Piece of Shit Car

I vacuumed out my car for the first time in...six months? I pose it as a question because I truly have no idea and am wondering if anyone else does.

See, I found a hairy raisin on the floor. And, I'm curious. How long does it take for a raisin to sprout dreads? That would give me some indication of time. But, on second thought, it might not be a raisin. It could have been someone's kid I forgot to drop off after a playdate. Either way, Beetle Juice is gone now. And, I'm very sorry if any of you are missing a child. My guess is, you didn't really want him/her back anyway. You would have called. Or emailed. Or updated your FB status.

So...my car is clean! Or, clean on the inside, if you're a purist. The outside is a dirty, banged-up mess. It's a story only Helen Keller could tell (if she could speak). I wonder what all the dots, dents, dings, lines and scratches spell out? Hopefully, something really nasty. I'm not sweet, remember?

My car looks like it's been in a demolition derby. And, Mike won't let me get anything fixed. It's like a scarlet letter I have to wear all around town, announcing, "I cannot drive for shit. I hit the side of the garage. I hit a cement pole. I hit lots of stuff. Yes, yes, yes. I suck." I am the Hester Prynne of the highway. How humiliating. And, it's another reason why I'm so glad I have an arsenal of wigs -- and that big sunglasses are still en vogue.

For three years now, I've put "detailing" on my Xmas list, hoping someone in the family would oblige. No dice. They all want me to pay for my past abuses. I should probably change the title of this post from "Piece of Shit Car" to "Piece of Shit Driver."


P.S. If you've never heard Adam Sandler's song "Piece of Shit Car," please give it a listen. It's a work of art. Mike and I played it at our wedding. After re-reading the lyrics, it's a good thing half my relatives there didn't understand English.

P.P.S. I actually have a safe driving record. I only hit inanimate things when moving very slowly. I can carpool for preschool next year. Seriously. Trust me.

Pour some sugar on me.

Something is wrong with me. Terribly wrong. I read lots of mommy blogs and they're incredibly sweet. Sweet on kids. Sweet on life. Sweet on all sorts of stuff. Sweet. Sweet. Sweet. Suhweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet!

Aside from Hershey's Bars and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and ice cream and all of that mixed together, I don't do sweetness. It makes me queasy. Sweaty and nauseous, actually. I don't know why. I must be wired wrong. Oh, c'mon both of my friends will say. You're not Dick Cheney. We know you're a human being with feelings.

Um, no. And, I probably would shoot you by "accident" if we were hunting, too.

I screw up all sweet moments. Yesterday was a great example. I got yelled at for not paying attention to Kaila. For some reason, she wanted to show me how much she loved me. In case you're wondering, it was about this much, give or take a few ---'s.

| ------- |

In my defense, I was reading an email. I figured I'd be done before her outstretched arms would get tired. My bad. I really should multitask better. I could go on and on about my lack of emotional syrup, but I won't. Instead, I'll keep searching for my inner-saccharine to be a better person. And, I'll keep this post like the new me: short and sweet.

P.S. This has nothing to do with today's post, but I thought it was a great idea. The pediatrician suggested mixing milk and drinkable yogurt to up the kids' calcium intake. Kids will drink anything through a straw, right? Sweet!

The Morris Family Welcomes Olga!

My husband is a funny guy, evidenced by the email thread below. I'm looking forward to Olga joining our family soon. I think I need her more than Mike does. I wish I'd get good spam like my husband. My email "friends" think I'm a man. My inbox is packed with penis enlargement links and Viagra offers.

I wonder what Perm is like this time of year?


-----Original Message-----
From: morrisoa
Sent: Friday, May 22, 2009 7:47 AM
To: morrismr
Subject: TIttie Play....Tonight - 20 -

hi,

My name is Olga

I am from Perm and want to visit your Country as tourist.

I'm looking to meet a playful and open minded stud for a casual sexbuddy
type situation.

Emailme, I have setup a small photo album online so that I can show you some
pics of me. Take a look and if you like what you see, give me a call, my
contact info is there as well.

I will waiting for your reply.
yours Olga


---------- Forwarded message ----------

On Fri, May 22, 2009 at 8:51 AM, Michael Morris wrote:

Wondering if we could invite Olga from Perm over this weekend to enjoy
Blossom?

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Sonali Morris
Date: Fri, May 22, 2009 at 9:58 AM
Subject: Re: FW: TIttie Play....Tonight - 20 -
To: Michael Morris

Sure! Let's not limit this to Blossom. Let's go bigger. I would be happy to take a six-week sabbatical so you can show Olga around. Just make sure someone takes care of the following:

• Cooks breakfast, lunch, dinner
• Cleans dishes
• Empties dishwasher
• Scrubs toilet
• Wipes kids' asses
• Scrubs toilet again
• Cleans floors
• Does laundry
• Chauffers the kids to playdates, parks, appointments
  
• Schedules playdates
• Works at night and blogs
• Remind you of all the appointments you are forgetting
• Referee the kids' fights
• Yells at the kids to clean up
• Steps on legos
• Brushes kids teeth and gives them bath
• Dusts
• Etc.
  

What do they eat in Perm? I would be happy to cook her a nice meal when she gets in and before I get the hell out.

Welcome, Olga!

Coming Undone

Exhibit A: Tube of super glue and Q-tip remnant.

I was going to tell you about my new mullet or how my guy Tim is really a sadist masquerading as a physical therapist, but Mike trumped those intended posts with a story of his own.

