One of the less discussed joys of parenting is the part where the sadistic experimental side overtakes the reasonable parent, turning them into a mischeivous, cackling fool of schemes, entirely at the child’s expense. It’s the same thing that makes children pull the legs off of insects, just to see what will happen.

You know what I’m talking about. When the kid starts eating solid foods, there’s that urge deep inside to stick a lemon wedge or a dill pickle in his mouth, just to see what happens. The kid grows hair and there’s the inability to keep yourself from sticking ponytails all over her head, jutting out in every direction like some hideous spiney pufferfish hairdo. Just because you can.

This week, I discovered something unbelievably fascinating that fed my sadistic tendencies for a really embarassingly long period of time … VELCRO STICKS TO DIAPERS.

This opens up a whole new realm of possibilities…

dooce: Death to Ed

I was reading the above entry (yes, I’m behind again in my blog reading) and the part where she asked her doctor if she could keep the removed cancer spot reminded me about the time we had our dog neutered.

One of his nuts was genetically deformed and hadn’t dropped completely, so they had to go in and surgically remove it, which created a slightly more complicated procedure than your average neuter. He had to wear a cone to keep him from licking the wound and it got all inflamed and red and was really bothering him.

I mean red to the point that, while home alone with him that night, I actually thought I was seeing blood puddle below his skin and became convinced that he was bleeding internally (ignore the part where I thought the blood would be red under the skin instead of blue…my dog’s life was in danger, I wasn’t thinking clearly). So I (gently) threw him in the car and rushed him to the nearest Pet Emergency Clinic where the on-duty vet laughed at me with his European accent and informed me that I was too stupid to own a dog, that there was nothing wrong with this perfectly normal sewn-up gash in my child’s dog’s rear. He then charged me $75 for the service and sent me home poor and humiliated. I didn’t tell J about that night (and I tell J EVERYTHING), and I didn’t intend to, until he was going through some papers on the desk and wanted to know why we had a receipt for $75 at the Emergency Vet Care Clinic.

But my humiliation really wasn’t the point of this story when I embarked on it. I hate getting distracted like that – why does it always end up with my discussing something embarassing?

Probably because I have a lot of embarassing moments. When I was in 6th grade, I came up with a coping mechanism for all those times I suffered the complete mortification of watching my entire life melt before my eyes. It seems I was habitually finding myself in the situation of having just done something incredibly dumb that would follow me the rest of my life and ensure that I would be home alone watching Saved by the Bell re-runs on Prom night.

When I found the entire world flogging me with the STARE in the aftermath of one of those moments, I would mentally spell “Embarassing” three times and by the time I got through the third spelling, the moment had usually passed enough that I could pull myself up off the ground and continue on my way, stopping every once in a while to pick up the pieces of my shattered self esteem.

About a year later, I came to the realization that I had actually been misspelling the word.

But I’m getting distracted again.

So when we went to pick up our poor, wounded, decapacitated puppy from the clinic after his surgery, they explained the procedure and why he had stitches and a cone and what we needed to do to care for him.

Then they held up his testacle in a plastic bag and asked us if we wanted to keep it.

And we’re like, are you NUTS? (Ba-dum-ching!)

Thank you, thank you very much. I’ll be here all week.

I was listening to the radio a few days ago and realized a few seconds after hearing it that the station had not bleeped out the “f” word in the song.

I’m not sure if that was unintentional (seems hard to miss) or if the laws regarding swearing in song lyrics on public stations have changed, but it did get me thinking.

My generation is significantly less sensitized to such words than the generation before me.   I read multiple instances of every imaginable variation of “fuck” in blocks every day and just sort of pass over it without even noticing.   And I’m very aware that younger generations are more and more exposed to that kind of language, as I find myself shocked to overhear young children using words that my mother would have slapped me silly for.

So it appears that the verbage we were instructed never, never to let pass our lips on pain of death and sure passage to hell is becoming less and less offensive to each generation.

And what makes a word “offensive” anyway?   It’s certainly not the meaning.   I can talk about poop to any mommy on the block, but refrain from using the word “shit” in most company.

It’s not the usage of the word that makes it offensive.   Nobody bats an eye when a four year old yells “Oh fiddlesticks!” (that’s a southern phrase, for you who are wondering what nonsense I just typed). But that same child would have his mouth washed out by substituting a shorter word.

So what is it that gives curse words their significance?   I guess it’s nothing more than the culture.   I generally refrain from using the words, not because I think the devil will claim my soul should I utter one, but out of respect for those around me who might still be offended by them.

But as previously mentioned, the culture is changing.   Which leads me to wonder if we will eventually have a society in which there are no “forbidden” words…or will some numnuts start making up new words and labeling them as profane?   Who knows.   Personally, I hope for the former.   I think it would be an improvement if everybody could use all the words they wanted to without being considered offensive.

