Let sleeping kids lie

Sage crawled into bed with me early this morning and said, "Shepard looks so cute when he is sleeping." I told him "Well, God invented sleep so parents would keep their children." I explained, "Some days kids drive their parents crazy and misbehave so much that by the end of the day the parents say 'We can't take it anymore!!!' and then the kid goes to sleep. When the parents come to check on the child, the child looks like a little angel--so sweet and innocent. And the parents' hearts are filled with love and they decided to keep him. I asked him, "When you looked at Shepard sleeping, did you feel all lovey toward him?" Sage nodded. "See, it works!"

Sage reminded me of the time when he was 2 and we were trying to transition him from a crib to a toddler bed. He was having a very hard time with the transition. He loved the idea of having a big boy bed but when it came to actually sleeping in it, he didn't like that so much. We would put him to bed and then return later to find he had left the bed and fallen asleep in another part of his room. Here he is behind the door...

Under the rocking chair...

Under the bed...

In the corner with all his stuffed animals...

And finally, (this one nearly gave me a heart attack), up on the changing table.

When I'm at work and new parents ask me, "Should I wake the baby?" My answer is always NO! They'll learn soon enough...you never wake a sleeping child.

I am...Polka Master!!

Alan will turn 40 in December. However, he wants an outdoor party for his birthday so I am throwing him a "39 and holding" party at the end of August. Yes, you are all invited. Anyway, the planning has already begun because I want it to be SPECTACULAAAARRRRR!! I have been exchanging emails with a few entertainers, one of which happens to be an accordion player. (You have to understand what I am going for with this party; I crave an air of cheesy, but memorable, ridiculocity.) Initially I sent this man a short, polite note inquiring about his rate and availability. This was his reply, "Where, what location?" There was no "hi, how are you, thanks for your interest, yada yada" just "where, what location?" So I wrote him back with the name of my subdivision and where in my city it was located. So here is the reply I got...

"I know where" your subdivision "is located. I just needed to know in town or out-of-town for quote purposes. I've booked 187 engagements this year, to-date; your date of August 29 is currently open on my booking schedule for your starting time frame at 6PM but that could change at any time(I'm playing earlier that same day). If interested, I would suggest you book me now, not later, to be assured the date will remain open on my booking schedule."

I know I shouldn't try to infer tone from an email but he came off a little too big for his frilly britches to me. He included his resume and a picture of himself and then assigned me eight questions that I was supposed to answer and send back. Here's the kicker--he charges $200/hour!!!!!!!! What the hell?! You know in my job I help sick people get well and I don't make one fourth of what this ass clown is asking. I quickly replied that I was still exploring my options and would not be booking him at this time.

Mr. (self-proclaimed) Polka Master wrote back again and said this...

"So you're shopping around? I don't compete with anyone from this area; I play accordion and sing with the best in the entire country, with a lot of charisma, and mix very well with my audience, make them feel comfortable, at home, take requests, etc. If you're looking for someone who is not a true professional with years of entertaining experience, then I'm not your choice. Can't hold your date and time frame without a commitment."

Wow, I have never run across such an uppity accordion player. Here is the email I wanted to write back to him...

Dude, do you realize you play the accordion?! Seriously, are you mental?

Well, I didn't send that email because you never know when you might really need a totally arrogant accordion player. I don't want to burn my bridges. However, I have decided to go with a roving magician/juggler/unicycler who not only sounds fun but was very polite.

A peek into the male brain

Alan and I had just woken up and were cuddling before the day began. Alan said "I had a dream about you last night." I was waiting for the graphic details--what lingerie would I be wearing and in what position. But he surprised me.

Alan, "I dreamed that you were a lesbian."

Me, "A lesbian?"

Alan, "Yeah, and not the good kind."

Me, "What do you mean--the good kind?"

Alan, "Oh you know, the kind that would let me watch or join in."

Me, "So the bad kind is..."

Alan, "The kind that would shut the door in my face and say 'We don't need you' "

Me, "Oh."

Alan, "Do I have anything to be worried about?"

Me, rolling eyes, "No."

Then 10 seconds of silence.

Alan, "You're going to blog about this, aren't you?"

Me, "Of course I am."

Later in the week we were out with a couple for dinner. When I related this story to them, the woman of the couple looked as confused as I was about the good kind of lesbian. But the man said, "Oh, I knew exactly what he meant." More evidence that all men share one medium to large size brain. Ha!

Number 3

I took the boys to the dentist yesterday. Shepard was happy to go and said, "Yay, I love the dentist!"

***Side note: Let me just say, for the record, that my kids are waaaay too spoiled. When I was little I had a 60 year old scraggly-haired dentist with a gravely voice and smoker's breath. And he scared the crap out of me. I always behaved because I was paralysed with fear. I didn't want my kids to have that fear so I picked a mild mannered pediatric dentist with a bright, cheery office and prizes and balloons. Little did I realize that I was turning them into the "pansy asses" that my father predicted when he found out I got a baby wipe warmer for my baby shower.
My kids have been through about 10 toothpastes and still cannot decided on one they like and agree on--it's too minty, it's too fruity, it's too spicy, waaaaah. (And here it comes, I guess these speeches start in the late 30s...wait for it, wait for it...) BACK IN MY DAY, I had one choice of toothpaste and that was white Colgate. That's what my mom bought and that's what the whole family used and I didn't question it. Kids today!!

Sage wasn't as excited about the dentist visit being that he is not as easily impressed by cheap toys and balloons anymore. When we arrived the hygienist whisked them away for x-rays. It was Shepard's first teeth x-ray and he came back smiling. Sage took a bit longer and when he finally came out, he too had a grin on his face. He walked up to me and said, "I vomited." I surmised that the vomit was due to his strong gag reflex. He has had difficulty in the past tolerating the x-ray film back in his mouth. I guess I should have warned her. I was a bit horrified and asked, "Did you vomit on their floor?" He said, "A little bit" and again smiled looking quite pleased with himself. Then he went on to say (in his best Monty Python voice) "It smelt of ELDERBERRY!" Life is always an adventure with Sage around.

Later when Shepard found out Sage vomited he said, "You did number 3?" My kids have decided that, along with number 1 for pee and number 2 for poop, there is a number 3 which is vomit. Diarrhea is number 4. Cha Cha Cha