Fruit Salad...Yummy Yummy

My daughter has always loved certain specific things from day one.  1 – Men,  2 – Music,  and 3 – Getting her way (as most kids do).  It’s no wonder that she suckers me into watching The Wiggles with her incessantly.  You can ask, “How about Dora?” She’ll shake her head most ardently “NO!”.  “Well how about Barney?”  The shake continues.  “Elmo?” ….*sigh* “How about The Wiggles?”  Holy crap!  She practically dances right out of her chair when that choice comes up.  “I’ll take that as a yes?”  You see, this show incorporates her favorite things in life – other than ice cream.  Grown men dance around singing children’s songs acting silly.  I ask you, what could be more entertaining?  How about the accent?  Ah yes, there’s something about that Aussie accent that keeps us BOTH (yes I’ll admit it) coming back for more.  Unfortunately I’m so ingrained with Wiggle Tunes, I occasionally find myself singing randomly throughout the rest of my day.  “Fruit salad…yummy yummy….fruit salad…yummy yummy…fruit salad…yummy yummy…yummy yummy…yummy yummy…fruit salad!” like a skipping record.  I’m all for repetitive verses for emphasis and memory, but I can never get that one out of my head! I’ll admit, I’ve had a few fellow grocery shoppers awkwardly "remove" themselves from the produce section while I’m serenading the apples.  So Sam, Anthony, Murray, and Jeff, (not to mention Captain “Feather”sword, because every great show must have a “safe” pirate) have become good friends of ours through the magic of youtube.  Why yes, boys, that does look like a mighty yummy fruit salad if I do say so myself!

New Developments

It’s been a while…okay…a LONG while since I’ve written anything.  But a lot has went on in the past year I’ve taken off.  I know that it’s made me a stronger person and better able to understand and appreciate the role of a mother in her child’s life - and let’s leave it at that.  Let me begin this new “phase” of blogging with some new developments.  My daughter and I are moving into our own apartment this week.  It’s brand new never-been-lived-in, 1 floor (which is perfect for her), 2 bedrooms and even has an attached garage!  To be honest, I’ve never parked in a garage before.  Now, I’m not saying I’ve never had one, just that it’s been too full of crap to fit a bike in there let alone a van.  It will be nice to move from my temporary residence (a.k.a. mom and dad’s) to a place of my own again.  I’m looking forward to new opportunities, new friendships and new experiences that recent life-altering events have inadvertently opened up for me.  The days are still riddled with good and bad and I’m not, in the least, healed emotionally.   I focus now in keeping my most precious possession safe, in an environment in which she can thrive and with a person who she can count on to take care of her - me. 

Ode to Chapstick

Never thought I’d see the day…chapstick has officially been inserted in my nose.  It’s not as though I woke up this morning with such a thing on my agenda.  It wasn’t even an accident – rather a well thought out (maybe too thought out) plan of attack.  You see, I’ve had a cold now for a few days.  It’s probably one of the worse ones I’ve had in my life.  Other than zapping the life out of me, it’s done a doozie on my nose.  The skin around my swollen little nostrils is so chapped and tender I’m worried I may begin to have a permanent nosebleed – that, and I look like I could lead Santa’s pack of reindeer.  It had gotten to the point where I was hauling around a tub of Petroleum Jelly with me to dab at my nose from time to time.  The thought behind this was at least between nose-blows I could get a couple minutes of good hydrating time beneath the skin lube.  Other than looking like a total freak – in more ways than one – I mean who in their right mind carries a tub of petroleum jelly around with them OTHER than creepy weirdos!?  Here I look like I’ve either got some sick fetish or a few screws lose.  If you saw someone in the store walking along and out of nowhere see them dipping their hands in some tub of lube hidden in their bag, rubbing it on their nose and sighing with relief, you would walk the other direction too!  Admit it!  So, here I am trying to hide my oddity from the world of judgmental eyes. 