I’m speaking strictly of curse words here.   I know there will always be ways to make vocabulary offensive in tone and context, but I’m just speaking of words that are offensive because they are words.

But I do hope for a world without profanity because really, I think that the whole idea of “no-no” words is kind of stupid.

1. Stupid mouse incessantly wigging out and sporadically jumping all over the screen when I try to use it.
2. WordPress plugins that somehow work for EVERYFREAKINGBODYELSE but not for me.   And do not come with support help.
3. Baby crawling, learning to walk, equipped with inexplicable gravitational pull toward any and all objects that could be potentially hazardous or lethal. Where’s that padded room I ordered?

She took FIVE STEPS today.   IN A ROW.

Eghad.

Just so you know, it’s supposed to be 106° tomorrow, so if I suddenly stop posting, please send someone with a spatula to scrape me off the pavement.

I’m confused.   According to my WordPress Dashboard, there is a link to my site from this page.   I was pretty skeptical (what would CBS News care about my blog?) so I looked, and I’m pretty sure there is no such link.   Anybody know how that could happen?

Walk this Way
Well, she’s crawling, standing, cruising…we have no doubt that walking is soon to come.  The thought makes us simultaneously want to beat our chests with pride, and run for the hills in fear.
She’s a very careful maneuverer…up until recently she refused to release the coffee table until at least one hand is grasping something else to support herself with. But now…she’s getting less fearless and it has us chewing our nails off about every 3 seconds.
The problem is that she tries to walk with her arms, rather than her feet.  If she’s holding onto our hands, she’s a brilliant walker/runner and can zoom around the bottom floor in nothing flat.  But her technique is to lean forward with her upper body and let the legs catch up…which isn’t very helpful if there’s nothing to catch her fall.  Unless she enjoys running full force everywhere and slamming her head into walls.

Sleepless in Dallas
Our nights of peaceful sleeping for extended periods of time are but now just a memory.  As mentioned last month, Kaelin started teething and crawling about the same time, both of which spell “sleep disturbance.”  She’s an excellent crawler now and the front two bottom teeth have firmly established themselves.  Unfortunately, so has the habit of waking multiple times during the night.

About the time the teething slowed down, she got sick, and was up about every 45 minutes because she couldn’t breath when sleeping horizontally.  And as soon as she got over the illness, a case of separation anxiety set in, which wakes her up about 3 times a night, insisting to be held before she can go back to sleep.

Mama’s Girl
The separation anxiety seems to have attached itself to me.  If I’m in the room and not holding her, she cries.  If I’m holding her and put her down, she cries.  Grandmommy is cool most of the time.  Dad will do in a pinch.  But if she sees me, she will work herself into hysterics until she’s in my arms.  Not so good when I’m trying to take a shower.

While on one level it’s kind of cute, I will really be glad when this phase is over because, frankly, I can’t hold her 24 hours a day.  Since becoming a mom, I have greatly improved my skills of accomplishing tasks with one hand…but there are just some things that do require both arms – a fact she doesn’t understand and has no patience for.  In addition, I do believe she has ruptured the eardrums of at least 3 innocent passersby when being dropped off at the church nursery.

As mentioned previously, my hair seems to have become her security blanket, and she loves grabbing it, chewing it, and rubbing her face with it.  Unfortunately, I’m tender-headed.  I think my next purchase for her will be a doll.

Giggles
As long as she’s not having one of her separation spells, there are some things that never fail to make her laugh.  I keep trying to record the sound, because it’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen, but she always manages to get bored just as I’ve gotten the voice recorder set up.  Figures.

Dad’s funny faces are always a hit.  And watching the dog chase the cat or play with the rope toy is absolutely hysterical.  Watching the cat chase flies is almost more than she can take.  Peekaboo is another favorite.  And of course, tickling.

She adores her rubber ducky and her bath times.  When we turn on the bathwater, she makes a bee-line to the tub and stands there looking in with a big grin on her face.  Once in the tub, she splashes and chases the rubber ducky around.  When she catches him, she grabs him close and makes out with him.  When we’re doing the “final rinse-off” she clutches him close to her chest like, “You may take the bath away, but you’ll never take Ducky alive!!!”

