Category Archives: Piecing it Together

April Foolery

The delight MP took in April Fool’s Day this year has me smiling from ear to ear.

She started a day early, without warning, telling me I had a spider in my ear. She was so convincing, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Later, she spent the night telling me all the jokes she was going to play on her friends. The kid could barely contain herself.

Fast forward 12 hours to early this morning. I awake to the sound of her running to the bathroom.


“What.” Eyes closed. Dazed.


“What??” Eyes open. Half awake.


Heavy sigh. Awake.

Dragging myself out of bed, I find MP sitting on the potty. Smiling.

“APRIL FOOL’S!!! Heheheheheh”


Forty minutes later, she emerged from her room, dressed and ready to go to school. The best part of the outfit? The Gem Show “Dealer” badge and blue ribbon combo — a remnant of the rock show with Bobo last year at the fairgrounds. I hadn’t seen the thing since the day of the show.

“Oh. You’re going to wear the badge today?”

“Mmm hmmm. It’s an April Fool’s! Everyone will think I’m going to a science fair! Heheheheh.”

Rock that Geek Style, Girlfriend.


Filed under Piecing it Together

Some day, her prince will come. Let’s hope he’s a mind reader.

MP has started getting up at 5 a.m. This is a relatively new development, beginning without rhyme or reason, about two weeks ago. This, in and of itself, is an incredible drag. Add to it the fact that Mommypie’s not getting to bed until 3 a.m. most mornings (late, late, long distance phone calls with The Boy) and you have one crabby mama. Not to mention an exhausted, overly-emotional nearly-5-year-old.

Case in point — this morning, after fighting the good fight as best I could on two hours sleep, and losing pathetically, I gave up, raised a white flag, and let MP watch cartoons. I went back to bed. I overslept. I managed to pry my eyes open at 8:30, at which point I shot out of bed and emerged from my room in a panic, making a beeline for the shower.

Five minutes later, I’m lathering, I’m rinsing, and I hear a tiny, high pitched series of whimpers most definitely meant to get my attention. I peek from around the curtain and see MP sitting on the bathroom floor, in tears.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Brace yourself.

“You just walked right past me, and I didn’t even get a HUG.”

(Pouty, arms folded)

“I shouldn’t have to TELL you to give me a hug.”

(Higher pitch. Definitely louder.)

“You should just KNOW I need one!”


She’s such a chick.


Filed under Piecing it Together

Hostess with the Mostess I am not.

So, a few weeks ago, I thought I’d try something completely new and organize a real-time, online swap meet on Swap Mamas. It was scheduled for this past Saturday. However, I’ve spent every spare minute each night on the phone with The Boy, and Saturday night was no different. While the two of us talked, I tried to log into the Swap Mama’s Chat Room. And couldn’t get in. Because my computer sucks donkey dookie lately. Some hostess, eh?

The Boy took over for me, entered the Chat Room from his end of the country and struck up a conversation with two of my favorite bloggers, Auds at Barking Mad, and Mrs. Waltz from Waltz in Exile.

While I wish I still had the chat on record, it seems large chunks of it magically disappeared hours later. And never having actually SEEN it myself, my only account is second-hand. I’d love to hear Auds and Waltz’s version (Hear that Doogs? Blog Fodder!). From what I could make out, while I was drowning my frustration in Bud Light, the threeway went something like this.

• Not knowing The Boy’s true identity, Auds and Waltz begin to size him up.

• Auds and Waltz become increasingly suspicious, and ask if The Boy has a blog.

• They ask if he even has kids.

• They wonder out loud if The Boy is trolling.

• The Boy tells them he’s on the phone with me and that I’m trying to get online.

• A&W warm up to The Boy, figuring he must not be TOO creepy.

• Ten minutes of conversation pass. A lightbulb goes off. “They’re figuring it out! They’re figuring it out!” The Boy says.

And suddenly, my online life and my real life collide. The Boy is laughing. I am laughing. I’m pretty sure Auds and Waltz are laughing.

We’re totally busted.

And the next day? The Boy and I did what any couple mad for one another in 2009 does. We changed our Facebook profiles from “Single” to “In a Relationship.”

Yup. It’s official.


Filed under Piecing it Together

Sometimes I’m not sure who the four-year-old is.

MP: You’re weird, Mom.

ME: You’re weirder.

MP: You’re THIS weird. (stretching arms out)

ME: You’re THIS weird. (stretching arms out further)

MP: HOW weird?

ME: You’re weird all the way to the moon.

MP: You’re weird all the way to the North Pole.

ME: You’re weird all the way to another planet.

MP: You’re weird all the way to an ALIEN VACUUM. (jazz hands)


(hysterical laughter)

Two hours later …

MP: Mommy I love you.

ME: I love you too, Sweetheart.

MP: How much do you love me?

ME: I love you all the way to the moon and back.

MP: I love YOU all the way to the planets.

ME: I love YOU all the way to the ALIEN VACUUM!!


MP: Weirdypants.


Filed under Piecing it Together

I have created a monster.

About a month ago, my brother calls me at work to ask how to use Facebook. A few hours later, he calls to say he was getting a flood of Friend Requests. The next day he calls to ask why all these people he didn’t know wanted to be his friend. Twenty-four hours after signing up, he was annoyed and swore he was going to stop accepting random friends.