So, every time I put the jelly on my nose – which also, might I add, makes me look like I just let my nose run down my face because I like it (that shiny goopy stuff looks a little like snot, I’m just saying – it never fails that two minutes later, I sneeze or have to blow my nose again.  It gets wiped off and stings yet again like a thousand bees just stung me.  After dealing with this for the majority of the day, I finally listen to my crazy friend who insisted that Chapstick would be a better choice because it contained healing components.  Something about it at first didn’t settle right with me.  Spreading the contents of an object around my mouth soon after just using it on a part of my body secreting an unpleasant mucous substance doesn’t sound like the brightest idea in my book.  So, I fought against the suggestion.  Little did I know, I would be willing to try almost anything by the 22^nd sneeze of the day.  Off the tiny little plastic cap came and in the refreshing balm went.  It actually works quite well!  I can flex my nostrils now without the pain and cracking sensation from before. 

I do believe, ladies and gentleman, that I have found a true, rare jewel!  Lip balm can and will be used for any and all ailments known to man.  Like Windex in the movie “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”, lip balm will cure anything.  Dandruff?  Apply a generous layer of lip balm to the scalp!  Sty in your eye?  Blot the infected area with a dab of lip balm!  Athletes foot?  Massage in some lip balm and the itch is gone!  What a fun, new project for my OCD.

Liberty Swing Comes to Michigan

Words cannot express how impressed, grateful, and excited I am about a recent development in the local news.  Michigan soon will be getting its very first Liberty Swing (originally from Australia).  A young boy in a neighboring town worked long and hard to raise money for this special swing.  Why such the effort, you may ask?  This is a swing especially designed for handicap wheelchairs.  His brother has Cerebral Palsy, much like my daughter.  This young man wanted to give him the opportunity to “spread his wings” as it were and enjoy a simple thing like swinging.  Kids in wheelchairs often grow up not knowing the joy of even half the activities their peers often engage in.  What a giant step in the right direction!  The Liberty Swing will be installed in a somewhat smaller town park only 20 minutes away from where we live.  I was astonished to hear that town officials were originally put off by the idea saying there weren’t enough handicap people around to benefit from such an extensive and expensive project.  “All they need to do is look around them,” said the boys father during our discussion yesterday.  So true!  There are more people that will benefit than they might think.  Even if it could help one disabled person experience the seemingly simple joy of having the wind in their hair, being lifted from the ground in a swing specifically designed for them – it’s beyond worth it.  Besides, my opinion is that people will drive.  I plan to.  Even though it’s a good distance to drive to play at the park, I want my daughter growing up knowing she can experience the same things as other kids her age; that nothing can stop her if she really wants to do something – anything!  Other parents of disabled children, I’m positive, feel the same way.  Thank you again for this awesome opportunity!

Sinister Beady-Eyed Chipmunks

Why is it when payday comes around all I hear is a quick zipping noise and my bank account is empty?  Bills are like evil little chipmunks plotting to steal my hard earned acorns as fast as I can hoard them.  They look all cute and innocent, but inside they’re just waiting to strike!  My acorns get automatically deposited into my tree every Thursday.  Glistening, plump and juicy they sit just waiting for the right time.  I have urges and eat one every now and again, but before I can dip my hand into the stash, my fingers scrape the bottom and only crumbs remain.  Off scamper those evil chipmunks with their cheeks chock-full.  Greedy little rodents reaping the benefits of my labor and sweat.  It’s more than I can bear most days.  Already after the chipmunks have reeked their havoc, I have a few acorns left for gas until next Thursday arrives – and that’s it!  No new outfits for me!  No drive-through chicken nuggets for my baby girl!  Its ramen noodles on the couch watching re-runs because we can’t spare enough to rent the award winning movie “Rainbow Brite and the Star Stealer”.  Ah well, it’s more Oscar the Grouch tonight little one.

