LOLrus :3

This week's viral video featured a blubbery mammal showing off some fancy flipperwork with a trainer. My heart is all atwitter for this loveable guy.

One inflatable monkey away from a meltdown

... and then the world played a cruel and horrible joke on me and my family and TOOK DOWN THE BIG INFLATABLE MONKEY ON THE ROOF OF THE TIRE STORE.

Its tenure was exactly one week, but the impact will be felt for months to come. When we had to go to meet friends for dinner Saturday night, the promise of seeing the big monkey was the only thing that would get Doodle in the car. And then it wasn't there.

"I see big monkey, daddy," Doodle said from the back seat as we got onto the highway. The big monkey appears right after we get on.
"It's coming," he answered. When he and I saw the monkeyless building, we quickly scrambled for reasons.
"Uh," I stammered. "The monkey is sleeping!"
"No!" Doodle said.
"Yeah," my husband agreed. "He's sleeping, bud. There's nothing we can do."
"No, Daddy," Doodle insisted.
"No, Daddy."
Pause.
"NO, DADDY!"
Pause.
"NO, DADDY!"
Pause.
"NO, DADDY!"

And so on, until I couldn't hold back the laughter The fact that this was somehow Daddy's fault was too much for me to handle.

Sunday, he requested the monkey's presence once again. We told him the monkey had gone bye-bye, and again, Daddy got blamed. Heh.

This morning, same deal. Except when he asked if we would see the big monkey, I replied, "we'll try." And that seemed to work.

Maybe, in time, he'll forget this monkey business.

How'd he do that?
It's been a while since Uncle Dom had a mental break and ritualistically brought up random objects from the basement and deposited them in the living room. But the house is reaching new proportions of messiness, and the basement, especially, has become the dumping ground for Doodle's toys, puzzles, cars, and things which cars can drive upon.

This is definitely my fault, because the past two, maybe three months at work have been so relentlessly busy that I am typically a zombie by the time I get home. The weekends are spent gearing up for another crazy week. That is starting to dissipate now, but not by much. I'm working five day weeks rather than six day weeks. So I've got that going for me.

Anyway, the cleanliness of the house has definitely suffered. It's to a point now where I can barely deal with it myself. It makes me crazy to even look at it, and the thought of diving in to straighten things out is overwhelming.

It's taken its toll on my large black and white beast, as well.

So it began with a reindeer stuffed animal, a basement dweller, that was inexplicably in the living room one day this week. It wasn't there the night before, and to my knowledge Doodle was in his crib all night. Therefore, the next logical suspect is a four-legged creature with a past reputation for such things.

The reindeer was one thing.

But then he outdid himself.

Doodle and his dad had been playing with balloons, and there were two in the basement: a green one and a blue one. They were just regular rubber balloons (or latex or whatever), that my husband blew up and then they tossed them around one snowy weekend morning.

My husband found the green one in the living room one morning this week, but it had suffered a casualty and was deflated. He didn't think anything of it at the time, and threw the balloon carcass away.

However, yesterday morning, the blue balloon, fully inflated, made an appearance in the living room. Doodle threw it down the basement stairs, and last night, right before I went to bed, I noticed it again, back in the living room. Still inflated.

How on earth did he manage a feat like that? I am impressed. Maybe it's because I just trimmed his claws on Tuesday.

The brink of disaster
It's been touch and go with Doodle since he's been getting this molar. Yesterday, for instance, he was in great spirits, until I came home, and then apparently every emotion, every bit of pain, every whine he'd bottled up during the day came pouring out. I think it's sweet that he thinks of me when he is repressing his rage.

Anyway, for the past few days, we've noticed a large inflatable gorilla flying atop a tire store that is along the highway on our route to and from daycare. The gorilla, it brings joy and balance to our lives.

This morning, I was trying to roust Doodle from his slumbers. "Come on, it's time to get up and get ready for school," I said. This was met with the sight of Doodle pulling his blanket over his head and pretending he didn't hear me.

I tried again.

"Come on, it's time to get up and watch George," I said.
That merited the cracking open of one eyelid, then the closing of said eyelid, and the resuming of pseudo-sleep.

Suddenly, a lightbulb went off, both eyes opened, and he said to me, "I see big monkey?"

Bingo. We were up and at 'em in no time flat.

As we passed the inflatable gorilla, I pointed it out to Doodle, but he was looking out the other window and MISSED IT.

Oh. My. God.

Had we not been running superduper late, as in, one more minute and Doodle would have missed breakfast, I would have pulled over and made sure he saw that damn gorilla. Because a child without his inflatable gorilla fix is ... well, it's just wrong.

Hell Ohio freezes over

Last week, we had a bit of an ice storm. I am of the mind that snow and ice are pretty, as long as I don't have to drive in it/walk in it/touch it/shovel it. That's why I got married, quite frankly.