Eating
She’s still relatively under-sized.  I put her in a 6-month outfit and she looks like she’s wearing a clown suit.  Sometimes I wonder if she’s getting enough calories.  She loves her bottles but is pretty reserved about solid foods (except strawberry-kiwi yogurt, that is becoming an obsession… but at least she has good taste).  She’ll eat most of the fruits, but very little of anything else.  The other day she received her first cooked broccoli stick.  She did an excellent job of scraping off bits with her little teeth, spitting them out, and rubbing the juice all over her face.  I guess that’s something.  At least she chewed it for a while before trying to feed it to the dog.  Mandarine oranges are tasty, mashed potatos aren’t bad, but sweet potatos are obviously the food of the devil.
Despite being small for her age, strangers consistently thing she’s older than she is.  A gentleman in Lowes the other day was convinced we had a 15-month-old.  Must be the hair – which, by the way, is growing in thicker.  She has a million little shorter hairs growing in underneath that stick out in every possible direction when I try to give her ponytails.

Well, I guess that’s about all the news for this month.  Click Here to view Kaelin’s latest pictures.  The Arboretum Album is my personal favorite to date.

One of my methods of dealing with problems has always been the “ignore it and it will go away” theory.

If I don’t like what the bathroom scale says, I stay off it for a few days. If the kitchen is messy, I spend my time elsewhere so I don’t have to look at it. If I have a mosquito bite, I pretend it’s not there.

Ok, that was a lie. I will scratch a mosquito bite until I have gouged it from my flesh and left a scabby crater in its place. I hate those blood-sucking little bastards.

But most of the time I am able to ignore the various discomforts of life.

When I was in middle school, there was a girl who had been an annoyance to me for several years. She was “clingy” and I have always despised “clingy.” She seemed to be under the impression that we were great friends when I had no interest in her at all.

So I put my theory to test and ignored her. Completely. She would follow me down the hall asking me questions and I refused to look at her. I ignored the notes tossed to me from accross the room, the messages passed through other friends, and the taps on the shoulder when she happened to be behind me in class.

But she was persistent. And obviously didn’t get my well-established and carefully-constructed hint. After a good week of ignoring, she finally cornered me in the hall with a “what’s going on?”

Um…I don’t do confrontation, so I promptly melted into my shoes and died. But not before blurting out something stupid like “you’re-annoying-and-I-don’t-want-to-be-your-friend-bye” and running off to another class.

So much for my anticonfrontational tactics.

That said, the theory remains to be a pretty good mantra for me in most situations because truthfully, I have such a bad memory that if I ignore a problem it usually DOES go away, if only because I’ve completely forgotten it existed. If I confront someone about it though, the confrontation is burned into my memory, leaving a scar that is much more difficult to get over than a mosquito bite. Unfortunately, I’m not a very forgiving person.

However, I am now faced with a delimma that I fear cannot be ignored without making the problem MUCH. MUCH. WORSE:

Please be advised that your case has been set for Court on the below referenced date. A copy of the Court’s notice has been enclosed herein. WARNING: YOU MUST APPEAR ON TIME FOR YOUR COURT DATE. IF YOU FAIL TO APPEAR THE COURT WILL ISSUE A WARRANT FOR YOUR ARREST. IF YOU FAIL TO APPEAR, I MAY AT MY SOLE DISCRETION ENTER A PLEA OF GUILTY OR NO CONTEST FOR YOU ON ALL CHARGES. A PLEA OF GUILTY OR NO CONTST COULD CAUSE YOUR DRIVER’S LICESNSE TO BE SUSPENDED. A WARRANT FOR OUR ARREST WILL ALSO BE ISSUED IF YOU FAILY TO PAY AND/OR TIMELY PAY THE APPLICABLE FINES ON YOUR CASE.

Wow. They don’t mince words, do they. Most of the reason I hired a lawyer to represent me was so I wouldn’t have to show up at court. I’ve never been to court before and truthfully, it kinda intimidates me. And while in my own mind I have a solid case (I didn’t do it, I swear) there’s a growing doubt about the outcome of this little trial, made worse by the fact that the court is insisting I be there anyway.

Ugh.

3 Smacks from Merciless Minx at I Talk 2 Much, DESPITE the fact that this is, yes, a dreaded Mommy Blog.

Don’t worry, faithful IT2M readers, it wasn’t really Minx’s fault. I tied her down and force-fed her strained peas and applesauce.

Probably could have gotten 4 smacks, had I pulled out the mashed squash…but even I am not THAT merciless.

So, in case you’re hiding under a rock somewhere and haven’t heard about what’s going on in the middle east…let me summarize:

Israel: Give us back our soldiers.
Hezbollah: Your mama’s a hampster and yo’ daddy smells of elderberry. (more…)

See this:

This is Kaelin taking her FIRST UNASSISTED STEP.  And she took two more today!  And this…

…would be Kaelin getting back up after falling on her butt after said FIRST UNASSISTED STEP.  Fortunately, she’s an excellent fall-on-the-butt-and-get-back-upper.

Well, I couldn’t resist. After taking some shots in the back yard yesterday… (more…)