I am a ho for comments. I looked today and 45 comments (thank you all for your wonderful birthday wishes) and my heart soared. I love comments. Comments make me feel all warm and fuzzy. Comments make me feel like I could fly. Comments ahh comments. So to enable my comment obsession I am doing a giveaway. Why for money for riches for fame? Nope for comments. So I can feel I am not alone on this swirling planet we call earth. So I can feel like the cool kids from high school have allowed me to sit at their table during lunch. So I can feel like Paula, Simon and Randy have let me go to the next round. Yes comments make my world go round.
You might say to yourself hey how did this obsession happen to a smart gal like you? I say hey back off! Don't judge me! Who do you think you are anyway?
Yes I'm shameless so I will be doing a Suzie is a Ho for Comments Give Away. All you need do is leave a comment at this post and you can win three
Friday, August 8, 2008
I'm as old as can be
I'm older than Britteny
and snoop do-o-gy
OK actually my birthday is tomorrow but as I don't blog on weekends I thought I would celebrate it bloggy style today (hee hee that sounds dirty). B and I are making blue (yuck) cupcakes tomorrow ( I plan to eat at least three) and hubby and I will have a dinner out. I'm the kind of gal that loves being sung to in restaurants the louder the better as it helps to drown out the sound of old age approaching.
Well make yourself at home and don't forget to leave a present on the way out.
What? What is this? Is this my new template loaded? I am so happy I could cry. I love you blogger I do. You may have lost my blog roll and all my awards even though I saved them and I did spend the last 72 hours doing nothing but trying to load the new template but who cares! You are sexy, inelegant and such a gentleman. What a wonderful blogspot you are.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
ARGHHHHHH!!!!!! My template has gone crazy!!!! It's making me nuts. I tried to load a new one. It was so pretty. It worked for one second and them boom, gone. No more.
Oh Blogger I tried you in explorer, safari and still you will not load my template. I have erased all my widgets. I have sung you songs taken you out to dinner, combed your hair, given you marshmallows and still you rotten blog spot you refuse to work! Why why wont you work you rotten blogger why??????????? Did I tell you it is my birthday on Saturday? Does that help? No? Well I hate you too.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
It's all fault
I had big plans. I had a new template it was
I was so excited!!!
I felt I was finally enough to pull it off.
I went to post and got I tried again and got and yet again
all I can say is
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Yesterday I was making dinner and the baby was sitting outside of the gate playing with an empty old picture frame. She was cooing happily and waving the frame around. I was humming a tune feeling all was good in the world. I walked into the living room and put Little S into her high chair and saw what appeared to be red magic marker all over her hand. On closer inspection I saw it was not marker but blood.
I ran her into the bathroom cleaned it up and saw she indeed did have cuts on her hands. She cooed happily and splashed in the water. I went into nurse mommy mode and grabbed a tissue pressing it on her chubby little fingers hoping to stop the bleeding. My happy little baby went into angry little baby mode and fought and kicked and screeched. B looked up from his Blues Clues trance asked me what I was doing and I calmly explained while wrestling my little angle I was putting pressure on her cuts to stop the bleeding.
B got up with blankie trailing behind went to the bathroom returned with a tissue grabbed my high pitched frenzied baby's hand and applied pressure. S went silent she looked into her brothers eyes and began to coo. B said "elbow please" (he rubs my elbow raw when he is nervous) and rubbed my elbow while nursing his sisters wounds. When he was done he handed me the bloody tissue stuck his pacifier in his mouth and resumed watching Blues Clues.
Ahhh my little hero.
Monday, August 4, 2008
I woke up this morning and discovered my bra smelled a lot like an Italian sausage? Obviously I was disturbed. I thought it best to retrace my steps to see how and when this occured.
Well I did go to a party last night. I can't remember the last time I went to a party with real grown ups who talked about real grown up things like...well I can't remember what grown ups talk about but I do know it didn't involve Elmo or Thomas the Tank Engine. I was nervous about going. It was a dinner party and I wasn't sure if I could refrain from cutting other peoples food and wiping peoples faces. Plus my hubby was staying home to "babysit" so I was on my own.
I got to the party after a surprisingly calm subway ride (no frantic searching for potties in the underground) and felt a little rusty doing the whole conversing thing. I kept catching myself moving glasses away from the corners of tables and hiding matches lest anyone play with them and set the house on fire. The dinner was pasta with fresh spicy Italian sausage (WAIT A MINUTE!!). I had a glass of wine (maybe two) while the hostess cooked. I ended up feeling a little cooked myself. By the time the food was done I was regaling the party goers with tales about my three day labor with little S and the wonders of epidurals. I looked at my watch and it was 9:30 AT NIGHT!!!!! I don't remember the last time I was awake and partying so late! Yes I am a party animal! Watch out!
However as I look back on this crazy night of 2 glasses of wine, going to bed at 10pm debauchery and pasta I have no recollection of dancing on any tables with a sausage (that sounds bad doesn't it?) and I certainly have no recollection of stuffing any sausages in my bra.
I guess its a mystery best left unsolved.
Friday, August 1, 2008
I am very very tired. S was up at 4am to watch early morning infomercials and have a little sip of boob juice. Afterwards she stretched out let go a big fart and went back to sleep.
I climbed back into bed with an hour and half left to sleep and thoughts of the super vac and bow flex in my head and started to drift back to sleep. Suddenly I felt a hurricane of wind strike me from the side. My hubby's c-pack mask (a device for people with sleep apnea that causes a high pressure of air to go in ones nostrils to control breathing) came loose. I yelled above the rushing air "Honey fix your mask". He gave me a thumb up sign and fell back asleep. I pulled myself against the torrid of air and tried to adjust the mask myself. Finally I got it.
I curled back up and closed my eyes and again was hit with force of wind knocking me against the head board. Apparently he had turned over and pried it loose. I yelled "Honey please the c-pack please." Again the thumbs up sign and no move to adjust anything. My hair whipping in the wind I crawled across the bed and stuck my fingers in his nose. He woke up horrified. "Your C-pack" I stammered "please". He rolled over furiously and stuck the mask back on.
I laid back down again. Ahh 45 min left to sleep. If I could just SLURP SLURP SLURP...... Yes my neurotic dog had started licking his butt and whoosh the air hit us both knocking me off the bed and into my already crazy dog.
Needless to say I am very tired and we are now the proud owners of a Time Life collection of 80's love songs and 32 bottom of the foot detox patches.