Chookah

I'm in trouble...

I have a gym at work. When I say gym, I mean it in every sense of the word: weights, cardio, classes, trainers, the works.

I talked to the gym manager yesterday and told her that I keep meaning to go down and work out but that I'm so out of shape it's not funny.  She berated me for waiting and stalling and I totally deserved the lecture.

Fast forward to today.  A co-worker came into my office and asked, "Do you have running shoes?"  Uh, yeah... why? "Cause your bringing them on Monday and going to the gym with me [the manager] is going to kick your butt into shape."  I ask - Does she have a knife?  Because the only way you're going to get me to run is if you threaten me with some object or device which would bring significant bodily harm.

She replies, "I'm sure she could get one..."

Screwed.  I'm screwed.

The White Trash Waterpark

Sebastian and I made a jaunt down to the local outdoor mall, called The Gateway, this past weekend. We took the train and given the volume of construction downtown was totally worth the $3 fare. 

In the center of the mall there is a fountain built to commemorate the 2002 Olympics. On any given summer weekend you can find entire families camped at the fountain, picnic baskets, towels, they're definitely making an afternoon of it.

I'm going to pass judgment here and despite the fact that while the fountain is, indeed, free, making an afternoon of loitering at the local mall solely for the purpose of getting wet with the wee ones is akin to throwing a couch on the porch.

Yep, my kid ran through the fountain and he did get soaking wet but I justify his lack of "white trash" behavior by saying that at least we were passing through the mall and I had purchased clothing from ye ole Navy instead of making the fountain a destination (and it's a good thing I made a selfish purchase for myself, Sebastian wound up wearing my new shirt on the train as his was completely soaked).

Note to Self

When getting ice cream, make sure that the flavor your kid picks is one that you like.  You're going to wind up eating it after you "share".

It starts out innocent enough...

"nee ner, nee ner, neeee ner." Kiss my cone buh-bye.

"How you like me now, Mom?"

Sprinklers

Nice hot day, freezing water from the tap, parents looking on, cocktails in their lap... it's good to be a kid.

Sebastian and his girlfriend, Grace, will be in the same Kindergarten class.  She's 5 months younger but he's got 5 inches on her.  No wonder his pants don't fit.

Cue Ball Corner Pocket

The conversation goes something like this:

Nikki: Do you want me to shave your head?

Sebastian: okay!

Nikki looks at me.  I shrug my shoulders, what the hell, it's summer and it's hair, it'll grow back.

20 minutes with the beard-trimmer later:

All I can think about is Phil Hartman portraying Frank Sinatra in a 90's SNL skit, "The Sinatra Group". 

"Frank" looks at Sinead O'Connor who's on the guest panel and says, "What gives, cue ball? I'm looking at you, I'm thinking: fourteen in the side pocket!"

I'm bad.

Reason #10,543 Why I'm Going to Hell

Sebastian's laying in bed and I'm snuggling with him, rubbing his back.  He rolls over, looks at me and says, "Mom, my cheek hurts."

"Did you bite the inside of it?" I ask.

"Yeah, it hurts," he says.

"Do you want me to flick your ear?  It will make your cheek stop hurting."

[pause]

"Okay."

*flick*

"Oww! That hurt."

"Does your cheek hurt?"

[pause while rubbing ear]

"No."

Clean(er) House Arithmetic

I always sucked at math but this equation is pretty simple:

1) Add one dog who sheds fistfuls of fur year-round

2) Subtract one vacuum in 2005 (no picture - have some respect for the dead!)

3) Subtract one vacuum in 2006 (no picture - ditto)

4) Add a dash of Dyson (and a 5-year warranty!)

Yep, I'm now one of those assholes. "I'll NEVER pay that much for a vacuum!"  Oh, really? Hmm.

An Ode to Sprinkers

As shamelessly adapted from Shel Silverstein's "Channels"

 

Zone 1, is no fun

Zone 2, is a freaking zoo

Zone 3, one of them is kinda hard to see

Zone 4, I'm closing the door (out of sight, out of mind)

Zone 5, I dance the jive!

Zone 6, I'm gonna nix

Grab the hose

The Pony

My neighbor decided to have a cowboy-themed birthday party for her 3-year old, complete with pony.  She explained that when she called up the pony party place they asked, "Would you like small, medium or large?"  Ah, the combo meal of ponies. They continued, "The pony will eat anything, don't worry if he gets a hold of a hot dog, pizza or ice cream, he's used to it."

Apparently, this lucky equine consumed no less than 4 smokin' hot dogs straight off the barbecue, three cupcakes (one stolen from the hand of a 2-year old who got too close), huge clumps of grass from the neighbor's yard (they're still not too happy about the potholes) and tried to eat a paper cup filled with punch. Luckily I wasn't downwind at any time during the party.

I asked myself, "what kid wouldn't want to ride a pony at a birthday party?"  Ah, that's right, my overly-cautious offspring.  In an effort to get him to go for the gusto, I tried to ease him into the idea of riding the pony.

"Sebastian, do you want to pet the pony?" No.

[5 minutes elapse]

"Sebastian, do you want to pet the pony?" No.

[10 minutes elapse]

"Sebastian, do you want to ride the pony?" ...........okay. WHOO HOO!

Shortly after these pictures were taken, the pony decided to recycle some of the party goods and the birthday girl was so grossed-out she wouldn't go near the thing.  Figures.

Starting Early

The afternoon at IKEA...  got to break the kid in early. Tee hee.

Yep, there's some Swede in him.  Mmmm... meatballs

Hugs for the dust collectors. 

More IKEA pictures to come (once my IKEA passport has been reinstated, my mortgage company barred me from entering for at least two months).