Insomnia

It's one in the morning.

I am throwing a Halloween party tonight. A kids Halloween party/ I have 17 hours to do about a half million things, on top of the half million things I MUST do everyday just to maintain my sanity. And, did, I already mention that this is a kids Halloween party? That means I don't even have the respite of alcohol to calm my overfrazzled nerves tomorrow!

Ingenuity

I don't ever want to forget this:

Miles' spelling homework includes the task of creating sentences for each of his spelling words. I like to see what he comes up with on his own before helping him out.

The word "hose" was on his list. This is the exact sentence he came up with:

"No way hose say!"

I love it.

This doesn't even deserve a title

ome time in the last week or so, Jeff finally dragged me to a sushi restaurant he had been dying to try. I admit I was pleasantly surprised by the clean and contemporary decor. I was honestly just happy not to see 3 months worth of unpaid bills, used tissues, and a box of Frosted Flakes on a corner table. The food was excellent too. I filled my plate with Mongolian beef and broccoli, steamed rice, and lo mein. I made a mental note to come back for fresh baked apple crisp. Well, halfway through my lo mein Grace started bugging me about going to the bathroom. She does this at every single restaurant without fail. So I walk her back to the potty and stand outside the stall, while she does her business. After a few minutes she beckons me to wipe her ass. Opposite of the john there s a handwritten sign. It stated:"Please do not throw toilet paper into the toilet"
Surely that was a misprint. Why wouldn't you throw toilet paper into the toilet? Whoever put that sign there made some kind of mistake. But, as hard as I tried not to look, I did. I looked into the little garbage can beside the pot. And it was full of...you know. Used TP. Streaks and everything.
I would have puked if I hadn't feared that a piece of toilet paper was going to jump out of the trash can and touch me.

Better than revenge

Jeff is a lot like my dad. They're both the kind of dad to drop you off at school with the windows down and the greatest hits of the 80's blaring. They're both the kind of dad to chase you down the driveway yelling "make good choices" and "daddy wubs you" as you head for the bus. They're both the kind of dad who fart in the exam room at the hospital and leave right before the doctor walks in. My kids, like me, will suffer years of torture and embarrassment just so they're dad can get a giggle. When I packed up and moved out and finally got married, I'd never thought I'd have to worry about someone doing the "cabbage patch" dance in front of my friends ever again.
I hate to admit that sometimes I even get pleasure from Jeff's little game. It was funny for me, too. I've had a hard time keeping a straight face when checking my daughter out of school wearing the exact same shirt as her. I giggled too, until a few days ago. Jeff drove me up to the front door of Fred Meyer, so I could hop out and run into the ATM. He rolls down the window and says "Don't forget to get a box of Ex-Lax to help take care of that nasty little problem of yours sweetie." I turned around and gave him the best evil eye I could muster up. I was kind of pissed, but only for a minute. A very attractive male walked up beside me and said "Yeah, my DAD still tries to embarrass me too."

I couldn't help myself

"Mom, I need a white sports bra for cheerleading," she said

I laughed out loud. "I don't think your boobies are quite done 'training', how on earth could they be ready for sports?"

New Pants

So, I got some new pants. "Utility pants" is what Old Navy refers to them as. They have 3 little tab thingies on them, which you are supposed to "utilize." I suppose if I were a construction worker I could hang my hammer and clamps from them, or if I was telephone install and repair technician I could keep a can wrench and snips attached to my thigh. But, I'm pretty sure I have previously established that I am just a housewife. I wonder, what might a housewife utilize "utility pants" for? Here are some suggestions:

Keep your cooking utensils at your disposal in case of a macaroni and cheese emergency.

A mere arsenal of cleaning supplies for when an unruly toilet may need your immediate attention.

Bad hair day? Not for long with an array of hair essentials right where you need them.

Or, you know, to keep all the real "tools" close at hand. For those times when you need to service your husband...or yourself.

This may be grounds for divorce

Last night, I walked into the bathroom to wash my face. I reached for a clean washcloth, but noticed there was one already in the sink. The washcloth was wet, and it was folded neatly and hanging over the edge of the vanity. I assumed it was the washcloth Hannah used to wash Parker's face with 5 minutes proir. Still safe to use, right? I turned the warm water on and rinsed the washcloth off a bit. I leaned my head over the sink and washed my face with the cloth, and then brought it out into the TV room to wipe something sticky off Jeff's foot.

"No, no, no, ewww, no, what are you doing?"

"I'm wiping your foot off."

"Not with that, you're not"

"I only washed my face with it. What? You're too good to use the same washcloth as me?"

"Uh, no...but I'm too good to use a washcloth that was used to clean the toilet."

"What do you mean? This a washclot was folded over the vanity."

"Because I put it there. After dinner I came down here and poured some bleach in the toilet. Then I used that rag to wipe down the toilet seat and toilet bowl."

"This is not a rag, it's a WASHCLOTH! You better be kidding."

"I'm dead serious. I used that to clean the toilet. It even has pubes on it"

He began to laugh. I burst into tears. Big, loud sobs...while HE continued to laugh. Real funny until I reminded him he's the one who has to kiss me goodnight.