My co-workers have had plenty of questions about my beauteous eyeball. Oddly, a lot of the questions involved Chuck. The accounting guy asked, “Did your husband do that to you in bed?”
Huh?
“My wife,” he explained, “rolls over and knocks me in the nose with her elbow while she's sleeping.”
Sure she does. Can’t you just picture his wife calmly eating dinner, counting the moments until she can crack him one while she “sleeps”?
Zzzzzzzzzzzz. BOOF! “Ouch!” Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz. BOOF! “Ouch!” Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
It’s got a nice rhythm. I bet there sex life doesn’t.
Last night as I was walking by Junior’s bedroom, the door creaked open and a small finger poked out from the darkness. “Mommy,” he whispered. “I have a booger for you.” Sure enough, a ginormous green blob clung to his fingertip. I took it, and the finger disappeared. I stood there for a minute. Parenting is unlike anything I ever thought it would be.
Saturday—before the bees came—Junior and I went to our friend Krista’s for a play date. Krista’s little girl is only two and she’s already potty trained. Junior’s not quite there yet, but I lied and said he was. While Krista was in the bathroom, I ripped off Junior’s shorts and changed him as fast as I could. “Hurry up!” I said to Junior. “We have to be fast!” It wasn’t a proud moment. I have nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, on Sunday Junior spent the entire day (in public) without a diaper.
I need to take a serious fucking chill pill.
Do you know about this site? I love it. I made the Mexican enchiladas, and they were delicious. If I can make them, a blind-folded limbless dog can. Seriously, you know what I do to food. Remember this poor pig? And this petit disaster?
Chuck’s mother found a book in her attic that lists the name of her family’s descendants—all the way back to the 1600s. She asked if Chuck and I would consider some of the family names. “Sure!” we agreed. Then she listed a few: “Thankful” and “Remember.” As much as I’d love to tell my mother we’re naming Boy #2 “Remember” and see her eyeballs bulge to the size of elephant testicles, I just can’t.
Unsightly eyeballs should be limited to one per family.
My 60-year-old coworker is retiring next month. She said that when she and her husband were just starting out, they had a choice to live in Mulletville or Oregon. For reasons I’ll never understand, they chose Mulletville. Then she said, “It’s been a good life.”
It hit me: I want to be the kind of person who says that, too. Even though Mulletville is a town of blight, homelessness, joblessness, missing teeth and unfortunate hair, I’ve met some silly little people who have made life more colorful. They’re nutjobs, really, but as long as I can still say with confidence that I haven’t been absorbed by the Mulletville mother ship (I’ll go down fighting, you bastards!), life is good.*
*The superstitious part of me needs to add a disclaimer to that last line, in case the universe is listening and wants to send me a big ole bitch slap for being so cheery. How about, “Life is good except for the fact that I don’t want to make love to my vacuum cleaner”?
Amen.
Head on over to the UnMom for more random booger stories.
13 comments:
Mulletville or Oregon - they had to pick ONE or the OTHER?
Ahh boogers - I often think the same thing about parenting as I'm wiping my 5 year old daughters ass because "ewwww, I don't want to touch it!"
You're pregnant. No chill pills for you. You'd probably have an ice-baby. And then he'd take over the world or something.
Yep, they never tell you you will be picking your child's nose, have no trouble with vomit and other bodily fluids, and that you will smile while doing it.
When presented with the long line of my nieces and nephews I said - I will do vomit, I will do poop. I will do anything and everything but snot. My stomach roils at anything to do with boogers and snot.
excuse me while I gag.
Of course while babysitting the little ones I had to deal with that bulbous thing you had to stick up their noses. And I did 'cause I'm a good aunt. I would throw up afterwards...but that's neither here nor there.
The little devils learned of my weakness and as they aged they would come to me with their dripping noses and boogers and they AND their parents would laugh as I gagged.
The things we do for children.
Ah yes, boogers. I am very familiar with being handed those on a daily basis by my 2-year old.
"Mommy. Booger. Here Mommy."
She hasn't quite learned how to go throw them away herself yet - maybe because they stick to her tiny finger, I don't know.
Good times.
Mulletville... what a wonderful, colorful name for a place to live. As for naming your kids after relatives... I have a cousin somewhere in Alabama named Mister Mandrel... that's his first and middle name. I won't be naming any children after Mister, though it would be a great opportunity to shout things like, "You listen here, Mister!"
Those old family names are pretty strange. Wouldn't it be just a little bit fun to freak your mom out? Be honest...
I have a distant relative named Roemance. How do you like that one?
If Roemance and Remember got together, would Danielle Steel write a book about it?
My son is just four and is finally completely potty trained...don't stress! No one goes to college in diapers, right? ;)
I love you! I laughed at your header "I'm a new mom I have no idea what I'm doing"...I have 15 years experience and I still have no idea what I'm doing. You are so going in my blog roll! Be prepared for some serious blog stalking!
I found you through the Random Tuesday!
http://www.absolutelynarcissism.blogspot.com
Nothing says love like a newly plucked booger.
As for names you could always go with Obadiah. Or Patience. Those are two names from my New England family tree.
Thank God my parents never knew about ancestry.com
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