Forty-eight hours later I received a text. He’d put Facebook on his cell phone. And couldn’t stop Facebooking.

So Monday, I get a text that he needs me to join his Mafia Wars family on FB — which is some kind of annoying FB game he’s already emailed and Facebooked me about — that I totally do NOT get and do NOT want to play.

I text him this:
U have a serious FB problem. Seek help.

He texts back:

I text:
Dude. More FB lingo.

He texts:

Lolol. ROFL. LMAO.

Try this one on for size. DILLIGAF.

I give up.

The phone rings. I answer.


Me: I got nothin’.

Him: Does It Look Like I Give A Fuck!! Bwahaha!

Next day, I’m seated at a board room table with four business associates. My cell rings once. My cell rings twice. I get a text. It’s my brother: Call me.

I, of course, think something must be up. Something serious. I excuse myself, walk to the lobby, and call him back.

Him: Um, I need your help. It’s kind of important.

Me: What?? What is it??

Him: I need you to join my mafia.


Me: Dude. You got me out of a meeting for THAT?!?

Him: Bwahahaha!!

Me: Nice.

Him: C’mon, all you have to do is sign up. I emailed like 30 people — I just need one more!

Me: O. M. G.

Him: (laughing) You just need to come up with a name for yourself.

Me: DILLIGAF. My name is DILLIGAF. I’m having a t-shirt made.

Which, speaking of … remember the Bamboo t-shirt conversation last week? QB actually DID have some t-shirts made. (That’s her below.)




Filed under Piecing it Together

God speaks.

I’m sitting in the livingroom, just outside the bathroom, where MP has been for awhile. She calls to me in her best deep voice.

MP: Hello? Mommypie? This is God speaking.

ME: Hi God.

MP: Your little daughter … has … peed … like … a … boy.

(Mommypie gets up and runs to the bathroom.)

ME: What?!? (scanning the area around the toilet) You didn’t. DID YOU?!?

MP: (smiling) I was just joking.

(Mommypie exhales and exits the bathroom.)

MP: That wasn’t God talking either.


Filed under Piecing it Together, Uncategorized

I knew this day would come.

Sunday morning, MP let me sleep in a little bit while she watched cartoons. When I woke up and emerged from the bedroom, she was shuffling around with the kitchen broom.

I asked her what she was doing and she mumbled something about sweeping up the bathroom. Not sure what she was talking about, I peeked my head in the doorway.

And saw this.

Mounds and mounds of hair.

And when I looked closely, I saw the damage. All in all, I have to say, she did a pretty good job perfecting the Crack Shag. She was SO proud, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Mommy, I did it just the way the Hair Cutter Lady does it! I squirted with this (Johnson’s No More Tangles), just like the lady, then combed it and cut it! Just the way I’m supposed to!”

So last night we made a visit to the Hair Cutter Lady for a little damage control. MP now has a bob.

Which is actually pretty cute.

We have agreed that from now on however, do-it-yourselfers are off limits.


Filed under Piecing it Together

Put it on your list and maybe Santa will bring it.

MP has joined Amway. And while Sarah Palin may be making political history, MP’s making a little history of her own, becoming the youngest sales rep in the history of the organization.

Today when I picked her up at preschool, I found her seated at a table, going through the latest catalog with her classmates and encouraging them to “Think Globally, Act Locally.” And the kids were LISTENING. Hanging on her every word, even. Which TOTALLY blew me away until closer observation revealed they were, in fact, mostly interested in a boy named Jermaine’s elbow scab. Or more accurately, Jermaine’s Scooby Doo BandAid.

When MP spotted me, she stood up and asked if I had change for a twenty. Dazed and confused, I dug into my pockets, barely mustering a weak,”I don’t think …” before she disappeared into the kitchen and promptly returned wheeling a Radio Flyer wagon full of product.

A few teachers began writing checks. Some kid was telling another kid how much his mom loved Amway detergent.

All the way home, it was “Diamond Level” this, “Diamond Level” that. Apparently I’m having a few potential recruits over this weekend. MP says if they join, eventually it’ll boost her numbers. And then we get to go on a cruise!

*drums fingers on table*

Okay, not really. But she DOES have the trademark “visualize what you want” concept down.

Here’s my door.

Here’s her door.

The elbow scab part though? Totally true.

Except the name. Jermaine.

His real name is Tito.


Filed under Piecing it Together

Pay no attention to the drunk preschooler.

Co-worker: Did you get my birthday party invitation?

Me: Yeah, I just opened the email.

CW: Just a head’s up — if you want, you can bring MP, but we have animals. Lotsa fur flyin’. So, if she’s allergic …

Me: Oh, she should be fine. Fur’s not the big problem. It’s mostly the lickers.

(blank stare)

Me: She gets hives.


CW: Um … how do you … know she’s allergic to alcohol?

Me: Wha?


CW: Oooooh, I get it. LICKERS.

Me: Yeah … dogs that lick …




CW: Cool. Cleo’s not a licker. She’s a poo-eater.

Me: Excellent.


Me: That’s SO going on the blog.

CW: Yeah.


Filed under Piecing it Together

Poop and Pee Pee, Sittin’ in a Tree …

MP is sitting on the potty.

“Mommy, the poop is a ‘he’ and the pee is a ‘she.'”


“They’re getting married.”


And now you know why I’m not married.


Filed under Piecing it Together