The trees all had a nice glassy covering on them. It was quite tranquil. Until rush hour the next day, and then it was quite ... suck.



Here is a look at our backyard last week. Notice the placement of the sandbox (that thing in the background with the four legs artistically placed at the end of the wind catcher thing).



Being cooped up indoors causes people to do strange things. Me? I drink raspberry vodka and soda, listen to Hall and Oates albums and write long messages to old boyfriends on facebook that ultimately get deleted when I come to my senses. OCDoodle does things like this ...



Please note that before the world froze, all of these letters were in a nice, aesthetically pleasing scramble format all over the refrigerator door. One day, my child decided to line up the letters along the edge. Here, Uncle Dom ponders this new alignment of the universe.



You'll notice that Doodle actually went back and separated out all the red letters, and then the green letters. It's some kind of strange toddler voodoo.

Then, Friday, we had a bit of a flurry. A sprinkling, really. Did I mention that this light dusting of snow coincided with Doodle getting one of his two-year molars? Or perhaps two of his two-year molars? The good news? I didn't have to drive to work on Friday because I was home with a feverish, crabby child. The bad news? I was home with a feverish, crabby child.

As you can see, we hardly got but a smattering of snow... remember that sandbox? It's there somewhere.



We didn't leave the house from Friday afternoon, after a harrowing trip to the doctor's office to find out that it's not an earache, thank you, drive through, please do not pass go until you pay $25, until sometime Sunday.



Now that that's all behind us, we can look forward to things like St. Patrick's Day. See? We can even wear crazy St. Patty's day hats. Try and disregard ths fact that my son is wearing the sweatshirt of the devil's football team. I didn't buy it for him.



Yep. We're all on the mend. The snow has subsided, the roads are clear, the fever has broken, we've sprung forward. And the sweet voice of Tom Hamilton is back on the radio calling spring training games. It won't be long now.

Text #2
While we're on the topic of texting and my boss... last week I was out of town with him at a conference. We were sitting in the hotel bar with another girl I work with. The hotel has been under construction and our rooms are newly-redone.

"You know, I think I'm the first person to stay in my room," my boss said.
"I know I'm not," said the other gal.
"Why's that?" he asked.
"I had dirty towels on my floor, and ... pubic hairs ..." she replied, uttering the last phrase under her breath.
My boss is hard of hearing in the best of conditions, and in a crowded bar, his hearing is no good at all.
"What?" he asked. But she wouldn't repeat it. She and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.
He looked at me. "What'd she say?" he asked.
"I'm not repeating it," I told him.
"Why not?" he asked.
"I'm just not. God. I can't even look at you," I said, putting my hand in front of my face, traces of blotchy red marks beginning to crawl across my neck.
"Text it to me," he said.
"I am NOT texting it to you!" I told him.

But being out of town in a hotel bar with your co-workers makes you do strange things. Several seconds later, my boss received a text that said "pubes" and nothing more. I don't claim to be proud of my actions. Really.

Text
This morning, even though all the roads have been clear for at least 24 hours, traffic was horrible. I was running late already, since Doodle insisted that I make him eggs. Usually he eats breakfast at school, but he's been getting one of his 2-year molars, so I made him eggs in case he was unable to eat at school.

Anyhoo. I'm sitting in a traffic jam and I send my boss a text. "On my way in. Traffic sux"

Less than a minute later, I get a text back that says "U sux"

We're tight like that.

Fight the power
Doodle got a time out at school yesterday for making an attempt to escape from his classroom. The toddler room is connected to the staff coat/break room, and there is a separate door the staff uses to enter/exit their room. Doodle was trying to make his break through the staff door.

This isn't the first time he's been caught hightailing it out of his classroom. Once, in the summer, he was busted attempting to lead an entire group of toddlers to their freedom.

I'm thinking that yesterday was the trial run for something on a larger scale. He's got something up his sleeve, for sure. When I asked him about it yesterday, he pretended it didn't happen. Highly suspicious.

This doesn't overly concern me, because let's say he did manage to get the door open (unlikely, since he can't turn the doorknob). He still has to go down a hallway, past the office where the head of the school works, and then figure out how to open the outside door. In short, there's no way he could get out of the building on his own inertia.

What does worry me is the pattern that is forming. Is he a future class cutter? Will he be spending fifth period out in the parking lot smoking doobies?

Britney-in-waiting
So we're watching tv the other night, maybe it was the Oscars. Miley Cyrus came on screen. My husband turns to me and says, "how long do you give her before she shaves her head?"

Happy March!
In honor of spring being just around the corner, and daylight savings time, and Easter, and St. Patrick's Day, and all things wonderful about March, I offer Doodle singing an ever-so-seasonal tune you may recognize.