Um, Bird*?

Yeah?

I need some help.

I was in the middle of giving Kaila a bath. I thought Mike and Madan had life under control. How wrong I was. I walked out of the bathroom and witnessed Mike standing there with a tube of super glue stuck to his finger. I did what any normal wife would do. Laughed my ass off and said, "How the HELL did you do that?" Then, I yanked on the tube. I don't know why. That's what my mother would have done.

OUCH! (Somewhat pissed.) It's STUCK!

Meanwhile, the kids gathered 'round to witness the spectacle and pepper Dad with uber-intellectual questions to make him feel like a total douchebag.

First Kaila:
1. Is that super glue? (That's why we call her "short bus.")
2. WHY is it stuck to your finger?
3. You shouldn't have done that! Why would you do that?
5. I would never have done that. Is mommy going to get that off for you?

Then Madan:
1. Dad, why weren't you more careful? You should have been more careful.
2. What are you going to do now?

Then me:
1. How are you going to coach T-ball on Saturday without looking like a moron?
2. Don't you know super glue is super sticky? It's called super glue.

Gotta love Madan. It's because of him that Mike's finger was now permanently affixed. Dad was helping him fix some trains.

I sprinted** for the camera. "Don't let my dire situation get in the way of a good blog post," Mike yelled. Damn straight, boyfriend.

After the photoshoot, I got some supplies and got to work. I started with nail-polish remover and a Q-tip. Seconds later, Mike had a tube of super glue AND a Q-tip stuck to his finger. My bad. It was non-acetone. I elevated the adhesive threat level to orange and went in search of something stronger.

I came back with vegetable oil and a bottle of "Goof Off." As he soaked his hand in the oily mess, I read the Goof Off label. (I didn't want to make the same mistake I did years ago when I sprayed Benadryl on his sunburned chest. For the record: super-bad idea.)

"Everybody goofs up sometimes – which is why every home, garage and workshop needs Goof Off. It removes the tough messes that ordinary household cleaners can’t. You'll be amazed at how fast, easy and powerfully it works to remove everything from dried paint to gummy, sticky messes, grease, tar, ink and tough stains. Goof Off is the solution to irritating, embarrassing and potentially costly cleaning problems. Goof Off – the ultimate remover for the toughest messes."

Bingo!

"Do not get on skin. Use gloves when handling."

Let's not and say we did.

Kaila had now been in the bathtub for what seemed like hours and she was turning into a raisin. Suddenly, the tube fell from Mike's finger. Hallelujah! Praise be! The finger is free! Mike decides now would be a good time to tell me there's super glue all over the bathroom sink and possibly elsewhere in the house.

What? Somehow, Mike had punctured the tube at the bottom and channeled Hansel & Gretel on his quest to find me. I sequestered Madan so he wouldn't get stuck to anything. He had school the next day and I didn't want to risk it. I didn't know where all the bread crumbs were.

After I checked the house to ensure we were adhesive-free, we shoved the kids in bed and went downstairs to enjoy mindless TV and ice cream. Mike turns to me and confesses that there's super glue on the handle of the kitchen sink.

What in the hell went on here, I demanded?

I was letting Madan open the super glue and he was trying to puncture the top and then...

WTF?!?!?!

My super-smart MBA gunner decided to let our five-year old test his skills opening super glue. Holy hell. What next? Lighting the BBQ? Juggling knives? I'm so giving him a time out.

*That's my nickname courtesy of Todd. The evolution of it was this: (1) Sonali; (2) Noli; (3) Nol-Byrd; (4) Byrd; (5) Byrd with a "y." I chose to use the more traditional spelling.

**Yes, runner ladies. I stretched first to avoid further IT band injury.

My Boy's Got Balls

We had a family dinner tonight with plates, utensils and family conversation. A far cry from throwing the pizza box on the kitchen table and having at it like piranhas. Talking with a five and three year old can be pretty interesting -- especially if you like stream-of-consciousness, non sequiturs and food flying out of mouths. It can also be quite educational.

Tomorrow is Madan's Kindergarten Screening. I'm guessing they ask questions like do you know your colors, do you know your alphabet, do you know your mama is a blogger who cusses like a truck driver and enjoys potty talk. Lucky for me he knows all three so he is beyond ready!

However, because they are taking him into some random classroom for lock down, I figured I should prepare him for the toddler waterboarding that will ensue.

(Full of excitement.) Madan, tomorrow you have Kindergarten Screening!

(Not buying it.) Um, what's that?

Oh, they ask you whether you know your colors, your numbers. Easy stuff. You'll do fine. I can't be in the room, though. But, I know you'll be cool. Maybe you'll even skip Kindergarten and go right into First Grade!

(Intrigued.) Skip it?

(Uh-oh.) I'm just kidding. Don't say anything like that.

(Clearly ignoring me.) Dad, first grade comes after Kindergarten?

Dad: Yup.

Second grade comes after first. Then third grade?

Dad: Yup. Yup.

Then fourth grade and THEN THE NBA?

(Mike and I exchange glances. Mine hopeful. His perplexed.)

Mike: Well, you could go through all the grades, college and then grad school. It's good to have an education.

Me: YES! The NBA after fouth grade. THAT would ROCK! Do it Madan. I want to be an all-star Mama.

I can't wait to hear what my little doobie tells his Kindergarten tester tomorrow. Hopefully, I won't be forced to home-school. On the bright side, I guess he could just take basketball lessons all day.