Will You Go Out With Me? |_| Yes |_| No

Why do I feel the need to over explain everything?  The other day, my daughter and I were watching television.  A movie came on and we stopped flipping channels to watch.  It wasn’t a bad movie, but in a certain part the husband and wife started kissing and getting comfortable on the bed – fully clothed.  Suddenly I got really uncomfortable with the situation.  Instead of turning channels, I thought I should render an explanation to my 3 year old on what was going on.  After all, normal 3 year olds, I’m sure, ask questions all the time.  And she’s smart enough to understand what is going on around her.  Besides, if I would have turned the channel I didn’t want her to think it was bad necessarily for a husband and wife to do that.  Anyway…what a time I had!  “Um, now they are kissing.  But not the way you kiss mommy and daddy.  They are kissing the way daddys and mommys kiss, which is different…uh…than other kisses.  Sometimes when mommys and daddys really love each other, um…they kiss like that.  But it’s not the same kind of love that we have – you and I…or you and daddy or instance.  *sigh*  You see…mommy and daddys...they have a different relationship with each other than with their babies.  Kissing, hugging, and loving each other…well…its different…”  Whew…I should have just changed the stupid channel.  The entire conversation, she’s looking at me with this “I couldn’t care less” look.  Honestly she was probably just thinking to herself, “I don’t know what in the world mommy is talking about, but I hope she didn’t feel that I just peed on her.  I want a snack.  Maybe some crackers.  Yes, crackers will do just fine.”

I’m really not entirely sure when it’s appropriate to have “the talk” with your kids anyway.  Is it when their in junior high?  High school?  When do they start thinking with their hormones anyway?  I don’t know if I should judge it based on my experience.  Boys had cooties until pretty much my junior year of high school.  I stopped playing with Barbie dolls a year earlier.  When other little girls were playing the “who do you like?” game, I was perfecting my double-dutch jump rope technique.  When they were passing notes to a boy in class asking them “Will you go out with me?” (you know, the ones with the “yes/no” boxes you had to check), I was drawing hearts and puppies in my notebook.  I remember distinctly the first time I got one of those notes in my desk.  It was in 4^th grade.  The note was, as I said, one of those “check the box” ones.  Honestly, I was so grossed out by the boy who sent it to me, I think I threw up in my mouth a little bit when he waved at me from across the room after he realized I got it.  At recess, I tried to avoid him and hid out in the tower of tires.  His best friend finally cornered me after the bell rang to tell me my time was up to answer  *shudder*  I didn’t know how other girls actually liked this part of our species!  I don’t really remember how I phrased the concept of “not in a million trillion years”, but they got the point and never talked to me again – bonus!

"It" has begun

So I know I haven’t been keeping up very well lately with this whole blogging thing.  *Slaps hand*  Shame on me!  Honestly, I’m not even really sure how many people read this thing anyways.

I had a blast on my vacation, which seems like ages ago already.  Things are back to normal around the house and at work.  All that reminds me now that we ever went to the Caribbean is my fading tan and album of photos.  As predicted, my daughter was well into “spoiled rotten from the grandparents” mode since she split her time between them while we were gone.  She’s finally getting over some of that though, growing out of the “terrible twos”.  She’ll be 3 in February.

I turn into a professional photographer the first few days of any exciting trip I take.  I begin the adventure taking a picture of EVERYTHING – from my friend picking her nose to a crooked blade of grass.  Needless to say, I have to sort out many “duds” when I get home – not the nose picking one though…that one is a “keeper”!  Looking at my, over 300 pictures, from this trip I saw a common theme.  I wasn’t looking any better the more I flipped through them!  I guess you never quite realize how big you’ve become until you look at yourself through another’s eyes.  In most of the pictures, I’m wearing some sort of head covering – baseball cap, bandana, etc.  But there are a few where I am full scalp.  The underwater ones are the worst!  There I am in spread eagle – bald eagle at that –  swimming pose wearing a tight wet suit accentuating my lack of tan, gigantic thighs.  How could I think that was okay?  Now I didn’t see the actual movie, but Demi Moore in G.I. Jane shaved her head.  She still looked good.  Do you know why?  Because the rest of her body was in good shape/health.  A thinner person with no hair is more inconspicuous than a chubby one like me.  On that note, as I sit here nibbling on my rice cakes, I reflect on the beginning day of my new regiment - Monday.  Not sure how good it will stick.  I seem to be in the habit lately of starting off well; then by a week in, I grab a double chocolate chip cookie and inhale it like it’s nothing.  That, in turn, puts me on the path to Krispy Kreme donuts and entire bags of Funyuns.  I would really like to wave goodbye to those days for good.  We’ll see how I do in a week…the count down has begun.